The Last Shred of Evidence

By Ayesha Haqqiqa

 

Nora Lewin McCoy began her tenure as District Attorney of New York County the day after her wedding.  Her staff, Simon Feldman in particular, were surprised that she didn’t take at least a week for a honeymoon, but Nora insisted that the voters had not elected her to take trips to Niagara Falls.

 

Simon Feldman had turned out to be an efficient and capable Chief Executive.  Nora appreciated his delicate handling of Roland Lincoln; he was able to manage the man so that he was most effective at his work.  He even got Lincoln enthused about including his junior staff more in prosecutions.

 

But what she liked best was the fact that she could continue to work in the same building with Jack.  It meant that most days they could have lunch together, even if it was just a sandwich or something from the vendors outside.  Nora kept careful watch on her husband; he was still borderline anemic, and she wanted to make sure he stayed in good health.  Jack flourished under his wife’s attention, and everyone in the office noted that he almost always had a smile on his face.

 

It was early summer when Simon came to Nora’s office for his weekly conference.

 

“You know, Simon, you deserve a medal for all your hard work,” Nora said.  “I can’t believe how much easier you’ve made my job.”

 

“It’s all in knowing people,” Simon said.  “Remember, I’m the ADA that’s been here the longest.  I know how people work together, and what they do best.  I’m just glad you deal with the political end of it.  I don’t think I could ever stand to schmooze fat cats, yet you seem to pull it off with panache.”

 

“It’s just knowing that with those type of people you lay on the flattery extra thick,” Nora said.  “With our conviction record up, thanks to you, my job has become that much easier.”

 

“Sounds like you’re laying the flattery on me pretty thick,” Simon said.  “Are you just practicing, or have I become one of ‘those people’?”

 

“You’ll always be in a class by yourself,” Nora assured him. “What is the assignment load for the next week?”

 

Simon picked up a thick file.  “I’m keeping Roland busy.  He’s really getting into mentoring that new ADA of his, Tanya Watson.  They have a series of cases involving a chop-shop ring that we hope to consolidate this week.  Saul is working on the usual compliment of drug cases, and Jack and Abby don’t have much to do for a change.”  He looked at Nora.  “This would be the ideal time to take that honeymoon you keep postponing.”

 

“It’s not all my fault,” Nora said.  “Granted, I was the one who insisted on going back to work right away, but after that it was Jack.  First the McDonald case, then the Preston kidnapping.  It’s hard to get him to leave when he’s got work to do.”

 

“Well, as of now, he doesn’t,” Simon said.  “There’s only one case, a routine rape/homicide, on the docket, and Abby can handle that.  Why don’t you take the next week off, boss?  You need some time alone with your husband.  I’ve had reports of you holding hands in the elevator.”

 

“Simon, Simon, do you have spies everywhere?” Nora asked teasingly.

 

“Not spies, well-wishers.  Stacey says there are days you sigh when Jack leaves you at the office door.  She says it gives her hope to know that romance isn’t dead.”

 

“And what do you say?”

 

“That it never hurts to go away for a while to keep those fires burning,” Simon answered with a grin.

 

====================================================================================

 

“Abby can deal with the case,” Nora told Jack for the seventh time that evening.  She had told Jack about taking the next week off as soon as he’d come by her office, and had been surprised with his reaction.

 

“I don’t like the idea of Abby being alone on this case,” he’d said.  “She—has a bias toward this type of crime.”

 

“Are you telling me she was a rape victim at one time?” Nora asked.

 

“Yes,” Jack answered quietly.  “I’ve seen how these type of cases bother her.  She tries to hide it beneath that tough Texas exterior, but you can tell.  She comes in with dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.  She is—very vigorous on examination of the defendant.”

 

“But that’s what we want,” Nora argued.  “Someone who can prosecute vigorously.  Someone who is bothered—no, outraged—by this type of crime.”  She laid her hand on Jack’s arm.  “Abby knew what type of cases she’d be trying when she was assigned to you,” she said.  “I think if you asked her, she’d assure you that she wants to prosecute this case.”

 

“Yes, I know, but—“

 

“Besides, Simon will let her choose a junior ADA to be her second chair.  He said he wants to give her a chance to do some hands-on training.”

 

“I can’t deny her the chance to do that,” Jack admitted with a sigh.  “That gives us two days before the weekend to plan where we go on this belated honeymoon.”  He put his arm around her.  “Where shall it be?”

 

Nora smiled.  “The mountains?  The ocean?  I don’t care, as long as it’s someplace cool where we can be alone.”

 

“Then I have a place in mind,” Jack said, looking into her eyes. 

 

Tuesday found Jack and Nora nestled in a cabin in the shadow Monticello, Jefferson’s home in Albemarle County, Virginia.  To west could be seen the imposing outlines of the Blue Ridge Mountains, while below spread the valley with the city of Charlottesville.  Jack and Nora had taken in all the sights, including the University of Virginia, whose buildings had been designed by our third President.  They had dined at the quaint inn, which still served meals the same way they had been doing since the 1790’s.  They had hiked along the woodland trails, amazed at the lush green of all the foliage.   But most of all, they had been together; sitting close, arm in arm.  It was a good, comfortable feeling that Nora hoped would never end.

 

“Perhaps we can come back here when we retire,” she said as they sat out on the porch swing, watching the sunset.  “We could buy some land and build a small cottage.”

 

“But could you give up the cultural advantages of New York?” Jack said, putting his arm around hers.  “After all—“

 

The phone interrupted his words.  He looked at Nora, concerned.  The only one who knew their number was Simon and the man who’d rented them the cabin.

 

“Let’s hope its Mr. Charles, telling us he’s ready to fix that rattling shutter,” Jack said as he picked up the phone.  “McCoy,” he said cautiously.  “Yes, we’re having a good time, but I know this isn’t a social call, Simon.  Do you need to speak to Nora?  Oh.”  He listened for a few moments, his face growing pale.  Then he handed the phone to Nora, saying, “You need to hear this.”

 

“Sorry to rain on your parade, boss,” Simon said.  “But there’s been a complication in that rape/homicide case.  The defendant was found murdered this morning.  And Abby Carmichael was there when the police came.”

 

“She wasn’t there because she’d heard the report on the scanner, was she?” Nora said.

 

“No,” Simon replied.  “The police came in response to a 911 call.  Abby answered their knock.  Her clothes were ripped and there was blood on her skirt.  She escorted them into the living room, where the body of Raymond Conway was on the floor, his head battered in with a bloody baseball bat, which lay on the floor beside the body.”

 

“What was Abby doing there?  What did she say happened?” Nora asked.

 

“She has refused to talk,” Simon said.  “I went to the 2-7 to see her, and, frankly, I think she’s in shock.  I asked if she wanted me to call a lawyer, and she just looked at me as if I were speaking Swahili.  I know that you want us to treat this like any other crime, boss, but in this case—“

 

“We’ll be back right away.”  Nora put down the phone.  She looked at Jack.

 

“I’m going to the bedroom to pack the bags now,” he said grimly.

====================================================================================

“Simon, we just got in at the airport,” Nora called from her cell phone as Jack hailed a cab.  “I want to know the status on the Carmichael case so we know where to go.”

 

“Well, you can come here, I guess,” Simon said.  “I’ll stick around even though it’s near closing time.  There have been some new developments that, frankly, I’m sure how to handle.  I’ll tell you about them as soon as you come.”

 

Nora got into the cab and Jack followed.  “One Hogan Place,” she told the cabby.  She turned to Jack.  “There’s been some sort of complication,” she said.  “Something that has got Simon spooked.”

 

“It must be something really big to shake Simon,” Jack said.  “I wonder what it is.”

 

They found out as soon as they got off the elevator on the tenth floor.  Simon, his face solemn, met them.  “You want the good news, the bad news, or the impossible news?” he asked.

 

“The good news, “ Nora said.

 

“No fingerprints were found on the baseball bat, which has been positively identified as the murder weapon.  No one has come forward who says they saw Abby kill Conway.”

 

“And the bad news?” Jack asked. 

 

“No one has come forward that saw anyone enter or leave the apartment, except for Abby.  The blood on her clothing matched that of the victim.  She still refuses to say anything about what happened.”

 

“What is the impossible part?” Nora asked.

 

“You’re not going to like this,” Simon said.  “Abby has requested that Jack act as her attorney.  She told me that this afternoon when I visited her at Riker’s.  We’re keeping her in isolation in the medical ward there.  The doctors say she is still in shock.”

 

Jack looked at Nora.  “What complications will this cause?” he asked.  “Because you know I have to stand by her.”

 

“There is the fact that you are my husband,” Nora reminded him.  “That could be construed as a conflict of interest.”

