Corpus Corpus (15 page)

Built in 1914, the twenty-five-story Municipal Building, the architectural masterpiece of the renowned firm of McKim, Mead 8c White, had been hailed at the time as the solution to the problem of how to house all the agencies of a mushrooming city government. Now, it was but one of many city office buildings built or rented in a seemingly futile effort to keep up with the demand for even more space.

Emerging out of the shadowy, cathedral-like underpinnings of the towering Municipal Building, she faced another manifestation of that expansion. In the shape of a huge block of red brick with a honeycomb of square windows, police headquarters was known as One Police Plaza. But rather than crossing the broad plaza itself, she walked toward St. Andrew's Church. A neo-Georgian structure, it was a graceful remnant of the 1920s. Entering it in the middle of the Mass, she thought there was no more fitting place to contemplate and give thanks for the life, work, and inspiration of her friend, mentor, and adversary, Theodore R. Janus.

He had labored long and hard in the cause of equal justice under law that was the solemn promise of the state and federal courthouses of nearby Foley Square and along Centre Street, and the sacred duty of those who argued cases in them.

Now, he was dead.

God willing, she prayed, his murderer would stand in one of the hallowed chambers to answer for his crime and, reap the punishment prescribed by law.

First, however, he had to be caught.

Leaving the old church's assurances that good shall always triumph over evil, she stepped into December sunlight that shone brilliantly but without warmth on the red brick plaza and walked boldly toward police headquarters with a determination to provide as much assistance as possible in that cause.

To her surprise as she stopped at the security desk just inside the lobby and reached into her handbag for identification, she was greeted by the portly middle-aged police officer behind the desk with, "Good morning, Miss Dane. Glad to see you again."

Embarrassed at not remembering him, she said, "Thanks. It's nice to be back. I've got an appointment with—"

"I know. Sergeant Bogdanovic. Go right up. Sixteenth floor. His office is straight ahead and down the hallway, last door on the right, next to Chief Goldstein's office."

DISCOVERING BOGDANOVIC'S DOOR wide open, Dane peered into an office that seemed overwhelmed by computers and their associated equipment. Behind a gray government-issued steel desk, his head bent down as he read Officer Wieser's report on the discovery of Janus's body, Bogdanovic was coatless. A patterned tie was loose, revealing the undone top button of a pale blue cotton shirt with sleeves neatly folded back to the elbows.

Giving a single rap on the door with a knuckle, she said, "Excuse me, mister. Do you know where a lady might find a cop in this half-assed town?"

He looked up with a scowl. "The police department is closed on Sundays. Come back tomorrow."

"Oh, that's too bad. In that case, do you know the way to the Statue of Liberty?"

"Why? You don't look to me like you're one of the tired, the poor, or the homeless refuse of a teeming shore. Wait. On second thought I could be wrong about that. You do look like someone who might have come from that burg out on the other coast. Give me a second and I'll think of the name of the place. You know the one. The sleepy little town where they make movies about car crashes, exploding buildings, and cops filled with angst and snappy one-liners like 'Go ahead, make my day' You look as if you might be a movie star."

"Actually, I'm known for my television appearances."

"Take my advice. Shoot for the big screen."

"Speaking of shooting," she said, coming into the office, "I suppose it's too early for there to have been developments."

"All I've got so far is a report by the officer who found the body and summaries of the canvass of the neighborhood and the hotel employees. A few people may have heard the shot, but nobody saw anything. The only exception is a man who lives on the west side of the park who said he heard a bang and then saw what he called a light, as if somebody used a flash camera."

"May I read the reports?"

"Of course. That's why you're here," he said, gathering them from his desk and handing them to her. "Then we'll go next door and hash 'em over with the chief."

She looked surprised. "Harvey's in his office?"

"He's been here all night. He's convinced there's a link between Janus's being shot and Paulie Mancuso's fatal attempt at flying. He doesn't believe in coincidences."

"What about you?"

"I believe in facts. But at this point I don't have enough of them to know which way to go in either investigation."

"To paraphrase another detective, if you want to make bricks you need clay."

"Don't tell me who said it, let me guess. Nero Wolfe!"

"No cigar for you, Sergeant. Sherlock Holmes."

 LEAVING BOGDANOVIC'S SMALL, sparely furnished office with its overcrowding computers, Dane entered a space as commodious as she had expected the New York Police Department to provide for its chief of detectives. But as Goldstein stood to greet her from behind an expansive desk of highly polished wood, she saw in the contrast of the spaces a definition of the men working in them.

A corner bookcase attested to Goldstein's unbridled passion for reading and learning from fictional mysteries. Each met the romantic requirement that all crimes be solved through intuition and ratiocination, followed by a confession. In bringing villains to justice, an observant detective's intellect would set aright a world whose morality, equanimity, and peace had been upset. Chief of Detectives Harvey Goldstein was, she decided, the very embodiment of a breed of detectives who would have been known and grudgingly respected by Nero Wolfe.

Bogdanovic's office represented a latter-day kind of sleuthing. His world was microprocessors, computer chips, screens, keyboards, printouts, and modems connecting him to law enforcers around the globe, if need be. It was an electronic universe in which the criminals might be tracked down and arrests sustained, not only because of a smart detective employing time-tested ways but also on the basis of scientific analysis of data. Bogdanovic was, she mused, the detective Sherlock Holmes might have been if Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had lived into the age of computers.

But in real life Bogdanovic's detective work under the supervision of Harvey Goldstein was followed all too frequently by a bargain struck between a prosecutor and a lawyer for the defendant that restored neither morality, equanimity, nor peace. Sometimes, if the attorney happened to be Theodore Janus, there might not even be a conviction.

