Watching The Detectives Ch. 10

-- CHAPTER TEN - TALK OF THE TOWN ---

When Ray got home from his meeting, he flew into a rage causing Kat to retreat to the kitchen. Petey barked, ran at Raymond then hid under the kitchen table. Ray stalked her around the room.

"You told the detectives I didn't get home until after one o'clock? Are you trying to put me in the goddamn electric chair? I was home before midnight. You were sleeping. I was with you long before one o'clock!"

Kat's back was against the sink. She reached for a knife. He backed off, the telltale vein of violence bulging from his neck. Kat held the butcher knife between them.

"I got up to pee at 1:14, and you weren't in bed yet. I told them you sometimes sleep in your recliner."

He leaned close to the knife. "I was home, in that bed, with you!"

"Ray, I told them what I remembered. I didn't lie."

"I was in bed before 12:30."

"I don't know that. I was asleep."

"Then don't say anything! You're a fucking lawyer. Act like one!"

Ray stepped back, pointed his finger at Kaye, and changed his tone to his lower, menacing voice. "You're going to change your statement. I'm not going to fry because you can't say when I got home... because you were fast asleep, and I had the courtesy not to wake you."

"You don't know how this works, Ray. I can't just flip a hundred and eighty degrees and say you were home and in bed at 12:30, not after telling the detectives what I remember."

Ray moved closer, leaning within an inch of the knife. "That's precisely what you're going to do."

For the remainder of the weekend, there was a palpable chill in the house, but not a word spoken on the matter. Ray demanded that Kat remain silent.

On Monday morning, at the offices of Kramer & Stein, attorney Russell Stanton and detectives O'Neill and Baker took a new statement from Kat about what time her husband got home from poker. Russell agreed with Kat that a full about-face would look bad. In her new statement, she stated she couldn't say for sure what time her husband got home, but he was in bed sleeping soundly when she got up at 1:14 AM to use the bathroom. Raymond was not pleased with the compromise.

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--- SPECULATION ---

Considering the buzz around town and the rabid interest of the press, fresh details on the crime were non-existent. The investigation was unusually tight-lipped, especially for Pittsburgh Police, infamous for being as dependable as a leaky skow. The newspapers ran variations of the same story every day, throwing in bits of speculation swirling around town. The Barnes murder case, like the Dwyer kidnapping, had the public's undivided attention.

The police questioning of the Landrys put them alone in the spotlight. They were the talk of the town. All three daily newspapers reported Raymond's hiring of the detectives to keep tabs on his wife and the Landry's recent domestic disturbances. They focused on Raymond's arrest after his fight with Barnes and that Billy had rammed Kat's car. The fact he threatened Billy days before he was murdered had some observers convicting Ray without a shred of physical evidence offered by police.

With nothing to report on Barnes' death, every newspaper in town published an in-depth series on the Carol Anne Dwyer case, highlighting Officer William Barnes' role. The Tribune and Press went with the Barnes as a hero angle, but they also reported his troubles on the force, the fact he never made detective, and unceremoniously quit. The Weekly Mail continued to hail him as a hero, as they did in 1955, Pittsburgh's golden boy. Jack Mitchell's Post-Gazette newsroom remained neutral, printing just the facts of the fourteen-year-old kidnapping and rape case.

The entire city was given a refresher on the events of 1955. Those who remembered the case rejoined the camp they were in at the time, the Barnes supporters as well as the Barnes conspiracy nutters who believed there was a police coverup. The city was divided again.

The Weekly Mail tabloid began printing a second edition each week attempting to cash in on the salacious angles of the story. They dug up old photos of Kat for the front page and ran wild with the rumor that she may have had an affair with William Barnes. The respected daily papers did not report anything they could not corroborate.

With no new information, most reporters stopped hanging around the Landry house. Kat used the opportunity to slip away for a lunch date with Glo. The moment her bottom hit her seat in the diner booth, Glo commenced with the interrogation. Kat let the first three questions go unanswered while looking at the menu.

"How can you be so sure Raymond didn't kill Billy?" Glo asked a second time.

"I just know," said Kat. "Raymond is a lot of things, but he's not dumb enough to murder a man we're so entangled with."

"He's been acting irrationally for months. The man has a screw loose."