 

“Not if you ask the Mayor to assign an independent Special Prosecutor,” Jack said.  “The very fact that Abby works in your office would be reason enough to do that.”

 

“But that will keep me out of the loop,” Nora objected.  “Now, if the case is assigned to someone from Brooklyn, I’m all right.  Ted Stewart is a political ally.  But if it goes to Staten Island—“

 

“Just remember that the Mayor is on your side, too,” Jack remarked.  “I’m sure he won’t do anything to rock your political boat.  Get on the phone and talk to him.  I’m taking a car to Riker’s.”

 

When Jack entered the hospital ward, he made sure all the attendants knew he was there as a defense attorney and not a prosecutor.  He noted confusion and then distrust on the face of the guards, and wondered if this was a harbinger of things to come.

 

Abby was in a bed isolated from the others by hanging curtains.  A guard stood nearby.  Jack looked at the man, who said, “I have orders to protect this prisoner from possible assaults by the other inmates.”

 

“All well and good,” Jack said, “but this is now officially a conference between a client and her attorney.  Please wait on the other side of the curtain.”  He watched as the guard glared, then left.

 

Abby looked a mess.  There were red marks around her throat, and bruises on her wrists and arms.  Her eyes were closed, but they opened in fear as Jack leaned over the bed.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” she breathed.  “Thank God!  Jack, I’m sorry to have spoiled your honeymoon, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

 

“It’s all right,” Jack said as he patted her hand.  “We’ve got to keep our voices down because this interview is really less than private.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Abby sighed.  She sat up a little and then began.  “We were in pre-trial motions this week.  Conway’s lawyer was Fred Gaines.  You know his reputation—tenacious, but basically honest.  He’d got Conway out on a million dollars bail, seeing as this was his first offense.  And he’d won his pretrial motions—some of our evidence was out, due to a faulty search warrant, but it wasn’t fatal.  Anyway, last night?  Was it just last night? Justin Downs, my second chair, and I were going over evidence, trying to find another way to link Conway with the apartment where his ex-wife, the victim, was found.  I got a call.  It was a male voice, not familiar to me.  He said he had information on the Conway case, and that I should go to this apartment on West 23rd Street to meet with him—alone.  That should have sent off warning bells, but I was tired.  I told Justin what I was going to do, and he told me that I should at least call the police, but I didn’t.   Anyway, I went to the apartment building.  But there was a sign on the elevator, saying it was out of order.  So I went to the fire stairs.  As soon as I opened the door, someone grabbed me and put a pillowcase over my head.  They started choking me, and I struggled.”

 

“What happened next?” Jack asked.

 

“That’s just it, I don’t know,” Abby said.  “I was sure I was going to be assaulted—like I was way back when.  The doctors here assure me that was not the case.  That’s the only good think about the whole ordeal.  Anyway, I sort of blanked out.  I remember struggling, hitting, being dragged somewhere, but that’s all.  It was like some horrible nightmare.  And when I awoke, I was lying beside the body of Raymond Conway.  It was covered with blood.  I staggered up and went towards the door, trying to find help.  That was when the police knocked.  I let them in and led them to the body.  Then they started asking questions I couldn’t answer.  They got a bit belligerent, and I clammed up.  That’s when I realized I was in shock.  They took me down to the station and booked me.  Then Simon came. He realized I might have been assaulted and told them to take me to the hospital to be checked.  I think Simon pulled some strings to get me assigned to the isolation ward here.”  She sighed and looked at Jack.  “Really, that’s all I know.”

 

“You were set up, Abby,” Jack said.  “Simon told me that your fingerprints weren’t found on the bat.”

 

“That was because I kept my hands in fists,” Abby said.  “I remember doing that.  So he was killed with a bat?  Good.  When I first woke up, I thought I’d killed him with my bare hands.”

 

“I think we’ll be able to get you out of this,” Jack said.  “When you feel up to it, talk to the King’s County Prosecutor.”

 

“King’s County?  It happened right here in Manhattan,” Abby said.

 

“Yeah, but we decided it would be best to get the Mayor to appoint a Special Prosecutor,” Jack said, “at least until you are cleared.  Nora doesn’t want anyone accusing her of conflict of interest. She’s going to see if Guiliani won’t appoint Ted Stewart as independent counsel.”

 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Abby said.  She shivered.  “That attack brought back all my memories, Jack.  I don’t know what happened, I really don’t.  And I know how that will look to a prosecutor.”

 

“Sit tight—well, rest easy,” Jack said.  “When the SP comes, give me a call and I’ll be here with you when you tell him your story.  Meanwhile, I’m going to talk with your ADA and the police, if they’ll let me.  It’s an odd feeling, being a defense attorney in a prosecutor’s world, but I’m going to do my best.”  He bid Abby farewell and drove back to Hogan Place.

 

He walked into Nora’s office.  “I think I know what happened,” he said.  “I’ll have to talk to Justin Downs, and—“

 

Nora looked up at him from her desk.  “Jack, the Mayor put Davis Rawlings in charge of the case.”

 

Jack sat down on the couch, thunderstruck.  “The Staten Island DA?  What did you do to the Mayor to make him wish Rawlings into the case?”

 

Nora sighed.  “I’ve just been reelected, so I’m politically secure, according to His Honor.  He needs to make points with Rawlings, he says.  Personally, I think the Mayor believes this case will raise a stink, and he wants the odor to permeate Richmond County instead of Manhattan.”

 

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Jack said.  “Abby was set up.  When I talk to Justin Downs, I think I’ll get corroboration on that.  Then I’ll check with the police on exactly how they were summoned to that apartment.  They need to dust the stairwell for prints, and check for signs of a struggle.”

 

“All well and good, Jack, but remember I’m not in charge of the investigation now,” Nora said.  “I hope that Rawlings conducts this fairly and judiciously, but I’m not holding my breath.”

 

“Well, I’ll do what I can,” Jack said.  “Do I have your permission to interview Downs?”

 

“Yes, and anyone else that will talk with you,” Nora said.  “Jack, it’s not going to be easy.  Doors that are open for a prosecutor are slammed shut for defense attorneys.”

 

“I know,” Jack said, getting up.  “But I’ve got to do this to help Abby.”

 

“I’ll wait here, “ Nora said.  “You go interview Justin, and I’ll see what I can find out from the police.  I have to call them to let them know of the change in prosecutors.”

 

Jack nodded and left.  He went to his office, where he picked up a few things.  Then he consulted the computer file to get Justin’s home phone number.

 

“Hello?”  The words were slightly slurred.

 

“Is this Justin Downs?” Jack asked.

 

“Yeah, for what it’s worth.”  The man wasn’t volunteering anything.

 

“This is Jack McCoy.  I’m representing Abby Carmichael.  Could I come and talk with you?”

 

“You’re the Boss, and the Boss’s wife—I mean husband.  Yeah, I guess you can come over.”

 

Jack sighed and shook his head.  “You still live in the Village?” He squinted as he wrote down the address shown on the computer screen.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”  Jack slammed down the receiver and turned off the computer.  If this was how all the witnesses were going to react, he did have his work cut out for him.

 

Jack went back to Nora’s office.  “I’ve got a very drunk young attorney to interview in the Village.  Do you want to come along, or are you still manning the phones here?”

 

“Come back and report,” Nora said, her ear to the phone.  “I’m on hold, courtesy of a captain who will soon be on report.”

 

Jack nodded and left.  He snagged a taxi and made his way to the Village.  Downs’ apartment was in a refurbished brownstone that had been painted a garish yellow.  Jack shook his head as he pushed the buzzer and heard the click.  Justin Downs was waiting for him at the door of his apartment.  The young attorney probably looked quite formidable when he was combed, shaved, and dressed in a neatly pressed suit.  But right now, he looked pitiful.  His blond hair was sticking up straight in the air, and the stubble on his chin gave him a forlorn look.  He wore a stained and faded football jersey over jeans, and he reeked of alcohol.

 

“Boss.  Boss’s boss, come in,” he said, motioning to a cluttered living room.  Jack moved papers from a chair and sat down.  Downs weaved around aimlessly, finally asking, “Do you need something do dink—to drink?”  He laughed.

 

“No,” Jack said.  “I need to talk to you.”

 

“About what?”  The young man ambled over to the refrigerator and got out a can of beer.  “About the biggest screw-up of my life?  That I let my darling Abby get in danger and didn’t lift a finger to help?”  He popped the lid and threw himself on the papers littering the couch.  The foam from the beer spewed everywhere, and he made no move to clean up the mess.

 

“Look, Downs, I’m the king when it comes to wallowing in self-pity.  Frankly, it gets old, very old, after a while.  No amount of alcohol is ever going to get rid of that feeling of guilt you’re carrying inside.  You have a chance to help, and it will do a lot more good to talk to me than to guzzle another can of beer.”

