Who Let the Dog Out? (19 page)

“Would that be true of Mr. Infante’s prints as well?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know when he left them there?” I ask.

“I do not.”

“Sergeant McNab, are you aware of testimony that the two men knew each other?”

“I am.”

“Did you find other evidence of Mr. Infante’s presence in the house? Any DNA, for instance?”

“No.”

“So, let me sum up what you’ve said about Mr. Infante’s presence in the house, and tell me if I’ve mischaracterized it. Based on fingerprint evidence, and fingerprint evidence only, you can tell that at some point in history, Mr. Infante was in Mr. Downey’s house.”

“I’m not sure I’d say ‘at some point in history.’”

“Sorry,” I say. “How would you put it?”

“I guess I’d say he was in the house, but I can’t say when.”

I nod. “Perfect. Let’s go with your version. Now, let’s move on to Mr. Infante’s house. Did you find anything relating to Mr. Downey on that property or in the house, other than the knife?”

“Mr. Downey’s fingerprints were there as well.”

“Ah, so they must have visited each other?”

“I can’t say.”

“What kind of knife was it?” I ask.

“It was a kitchen knife, made by Spencer.”

“Is that a rare type?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“If I told you it was sold at twenty-one different stores in Bergen County alone, would you agree with that?”

“I don’t know.”

I introduce a document into evidence showing that in fact it is sold at all those stores, and then move on. “Were Mr. Downey’s prints on the knife?” There has already been testimony that they were not.

“No.”

“But there was blood?”

“Yes.”

“So you think Mr. Infante wiped off his fingerprints, but left the blood? Fingerprints on an ordinary kitchen knife found on his own property would be more incriminating than the victim’s blood?”

“I don’t know what he did, or why.”

“Was there blood in the defendant’s car?”

“No.”

I feign surprise. “Not even from the knife?”

“No.”

“No bloody clothes?”

“No.”

“So he made sure the car was clean, and that there were no fingerprints on the knife, but he then buried a bloody knife a half-inch deep on his own property? Is that your testimony?”

“I’m just telling you the facts.”

“Thank you, Sergeant McNab. That’s what we’re looking for.”

“It all checks out, Andy,” Sam says. “Her name is Luann Willoughby, and she lives in Morristown where Tommy said she lives. She and Tommy were divorced six years ago, and they have a ten-year-old daughter named Jenny.”

Sam has come over to give Laurie and me the results of his efforts to check out what Tommy told me when I confronted him. “Is the daughter sick?” I ask.

He nods. “No question about it. She’s been in the hospital on and off for almost a year.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Sam shrugs, in what seems like his version of embarrassment. “I got the hospital records, but I didn’t look at them. Didn’t seem right.”

“That’s okay, Sam,” Laurie says. “You did the right thing.”

I nod. “Absolutely. And what about the money?”

“She made two large cash deposits, one was for five thousand, the other for ten thousand. No way to be sure where she got the money, but they match what Tommy told you.”

I’m certainly glad that all of this checked out, but of course that doesn’t prove anything. Tommy could have a sick child, and received money from Healy, just like he said, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t also murder Downey. In fact, ten thousand dollars seems like it would more likely be a payment for a hit than for simply walking into a bar and threatening someone.

Having said all that, my inclination is to believe Tommy. The story had the ring of truth, and this confirming information adds to its credibility, at least in my mind. It could be that I just want to believe him, since I’m stuck defending him, but it doesn’t really matter either way. It is what it is.

Sam also brings another piece of interesting news. Shortly after Brantley returned from South Africa, he made three phone calls to Downey, and received two from him. Whatever connection he made over there probably had Downey’s name as someone who could get him into the diamond world. It did not end well for either of them.

Sam leaves, and Ricky, Tara, Sebastian, and I go for our evening walk. Before Ricky and Sebastian were part of our family, Laurie would sometimes accompany Tara and me. She usually doesn’t now; I’ve never asked her why, but I think she wants to give us some father-son bonding time.