"Look, Glo. I love you and appreciate your concern, but you're going to have to back off on the husband bashing while we sort this out." Kat paused to stare into Glo's eyes. "I know this looks terrible and you have good reason to suspect Raymond, but you have to trust my instinct on this, Raymond didn't kill Billy."

"Great," said Glo. "You're gonna play Tammy Wynette, stand by your man? You're gonna stand with Ray after he's beaten you, lied to you, and then threatened the dead man? Are you crazy, Kat? How many times does he have to burn you before you learn?"

Kat didn't answer any of Glo's questions. She ordered the meatloaf special. When the waitress left, Glo was on her again.

"I cannot believe you're living at home with a suspected murderer."

Again, Kat didn't engage with Glo's worries. She calmly explained the situation at home.

"Ray's pretty calm considering all the pressure we're under. He was on edge the first week. Now that the press has backed off he's less stressed. He insists the truth will come out and his name will be cleared, and I agree. We're just waiting for the police to get all the facts."

While eating lunch, there was no chance of having a normal conversation about anything else with the murder case hanging over Kat's head. She felt the eyes and heard the whispers of patrons.

"Look," said Glo. "Those oldtimers at the counter are peering over their newspapers at you. Everyone in town thinks your husband killed Billy Barnes... except you."

Kat steeled her eyes. "If you don't stop, there will be no lunch dates until this is over. Talk about something else."

"How about the Steelers?" Glo asked mockingly. "They've lost ten straight games. Do you think they'll win again this season?"

Kat ignored the sarcasm, changed the subject to her troubles with an auto body repair shop, and finished her meatloaf.

******

More than two weeks after Billy's body turned up, Pittsburgh Police requested Kat come in for further questioning. She agreed, informing detectives that her lawyer would be present. John Sousa was a trusted former colleague, a veteran associate at K&S. He had previously drawn up Kat's divorce documents, papers still awaiting her order to serve.

Kat felt getting the facts out would help Raymond in the long run. Their attorneys coordinated to keep the husband and wife on the same page. With both Landrys insisting Raymond was innocent, they fully cooperated with the investigation.

Pittsburgh Police were under a lot of pressure. Chief Hogan assigned four detectives and a dozen officers to the case. The men at the top were partners Leroy Smith and Jerry Newsome, as well as Mark O'Neill and Scott Baker. As Kat suspected, Baker was a rookie detective. The others were all ten-year veterans. Smith had nearly twenty years. The vets were very familiar with Kat's work as a defense attorney.

In a PPD interrogation room, Kat and her attorney sat across from detectives Smith and Newsome. She looked at the mirror behind the men assuming O'Neill and Baker were on the other side of one-way glass. She repeated her tale of how she was being tailed by Casey and Barnes in June and how she started watching the detectives. Kat explained in detail the charades of infidelity she pulled on Casey to make him suspect Billy was fooling around with her. She delivered a fast-talking account of her secret life that summer. The detectives let her roll, both men taking notes.

When Kat reached the chapter where Gloria dressed up as her, to lure Billy away, so she could turn Raymond against the ex-cops he hired; Smith and Newsome shook their heads in disbelief. At the end of her story, Detective Newsome continued scribing notes while Smith stared at her in silence. She was slightly embarrassed but Kat knew she had done nothing illegal.

Detective Smith broke the tension. "Mrs Landry, what the hell were you thinking?"

She shrugged. "I just told you, I was angry with Raymond and decided to mess with his detectives, to give those men something to report. I wanted to know if they were on the level, and they weren't. They never passed information to my husband, not until after he beat me and charged into their office in a rage, because I told him they were playing him like a sucker."

Kat stared across the table in the sparse interrogation room waiting for a response. Even under this pressure and scrutiny, her internal woman asked, 'Why do they paint these rooms this awful drab gray? A little color might put a suspect at ease.'

Newsome looked up from his notes. "With Barnes dead, how do we know you two weren't... ya know?"

"I have the receipts of my whereabouts on those particular days because I suspected I might have to answer to my husband. I can prove where I was and it wasn't in bed with Billy Barnes."

"What do those receipts prove?"

"I'm certain Detective Casey can corroborate the dates and times in question. My receipts will match."

