Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor (2 page)

He sighed as he took in the morning sun reflecting off Biscayne Bay. The view from the twentieth floor was breathtaking, but AJ hardly noticed. He had worked for years for THE corner office and the full partnership it represented, but his father had derailed all that.

Dear old dad had voted against him without even calling, without telling him. The other managing partners appreciated the cash flow he’d established but didn’t want to go against his father’s wishes.

AJ was a disappointment to his father. The hint of his involvement in a cheating scandal had meant more to his father than when he graduated in the top 5 percent at Yale Law School. Joining the U. S. Army’s Judge Advocate General Corps hadn’t impressed his father either because he was passed over for promotion twice. Dear old dad and the Army disapproved of his methods. Those methods got him bounced from JAG, but he’d never lost a case. Those methods won cases for his high-dollar clients, but Andreas Pantheras didn’t like their “tainted money.”

“Well, my money is as good as yours!” AJ said aloud as he scowled and turned from the window. With his father out of town, AJ would just have to wait to confront the old man and confront him he would. The ringing cell phone brought him back to reality.

“Hello.”

“AJ … AJ, is that you? Thank God, I found you. I tried your home,” a relieved Luis sighed.

“Luis! What a surprise. I was just preparing for a deposition.

What may I do for you?” AJ said, attempting to be subtle with his kowtowing to his boss.

“Listen, my boy, I’m sorry, but this is urgent. Are you sitting down?” Luis said.

“Luis, what’s wrong?” AJ was getting worried. Were they going to take back the promotion?

“My boy, I’m so upset. I, I will … I will just say it. The Boston police called. It looks like it was a mugging. It happened the evening of his depos, that’s why he didn’t call yesterday. AJ,

I’m sorry, but Andreas, your father has died.”

Now maybe they’ll make me a partner
AJ thought. Without a word, AJ ended the call and dropped the phone on the desk.

“Mr. Pantheras, we’re deeply sorry for your loss,” said Dr. Archer Frisco, Associate State Medical Examiner, but AJ was only half listening. He was fed up. Bureaucratic double talk, especially to cover incompetence, made him see red, and he was on his fourth shade with this guy. The doctor continued, “Sir, under Chapter 38 of the General Laws of Massachusetts, this office provides a comprehensive system for conducting medico legal investigations in the Commonwealth. We provide ….”

“Doctor, let me stop you right there,” AJ said firmly, holding up one hand. “I don’t give a damn about your mandate. I am telling you, you made a mistake. I tried to tell you that on the phone several times, but you blew me off. I had to call the Chief Judge to get an appointment with you. Judge Grantham, who’s a family friend by the way, was quite disturbed you were ignoring me. For the record, I have close ties with the Miami law enforcement community. I requested the Miami-Dade Medical Examiner’s office review your findings. Do you know what they found?”

AJ didn’t wait for an answer.

“They concluded my father did not die of natural causes, but was murdered. A homicide you missed.”

AJ picked up a file, “In this analysis report,” he waved the manila folder in the doctor’s face, his voice steadily rising, “is evidence of a stab wound at the base of the sternum. You missed that. There is a wound in the chest cavity also missed by you. Finally, Dr. Frisco, they found a significant wound in the bottom of the left ventricle. You missed the biggest clue of all, the cause of death. The ME in Miami showed me photographs, Dr. Frisco, and I can see the wounds! What are you going to do about this?”

AJ slapped the folder on the medical examiner’s desk with a hollow thud.

Staggered and wide-eyed, Dr. Frisco was frozen in his chair. Finally, he stammered, “Well, I will, ah, consider your evidence, and we um, will reopen the case. Thank you, ah, for bringing this to our attention.”

Leaning on the front of the hapless man’s desk, his voice just above a whisper, AJ said, “Don’t give me that, Doctor. I know your history. Sloppy work. You’re getting on the phone right now. You will call the chief of police and let him know there’s a month old homicide that’s getting colder by the minute. Do you hear me?”

AJ entered the Boston Police Department’s headquarters on New Sudbury Street, a short walk from city hall, just after 1 p.m. He identified himself to the desk sergeant who escorted him to the Homicide Division and the office of Captain Richard Coffey.

“Mr. Pantheras, I truly regret your loss and that the justice system hasn’t responded as appropriately as it should,” Coffey said, once they were settled in his office. “The Chief of Detectives has directed me to reopen the investigation into your father’s death. I hope you will agree recriminations are pointless at this time. I’m sure there will be repercussions, but we aren’t concerned with that now, are we?”

AJ nodded, “I agree Captain, for now. There will be, as you put it, repercussions. What I expect now is action.”

“Point taken. Ah, here are the two men I’m assigning to the case,” Coffey motioned for the two detectives to enter just as they appeared at the door. 

