Watching The Detectives Ch. 09

"Oh, my God!" Kat stood up, knocking her chair back. Her thoughts instantly left her lips in rapid succession. "No, you're not accusing Raymond of... there's no way. Are you crazy? I think I should be talking to an attorney. Where's Raymond? He was home all weekend. I don't think I should answer any more questions." She pointed at the front door. "You need to leave, now. Future inquiries can go through our attorney."

O'Neill replied calmly. "Mrs. Landry, this isn't a trial. We've just begun our investigation. Your names came up because Barnes had recently worked for your husband and they had an altercation. Tell me about this car accident."

Kat explained the details of her car crash, making clear it was preceded by Barnes' dangerous driving and intimidation. "He rear-ended me. It wasn't my fault. Two police officers witnessed it."

O'Neill took notes without comment. He looked up at Kat. "Casey said he hadn't seen Barnes' since Thursday afternoon, the same day you spoke with him. We don't yet know how long his body was in the river."

Kat didn't know what to say. Her attorney's brain told her to shut the hell up but she also knew she could account for Ray's entire weekend. Getting that on the record early was not a bad move so she vouched for her husband's whereabouts.

"Raymond was home all weekend except for a couple of hours on Saturday. He went to the club to hang out with his buddies. I'm sure they can attest to his being there. Yesterday we watched the Steelers game, right here. We didn't leave the house."

"That's great," O'Neill replied while writing in his pad. "If Mr. Landry has an alibi, he'll be fine. What about Thursday and Friday?

"He worked Friday, we went to The Tullamore for dinner. He was with me all night."

"And Thursday night?"

"He played poker that night. His buddies will have him covered, and they're all respected men in town."

"What time did your husband get home that night?"

"I don't know. It's usually late, a little after midnight?"

"Are you sure he was home around midnight?"

"I remember him slipping into bed."

"What time did you go to bed?"

"I watched the late news, so it was after eleven, probably 11:30."

"So, Raymond definitely came home after that?"

"Yes, I just told you, he gets home from poker after midnight."

"He was out past midnight?"

Kat was annoyed. "Are you playing games?"

O'Neill looked up from his pad. "No, Mrs Landry. This is no game. I need to know what time your husband got home that night, to the best of your recollection."

"And I just told you he gets home after midnight.. wait," she paused to think. "I got up to use the bathroom around one o'clock."

"Are you sure? What time exactly?"

"My alarm clock said 1:14."

"Was Raymond home?"

"He wasn't in bed. That's why I noticed the time. Ray's a night owl, so that's not unusual."

"I need to get this straight. Your husband didn't come to bed until after 1:14 AM?"

"I just said that's typical. He falls asleep on his recliner watching Johnny Carson. He comes to bed eventually."

Baker finally got involved. He'd been jotting in his pad. He slid it over to O'Neill and elbowed his partner to read his last note. They shared a glance, giving Kat a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"So, you don't actually know what time your husband came to bed on what would be Friday morning, the twenty-first."

That wasn't a question, making Kat feel she had said too much. "I'm trying to be helpful, but I don't think we should talk anymore. If you're seriously accusing Raymond of this crime we must have our attorneys present for questioning. You need to leave my home."

"No one has made an accusation. You're putting the cart before the horse."

Kat pointed toward the door. "Leave, now. I'm sorry. There's no chance Raymond had anything to do with whatever happened to Mr Barnes. It's awful, and I understand why you'd question us, but you're barking up the wrong tree."

The moment their cheap Thom McAn pattern leather shoes hit the sidewalk, Kat was on the phone calling Raymond's office. His secretary, Rhonda, usually a cool customer, was audibly upset as she explained that her boss of eighteen years was at the police station cooperating with the investigation.

"I called earlier to tell you Raymond was at the police station," said Rhonda

"I'm sorry, I was in the middle of an interrogation."

"Before he left, Raymond asked me to tell you to stay home. He'll go straight there when the police are finished with him."

Kat's mind was running hot, wondering what was happening at the police station. She called Gloria at work. Glo was at the house within thirty minutes. Kat was wound up tighter than a cheap watch.

"I hate waiting, being cooped up here, not knowing how Raymond is doing at the station. How was Billy killed? What's going on at the crime scene?" She paced the living room.

"Calm down, have a seat," Glo said. "Can I make you a cup of coffee?"

Kat sat on the sofa. "What's the time of death? Who found the body, and at what time? He was in the water for at least one night. I should be asking the police these questions."

"You're not asking any questions and you're not answering any either. I'm sure Ray will clear this up today. You just said he was with you all weekend, except for being with the boys. They'll have his back."

Minutes crept by, feeling like hours. Kat watched the clock. The hands didn't appear to be moving. Glo stayed until 4:15. She had a late doctor's appointment. Kat insisted she not miss it. Ray pulled into the driveway at 5:22. She met him at the back door, questions flying from her lips, one after another. Raymond could barely answer before the next query hit him. He walked straight to his office with Kat hectoring him from behind.

