Watching The Detectives Ch. 10

"He did, but Barnes carried an old revolver, no shells."

What was frustrating for Detective Smith was the fact he'd already given the chief the details of the crime scene, twice. Chief Hogan wasn't as sharp as once was. Smith continued.

"We recovered his Smith & Wesson Model 12 from the floor, beside the gas pedal. Barnes got off two shots," said Smith. "The two casings found on the floor suggest the killer sat inside the car."

"Was there a struggle? Have we checked hospitals for gunshot victims?"

"No. The passenger side window was shattered by one of the shots Barnes fired. The second struck the A-pillar between the windshield and the passenger window. There may have been a struggle for his gun resulting in wild shots."

"Barnes was a boxer, wasn't he?" The chief leaned back in his chair. "He'd be a tough man to wrestle with."

"Two things, he'd been drinking heavily that night, so he was impaired. Muddy shoe prints suggest a male with a size twelve shoe is the killer. That's likely a large man. He walked around the vehicle, shifted the vehicle into neutral, and pushed it into the river. Broken glass from the window was found nineteen feet from shore. That's where the car was parked when Barnes was killed."

"Nineteen feet is a long push," the chief noted.

"It is, but the river is a few feet below the dirt lot, so it didn't take much of a push to send the car into the drink."

"The river isn't deep at Duck Hollow, not at the bank. Fishermen use hip waders there."

"True," said Smith. "It's only a few feet, but the current pushed it downstream where it sank in a deeper spot."

Other than the bullet casings and muddy prints reported in the P-G, no details from the crime scene had gotten out. While PPD had a bad reputation for leaks, evidence gone missing, and occasional sloppy police work, the Barnes case was special. There was so little information to report that the P-G went from a daily story to running a redundant update every few days.

The Weekly Mail on the other hand kept speculating, circulating rumors, and selling out newsstands. When there was no new information, they questioned the competency of detectives and began applying pressure on the chief. Letters began arriving at City Hall, citizens asking the questions they had read in The Mail. Radio talk shows devoted hours to discussing the case. It was all speculation for entertainment leading to more speculation.

*****

It was bad enough for Kat to be in the spotlight because her husband was the prime suspect, but to have many in the city believing she might be an accomplice made public life uncomfortable. Kat was subject to whispers and catcalls from Pittsburghers she didn't know. Her friends and associates were behind her, but Kat wondered if any of them secretly questioned her role.

Days before Christmas, while gift shopping in a Kaufmann's Department Store, a man at checkout made a comment Kat didn't fully hear but felt was directed at her. When she turned, all eyes were on her.

"You uppity bitch," he said. "You'll hang for this."

"You're not as smart as you think you are," another patron added.

Kat paid for her items and rushed out of the store, shaken. Unlike catcalls, this was up close and personal, too close. When she got home from the store Detective Smith's business card was on her front door with a note. She phoned his desk. Smith asked if she could come in to answer more questions.

"With all due respect, detective," Kat said over the phone, "this is getting silly. Haven't I gone over this enough? Without new information, what's the point?"

"We have new information, Mrs. Landry. You really should come in."

"And what might that be?"

"I'm not at liberty to say over the phone," Smith said, 'but it's not good."

Kat agreed to come in the following day. Her attorney, John Sousa, protested her decision. As a defense attorney, Kat knew how uncooperating witnesses were treated by investigators, and later by prosecuting attorneys. She hoped keeping an open channel would help her husband. Talking to Smith might provide her with the latest focus of the investigation. Kat wanted to know what the cops were thinking.

Detective Smith wasted no time. "We understand you met with Detective Ron McDonald, in late August. Is this true?"

The mention of McDonald sent a chill up her spine, but Kat didn't flinch. She understood how involuntary reactions could be damning. She remained calm and even cracked a joke.

"No," she paused. "I did not meet with Detective McDonald in late August, it was the first of September."

Detectives Smith and Newsome were not amused.

"We believe you also spoke with Daniel Dwyer."

"Yes, I did, in late September.

"What was the nature of these meetings?"

John Sousa placed his hand on Kat's to prevent her from speaking. "You don't have to answer these questions, Kat. If these matters are not directly related to your husband's case, you shouldn't answer."

Kat turned to the detectives. "May I have a moment in private with my attorney?"