“Mr. Pantheras, I’m assigning two of our best men to this investigation. This is Detective Stan Lamb, and Detective Carl Reinhardt,” Coffey indicated as the two came through the door. “I have briefed them on the missteps that have occurred and directed them to use every means at our disposal to resolve this case.”

AJ had never seen two men more different, a true Mutt and Jeff pair. Stan Lamb, tall and wispy, looked as if a good puff of wind would send him flying. His ruddy cheeks, set in a long face, seemed to glow; every sandy hair on his perfectly coiffed head looked as though it knew better than to be out of place. He wore pressed khaki slacks, a crisp pressed shirt, and brightly shined shoes. Detective Carl Reinhardt, in contrast was short, round and dour. A frown covered his face, and the sour look continued as his clothes were in the same sort of disarray as the rest of him.

AJ stood and shook hands with each man as he came in and decided he would deal with Lamb. 

“You will not find better homicide detectives,” Coffey continued. “Why don’t you go with them, bring them up to speed? Call me if you have any concerns.” Coffey turned to Detective Lamb and said, “Stan, here is a copy of an independent ME analysis Mr. Pantheras provided, here is the original ME report, and the report from the patrol officer on the scene,” Coffey said. “I’m depending on you two to make up for lost time. We’re coming to this case late. Make it work. Work it hard. Mr. Pantheras will fill you in on his father’s activities.”

The ruddy-complected Lamb turned to AJ, and said, “Mr. Pantheras, we’re sorry for your loss, and the mistakes. Can we go over the information you have now?”

“Let’s get started,” AJ said, turning to leave and trying to sound positive.

“Captain, is there anything else?” Lamb said as he turned to leave.

“Just one thing more, Mr. Pantheras, you should hear this, too.” The three men turned in the doorway. “The Chief of D’s handed this to me an’ I’m handing it to you two. Visitors don’t get knifed in Boston, our city, without someone being held accountable. Am I clear?” The Captain was giving an order to his detectives, but he wanted AJ to hear it, too.

“Clear,” Lamb replied as they left the Captain’s office.

AJ shook hands with Coffey then followed the two detectives. Once in the detective squad room, the three men huddled around Lamb’s desk. AJ sat down hard in the nearest chair.

“Coffee, Mr. Pantheras?” Reinhardt said, offering AJ a steaming BPD mug. The smell of the fresh coffee nearly covered the room’s musty odor.

AJ waved the mug away saying, “I don’t have time for pleasantries. It’s been nearly a month since my father died, and today’s been quite a day.”

“I guess it has,” chuckled Lamb. “We heard about you ripping that idiot Frisco over at the ME’s office a new one. No one here can stand him. We’ve all had our run-ins with him. He’s … well, he’s an idiot. He’s only concerned about coverin’ his ass. When Coffey called us in, we guessed what was up. What can you tell us? We’ve been ordered to have very open minds.” Lamb was smiling but reserved.

AJ sat next to Lamb’s desk while Reinhardt sat on the desk’s edge.

“I don’t know where to start,” AJ’ voice trailed off.

The two detectives traded a knowing glance. They knew from long experience how family members acted. It was the same way every time.

“Just start at the beginning,” Lamb coaxed.

“All right. My father is or rather was lead counsel on a contract dispute between Esteban Garcia, a Miami dress designer, and Federated Clothing stores here in Boston. It appears it was a simple contract dispute, but the judgment was worth a lot.”

“What’s a lot?” Reinhardt interjected abruptly.

“Conservatively, between $15 and $20 million a year for ten years,” said AJ, looking over at Reinhardt.

Reinhardt whistled then said, “Whoa! Yeah, that’s a lot. Who’s involved? Any threats? Did he meet anyone here? Why was he in the park?” Reinhardt asked in rapid fashion.

“My father came to town to depose executives from Federated Department Stores. He flew in on July 5 and was due back in Miami the following day. I don’t know of any threats. I know he had dinner with friends that night. I don’t know why he was in the park. That’s a question I have, too,” AJ answered.

“Did anything important come out at the depositions?” Lamb asked.

“My father emailed his partner he’d gotten some good information. The court reporter’s notes have been transcribed, but I haven’t seen them,” AJ replied.

“Can we get copies?” Reinhardt asked, without looking up from notes he was hurriedly scribbling.

“You’ll have to excuse my partner, Mr. Pantheras. Usually, his manners are a little better, not much, but a little bit,” Lamb joked as Reinhardt looked up with an apologetic half grin. “Actually, neither of us likes getting these Chief Cases. That’s what we call ones assigned from the Chief of Detectives,” Lamb continued. “There’s a lot of scrutiny and pressure. Don’t like it, but it’s good for the case. Whatever we need, we’ll get. We’ll do our best to find justice for your father, Mr. Pantheras.”