"That's all good to know, Mrs Landry," Smith said, "but we're not investigating your fidelity. We're trying to understand what occurred between you, Barnes, and your husband, and how that might be related to Barnes' death."

"I don't know anything about Barnes' death. I'm just telling you my role in this fiasco. My husband had no reason to suspect I was cheating. It was his pathetic male insecurity that got us into this mess."

"Seems like you helped a little," Newsome added in a snarky tone.

Kat steeled her eyes, "He hired those men for no good reason, long before I knew who they were."

The questioning moved on to domestic calls to their home. Kat brushed those aside. "You were there for the first call, detective, and there's a police report for the other. I have nothing further to say on those matters."

When they asked what time Raymond got home from poker in the wee hours of November 21st, Kat recited her revised version, word for word, as if she were reading her signed statement. She could see the shadows of doubt on their cynical cop faces.

Smith turned the page of his pad. "Are you aware your husband left his poker game early that night?"

"He told me he was home before midnight," Kat said. "So yes, he left fifteen minutes early."

"He left thirty-five minutes early after becoming agitated over losing a hand."

"His friends told you that?"

Smith nodded. "They remember it well. They said your husband was irritable all night."

"Why would they..." Kat cut off her words.

Outside the precinct, John Sousa gave Kat his legal advice. "You shouldn't talk anymore. They're asking the same questions looking for a hole. There's no need to expose yourself."

"I know, John. I sat with enough clients in that very room to know their game."

"I can see that. You did great," he smirked. "I'll go as far as saying you'd make a great defendant."

"You're still a wise-ass after all these years."

"That's why you hired me, my wisdom."

*****

Raymond also went in for another round of questioning, with his attorney by his side. They asked about his initial suspicion of Kat, why he hired detectives and the events that resulted from his actions. Raymond calmly answered each query.

When Detective Newsome mentioned his previous marriage, a beating he gave a man Raymond believed was sleeping with his first wife, Raymond reacted angrily. He didn't see how his first marriage had anything to do with his current predicament. When the detectives pressed the issue, Raymond ended his cooperation.

He stood up from his seat. "I see what you're doing here, trying to build a case on circumstantial garbage. I'm not aiding your speculation by dredging up my divorce."

"Like it or not," Smith said. "A prosecutor will use this against you as proof of past jealous rages."

"Prosecutor! I haven't been charged... and you're already prosecuting?"

"Mr. Landry, we're just..."

Ray cut him off. "I'm done talking. I know my rights." He glared at his lawyer. Russell stood, nodded at the detectives, and followed his client out of the room.

*****

Kat's phone rang very early on a weekday. "Hello?"

"How about I buy you lunch this time? It seems you'll need your cash for lawyers and public relations."

"Who's this?"

"Jack Mitchell. I've called several times. How are you holding up, Kat?"

"I'm sorry, we rarely answer the phone these days. It's usually reporters or vile crank calls."

"Ugh, reporters. They're the worst. So you're not holding up so well."

"I'm fine, considering."

"What do you say to lunch? I promise it'll be off the record."

"Let me tell you on the record," Kat said emphatically, "Ray didn't do this."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, clearly not convinced.

"I am."

"So, how about meeting for lunch?"

"Jack, do you really want to risk being seen with me in public? Your competition would question why we're meeting. You might find yourself in their print questioning your journalistic integrity."

"I wanted to check up on you, hon. I can only imagine what you're going through with the crap Bob Pitka is printing."

"Do you really think I read his tabloid trash?"

Jack sighed. "You should be. Thousands of Pittsburgers read The Weekly Mail, and that's Raymond's jury pool. You'll want to know what they're thinking."

"Jury pool? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, Jack?"

"All I'm saying is, like a politician, you should know where public opinion is. Pitka is running with the Barnes as the cop hero angle, and he's revisiting the misogynistic hit pieces he ran about you a few years back."

"That's why I sued his sleazy-ass rag."

"Well, it's payback time, and Bob learned his lesson," Jack paused. "He knows where the boundary is, and puts his toe on it. Yesterday he replayed your relationship with that young prosecutor, and how it hurt your career. He's painting you as a harlot."

"Is this why you want to have lunch, to read gossip headlines to me?"

"No, Kat. I'm sorry, but you shouldn't ignore what's being printed, because that's what people are talking about."

"Well, people are stupid."