 

Downs sat the can on the floor and tried to focus on Jack’s face.  “Maybe I need some coffee, then.”  He lurched up and went to the kitchen.  Jack followed him, watching as he filled the coffee maker with water and added a half-cup of coffee to the basket.  “Make it strong enough, it’ll kill the alcohol.” 

 

More like kill your stomach lining, Jack thought, but he said, “Abby says you were with her when she got the phone call.  What exactly happened?”

 

Downs stared at the coffee trickling into the pot.  “We were going over the evidence.  I was quite upset because Judge Mitchell threw out Conway’s coat and hat.  Not really threw out, they were evidence.  Sorry, it’s hard to focus.” He pressed his hand to his forehead.  “Evidence obtained in an illegal search of the defendant’s domicile,” he said in formal tones.  “The Judge said that the warrant was improperly executed.  I was devastated; the forensic evidence from the coat and hat placed Conway at the scene of the crime.  Let me get some coffee and sit down, then I’ll tell you the rest.”  He poured himself a large mug of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.  Jack sat down opposite him and listened. 

 

“Abby kept telling me we would find another way to place Conway at the scene of the crime.  We were going over the detectives’ notes when the phone rang.  Abby took it.  She listened, and said something like, ‘Sure.  It’s solid evidence? Ok.’ She looked at me and said, ‘this may be the break we need.  He says he was a witness and saw Conway go into his ex-wife’s building the night of the crime.  He asked me to meet him at 813 23rd Street, Apartment 4B.  Call the cavalry if you haven’t heard from me in an hour.’  That’s when I offered to come, but she turned me down. ‘He said to come alone.  I don’t want to spook him.’  I said we ought to call the cops, but she vetoed that, too.  She picked up her purse and her coat and left.  I kept on going over the reports until I got the call, but it wasn’t from Abby.  It was from men at the 33rd, telling me what happened.  I raced down to the station and saw her, white as a sheet and in shock.  From the way she looked, and her torn clothes, I figured he’d done to her what he’d done to his ex, and she’d given him a swifter form of justice.  But when the captain came in and started reading Miranda, I freaked.  I told her to remain silent and to get a damn good attorney.  I was still yelling advice when they escorted me out.  The captain and I had a few words about proper prosecutorial conduct, and then I came home and hit the beer.”  He took a big swig of coffee and shook his head.

 

“You couldn’t have done anything, you know,” Jack said.  “Abby was your boss and was calling the shots.”

 

“I could’ve called the cops after she left,” Downs said morosely.  “Just to let them know what was going on.”

 

“Did the police tell you who told them to go to that apartment?” Jack asked. 

 

“No,” Downs drank the rest of the coffee in the mug and got up to get some more.  “They just said they found her there.  In the excitement, I forgot to ask why they had gone to that address in the first place.”

 

“Well, get yourself sober and try to stay that way,” Jack said.  “I have a feeling I’ll be needing to talk with you some more.”  He got up to go, then turned.  “Oh, by the way, Abby wasn’t raped.  And she didn’t kill Conway.”  He left an astonished-looking Downs and let himself out of the apartment. 

 

As he hailed a cab, he considered going by the 33rd Precinct before heading back to Hogan Place.  He was really interested in knowing who notified the police about 813 23rd Street.  He got out of the cab in front of the station house and went inside to the desk sergeant.

 

“Jack McCoy here, representing Abby Carmichael,” he said.  “I’d like to know how the police were informed about 813 23rd Street.”

 

“Oh that?” The sergeant looked at Jack.  “From what I hear, that SOB deserved anything the DA dished out, in or out of court.  But what you wanted.  It was a 911 call, came in about—“

 

“Sergeant Clark, what does this man want?”  The imperious voice of Captain Roberts rang through the squad room.  Jack turned to see the fat, little man striding toward him.  “Mr. McCoy.”  Roberts was always formal, but now the formality seemed icy.  “I have been informed by the Police Commissioner that we are assisting Mr. Rawlings in this matter.  Manhattan doesn’t have anything to do with this case anymore.”

 

“Excuse me, Captain, but I do,” Jack said.  “I am representing Ms. Carmichael in this matter.”

 

Roberts smiled a tight little smile.  “Well then, I suggest you talk with Mr. Rawlings’ office.  You know the drill when it comes to defense attorneys.”

 

Jack slammed into Nora’s office.  “This thing could be cleared up quickly—and easily—if it weren’t for people like Capt. Roberts.”

 

Nora, who had been sitting on the couch reading, put down her book and went to her husband.  “What did Abby tell you?” she asked.  “Since I’m now officially out of the loop, you can tell me without betraying any confidences.”

 

Jack led her back to the couch and they both sat down.  “She was set up, Nora.  Justin Downs confirms it.  They were working when Abby got an anonymous call.  Someone claimed to be a witness, and told her to meet him at an apartment on 23rd.  When she got there, a note was on the elevator saying it was out of order.  So she went to the fire stairs.  As soon as she opened the door, someone threw a pillowcase over her head and there was a struggle.  The next thing she knew, she was on the floor in an apartment, lying next to the corpse of Raymond Conway.  She got up to get help, and the police knocked at the door.”

 

“So she doesn’t know what happened between the time the struggle started and she found herself on the floor?” Nora asked.

 

“No,” Jack replied.  “She just can’t remember.  We know that her clothes were torn in the struggle, and that she has a mark on her neck and bruises on her arms.  But she wasn’t raped.”

 

“Thank God for that,” Nora breathed.  “I take it you had a run-in with Captain Roberts.  Where did you see him?”

 

“At the 33rd.  I went by to try and find out how the police were brought into the matter.”

 

“I probably didn’t help things, then.  He was the captain that kept me on hold. I was rather sharp with him when I finally got his attention.  I told him that I wanted a complete and thorough investigation conducted, and he started telling me things before I could explain about Rawlings taking over.  They got a 911 call, a raspy male voice, saying they heard a fight going on and a woman’s scream.  They gave the address and hung up.  This was at 9:15.  The police got to the apartment less than five minutes later.  They took Abby in to the station, telling their supervisor that it looked like a domestic dispute gone bad.  Neither officer knew Abby, but their supervisor, Sgt. Adams, did.  He brought in Capt. Roberts, who phoned Simon.  This part I got from Simon. Before he could get there, Justin Downs showed up, hysterical.  Roberts escorted him out, and was in a very foul mood when Simon arrived.  Nothing had been done about checking out Abby’s physical condition, and the Captain was furious because Abby refused to talk.  Simon decided to book her and get her to Riker’s for her own safety, until he could figure out what had happened.”

 

“No wonder Simon was so upset when he called us in Virginia!” Jack said.  He shook his head.  “I don’t like this, not at all.  Roberts seemed to enjoy rubbing it in my face that I had no business in his precinct.  And with Rawlings at the helm of the investigation, I’m wondering if they’ll ever check out Abby’s story.  Unless they get a forensics team there soon, evidence in the stairwell will be gone.”

 

“There’s one thing we can do, Jack, and that is to hire a private investigator,” Nora said. 

 

“I know some, but none that I trust,” Jack said.  “And I’m leery of hiring them.  If one of them turns up in a case I try down the road, they could use our business relationship to say I was biased, and screw up the case.”

 

“Well, there is another way,” Nora said thoughtfully.  “You could enlist the aid of some policemen who don’t work at the 33rd.  They could do a private investigation for you when they’re not on duty.”

 

“That’s a thought,” Jack said.  “I think I know who would do it for me—and for Abby.”

 

“Jack, you old dog!  How’s married life?”  Lennie Briscoe turned down the radio so he could hear, and loosened his tie.  “I thought you were off someplace on your honeymoon.”

 

“I was, but Simon Feldman called us back.  Did you hear about Abby?”

 

“Vaguely.  Something about her and a rapist having a meeting, and the rapist getting the worst of it.  If you’re soliciting funds for her defense, I’ll be glad to contribute.”

 

“I need more than money—I need you, Lennie,” Jack said.  “This case is turning ugly, and I can’t just go in the precinct door and sort it out.  Abby asked me to represent her.  And because of that, the case has been placed in the hands of Davis Rawlings.”

 

“Rawlings?”  Lennie groaned.  “He’s got a political agenda as long as the state of New Jersey!  Which bonehead gave him the case?”

 

“The one that lives in Gracie Mansion,” Jack said.  “The Mayor said that Nora is safe, politically, for four years, and so he was trying to mend some political fences.”

 

“Right,” Lennie said. “I wouldn’t touch the fence between those two, it’s electrified.  Well, Counselor, what do you want me to do?  Shoot Rawlings or the Mayor?”

