Chain of Evidence

She said to Bragg, “The wife claims to have entered and checked the body. Fiber evidence contradicts this-”

“What the fuck?” Kowalski blurted out.

She continued, “We have her crossing the room to the bookshelf, the desk, and here, to this room. Further evidence suggests a variance in the nap of the rug between the door and the deceased. Photos of that would be good to have before the place is walked all over.”

“Nap?” Bragg inquired.

Dart answered. “Someone vacuumed that section of the rug, Buzz, long before we got here.”

“Vacuumed?” Bragg asked.

“What the fuck?” Kowalski repeated.

Looking directly at Kowalski, Dart said, “Someone hoping to remove hairs-and-fibers evidence, in an effort to conceal what really went on here.”

Bragg, his annoyance showing, said, “And what really went on here, Ivy?”

“It’s a homicide, Buzz. I want it treated as a homicide.”

“Who’s lead on this?” Bragg inquired.

Kowalski, stunned and out of sorts, had yet to break eye contact with Dartelli. “I’m lead,” he announced authoritatively, defiantly, “and until you tell me that we got evidence to the contrary, Teddy, we treat it the way we see it: a suicide. You got any reason to doubt that, then I’m willing to change horses, if and when we make sense of it.” To Dart he said, “You have information I don’t have?”

Dart just stared at the man. He was thinking that he’d gone too far, that it was time to close ranks.

CHAPTER 13

Not even the bathroom would work for his purposes. Dart needed someplace isolated, someplace there was no chance of being overheard, and preferably a location that wouldn’t raise eyebrows. He ruled out either of the interrogation rooms because they would attract far too much attention. He ruled out the crib-too easily interrupted. A vehicle would work, he realized, though getting the two of them into the same car would take some logistics and, at this point, some negotiating.

And then he hit upon it: the elevator. Kowalski’s use of the elevator, in what was only a two-story building, was the subject of much teasing within CAPers.

The opportunity arose a few minutes after the lunch hour, when both Dart and Kowalski were summoned to Teddy Bragg’s office. Dart found Kowalski playing computer solitaire on a PC that belonged to another detective. Kowalski offered no apologies for using his time this way. Instead he said, “Just a minute, okay, Dartelli? I almost got this thing.” Dart waited him out, his impatience mounting. Finally Kowalski lost the hand, closed the game off the screen, and spun around in his chair. “Piece of shit,” he said.

“You played the jack of diamonds on the wrong pile,” Dart informed him, not fully understanding why he began with confrontation.

“Bull-fucking-shit I did. I suppose you play the game more than me, huh? I don’t think so. Mind your own fucking business.”

“Bragg wants us downstairs. He has the initial workup on Payne.”

“Sure. Why not?” As Kowalski stood out of the chair, Dart was reminded how large and how solid the man was. Suddenly the idea of a one-on-one confrontation in an elevator didn’t seem like such a stroke of brilliance. But it was all he had, and he intended to follow through.

As they entered the hallway, Kowalski asked, “You taking the stairs?” Making it sound like a chore.

“No. Let’s ride,” he said, clearly surprising the man. He stabbed the CALL button, and a moment later they stepped into the empty elevator car. He felt his heart pounding, and the pulsing of a fatigue headache at his temples. This was a little bit like deciding to ride a wild bull, he realized. He pushed the button marked 1, and the elevator doors slid shut. He tried to settle his nerves, knowing full well that Kowalski’s reaction would be indignation. Dart counted to three and pulled the red STOP button. The car jerked to a halt.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Dart faced the man. Kowalski had dark Mediterranean skin, haunting brown eyes and heavy, masculine features. If he had been fifteen years younger he would have been working Guess jeans ads. His center teeth were stained from smoking the non-filters, and his voice sounded like someone chipping ice.

Dart explained. “Lewellan Page.”

“Who?”

“Lewellan Page-the girl who witnessed the Lawrence murder.”

Kowalski made a move for the elevator control panel, but Dart blocked his effort. “Get this thing moving,” he complained.

“I wanted to talk in private,” Dart explained. “The point is not to embarrass you, but to understand your thinking. Your reasoning.” An oxymoron if he ever heard one.

“Lawrence?”

Like talking to a bull elephant. “The suicide over on Battles,” Dart reminded.

“The hanging?” the detective asked rhetorically, the case finally registering.

Dart couldn’t tell if the man was acting or not; every detective had an actor inside.

“Oh, her,” Kowalski said.

“Yeah, her,” Dart agreed.

“What’s to tell?”

“You interviewed her. You wrote up that interview. And you kept it out of your report. Why?”

Kowalski looked confused-a child trying to connect the dots. He had to be wondering just how Dart had gained such knowledge, what else the detective knew, and how it all impacted him. He stuttered, “She’s a kid, Ivy. What the fuck?” Attempting once again to reach past Dart, he said anxiously, “Get this thing moving-this is giving me the creeps in here.”

It wasn’t the elevator but the topic making him nervous, Dart realized. “She’s a witness,” he said emphatically.

“Bullshit. She’s a bored nigger kid who sees whites as bad. The only whites she’s ever seen are cops. They come and take people away. They make trouble. Get a clue, Dartelli. She gets me by the cajones and tries to invent some story about a guy doing Lawrence. I mean, give me a fucking break, will you? How do you operate this thing?” He stepped forward.

Dart maintained his position between Kowalski and the panel. “Not good enough,” Dart warned. “She witnessed a Caucasian male pulling a chair out from underneath Lawrence. She described the man’s flailing legs perfectly. I think she actually saw it. You’re saying she invented it?”

“Probably saw it in a movie or something. How the fuck should I know? Did you bother with any of the rest of it? There was a note, I think. The place was locked up. No sign of a struggle. No evidence to suggest foul play. What’s the fucking big deal?”

Dart felt confused. He believed Lewellan Page’s story. Kowalski had investigated David Stapleton while on Narco. Did Dart dare play that card as well?

“Was Lawrence involved in trafficking?” Dart asked, hoping to see a reaction in Kowalski that might tell him something.

“Drugs? How the hell would I know? Some pot found in the apartment, it seems to me. Nothing hard core that I heard about.” Kowalski’s expression revealed nothing-no surprise, no panic.

Don’t trust it, Dart cautioned himself.

“Let me tell you something, Dartelli. I don’t want no rogue cop prying into my cases, okay? You got problems with the way I’m doing things, you go through IA and we’ll see what they say.”

“Your buddies at IA, you mean,” Dart said caustically.

“Fuck off. Are you listening to me?” He stepped forward, an intimidating presence. “What I’m saying is I don’t appreciate your working my files without asking me, okay? Showing up at crime scenes uninvited. What is it with