"That's true." Jack paused. "I also have information, nothing case-breaking, but details we're printing in the paper tomorrow. Do you want to hear it?"

"Where did you get these details?"

"We're watching the detectives. Wherever they go we show up later to find out why they were there. It's common practice. I also have a friend in the medical examiner's office."

"What have you got?"

"They pulled two.45 caliber slugs from Billy's chest. Two cartridges were found on the passenger side of his car, on the floor."

"The killer was inside the car?"

"It would appear so," said Jack. "Billy was drunk that night. He shot pool at the Steel Horse Saloon all evening. He told a friend he had an appointment and left the bar after 10 PM."

"Are there details on his appointment?"

"Billy didn't elaborate," Jack said. "But I'm pretty sure he ended up at Duck Hollow."

Kat laughed. "There's a Pulitzer scoop for ya."

Jack continued. "It was above freezing that night, so Billy's car left tire tracks in the mud that later froze. There were also frozen footprints to the river's edge alongside his tire tracks."

"The car was pushed into the river?"

"That's what the cops think," Jack said. "Because Billy's car went in at the far end of the hollow, away from the entrance, the crime scene was intact. The rest of the lot was a mess from weekend traffic, tire marks that won't help the investigation."

Jack stopped talking, leading to a moment of silence.

"Is that it?" Kat asked. "They have two.45 caliber shells, tire tracks, and footprints."

"It's not much," said Jack.

"It's nothing that will convict a man."

"Kat, what size shoe does Raymond wear?"

"What size did they find?"

"It looks like a twelve."

"Shit," Kat said under her breath.

"Is that his size?"

Kat didn't answer. "I have to go, Jack. Thank you for calling." Click.

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--- TOO MUCH INFORMATION --

Police Chief Ed Hogan stared down four detectives after learning they had nothing new to report on the Barnes case. After weeks without progress, Hogan was being pressured by City Hall to, "make some news", on the investigation into a cop killing. Billy Barnes may have quit the force years ago, but the city and the police department were treating him as one of their own, Officer William Barnes; and nothing mobilized cops more than a slain police officer.

Chief Hogan ended the brief uncomfortable silence by slamming his palm on his desk. "What do you mean you have too much information and not enough evidence? What kind of semantic bullshit is that?"

Detective Leroy Smith, the most senior of the team, answered. "We've interviewed dozens of people; the Landrys, their neighbors, friends, and family. We've talked to Art Casey and all of Barnes' known associates, professional and personal. We've got all those statements and nothing beyond what we already know."

Jerry Newsome stepped up. "Have you read what's in The Mail? They're reporting as if Kat Landry is the prime suspect. It's unreal. Do you want us to chase down all the speculation that's causing? Everyone has an opinion and half the town thinks the wife is involved."

"Everyone is talking," Smith added, "but no one is saying anything of value. You know about the crime scene, it's bupkis, we got nothin' but shell casings and muddy tracks. Barnes may as well have shot himself twice in the chest while driving into the river."

Hogan leaned in. "We know that didn't happen, so you guys better put your noses to the ground and find some goddamn evidence. Put out a reward for any information leading to an arrest and conviction. I don't care what you must to do, get me something to show Uncle Charlie."

Charles Murphy was elected mayor of Pittsburgh in 1952. Hogan was the first hire of the new mayoral regime, days after Uncle Charlie's swearing-in. The mayor had sacked the previous police chief for investigating his family and associates during the raucous political campaign.

Murphy installed Hogan because he knew his old pal Eddie would look the other way when his business and political rivals came whining with claims of impropriety: bribery, kickbacks, gross nepotism, and backroom deals. Charles Murphy never met a form of corruption he didn't attempt. He even invented a few.

It was Murphy and Hogan who squashed the continued investigation into the Dwyer kidnapping. They had a cop hero and a bad guy they could bring to trial, a clean and simple headline. Now, that hero was dead, murdered in cold blood, and they wanted answers.

Hogan dismissed three detectives. Smith remained in the office to go over the finer details of the case.

"Barnes was in the river for at least forty-eight hours. We found no physical evidence on his body. Any blood or forensic evidence was tainted in the river. We have two slugs from his chest and two shell casings."

Hogan was confused. "Only two? I thought he fired his gun too."