 

“Neither one.  Believe it or not, Lennie, Abby didn’t kill the man.  She was set up.  I’ve got to find a way to prove her side of the story, and I don’t trust Rawlings or Captain Roberts to do a thorough job checking it out.  So I was wondering—“

 

“I just got off my shift,” Lennie said, straightening his tie.  “And I have some vacation time coming.  The LT shouldn’t give me a hard time if I take a few days off—she likes Abby, too.  Let me call Ed, and then get back with you.  Where shall we meet?”

 

Jack looked at Nora.  “Make it my house in, say, an hour?  We just got home and need to unpack.”

 

“Yeah, I know how newlyweds unpack,” Lennie said with a grin.  “We’ll be there in an hour.”

 

“What are you smiling about?” Nora asked as Jack put down the phone. 

 

“Just something Lennie said,” Jack replied.  He put his arm around his wife.  “He still considers us newlyweds.”

 

“Well, I do, too,” Nora said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.  “Though it always seems that work gets in the way of romance with us.”

 

“This is more than just work,” Jack said seriously.  “This is a crusade.”

 

“Ah, my noble knight,” Nora sighed as she looked up into his face.  “Just make sure that when you ride into battle this time, I’m by your side.”

 

An hour later, Jack answered the door to his house and invited Lennie and Ed in.  “Nora’s upstairs, unpacking, but she’ll be down in a moment,” he said, showing them into the living room.  He went over to the bar.  “Can I get you anything?”

 

“Club soda for me, Jack,” Lennie said as he took a seat. 

 

Ed walked over to the bar.  “As I understand it, you want to hire us to help you get Abby out of a jam.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said as he got a glass and filled it with club soda for Lennie.  “You want something, Ed?  We’ve got soft drinks and harder stuff if you’d like.”

 

Ed shook his head.  “I don’t drink while I’m on duty, and I consider myself on duty.  A Coke will be fine.”

 

“Then you’re willing to help us,” Jack said, pouring Ed’s drink.

 

“Darned straight,” Ed said, taking the glass.  “I only wish I had vacation days coming like Lennie.  But I’ll help all I can.”

 

“Maybe that will be to our advantage,” Jack said, walking over to Lennie and handing him his glass.  “I want someone who can stay on duty and sort of keep his eyes and ears open.”

 

“What Jack says goes double for me,” Nora said, coming into the room.  She went to the sofa, and Jack joined her.  “The Mayor has tied my hands on this one.  But I want to make sure that the investigation is handled fairly.”

 

“And you’re not quite sure that will happen on Rawlings’ watch,” Lennie stated as he sipped his soda.  “What do you want us to do?”

 

“I want you to go to the crime scene,” Jack said.  “I want to make sure it is intact.  So far, they aren’t investigating Abby’s story.  When I left Riker’s, I was under the impression that someone from King’s County would be put in charge of the case.  I expected him to be in contact with me about an interview, during which Abby would tell all.  I get back to find His Honor has thrown us a curveball in the form of Davis Rawlings.  No one from his office has been in touch with me, and, frankly, I’m concerned.”  He went on to relate Abby’s story to the two detectives.  “Go to the apartment.  Check for evidence of a sign having been placed on the elevator.  Look in the stairwell.  Note if the boys from the 33rd are paying undue attention to it.”

 

“Look, too, for evidence showing how Abby was transported from the stairwell to the apartment,” Nora said.  “She’s a big girl, and if she was struggling, she might have left evidence somewhere.”

 

“I can go by the 33rd and see what they’re doing,” Ed offered.

 

“Not yet,” Jack said.  “First, go to the scene and see what you can find.”

 

“Do we tell the cops about it?” Lennie asked.

 

“Only after you’ve documented your finds thoroughly, on film if possible,” Nora said.  “I don’t want any cries of hindering prosecution.”

 

“Oh boy, this sounds like fun,” Lennie said, getting up.  “Shall we go, partner?”  Ed nodded and got up.

 

“It’s going to be hard for them,” Nora said as she watched them go down the steps to their car.  “I was hoping it would be—easier, with them being policemen, but now I’m not so sure.”

 

Jack came up to her and put his arm around her.  “If anyone can help us, Lennie and Ed can,” he said softly.  “I need to make a phone call to Rawlings, I guess, and tell him Abby is ready to talk.”

 

Nora sighed.  “I guess so.  That means another trip to Riker’s tonight, but it’s important.”  She looked into his eyes.  “Just be careful.  Don’t get overtired—“

 

“Yes, Mom,” Jack grinned.  He kissed her lightly on the cheek and then reached for the phone.

 

Although it was quite late, Abby agreed to the interview with the Special Prosecutor.  Jack had rushed to Riker’s so he could confer with her before Rawlings came.

 

“I’ve got Lennie and Ed at the scene of the crime, looking for clues to back up your story,” Jack said.  “As soon as Rawlings has heard it, he’ll order the forensics team in and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

 

Abby sighed. “Jack, I worry when you’re optimistic.  You and I both know that Rawlings is a hog for publicity and will do anything to stay in the limelight.  He’s not about to let me off the hook so easily.”

 

“He took an oath, just as we did, to try and find the truth,” Jack said stubbornly.  “It’s in his own best interests to do so.  He’ll be the laughingstock of the five boroughs if he fumbles this one.”

 

“Maybe,” Abby said doubtfully.  She turned as the curtains around her bed were parted and Davis Rawlings strode into the room.

 

He was a big, burly man, whose carefully brushed hair attempted to hide his spreading bald spot.  He pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up on his nose and cleared his throat.  “Abigail Carmichael, I believe you have something to tell me?”

 

“Yes.”  Abby stifled the impulse to add Your Honor.  She looked at Rawlings’ double chin and thought how much he reminded her of a pig.  “I am ready to give you a full statement.  Did you bring a court reporter?”

 

“No, but my assistant, Mr. James Foster, takes shorthand,” Rawlings told him imperiously.  “We shall also record this conversation, with permission of Counsel.”  He nodded at Jack.

 

“That’s fine,” Jack said. “My client has nothing to hide.”

 

Abby retold her tale, although Rawlings interrupted several times to ask questions.  Jack restrained himself from making comments; the sooner it was over, the better it was for Abby.  Surely the SP would see that she was cooperating fully.

 

“Very interesting,” Rawlings said when Abby was done.  “And you are sure you remember nothing after the pillowcase was pulled over your head?”

 

“Nothing specific,” Abby corrected him.  “You may recall I said I vaguely remember struggling, and possibly being drug up some stairs.”

 

“A good out for the defense.”  Rawlings turned and looked at Jack.  “I suppose you will be pleading temporary insanity for your client.”

 

Jack looked at Rawlings with wide eyes.  “I believe my client is totally and completely innocent,” he said.  “I’m sure when the police check out her story, they will find corroborating forensic evidence.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure.” Rawlings’ voice dripped sarcasm.  “Well, arraignment is set for tomorrow.  I talked with the doctor, and he says Ms. Carmichael will be fit enough to be placed in general population then.”

 

“You’re going for remand?” Jack couldn’t believe his ears.

 

“Yes,” Rawlings said.  “We have to show the people of New York that we take all prosecutions seriously.”

 

“And that you don’t care a fig about the fate of prosecutors!” Jack said.  “I will let the judge know that you plan to place Abby in general population if you get remand.  He’ll grant Abby bail so fast it will make your head spin!”

 

Rawlings shrugged.  “Who will know that I said that?  The recorder is turned off, and James is very discreet.”

 

“Oh, you’re not the only one who taped the interview,” Jack said easily.  “I’m so glad the law allows taped evidence into a courtroom—as long as one of the parties gives permission to do the taping.”

 

Rawlings stood up, furious, and stamped out of the room, his assistant trailing behind.

 

“Jack, I didn’t know you taped the interview!” Abby exclaimed.

 

Jack grinned.  “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he said, pulling a small recorder from his coat pocket.  “I’m not going to let that man bully you just to obtain political glory.  Rest now, and tomorrow you’ll be out on bail.”

 

Jack was whistling as he unlocked the door to his brownstone.  Rawlings would probably back down on remand now, and Abby would be able to go home.  He thought it might be a good idea if she had a friend stay with her, and was considering whom to suggest as he entered the hall.

 

That was when it hit him.  The lights were out.  Nora always left a light on downstairs, even when they were home.  Perhaps it had burned out.  Jack flipped the switch, and there was a blaze of light.  Something was wrong.

 

“Nora!” Jack called.  No answer.  He took the steps two at a time and raced to her bedroom.  It was dark.  He turned on the lights.  The bed was still made, and there was no sign that Nora had been in the room since she finished unpacking their luggage.  He raced for the bathroom—had she slipped and fallen?  No one was there.  He was in the house alone.

