Corpus Corpus (26 page)

"Easy walking distance from Gramercy Park," said Reiter.

"Occupation: faculty member, School of Visual Arts," Bogdanovic continued. "That's on Twenty-first Street, east of Third Avenue. Three blocks from the murder scene! Care to guess what visual art he teaches?"

Dane said, "He's got credit cards for Bloomingdale's, Brooks Brothers, and Paul Stuart. His overall credit is rated A-plus."

"Obviously, William has quite a few bucks," said Leibholz.

As Dane hit the Print button, Bogdanovic said, "He's going to need it to retain the caliber of lawyer he'll be needing to defend him against a charge of first-degree murder. We have him dead to rights."

Dane asked, "Do we, John?"

"We have the threatening letters and the picture in the Graphic puts him at the scene. We have two bullets—the one that killed Janus and the slug that Wiggins brought us. Motive, opportunity, and means!"

"The letters, the tape, the photograph, and the bullets are worthless without the gun he used," Dane said. "If he's as smart as he appears to be, he'll have gotten rid of it. Unless it flew away like the gun with wings in a Nero Wolfe story, I'd venture that within minutes of Theo's death it went in the East River. Unless you can produce an eyewitness to the murder, you have a circumstantial case that Theo could turn into Swiss cheese."

"Fortunately for the cause of justice," Bogdanovic replied brusquely, 'Janus is not around to appear in anybody's defense."

 WITH HIS RIGHT ear to the apartment door, Reiter drew his Glock and whispered, "Somebody's home. I hear movement."

Gripping his pistol in his right hand and using his left to loudly thump the apartment door, Leibholz bellowed, "Police! We have a search warrant! Open up or we break down the door."

As it swung open, William Newport exclaimed, "Don't worry." Backing into the room, he raised his arms. "I am not going to resist. I'm not stupid."

Bogdanovic stepped into the room. "Are you William Newport?"

"Yes I am."

"You are under arrest for the murder of Theodore Janus." "I expected you people to show up sooner or later. Frankly, it's a great relief."

As Reiter continued to brandish his weapon, Leibholz pulled down Newport's arms and snapped on handcuffs.

"Before we ask you any further questions," said Bogdanovic, "you must understand that you have the right to remain silent. Do you understand?"

Newport looked toward Dane with a quizzical smile. "You're the lady prosecutor from California. Why are you here?"

"Theodore Janus was my very dear friend."

Newport's young face wrinkled with puzzlement. "Really?"

Bogdanovic continued, "Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer."

Newport giggled. "That's funny. What irony. You need not go on, sir. I understand all my rights."

"Do you wish to invoke them?"

"I'm not a hypocrite, sir."

"May I interpret that as your consent to submit yourself to questioning regarding the murder?"

"I welcome the opportunity to explain what I prefer to call an act of righteous retribution."

Signaling Reiter to holster his gun, Bogdanovic said, "Very well, William, we're listening."

"I presume by your presence that you have a pretty good idea of my motive. I hope you will do me the courtesy to tell me what I did to lead you to me so quickly."

"In a nutshell," Bogdanovic said, "you should have left your camera at home."

"But that was impossible. I needed it to prove that Janus's death was not mere happenstance. The camera was the means to show that his murder had been planned, and to make it clear that he'd been made to pay for his sins."

"I grant you that the picture showed premeditation. But how was anyone to know by looking at it that Janus had been called to account for what you considered to be sins?"

"I intended to send the newspaper a second photograph, along with a letter of explanation. Alas, you arrived before I had time to deliver them. They're in an envelope in the darkroom."

As Reiter went to retrieve them, Bogdanovic asked, "We know that you killed Janus because he was responsible for freeing the people who murdered your father. But that was years ago. Why did you wait so long?"

"I was only two years old when my father was killed. I had some growing up to do. That was not so easy, in as much as my mother died a year after Janus got my father's killers off. She died of a broken heart. That was another sin for which Janus had to pay. Of course, a three-year-old child is not in a position to go out seeking revenge. As the years went by, I was busy being a kid and a teenager, and then there was college and getting my life started. I was willing to wait. I watched that trial in L.A. The more I felt that Janus was likely to get that killer off, despite your efforts, Miss Dane, the more I despised him. And the more I saw pictures of the mother of the woman he'd butchered, and how she suffered, the more I realized the time had come for Janus to suffer for all the pain he caused my mother, me, and all the other victims of all the criminals that Janus's legal trickery had kept from getting everything that they deserved under the law."

Dane asked, "Why did you send him letters?"

"I wanted him to know he was being hunted. I could easily have killed him with that shot I fired at him at his ranch, but I aimed away just enough to miss him, yet close enough for him to know somebody had tried to kill him."

Bogdanovic asked, "How did you know where he lived?"

"I found out all I could about him by reading his books and every newspaper or magazine article I could find. His books were exactly like the man I saw on television: smug and arrogant and filled with conceit. Then I read in a newspaper about his getting some award and that the presentation dinner was to be held at the Gramercy Park Hotel. It was as though fate was on my side. I decided that the perfect time for him to die was shortly after he'd received his award."

"Why did you masquerade as a reporter?"

Newport smiled proudly. "I thought I pulled that off well."

"You certainly did," Dane said, "One of the TV news cameramen thinks you asked the best question of the night."