"Sit down!" He pointed at the leather sofa across from his desk. "Do you have any idea how many questions I've answered today? Do you think I need more?" He poured bourbon into a tumbler.

"I'm sorry. I've been in the dark, waiting... and it made me crazy."

"I answered about fifteen questions, asked over and over using different words and tones as the goddamn detectives tried to trip me up. It's a fucking game to them." He put his first pour of whiskey down in one gulp. "Right now, they're calling my friends to verify I was at the club Saturday and poker Thursday. This is humiliating!" He poured a second glass of whiskey, this time a double.

"But that's good. They'll clear you for those times. I told them you were at work Friday and home all weekend. You'll be fine."

He downed the double in two gulps. "They think Barnes was in the river all weekend."

At that moment, Kat realized her statement about what time Ray had gotten home from poker was going to be a problem.

Ray poured himself a third drink. "What did the cops ask you?"

.

.

---- REMAIN SILENT ----

Kat got through the night of November 24th by not sharing with Raymond what she told detectives about his whereabouts on the morning of the twenty-first. She figured that once Raymond was cleared of suspicion her statement would be of no consequence.

The day after the police interviews, Ray met with his attorney, Russell Stanton, at Kramer & Stein. Despite Ray's adamance he was not involved in the crime and had nothing to hide, Russell advised him never to speak with detectives without his attorney present. When Raymond got home from the meeting, reporters were sitting in parked cars hoping to get a glimpse of the first suspect in the murder of ex-policeman and decorated hero, Officer William Barnes. They scurried like rats when Ray pulled into the driveway, barking questions and clicking photos as he exited his Cadillac.

"Get off my property!" He yelled as photographers entered the driveway. Ray walked briskly into the house holding his hand up to block his face.

While pouring himself a drink at 11:20 AM, Ray asked Kat a favor. "I'm not going into the office. Please don't mention Billy Barnes or anything about the police until we have real information. The facts of where I've been these last few days will clear me. Until then, say nothing about it."

"Okay. I can do that. What did Russell have to say?"

"Kat, please. I don't want to discuss it. Russell will speak with detectives this afternoon. There's nothing else to say."

"You can't ignore this, Ray. It's not like a Jehovah's Witness. It's not going away."

"Remain silent!" Ray glared at his wife. "I won't discuss it."

Ray's mood and code of silence made for a quiet and uncomfortable Thanksgiving week in the Landry home. For the first few days, no facts about the crime scene reached the press. Pittsburgh Police put a tight lid on the investigation.

Kat spoke with Glo on the phone in hushed tones. "Not knowing what happened is the worst. Ray won't discuss what the cops told him. The police are silent. The press knows nothing except Barnes was pulled from the drink."

"You have to let this play out, Kat. There's nothing you can do."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one being implicated."

"And neither are you. Raymond is under suspicion, not you."

"It feels like I am."

Any time Ray or Kat left the house, they had to duck reporters. Ray declined a second interview with police on Wednesday, the day before the holiday because his attorney had left town.

The first information about the crime didn't appear in newspapers until Saturday. It wasn't much. Barnes was shot twice in the chest, seated in his Ford Falcon, and the car went into the river. This likely occurred late Thursday night or Friday morning, the twenty-first. Billy was last seen late Thursday night at a bar near his apartment, just across the Monongahela River from Duck Hollow, the scene of the crime. He did not report for work that morning.

Early Sunday, the twenty-third of November, a fisherman noticed tire tracks in the frozen mud leading into the water. In his hip waders, he walked along the shore in the icy cold river. He then left the scene to phone the police. It was nearly impossible to see the black sedan in the murky river from the shore. It had drifted downstream before coming to rest in eight feet of water. Another twenty-four hours had passed before a diver, attaching a tow cable to the vehicle, discovered Billy's body inside the car.

On Saturday afternoon of the holiday weekend, after reading these details in the paper, Ray was dogged by reporters as he drove to his attorney's office. Russell had been in touch with a friend in the police department but had no more information than what The Post-Gazette had reported.

"What are the cops thinking?" Raymond asked, exasperated.

"You hired Barnes to tail your wife. She played a dumb prank to make Casey think they were screwing. When you found out you thought Kat was having an affair. You beat her up and then attacked Barnes. Billy beat the shit out of you and you were arrested. He continued to tail Kat after you fired him. He rammed her car. Then you threatened him in the presence of Art Casey and a police detective."

Stanton stared at Ray coldly, "That's what the cops are thinking."

Ray had his elbows on the conference table, his head in his hands. He looked up. "Believe me, I know how this looks, but I didn't kill Barnes. I have my wife and five guys vouching for my whereabouts since his partner last saw him."

Russell looked up from his notes. "About that alibi..."