 

Panic seized Jack as he raced from room to room, calling her name.  What had happened?  Maybe Abby was only the first of a series of prosecutors who were—Jack shook the horrible thought from his head.  He was pacing the living room, trying to figure out whom to call, when he heard the door open and saw Nora enter.

 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  He raced to her side, and then surprised himself by saying in a harsh voice, “Where the HELL have you been?”

 

Nora looked at him, shocked.  She slowly and deliberately put her purse down on the hall table, and then said, very quietly, “I was out following a lead.”

 

“Well, damn it, you shouldn’t have done it!  Let me handle this investigation!” Jack exclaimed.

 

Steel crept into Nora’s voice as she said, “I believe I told you we would ride into this battle together.  I meant it.”

 

Jack knew he shouldn’t, but he kept on.  “Those are nice words, Nora, but I’ve got to protect you.”

 

“From what?” Nora’s eyes blazed, and Jack took a step back.  “This isn’t a political matter.  This involves our friend, who is in grave danger and needs all the help she can get!  There are things I can do without breeching the code of ethics, and I plan to do them.  Now, do you want to know what I found out, or don’t you?”

 

“I do,” Jack said forlornly, looking at the floor.  He sighed.  “It’s just that—I got home, it was dark, and my mind went on a rampage.  I had visions of whoever assaulted Abby assaulting you, and—“ He went over to her and took her in his arms.  “That was why I was so angry, I guess.  It was masking the fear that I’d lost you.”

 

“Oh Jack!”  Nora held him tight and looked into his eyes.  “I’m not planning to go anywhere for a long time.”

 

“But you never know—“ Jack brushed his hands lightly over her hair, and then reached down and kissed her.

 

“If we keep on, I’ll forget my news,” Nora said softly when they were done.  “Come sit down on the couch and I’ll tell you.”

They walked to the living room arm in arm and sat down.

 

“After you left, I got thinking.  You said that Justin Downs reported getting a phone call from the 33rd, which caused him to go down there to see what he could do.  But my impression from Capt. Roberts was that the young man just showed up, out of the blue.  So I called the precinct.  I got hold of the Captain and told him I needed to know if anyone of his people had called Justin Downs.  He hemmed and hawed until I told him it was a prosecutorial matter and the Commissioner wanted to know, too.  That’s when I discovered no one had phoned Downs.  When I heard that, I just flew out of the room and went to his apartment.  He’s gone, Jack, and no one knows where he is.”

 

Jack looked at Nora thoughtfully.  “Do you think Downs could have committed the crime?” he asked skeptically.  “He seemed genuinely grief-stricken over Abby’s plight.  I think he likes her.”

 

“You know that lawyers sometimes have to be good actors,” Nora countered.

 

Jack shook his head.  “He’s not that good an actor.  When I told him Abby had not been raped and had not killed Conway, the relief on his face was genuine.”

 

“Then why run?” Nora asked, perplexed.  “You told him to get sober and to stick around, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Jack said.  He got up and started pacing the floor.  “He was drunk when I went to his apartment, but had pretty much sobered up by the time I left.  I wonder if he was holding out on me.”  He looked at Nora.  “You know, whoever planned this had to have inside knowledge about what was going on with the case.  Someone would have had to know that important evidence was thrown out, and that Abby would jump at the chance to interview a witness.  That really narrows the field.”

 

“And gives me shivers,” Nora said.  Jack sat down again and put his arm around her.  She looked at him earnestly.  “You realize then, that whoever framed Abby and killed Conway has to be either a member of the defense team or someone in my office.  I draw the line at suspecting Judge Rivera.”

 

“Me too,” Jack said, furrowing his brow.  “How much do you know about Justin Downs, Nora?  I’m sorry, but I still can’t see him in the role of murderer and scoundrel.”

 

Nora thought a moment.  “When I first came, I went through all the personnel records.  Justin Downs was a rising star in the second tier of junior ADA’s.  I wasn’t surprised when Abby chose him as her second chair.  I don’t know if he has any bad habits, but I was never one to listen to office gossip.”  She yawned.  “I hate to do it, but I guess we’d better call Simon, unless you think a phone call to the police is in order…”

 

“No, I don’t want another ADA locked up unless I know he’s guilty,” Jack said.  “Call Simon.  Maybe he’ll know where Downs hangs out.”

 

Nora picked up the phone and hit the number for Simon Feldman.  “Simon, this is Nora.  No, it doesn’t look like I’m going to get any sleep tonight. You know Justin Downs went to the 33rd Precinct—yes, but no one there called him.  No, we haven’t figured out why he went there, either.  When Jack saw him, he was in the middle of a drunk.  I realized the discrepancy in his story and called him up to check on it, and he didn’t answer his phone.  Realizing he might be sleeping it off, I went over to his apartment.  There was no one home.  No, I don’t have a clue, and neither does Jack.  We were hoping you might know something.”  She frowned as she listened.  “Nothing?  Well, sorry to have interrupted your sleep.  Yes, I’ll try.  Thanks.”  She looked at Jack.  “Simon said Justin Downs is a man of no known bad habits, except kicking back a few beers with his fellow ADA’s on a Saturday night.  He’s at a loss to know where to look for the man.”

 

“Then it’s time to call in the police—our police,” Jack said.  “Lennie and Ed are still out and about.  I told them to phone in if they found anything.  They haven’t, so they have probably struck a dry hole and will be eager to look into the mysterious disappearance of Justin Downs.” 

 

Nora handed him the phone and he punched in Lennie’s cell phone number.  “Lennie?  This is Jack.  What have you found?”

 

“That the policemen at the 33rd precinct have a very sloppy way of handling a crime scene,” Lennie replied.  “When we came here, they didn’t even have the apartment taped off.  I called it in to LT, who then raised a stink with Capt. Roberts.  She went out on a limb for us, because she wants to help Abby, too.  When forensics finally came, we were able to direct their attention to the stairwell and the elevator door.  They’re working on that now, and we’re just hanging around to see what they find.  So, what’s up with you?”

 

“We need you to find a missing ADA,” Jack said.  “Abby’s second chair, Justin Downs, has disappeared.  He showed up at the 33rd just after Abby was brought in, but no one called him.  When we realized that, Nora went to talk with him, but he was gone.  We really need to find him.”

 

“Gotcha,” Lennie said.  “I’ll talk with Ed, and have him stick around here to see what he can find.  Meanwhile, I’ll go look for Mr. Justin Downs.”

 

Jack put down the phone and looked at Nora.  “The detectives are on it.  What say we go to bed and try to get some rest?

 

They lay in bed, but neither one could sleep.  After about fifteen minutes, Nora turned to Jack and said, “I’m glad we don’t have a waterbed.  With all our tossing and turning, we’d create a tidal wave.”

 

Jack laughed and held out his arms for her. “If we can’t sleep, at least we can be close,” he sighed.  “There are just too many questions running through my mind for me to be able to rest.  Why was Abby set up?  What part did Justin play in this whole thing?  Who is really responsible for the murder?”

 

“I know, Jack.  Those same questions are flooding my brain, too.  But neither of us will be any good—or any help to Abby—if we don’t get some sleep tonight.  Let’s try.”  She snuggled closer.  “Maybe if we thought back to the Blue Ridge Mountains, and looking down into the valley, we’ll get calm enough to sleep.”

 

Jack tried, but he didn’t think he’d slept at all until the phone woke him just as the first rays of sunlight were coming in the window.  He turned slowly, so as not to waken Nora, and picked up the phone.

 

“Jack?  It’s Ed.  I’ve finally got the forensics report.  It took forever, because everyone was so close-mouthed at the scene.  And then I had to—“

 

“Tell me, Ed, is the news good or bad?”

 

“Oh, forensics found enough evidence to corroborate Abby’s story.  There was sticky reside on the elevator door, indicating that something had been taped there not long ago.  And they found strands of long brown hair in the stairwell, as well as some traces of blood, which I’m betting will prove to be Abby’s or her attacker’s.  And the kicker was that they found Abby’s purse on the steps leading down to the basement.  Everything was there—credit cards, money—so we know it hasn’t been disturbed.  They dusted it, and got some prints.”

 

“With luck, some of them won’t be hers,” Jack said.  “This is great news.  Did they find the pillowcase?”

 

“No,” Ed replied.  “It wasn’t in evidence, either in the stairwell or the apartment.  I’m going to scout the dumpsters in the neighborhood before I go home to get some shuteye.”

 

“Thanks,” Jack said.  “Have you heard from Lennie?”

 

“No, but he said it might take a while.  He was going to start by checking the bars in the Village, and then go on from there.  Hope his taste for club soda holds out.”

 

“It will,” Jack said.  “Thanks again.”  He put down the phone.