Ricky is still grappling with the soccer versus baseball quandary, and I have tried to stay out of it and not be a pushy father. I’ve bought Ricky a new glove and bat, but that was not done to pressure him. Nor was the promise of a higher allowance if he plays baseball.

“Will Rubenstein thinks soccer is for wimps,” he says.

“Will is a smart kid,” I say. “Very, very bright.”

“But I like both games; I don’t know what to do.”

“You know, you could try one, see how it goes, and then if you want, try the other.”

“You think so?” he asks.

“Sure. For example, you could focus on baseball, and then in ten or fifteen years if you don’t like it, we can talk about it.”

“Mom thinks soccer is just as good.”

“Mom’s very smart, but she isn’t really into sports like we guys are.”

Ricky thinks for a moment, then says, “Okay, I think I’ll play baseball first.”

I’m not proud of what I’ve said, and I have a bad feeling about how I’ve handled this. Fortunately, I’ll get over that feeling. “Sounds like a good idea, Rick.”

“Should we talk to Mom about this when we get back?” he asks.

“I don’t think so. She’s pretty busy doing mother stuff.”

When we get back, Laurie doesn’t seem to be doing any mother stuff. Instead, she’s waiting for us on the porch. And she wants to talk about something other than the baseball versus soccer controversy.

“Alan Divac is the guy you went to see about diamonds, right?” she asks.

“Right. Why?”

“He was arrested for diamond smuggling, money laundering, arms sales, and murder.”

This is a stunner; I thought Divac represented the legitimate end of the diamond importing business. “Murder of who?” I ask.

“Michael Caruso, Brantley’s partner. Now they’re saying that they were wrong, that Brantley didn’t do it. Divac either did it, or contracted it out.”

“But they’re not charging him with the murder of Brantley?”

“Apparently not,” she says. “At least the media isn’t reporting it.”

I go inside and watch a news conference that CNN is broadcasting. The head agent for Immigration and Customs Enforcement is answering questions. In the background are Agents Hernandez and Gardiner. They had registered apparent surprise when I mentioned I had talked to Alan Divac; apparently they were preparing to drop the bomb on him at around that time.

The agent says, “There remains additional charges that may be filed at a future time, including, but not limited to, possible additional counts of homicide.”

A short while later one of the reporters asks him if Divac will be the only one charged in the case, and his answer is, “The investigation is ongoing, and there may be charges filed against certain foreign nationals who are not named in this indictment.”

“What about others within Divac’s company?” is the next question.

He shakes his head. “At this point we do not anticipate others being implicated in the conspiracy. Mr. Divac was running this operation separate and apart from his company and its employees.”

The press conference ends, and so does the coverage of the story. Laurie and I decide to wait until she puts Ricky to bed before we discuss what the development might mean for our case.

I pour us each a glass of wine while Laurie is in Ricky’s room, tucking him in, and I hand one to her when she joins me in the den. “He loves going on those walks with you,” she says.

“Is that what he said?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say anything else?” I ask, fearful that he threw me under the baseball bus.

“Like what?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Her antennae are obviously activated. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Are you kidding? No way. Just making conversation.”

I can tell she doesn’t believe me, but we move on to the news about Divac’s arrest. “It can’t help us,” I say, ever upbeat. “It can only hurt.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, there’s an air of finality to it, at least in our time frame. The investigations are for all intents and purposes over, and Divac will lawyer up. By the time he goes to trial, if he ever does, our boat will have sailed long ago.”

“Maybe you can talk to those customs agents,” she says. “I’m sure they know more than they’ll say in a press conference.”

“The problem is I don’t have leverage with them anymore. They’ve got their man, so there’s nothing they need from me. And we still haven’t tied any of this to Downey’s murder.”

“So let’s look at the big picture,” Laurie says. “What is our theory on who committed these murders?”

“Well, Brantley had a relationship with Downey; we know that because Downey stole Zoe for him. So in my mind whoever killed one, killed the other. And I believe Brantley was trying to smuggle diamonds in, which would have made him a competitor of Divac’s. So my best guess, and it’s only a guess, is that Divac ordered the murders.”

“Where does Healy come in?” she asks.