“I’m concerned about what you can do coming into this so long after the fact. It’s been more than a month, and I know the first 48 hours are critical,” AJ said, turning to Reinhardt, “I’m working on getting those notes for you. My firm is hesitant, because the case may be close to settlement.”

“Your father stayed at the Fairmont?” Lamb asked.

“The Fairmont Copley Plaza. He stayed there often, apparently. Here’s a copy of his itinerary,” AJ responded, taking a sheet of paper from his folio and handing it to Lamb.

“Where did he go when he wasn’t doing depositions?” Reinhardt asked in a more conciliatory tone.

“He had dinner with Lewis Martin and his wife. They’re old friends from law school. I don’t know where they went. I’ve added their phone number and address on the bottom of the itinerary,” AJ replied, smiling over at Reinhardt, who at least was giving the appearance of lightening up.

“How did he get around, taxi?” Lamb asked.

“A car service usually picks him up when he travels. He used a service this time as well.”

Lamb asked, “Have you talked to any of these people, the Martins, or called the car service…?”

“I spoke to the Martins at the funeral. They said my father was upbeat but seemed preoccupied. I haven’t spoken to anyone else.”

“Did your father have any other cases, anything controversial? Did he have any enemies? What was his personal life like?” Lamb asked.

“He had no other cases. There’s nothing unusual in his files. I looked them over before coming up here. Enemies, I guess every lawyer makes enemies, but my father was well liked. As for his personal life, my mother died in a plane crash four years ago. My father was just getting back in stride with this case. He didn’t have any lady friends, if that’s what you’re asking, and no questionable associations that I am aware of.” AJ thought of a couple of his own “questionable associations” and for the hundredth time dismissed the thought he could have caused his father’s murder.

He continued, “I think I’d know if he had something unusual going on. We work for the same law firm. He did civil and I do criminal defense, but we talked often,” AJ’s voice broke as he uttered these last words. Despite his animosity toward his father and their disagreements, his father was still gone, and AJ couldn’t bring him back.

“OK, Mr. Pantheras, that’s enough for now. You’ve given us plenty to look into. Just so you know, we can’t be calling to give you a play-by- play. We’ll call you if we have questions, but you have to trust us. I know that may be hard, given the situation, but please, trust us.”

“Look, I understand you don’t work for me, but this has been screwed up from the get go. I appreciate that this will be a tough case, but I want to be kept informed. You can reach me at any of these numbers,” he said, handing a card to each detective. “Call me any time if you have a question, but stay in touch with me. I can rip some new ones here, too,” he added with a grim smile.

“I’m sure you can,” Lamb replied.

The detectives gathered in the squad room for their weekly case review. The reviews were usually long and always painful. Progress meant more cases assigned, but lack of progress could be just as bad, with the big question - why.

For Reinhardt and Lamb, there were lots of whys. After a week’s concentrated effort, they were no closer to knowing who killed Andreas Pantheras. And of course, they were the first item on the agenda. “Where are we on the Pantheras thing?” Captain Coffey asked, looking around the detective’s squad room for Reinhardt and Lamb from his stool behind the podium. He finally caught Stan Lamb’s eye.

“The victim, Andreas Pantheras, white male, age sixty-eight, was identified through a Fairmont hotel key found on the body,” Stan Lamb began. “The manager and concierge both knew the victim. He was a frequent flyer there. He used First Class Limo service - got that from the concierge. The room had been tossed pretty thoroughly, according to the manager. No idea who did it, what they were looking for, or when it happened. The manager assumed someone from our department did it. They cleaned it up two weeks after the murder.”

Lamb looked up from his notes, and then continued. “A parks department employee found the body when he reported for work, about 8:15 a.m. He’s a fifteen-year employee with a clean record. There are no cameras in the park or nearby. We checked the hotels in the area and found nothing related to the victim. The initial report documented the victim’s missing effects. That’s why the rookie who responded called it a mugging. The victim’s valuables haven’t turned up in any of the pawnshops. There’s been no activity on his cell phone or credit cards.

There’s nothing significant in the victim’s cell phone history. We finally got the cell tower pings yesterday. We’re still tracking his movements. He originated twenty-two calls from the Boston area and received seven. That’s very light activity. The phone was turned off in the park at 12:08 a.m. and hasn’t come back on. A crime scene tech came out, but there were no forensics collected, no sign of a struggle. The photos of the scene confirm it was straightforward.

Lamb looked over at his partner for some help, and Carl Reinhardt picked up the recitation of their efforts. The MO was unusual,” Reinhardt began. “Looks like a very thin blade, an ice pick or narrow stiletto was used. It was pushed up under the breast bone, penetrating the bottom the heart,” Reinhardt said, running his fist up the front of his chest to demonstrate.