 

“Good news?” Nora asked sleepily.

 

Jack turned and looked at her.  “Very good news.  Forensics confirms that Abby was attacked in the stairwell.  Of course, Rawlings will contend that the attack started there and continued up in the apartment.  But at least he can’t ask for Murder Two.  The most he could charge her with would be Man One, and that would be weak, considering the circumstances.”

 

“But we know she’s innocent,” Nora said.

 

“Yes,” Jack said.  “But I was thinking of the arraignment today.  There’s no way Rawlings can ask for remand, or even high bail now.”

 

Jack waited in the courtroom, watching the parade of people coming up before the arraignment judge.  The steady drone of the proceedings almost put him to sleep, but he kept his eyes opened and focused on the door.  They soon brought Abby in.  She looked pale in the dark business suit that Nora had got from her apartment and taken to her to wear for the hearing.  She nodded at Jack, and stood straight and tall beside him as Judge Taylor looked over the arraignment papers. 

 

“You’re holding this defendant on charges of Murder Two?” she asked Mr. Foster, who was there representing the prosecution.

 

“Yes, Your Honor, and we ask remand—“

 

“Hold your horses.”  The judge held up a hand, then turned to Jack.  “How does the defendant plead?”

 

“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Abby said in a husky voice.  The judge looked at her carefully and then turned to Foster.

 

“What’s this about remand?”

 

“The People wish to send out the message that no person is above the law,” Foster explained.  “We ask for—“

 

“Yes, I know.” The judge shook her head.  “Defense?”

 

“Your Honor, my client has no prior record.  She is an officer of this court, and is not a flight risk.  Seeing that she has already undergone severe physical trauma, we feel that the best place for her is home, where she can rest and recuperate.”

 

“So noted.”  She looked at Abby.  “Did you receive those marks on your neck while incarcerated at Riker’s?”

 

“No, Your Honor,” Abby said.  “I received them at the hands of an unknown assailant before I was arrested.”

 

“I am sorry for your injury, but I am glad you did not receive it while in custody,” Judge Taylor said.  “Mr. Foster, I see no reason to keep the defendant locked up.  If I’d been choked as hard as she obviously was, I’d want to go home and rest, too.  Bail is set at $50,000.”  She banged her gavel.

 

Jack turned to Abby.  “We have the money, and your bail is arranged,” he said as he picked up his briefcase.  “We’ll get the paperwork done and you’ll be able to walk out of the courthouse with me.”  He gave her a pat on the arm just before she was led away.

 

James Foster came up to Jack.  “Neat trick, McCoy, prejudicing the judge like that.  Did you send her a copy of the tape of our interview?”

 

“No, and you should be glad I didn’t.  If she knew you not only wanted remand but to have Abby placed in the general population, you would have been lucky if you hadn’t been held in contempt of court,” Jack shot back.  “And what’s this bull about Murder Two?  You don’t have a case for that.”

 

Foster raised his brows.  “Are we talking deal here, McCoy?  Man One, perhaps?”

 

Jack smiled.  “No, no deal.  And you just showed me your bluff.  See you in court.”

 

It was different, posting bail for a defendant and escorting her out of the courtroom.  Although the staff was sympathetic, there were stares and a feeling of suspicion that Jack didn’t like.  Abby picked up on it, too, because as they walked down the steps, she said, “Do you suppose they think I really am guilty?”

 

Jack put his arm around her protectively.  “No, Abby, they’re just confused.  Now, I’ve arranged to have Stacey, Nora’s secretary, stay with you at night.  Will you be all right during the day, or shall I—“

 

“I’ll be fine, Jack,” Abby said.  “And I plan to take an active role in my defense.”

 

“Good,” Jack said.  “Because we need your help.” He opened the door, and they left the courthouse.  “Justin Downs has disappeared.  Do you think he could have been involved in this in any way?”

 

“Justin?”  Abby stopped and stared at Jack.  “You’re kidding, right?”

 

“I wouldn’t kid about a matter like this,” Jack said gravely.  He went on to tell Abby exactly what had happened.

 

“I don’t believe it, I just can’t believe it,” Abby said as they sat in the back of a taxi.  “I chose Justin for second chair because I thought him the most capable.  But it wasn’t long before I realized he had a crush on me.  Not exactly puppy love.  Sort of a combination of hero-worship and wanting to protect me because I’m a woman.  I thought we’d sort of worked beyond it, but if he came into the station house—yet you say no one called him?”

 

“That’s right,” Jack opened the door and escorted Abby out of the cab.  He paid the fare and then walked her up the steps to the brownstone.  “We’ll have to use my living room as an office, but at least it’s comfortable.”

 

Nora met them at the door, and joined them in the living room.  “Still no word from Lennie,” she said.  “I’m beginning to think he’s fallen down a rabbit hole or something.”

 

“Don’t worry about Lennie, he’ll come back when he’s got Justin Downs by the throat,” Jack said.  He turned to Abby.  “How did Downs take the results of the motions hearing?

 

“He was devastated,” Abby said.  “He felt Rivera was wrong in throwing out the evidence, but the warrant was specifically for Conway’s apartment, and not a storage room down the hall.  That’s where he’d stashed his hat and coat.  I kept telling Justin that all was not lost, that the police would surely find a witness who saw Conway either enter or leave the building.  We just had to go over the reports and tell them where to look.”

 

“Did anyone overhear that remark?” Nora asked.  “You understand its importance.”

 

“Of course,” Abby said.  “If I hadn’t been desperate for a witness, I would’ve taken more precautions before leaving for the interview.”  She closed her eyes and thought for a moment.  “We were just leaving the judge’s chambers when we had that conversation.  I don’t think anyone was around, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

 

“Then no one heard, or anybody could have heard,” Jack sighed.  “Can you think of anyone who might want to cause you grief, Abby?”

 

“I’ve been trying to, ever since I landed in Riker’s, “ Abby said, leaning back in the chair.  “Could I trouble you for something to drink?”

 

“Sure,” Nora said, standing up.  “What do you want?  We’ve got water, juice, soft drinks, and something stronger if you need it.”

 

“Orange juice. That would be great.  I usually have it every morning, and it helps me get going.”  She opened her eyes.  “I haven’t had any for a couple of days.”

 

Nora went to the kitchen and soon returned with a large glass.  Abby took it gratefully and drank about half of it. 

 

Jack raised his brows.  “You were either thirsty or really needed the vitamin C,” he said.

 

“Both.”  Abby put down the glass and looked at Jack and Nora.  “The only people I know who have it in for me are doing time upstate.  I can’t think of any of my early cases where anyone threatened me, or said they’d get even.  That’s what has got me stumped.”

 

“Let’s look at if from another angle, then,” Nora said.  “Who would have wanted Conway dead?  Abby might have just been a convenient scapegoat.”

 

“There were several people on my witness list who were out for Conway’s blood,” Abby said.  “The victim’s parents, her best friend, and her brother.  The parents, Mr. and Mrs. Romano, were devastated by what happened.  Sharon Williams would have killed Conway with her bare hands, but she’s only five feet tall and weighs around a hundred pounds.  The victim’s brother, Paul, was very upset, but then it might have been because he was involved in a civil lawsuit involving his business.”

 

“A lawsuit?  Would it have been possible for this Paul Romano to have been in the hall when you were talking with Justin?” Nora asked.

 

Abby shrugged.  “I don’t know.  But I can’t believe he’d have tried to frame me.  I got the impression he’d have just gone in and killed Conway without thinking of any elaborate plan.”

 

“Still, it’s another lead to check,” Jack said.  He turned to Nora.  “I might have to follow this one up myself.  Ed has to get some sleep before he goes on duty, and there’s no telling when we’ll hear from Lennie.”

 

“I know,” Nora sighed.  “I’m officially still on vacation, but I’ll give Simon a call and get Romano’s home address and phone number.  Meanwhile, see if you can find out more about the civil suit.”

 

“What can I do?” Abby asked.

 

“Sit.  Sit and think,” Jack said.  “Maybe you can remember something that will lead us in the right direction.”

 

Abby spent the rest of the morning in the living room, pacing the floor and resting from time to time.  Jack and Nora had flitted in and out, mostly out, as they followed up on their latest lead.  Jack found out that Paul Romano was a carpenter whose business was being sued by a cooperative that claimed faulty workmanship on the rebuilding of a stairway.  Nora had discovered both his home and business address, which she had given to Jack.  He had wanted to go talk to the man right away, but Nora insisted that they all sit down and eat lunch.

 

“It will do us all some good,” she said.  Jack and Abby followed her into the kitchen.  She got out some bread and tuna to make sandwiches.  “I haven’t had time to go to the grocery since we’ve been back,” she apologized.  “But I’ll try and do that this afternoon so we’ll have a fresh salad tonight.”