"You probably won't believe me, Miss Dane, but when I asked him how he could sleep after all that he'd done to hurt so many people, I hoped he would say he was sorry for the pain he caused. If he had answered that his conscience had bothered him once, I might not have killed him. But he was the usual arrogant, self-centered Theodore Roosevelt Janus. So I hung around until the dinner was over, waiting for my chance. But I couldn't shoot him right away because he was talking to people coming out of the hotel. He was playing big shot with his award under his arm and lighting up a cigar."

"So you followed him to his car."

"Yes, but at a safe distance. For a while, I thought he might not make it."

Dane asked, "Why did you think that?"

"He started staggering as if he was drunk. But he got to the car all right, so I rushed up to it before he could drive away. But he didn't. He sat smoking his cigar. I could smell it through the open window as I walked up. When I found him at the wheel with that expensive cigar in his mouth, I told him my name and who my father was, and that he was going to die. But he just sat there looking straight ahead as if I didn't exist. That pissed me off. The indifference! I pointed the gun at the side of his head and shot him once. He didn't even flinch!"

"Why did you take that picture of him?"

"I didn't want the police to assume he'd been killed in an attempted robbery. I wanted it known that it was a premeditated act. And I wanted to show all his victims that Janus had finally gotten what he deserved. I hoped it would bring them closure."

"Where is the gun?"

"I threw it in the river."

"Where did you get the gun?"

"It was my father's. It was one of two he was carrying the day he was murdered. He had a thirty-eight and a twenty-two. But they never gave him a chance to draw either of them. I used the thirty-eight to shoot at Janus and deliberately miss him. Both are in the river."

Reiter stepped from the darkroom. With the corner of a large clasp envelope held between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, he asked. "Is the second photograph in this?"

Newport nodded. "You won't find fingerprints. I wore gloves."

 "WHILE YOU WERE arresting William Newport," Goldstein said as Bogdanovic and Dane entered his office, "there was a message for you from our friend Dr. Hassan Awini. The autopsy on Janus has been completed."

Bogdanovic sank into his usual chair. "What does the distinguished medical examiner want from me? My congratulations for finding the obvious? We always knew how Janus died, and now we know who did it and why. The good doctor is a little late. All we lack is the gun Newport used."

"Nonetheless, Awini said that before he sends the bullet that he got from Janus's head to ballistics for comparison to the slug that Wiggins brought in, he needs to speak to you."

Bogdanovic glowered. "Did he tell you why?"

"I didn't talk to him. I was on the horn with Vanderhoff at the time, telling him that you'd solved the Janus murder. Officer Sweeney took the call. You can ask her. Or you can call Awini yourself. Use my phone."

When Bogdanovic picked it up, Goldstein punched a button to put the call on the speakerphone.

The voice of the medical examiner was a cheery contrast to the nature of his work. "Johnny!"

Bogdanovic sat on the corner of Goldstein's desk. "I'm told you want to talk about the slug you got from Janus's head."

"That's right. Very interesting. It's a twenty-two caliber, fired at fairly close range, and certainly it was capable of having killed Mr. Janus."

Bogdanovic stood and glared at the speakerphone. "Capable? What the devil does that mean?"

"It means the man was not shot to death."

"What? Of course he was," Janus insisted. "I have just come from booking the killer. He confessed to shooting Janus."

'Johnny, I did not say that Mr. Janus was not shot. I said that he was not shot to death. You may recall that when I examined the body at the scene of the crime, I remarked that there was very little blood. That is because Mr. Janus's heart ceased to pump blood before he was shot."

'Just a darn minute, Doctor," Goldstein interjected, "Are you telling us Janus died of natural causes?"

"Hello, Harvey," Awini said, sounding surprised. "I did not know you were on the line. What I am saying is, the bullet was fired after Janus's heart stopped. I've said nothing about death by natural cause. Quite the contrary. Now, I did find evidence of severe coronary arterial blockage. The man was definitely on his way to having a massive heart attack. But the cardiac arrest he suffered was not the result of his heart disease."

"So what killed him?"

"Pending the toxicology and serological analyses, it is my opinion that the cause of death was poisoning. But this is very puzzling to me, because my preliminary examination of the stomach contents disclosed nothing indicative of a poison being present in anything Mr. Janus either ate or drank. Only the toxicology report will provide the answer."

Bogdanovic asked, "When will you have it?"

"I've assigned it the highest priority, John, but with all the budget cutbacks imposed on my office, I've had to reduce the overtime costs."

"Damn the overtime, Hassan," blared Goldstein. "Forward the bill to my office."

"I'll require a memo to that effect, Harvey."

"You'll have it in the morning, which is when I'll expect to see the toxicology report."

Bogdanovic switched off the speakerphone.

"This is certainly a first for me," Goldstein grumbled as he drummed fingers on his desk and looked toward Dane with a frown. "Maggie, have you ever heard of someone being murdered twice?"

"That's an impossibility."

"Well, somebody apparently believed once was not enough."

Slouched in his chair, Bogdanovic pouted. "There is no way that William Newport could have poisoned Janus. So, if Janus was not shot to death, if he was poisoned, I have been running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. First, I looked for a mob connection, then some link to Paulie Mancuso, and when none of that added up, I dreamed up a story of a revenge-minded stalker."