“That’s even harder to figure. Based on what Tommy said about Healy getting him to threaten Downey, I assumed Healy must have killed Downey. So he would have likely targeted Brantley as well, but he was killed with Brantley.”

“Maybe Healy turned on Divac,” she says.

I nod. “Could be. And Divac brought that guy Alek in to clean up the whole mess and get rid of everybody.”

“Including Brantley’s boss? The professor?”

“Yes, if he was Brantley’s partner in all this.”

“Makes sense,” she says. “But one other thing bothers me. Why would they have to frame Tommy for Downey’s murder?”

I frown, which is what I do when I get frustrated. “This is just me guessing again, but maybe Divac wanted it to look like Downey’s murder had nothing to do with the diamonds. That way the Feds wouldn’t tie it in. And they set it up to look like Brantley killed his partner for the same reason.”

“But why not have a fall guy for the Brantley and Healy murders?”

“Maybe because different people were doing the murders. Downey and Caruso were ordered by Divac. And whoever killed Brantley and Healy wanted Divac to take the fall for that, too. So they did frame someone; they framed Divac, but Divac is probably guilty.”

“That also makes sense,” she says.

“Yeah. But if we can’t prove it, it doesn’t help Tommy.”

Dylan’s final witness is basically here to make everyone sick. Her name is Dr. Collette Reny, and it definitely isn’t her appearance that is the problem. She’s no more than thirty-five, and strikingly pretty. She also talks in a soothing voice that projects intelligence and understanding. Nobody in the courtroom will have any problem believing she is a competent shrink.

She’s been called to discuss the psychological ramifications of the way Gerald Downey died. The vicious slicing of the throat, as she points out, was not necessary to accomplish the goal of killing the victim. Nor is Dr. Reny’s testimony necessary for Dylan to make his case. But having her there gives him a chance to again display the horrible crime scene photos in all their glory, allowing the jury to once more hate Tommy Infante for even being accused of doing such a thing.

I don’t spend much time staring at the photos, since I experienced the scene live and in person. It is an image I am already having little success erasing from my mind; I don’t need photographic reminders.

“It is clearly a demonstration of rage,” Dr. Reny points out. “The killer wanted his victim to suffer, and the fact that the action was taken from the front means he wanted the victim to anticipate that suffering.”

Dylan basically elicits this same testimony seven or eight times, to give the jury time to fully take it in. By the time he turns the witness over to me, half the jury probably wants to take Tommy out back and lynch him.

“Dr. Reny, when did you conduct your examination of Mr. Infante?”

“I did not have access to him,” she says.

“Did you seek such access?”

“I did not.”

“So you’ve never so much as talked to him?”

“I have not.”

“Dr. Reny, can you think of any other reasons besides rage that could account for the method of killing?”

“Certainly, but none anywhere near as likely.”

“Let me try a couple,” I say. “Let’s suppose that Mr. Downey had friends, possibly accomplices, that the murderer also had a rather strong disagreement with. Perhaps he was killing Mr. Downey as a way to frighten them. Is it possible that this method of killing would send a stronger message to those people? Might the killer believe that this approach would make them more afraid?”

“Possible, but unlikely,” she says.

“Really? The horrible beheadings that we see in the news, conducted by terrorist groups … do you not believe those murderers are attempting to send a message? To frighten and intimidate by their brutality?”

“In that case, yes.”

“Okay, so now we have another motive besides anger. Let’s see if we can come up with another one. Are you aware that there is testimony that Mr. Infante threatened to slit Mr. Downey’s throat in the week before the murder?”

“I am, yes.”

“If someone else knew that he had made that threat, and that someone wanted to kill Mr. Downey and make it appear as if Mr. Infante committed the crime, wouldn’t it make sense for him to slit Mr. Downey’s throat?”

“They would have to know the specifics of the threat,” she said.

“Of course they would,” I agree. “And by that do you mean that the threat might have had to be made in public, like in a crowded bar?”

“I can’t speak to that,” she says.

“That’s fine. So let’s sum up. The killer’s reason for committing this type of killing could have been either rage, or to send a message, or to frame someone else. Is that your testimony?”