 

“I’ll check on Romano, but call me the minute you hear anything from Lennie,” Jack said, his mouth full of sandwich.  “When I’m done interviewing Romano, I’ll drop by the 2-7 and see if Ed is around.”  He turned to Abby.  “Anita Van Buren is on our side, so I think I’ll be welcome there.”

 

“I’m the reason Capt. Roberts has been such a pain,” Abby confessed.  “About five years ago I was doing a drug case, and the evidence that came from the 33rd was poorly handled.  I made sure they heard about it.”  She took a bite of sandwich.  “You don’t suppose Roberts is the one who did this, do you?  I’d love to put him away!”

 

Jack laughed as Nora said, “Unfortunately, being a pig-headed jerk is not a felony in Manhattan.”

 

After Jack left, Nora suggested that Abby go lie down.  “You can’t be feeling all that well,” she said.  Our guest bedroom is up the stairs and to the left.  Take a nap—or a bath, if you’d like.  I’m going to stay around here and get things organized.”

 

“I thought you were going to go get groceries,” Abby said.

 

“I’ll come up and tell you before I go,” Nora replied.

 

Abby went upstairs.  It was only then that she realized how the tension and strain of the last two days had worn her out.  She lay down on the bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

 

She was walking up to the apartment house.  She went inside, and saw the note.  She shrugged, and went to the fire stairs, where she opened the door.  She felt the heavy hand on her throat, felt the choking sensation, and started screaming….

 

“Abby, are you all right?”  Nora was right by the bed, looking concerned.

 

“Yes,” Abby said weakly.  “I –it was a flashback, I guess. I was there, and –“

 

“It’s all right, and you’re all right,” Nora assured her.

 

“I think I want to get up now, though,” Abby said. She looked out the window.  “It’s getting close to dark,” she said, surprised.

 

“Yes.”  Nora turned away from her.  “Jack isn’t back, and isn’t returning my calls.  I have half a mind to call Ed Green and have him check on his whereabouts.  First Lennie, and now this!”  She sighed, and turned back to look at Abby.  “But it will be all right, I know it will.”

 

“Why don’t you go get the groceries?” Abby suggested. “Then if Jack hasn’t come back or called in by then, we can both go and search for him.”

 

“All right,” Nora said.  “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

 

Abby went downstairs and stared at the walls.  This was getting too complicated.  Justin Downs liked her, she knew that.  Why did he run away?  Lennie is on his trail, but where would it lead?  And Jack, where was Jack?  She sighed.  Her friends had really gone all out for her, and she knew she could never repay them.

 

The phone rang, and Abby raced to get it.  But it was Stacey, not Jack.  “I’m running a little late, but I’ll be by your house about eight,” she said.

 

“Thanks, Stacey, but there’s been a change in plans,” Abby said.  “I’m—staying here with the McCoys.  There have been some leads in the case, and I’m working on following them up.”

 

“Do you think that’s wise?” Stacey asked.  “After all, it was following up a lead that got you into all this trouble.”

 

Abby sighed.  “I know, I know.  But I can’t have my friends out risking their lives while I sit at home doing nothing!”

 

“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call,” Stacey replied.  “I’ll be home after eight.”

 

“Thanks,” Abby said.  She put down the phone just as Nora came into the house, laden down with bags.  Abby ran to help her get them into the kitchen.

 

“Mostly quick stuff which you can put right in the refrigerator,” Nora said.  “Thank Heavens for pre-tossed salad!”  She sighed.  “No Jack?”

 

“No Jack.  I was hoping he’d called you on your cell phone,” Abby said.

 

“No such luck,” Nora replied.  “I’ve got the address and phone number for Paul Romano right here.  I’m giving him a call.”  She punched in the numbers, then paced as she waited for an answer.  Finally, she threw down the phone.  “Abby, I don’t have a good feeling about this.  We’re taking a cab to Romano’s business.”

 

“Why are we going here, and not his home?” Abby asked as the cab made its way down a narrow street in the warehouse district.

 

“Because when Jack left, it is likely that Romano would be at work,” Nora said.  “The lawsuit is not being heard today, and it would make sense that he is out trying to make money to pay his lawyer.”  She shivered.  “Besides, if anything happened, it would be more likely to have occurred here, where there are few people about.”

 

“Nora, don’t talk that way!” Abby exclaimed.  The cab stopped in front of a squat concrete block building.  Romano’s Carpentry was painted on the plate glass window, and there was a light on inside. 

 

Nora got out of the cab and gave the cabbie a bill.  “Stay here until we come out again,” she said, “ and there will be another tip for you then.” The cabbie nodded, and the two women went up to the door.

 

“Do we knock or go on in?” Abby asked.

 

“It’s a business, we go on in,” Nora said, pushing the door open. 

 

They found themselves in a large paneled room.  There were two desks near one wall, and building materials were stacked against another.  On the third wall was a cheap vinyl couch, and lying on the couch was a disheveled Jack McCoy.  He was holding a towel to his face, which meant he didn’t see them come in.  But he heard them.  Moaning, he slowly sat up. 

 

Nora went to him, concerned.  He moved the cloth, and she gasped when she saw the red welts on his face.  “What happened?” she cried.

 

“Waited-for-Paul,” Jack said slowly.  “He-finally-came-here.  He-saw-me-and-started-swinging.”

 

“He has a good right hook.”  Paul Romano came into the room from the back.  He was holding some ice on his eye. “I thought he was one of Gaines’ goons, come back to harass me.”

 

“But you know now who he is?” Nora looked at him archly.

 

“Yeah, sort of.  He said he was defending that Carmichael chick—er, lady.  When I heard him say that, I sort of stopped swinging.”

 

“You-stopped-because-I-stopped-you,” Jack said.  Romano shrugged.

 

“Well, this Carmichael chick wants to know what you were doing night before last,” Abby said sarcastically.  Romano looked up and saw her for the first time.

 

“Uh, sorry for the remark,” he said.  “Night before last?  I dunno.  Probably kicked back a few with the boys and then went home and watched the tube.  I think the Mets had a double-header against St. Louis.”

 

“The Mets are playing at home,” Abby told him.  “How about telling the truth?”

 

Romano grinned.  “So I got my days wrong.  When you work hard, you kinda forget what happens when.”

 

“Surely you remember that lawsuit in which you’re involved,” Nora said.  “I believe you had a court date Monday.”

 

“Yeah, I remember that,” Romano shifted the ice into his other hand.

 

“Did you see me or my assistant while you were at the courthouse?” Abby asked.

 

“No,” Romano said.  “If I had, I’d have asked you about how the trial was going.  Looks like you saved us all a bunch of hassles by taking care of the problem yourself.  Anytime you want to hoist a few, come by and it’s on me.  In fact, if you’re not busy tonight—“

 

“I’ve got to do some things,” Abby said.  She nodded to Nora, who took Jack by the hand and led him out to the cab.

 

Nora fussed over Jack’s face, examining his cheek and jaw, which was quite tender.

 

“It-was-worth-it,” Jack said.  “We-know-he’s-out-of-it.”

 

“I don’t know that we do,” Nora said, shaking her head.  “Are you going to be able to talk tomorrow?”

 

“Yes,” Jack said, pushing Nora’s hands away.  “Just-need-rest.  He-had-no-alibi-ouch!”

 

“That’s what happens when you talk too much,” Nora said grimly.  “I realize that not having an alibi can mean innocence.  Usually a guilty party has an alibi all ready.  But Romano didn’t.”

 

“But he tried too hard,” Abby put in.  “He didn’t have to put in that part about watching the Mets.  That sounded fishy to me.”

                                                                                                                                             

“Don’t-tell-me-I-did-that-for-nothing,” Jack moaned.

 

When they got back to the brownstone, Abby insisted on making supper so that Nora could tend to Jack.  She prepared salad, but decided soup might be a better choice for Jack.  He looked pitiful as he sipped the tomato soup while the ladies ate salad and broiled whitefish.

 

“I feel so bad, Jack,” Abby said.  “I just asked you to be my attorney, not a punching bag!”

 

“He-has-no-brains-lots-brawn”, Jack said as he put down his soupspoon.  “He’s-no-planner.”

 

“Yes, and I know this was planned,” Nora said.  “But he was a good lead.  I just wish we’d hear from Lennie.”

 

As if on cue, the phone rang.  Nora answered it.  “Lennie!  We were getting worried about you!  Did you find Downs?  What?  Where?  We’ll be right there.”  She put the phone down.  “Lennie found Justin Downs, all right,” she said quietly.  “He was in a back alley not far from the murder scene, his head battered by a lead pipe.  He’s in St. Vincent’s Intensive Care, and they don’t know if he will make it or not.”