The detectives vacated the room leaving Kat to whisper a rough outline of what she'd been up to, probing into the Carol Anne Dwyer case. John's face went ashen as he calculated the implications. When the detectives rejoined them in the interrogation room, Sousa explained their position.

"My client will make a statement. She knows what information you're looking for. That will be the end of the interview."

Kat took a sip of water. "When I began looking into the men my husband hired, I didn't know the name, Billy Barnes. Once I made the connection and realized I was being followed by Officer William Barnes, I was concerned my husband brought a possible rapist and murderer into my life."

"Oh, C'mon." Newsome interrupted. "You're not dumb enough to believe that shit."

"I'm not dumb enough to ignore it, not when he's following me all over town and knows everything about me. I sought out Detective McDonald because he was the lead in the Dwyer investigation and a skeptic. After we met, he wrote a letter to Daniel Dwyer suggesting he speak with me. We discussed the case and exchanged notes, but nothing came of it."

"So, you just dropped it?" Smith asked.

"Those accusations cannot be proven, and I had nowhere else to turn."

"What does your husband know of this?"

Sousa interrupted, "Kat, you've made your statement."

"It's okay, John," she said. "My husband doesn't know a damn thing. Aside from him hiring Barnes, this activity had nothing to do with Raymond."

Smith placed his palm on his brow. "Mrs. Landry, do you have any idea how bad this looks?"

Kat shrugged. "If you want to twist facts, I suppose it might look bad. Put yourself in my shoes, detective. What would you have done?"

Smith leaned in. "I don't think you understand how this impacts the case. There are people in this town convinced Barnes was involved in that crime and others who defend him. You're picking at old wounds. You don't want the Dwyer case mixed up in your husband's mess."

Newsome looked at Kat with an expression of sympathy. "We like you, but we think your husband's a whack job, and he may have killed Barnes. You have people out there who believe you're his accomplice. Some even think you pulled the trigger. Think of how this information will play in the press."

Detective Newsome was correct. That's why Kat never previously mentioned her inquiries into the Dwyer case. Why would she? She always told her clients, never to give up unsolicited information. Answer their questions directly and honestly. Don't give the police more than they ask for.

As Kat walked to her car outside police headquarters, she heard her name called. She turned to find Leroy Smith walking her way. He took Kat by the elbow and escorted her to her car.

"Listen, you know Ron McDonald was a good friend of mine. He was one of our best, smart as a whip. Now you being at his funeral makes sense. I'm not saying I believe all the rumors, but if Ron thinks there's something to them, and he definitely did, you cannot reasonably dismiss them."

"What are you doing, detective?"

"I know for certain Ron had files on the Dwyer case."

"You should look into that."

"We did, Kat. The trailer sits as it did the day he died. No files were found."

"Ask his trailer mates."

"They were questioned by people in this department who want those files. That's how we found out about your visit." Smith looked around to see if anyone was nearby. "If you have those files, be warned, the people who want them are serious players."

"I'm sure whoever has those files is aware of their value."

"Be careful, Kat. Don't assume you're always the smartest person in the room."

When detectives informed Chief Hogan of Kat's digging into the Dwyer kidnapping, the chief made it crystal clear that information should go no further than the men in the room. He didn't even tell the mayor; his old friend Uncle Charlie. The last thing the chief wanted was rumors around the Dwyer kidnapping revisited and mixed in with Barnes' murder.

*****

The Landrys didn't celebrate Christmas. They lived separate lives in their College Street home and slept in different bedrooms. Kat cooked for two but took her meals alone. On Christmas Day she visited her mother, the two of them sharing a ham dinner and opening gifts. Mom had already given Kat her I-told-you-so speech after her life turned upside down. They were past that. She was trying her best to be supportive.

"Mom, if you want to know what's happening, just ask me, don't read this trash." Kat held up the latest edition of The Weekly Mail.

"I don't read that for news. I read it to know what people are saying behind my back. They think that rubbish is real. I know better."

"You know why he's doing this, right?"

"Of course I do. You sued him for libel and made him print a retraction."

"And there are idiots who still think I slept with Mr. Kramer. I should have put Pitka out of business."