"Condolences on the loss of your friend," Goldstein said as Dane sat before his massive desk.

"Thank you very much. But Theo was more than a friend."

"In that regard you certainly are in a unique position to assist John in following the first rule of murder investigation: Know the victim."

"I doubt that there's anything I can add to what you already know. His life was literally an open book. The man I knew is the one in
Janus for the Defense
. He was the Theodore Janus you both saw when he jousted with those reporters prior to the Wolfe Pack Banquet and later during the dinner. I thought Theo was amusing, self-deprecating, and thoroughly charming."

"What I saw," said Bogdanovic, "was conceit, arrogance, and an amazing capacity for duplicity. I saw nothing admirable in him."

With eyes flashing anger, she answered, "Could that have been because you went to the Black Orchid dinner prepared to find nothing admirable in him?"

Bogdanovic blinked in surprise. "That's not it at all."

"Oh I think it is," she retorted. "I believe you are still smarting because Theo got the better of you in the Griffith trial."

"That is ridiculous."

"You're like that young reporter who asked Theo how he could sleep at night knowing that he'd gotten so many guilty people off."

"It was an excellent question, the point of which, I remind you, Janus managed to avoid answering by shifting the blame onto the jury."

"Blame? Where is the blame in an attorney's zealously carrying out his duty to defend a client whose very life is at stake?"

"Excuse me, folks," Goldstein said, drumming fingertips on the top of his desk. "As much I'm enjoying this bantering, it is not the purpose of this meeting, is it? We are here in order to benefit from Maggie's special relationship with Janus. I think we can agree he was a controversial individual. The question I have for you, Maggie, is whether you know of anyone who resented him deeply enough to want to see him dead?"

"He's got a file drawer in his office at his ranch crammed with threatening letters and notes that date back to his earliest cases. As a matter of fact, I started that file while I clerked for him when I was in law school. He had me label it the 'Thou Art Only a Man' file. He told me he got the idea when reading a book about the triumphal processions of ancient Rome. Riding in the chariot with the hero was a slave who held the laurel wreath above the hero's head while constantly saying, 'Remember thou art only a man.' In spite of the flamboyant style Theo affected, he was always aware that he was only a man."

"After the trial," said Goldstein, "did he get threats?"

"Sure he was threatened. So was I."

Gently touching her right hand, Bogdanovic said, "You were not the one shot to death in your Rolls-Royce parked on Gramercy Park East."

Goldstein asked, "Why did it happen there? Why should the killer pick that location, John?"

"I thought that was pretty obvious. He was stalking him. He simply followed him from the hotel to the car."

"That hypothesis requires the killer to have known Janus was at the hotel."

"If he was stalking Janus, he didn't need to know. He just followed Janus from his ranch."

"Why bother? It seems to me if he intended to murder Janus he would have seen that he would have a better chance of getting away with it at some secluded spot up in Stone County rather than on a street in Manhattan on a Saturday night. I think the more likely scenario is that the killer was lying in wait for Janus to leave the dinner."

"That theory rests on the presumption the killer knew Janus would be at the dinner and when and where the Black Orchid dinner was being held."

"There's no mystery in that," Maggie said. "Wiggins sent out announcements to the news media that Janus and I would be there."

Goldstein grinned. "Why am I not surprised that Wiggins saw the publicity value in bringing together the lawyers who had held the country spellbound in the trial of the century? Good old Wiggins simply acted on the maxim stated by none other than Sherlock Holmes in 'The Six Napoleons.' 'The press is a most valuable institution, if only you know how to use it.' "

Dane smiled knowingly. "In fairness to Wiggins, he did warn me that if I accepted the invitation to present Theo the Wolfe award I could expect a lot of press to show up. He told me he'd understand if I chose to opt out."

"Of course he did. He knew you wouldn't."

"This is just great," Bogdanovic said. "Thanks to Wiggins and his damn press release, any nut with a score to settle with Janus could have found out where he would be and when simply by reading a newspaper."

"So, Sgt. John Bogdanovic," Goldstein said, "how do you propose to proceed in this very fascinating investigation?"

"There's not much I can do until I've reviewed the written reports on the canvass of the neighborhood for possible witnesses. Plus the reports from the medical examiner and the ballistics unit regarding the gun that was used. The Rolls has been impounded for a thorough going-over. The fingerprint section is going to see if lasers can find anything useful in the smudges that were found on the door at the scene."

"Have you given any thought to motive?"

"We've ruled out robbery. That leaves three ways to go. One is the mob angle. We can't dismiss as coincidence the fact that Janus was murdered on the same night that Paulie Mancuso went out a window. Next is the possibility someone had a personal score to settle. Who knows how many of the guys Janus defended still did time? One of them could have blamed Janus for not getting him off. And I see no reason why we shouldn't consider the possibility that a member of the Wolfe Pack did it. I never saw so many eyes with daggers in them as I did last night."

"The mob, a vengeance-minded former client, and the Wolfies at the banquet," said Goldstein. "You've got your work cut out for you, John. Where will you begin?"

"I was hoping I might continue to enlist the assistance of a person who knew Janus better than anyone," he said as he turned toward Dane. "That is, if Maggie's got the time."

As the men looked at her expectantly, she said, "I happen to be on a well-deserved vacation. Nothing would please me more than helping John bring Theo's killer to account."

Goldstein beamed. "Good. As of now, Maggie, you may consider yourself an official consultant to this office."