The grudge Bob Pitka at The Mail had with Kat went back six years. He printed an accusation that she slept her way to her position. She sued. Rather than pay monetary damages, Kat offered him an out, a front-page retraction above the fold.

"Okay, hon. You said to ask what's happening. Let's have it."

"The only facts that matter is what can be proven in the court of law. Right now, the police have nothing. It's been a month. If they had any evidence, someone would have been arrested and charged by now. They don't print that because it doesn't sell newspapers."

"But your husband is the only ..."

"The only thing that links Raymond to that crime is circumstantial evidence, his business with the detectives."

"He threatened the dead man," said Mom. "That can be proven."

"Yes, he did." Kat paused. "All we know is Billy met someone down by the river and that person shot him twice. If he had told anyone of his plans that night the cops would know by now. They've questioned everyone. The police have nothing."

Kat glanced out the window at the falling snow. She took a sip of hot chocolate. "To be honest... this is beginning to look like the perfect crime."

"A perfect crime isn't good news for you, Sweetie. That leaves you and Raymond as the only suspects."

"I'm not a police suspect, Mom. That's your tabloid brain talking."

"Honey, I didn't say I think you're a suspect. It's everyone else. With no evidence to the contrary," she pointed out the window, "they think you're a suspect."

"I don't care what they think."

"You have no idea what's being said at church. I can't go to Bingo Night anymore. The gossip is killing me."

"I'm pretty sure I have an idea of what's being said, Mom. Do you think I'm not hearing it?"

"Well," Mom said gently, "You've had things said about you before. I'm not used to that sort of thing."

"They're not talking about you. They're gossiping about your daughter. There's a difference."

"It doesn't feel that way to me. I feel like I'm being judged."

.

.

--- A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE ---

The first business by day after Christmas, Scott Panzek pushed a two-page document across his desk at Kramer & Stein. Kat picked it up and began reading. As she did, Scott apologized for its content.

"I know you have bigger problems right now, but you asked me to look into Ray's past and this is what I found. I'm sorry, Kat."

Kat read the top page. "Jesus Christ," she said softly as she flipped to the second page. "You cannot allow this to reach the press. They'll hang him with it."

"I know," said Scott."

"This might come in handy when it's time for divorce," she added. "But we must keep a lid on it until then."

Kat noticed Scott squirm uncomfortably in his chair. "What's wrong, Scotty?"

"I don't understand why you're so certain Ray's innocent," Scott said. "Look at that." He pointed at the papers in Kat's hand. "He's got a history of violence. Why is it so inconceivable to you that he may have killed Barnes?"

Kat's face turned deadly serious. "Scott, listen to me. I asked you to investigate his past for my divorce after he beat me. This has nothing to do with Barnes. Do you understand me? This cannot be made public."

"Are you actually reading that?" Scott gestured to the pages again.

"I know he beat his first wife's male friend."

"That's just one incident."

Kat handed the paper back to Scott. "What about that other thing?"

"John Gurka is the cop who lived on Ron's land. He has a daughter. She helped Ron from time to time with housekeeping and running errands."

"Pfft." Kat scoffed. "There was no housekeeping going in Ron's trailer."

"I'm just giving you what my dad told me. Ron dictated that letter to her. She told her dad what was in it. That's most likely how your undercover work got back to Barnes, cop back channels."

"Did Gurka know Barnes?"

"I'm sure he did," Scott nodded. "He was on the force when the kidnapping and rescue went down."

"Do you know the daughter's name?"

"Nadine. She lives on the South Side Flats."

"That's where Billy lived. How old is she?"

"Late twenties, I think. My dad said she's a mess, drugs and alcohol."

Kat thought it through, out loud. "Nadine Gurka. If she knew Billy and tipped him off to my work maybe they discussed it further. Maybe this Nadine chick knows who Billy met at Duck Hollow."

Scott shrugged. "I have no clue."

"Has she been questioned by the cops?" Kat said under her breath.

"Don't know."

Kat stood up. "I need to give Smith this information." She handed Scott a green gift bag with a red bow on it.

"What's this?" Scott stood up and took the bag.

"It's something for your kids. I'm sorry it's late. Merry Christmas, Scotty." She gave him a hug.

As Kat grabbed her coat, she pointed at the papers on his desk. "None of this crap about Raymond gets out. Deep-file that shit."