 

A grim-faced Lennie Briscoe greeted them in the ICU waiting room.  “This guy would make a great undercover cop,” he said.  “At first, I figured he’d gone visiting his favorite watering holes, but no one had seen him since the weekend.  The next thing I did was ask some of the other ADA’s about him.  I found out he has a big crush on you, Ms. Carmichael.”  Lennie nodded at Abby.  “When I found that out, I decided he’d seen or done something that he felt caused you to get in the mess you’re in.  So I sat down to try and figure out what he did.  I decided that he’d probably followed you to 23rd Street.  When he saw you go in, he figured all was well.  Then I think he either saw someone enter or leave—someone he thought had a right to be there, or he would have gone inside the building to investigate.  When the cops came, he followed them and made the scene at the station.  When he found out you were charged with murder, he went home and got drunk.  It was only when Jack explained to him that it had been a setup that he realized he’d seen the murderer.  He decided to go get the perp on his own.  I only wish he’d thought to include us.”  Lennie shook his head.

 

“The fact that he was found near the scene of the crime may indicate that whoever he saw lived in the neighborhood,” Nora said.  “He might have just started interviewing the neighbors, trying to find out who called 911.  But then he came face to face with the person he’d seen the night of the murder, and he was attacked.”

 

“A nice theory, but it has holes,” Lennie said.  “From what I saw of the scene, the attack took place right there.  That means the place was selected as a rendezvous.”

 

“Why-were-you-there?” Jack asked.

 

Lennie looked at Jack’s bruised face.  “You’ll have to tell me what happened to you when you feel better,” he said.  “I was there because I figured he’d gone back to the scene of the crime to interview possible witnesses, just like Nora said.  I decided to check nearby alleys for dumpsters that might contain the pillowcase, and that’s how I found him.”

 

“He’s lucky that you did,” Abby said.  “How long ago do you think the attack occurred?”

 

“The blood had dried on his scalp,” Lennie said, “so it was a while.  I called it into the precinct, and made sure Ed knew about it, too.  He’ll make sure the neighbors are interviewed.”

 

“That’s good,” Nora said thoughtfully.  “But I think you’re right—he was there only to meet someone.  I only hope he regains consciousness so he can tell us who it was.”

 

“Meanwhile, we can try to figure out who he was going to meet,” Abby said.

 

“You can do that with Stacey when you go home,” Nora said.

 

“Uh, I was thinking maybe I should stay with you,” Abby said.  “That way I can follow up leads—“

 

“Go home, all of you,” Lennie said.  “The hospital has your number to call if there is any change, Mrs. McCoy,” he told Nora.  He yawned.  “Frankly, I think the best thing we can all do is get a good night’s rest.”

 

Abby called Stacey and then took a taxi to her apartment, where she met Nora’s affable secretary.  “You look exhausted!” Stacey exclaimed.  “Let me make you some hot cocoa, and then go to bed!”

 

“I don’t know, Stacey, I just don’t know,” Abby said as they sat in her living room, sipping cocoa.  Stacey had persuaded Abby to get ready for bed, and the lanky ADA was sitting in the couch wearing a flannel bathrobe and slippers.  “Justin is gravely injured, Jack has been assaulted—and we are no closer to finding out who did this than when we started.”

 

“Well, you know who didn’t do it,” Stacey said.  “From what you’ve told me, Justin was a suspect for a time.  And that Paul guy seems to be out of it, too.”

 

“I don’t know,” Abby sipped cocoa.  “What happened to Justin looks like something Paul Romano could have done.”

 

“But the timing wouldn’t be right.”  Nora was talking about the same thing with Jack as they lay in bed.  “I don’t think Romano went from trying to kill Downs to fighting with you,” she said. “He couldn’t have gotten across town in time.  No, I think Lennie had it right when he said that Downs followed Abby to 23rd Street.  He stayed outside the building, and watched.  He saw someone, and only later realized that that person had to have been the one who attacked Abby and killed Conway.”

 

“Hmmm,” Jack said, half-asleep. 

 

“We know someone saw Abby enter—who was it?”  Nora turned to her husband.

 

“Neighbor.” Jack said.  “Old-man. Was-going-to-check—“

 

“Ed will check now,” Nora said.  “I hope he gets a lead.”

 

Ed Green went patiently from one apartment to another in the building on West 23rd Street.  The first person the police from the 33rd had interviewed was Sydney Phillips, the elderly man who had seen Abby enter the building as he was out walking his dog, so Ed saved him for last.  He wasn’t expecting to find out much; none of the other tenants remembered seeing anyone, and some were hostile because the police had interrupted their favorite TV programs.

 

But Sydney Phillips seemed to enjoy the company.  “Sure, sure, come in,” he said, opening the door.  In his arms rested a Chihuahua, and Ed looked at it nervously.  “Don’t worry, Juanita is more for company than for a watchdog.” Phillips laughed at his own joke.  “You want me to tell you what I told the other policemen?”

 

“No, not exactly,” Ed replied, sitting down on a chair as the old man sat on the couch.  “We know you were out walking your dog Monday night, and saw the accused, Ms. Carmichael, enter the building.”

 

“Yes, she was a looker.” Phillips smiled at the memory. 

 

“I was wondering if you noticed anyone else about—a man, possibly two.  If they weren’t walking, they may have been waiting in cars.”

 

“Pretty women, I remember.  Fellows?  Eh, they’re always walking around, and I’m not the kind that notices them.  He petted the Chihuahua.  “But Juanita was growling at a Toyota parked across the street.  I figured someone was in there, and walked on pretty fast.”

 

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone else?” Ed asked.

 

“Only people that belong here,” Sydney answered.  “That man that was murdered—Conway.  He was subleasing the place, you know.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Ed said, surprised.  “Who was he leasing it from?”

 

Nora was awakened from a sound sleep by the phone call.  “Yes, can’t it wait until morning?  What?  WHAT?” Jack woke at the sound of her voice and looked at her questioningly.  She covered up the receiver and said, “Ed’s found it.”  She went back to the phone.  “I think that the Mayor and the Special Prosecutor will have to be notified about this development.  It makes me sick to realize that people I thought I could trust were lying all the time.  Do you think there’s any danger if we wait until morning to make our plans?  No?  Good.  Then go home and get a good night’s sleep.”  She hung up and turned to her husband.  “When I tell you, I know you won’t sleep the rest of the night.”

 

A rather tired-looking Nora greeted Davis Rawlings the next morning at ten.  “Thank you for coming,” she said, inviting him into her office, which was crowded to near overflowing.

 

“I told you before, you have no place in this investigation,” Rawlings said haughtily.  “If I find that you have stuck your nose in this business, the Mayor will hear about it!”

 

“Oh, the Mayor already knows,” Nora replied.  “In fact, you know Ms. Johnston, the Mayor’s representative.”

 

“Mary!”  Rawlings turned on the charm as he shook the hand of the mayoral aide.  “So good to see you!  So you know about this?”

 

“Yes, the Mayor was informed early this morning,” Ms. Johnston replied.  “He asked me to come to represent him at this meeting.  I assure you, Davis, that everything is on the up and up.”

 

“Very well,” Rawlings said.  He sat down in one of the chairs brought in for the occasion.  Nora went to her desk, where she addressed the group.

 

“I don’t know that everyone is acquainted with each other, so let me take a moment. This is Ms. Mary Johnston, representative of Mayor Guiliani; Mr. Davis Rawlings, Special Prosecutor; Mr. James Foster, his assistant; Simon Feldman, my Chief Executive; Abby Carmichael, my ADA; Capt. Stephen Roberts, 33rd Precinct; Lennie Briscoe, Detective; Ed Green, Detective; Mr. Sydney Phillips; Mr. Paul Romano; and my husband, Jack McCoy.”  She looked around the room.  “Since the beginning of this case, we have assumed that Conway’s murder was connected to his alleged rape and murder of his ex-wife.  My husband and his colleagues investigated possible suspects who might have had reason to murder Mr. Conway.” She nodded at Paul Romano.  “But none of the suspects had reason to wish harm to Ms. Carmichael.  Mr. Romano has shown nothing but good will towards her.”

 

“That’s right,” Romano smiled, looking rakish with his black eye.  “Sweetheart, anytime you want to go out, let me know.”

 

Nora smiled as Abby flushed, and continued.  “Ms. Carmichael’s assistant, Justin Downs, was devastated by the news of her arrest.  What exactly did he say, Capt. Roberts?”

 

“That he knew her, admired her, and that she could never have done such a thing without provocation,” the captain said.

 

“Thank you.  For a while, he was a suspect, despite his devotion to Ms. Carmichael.  But yesterday, he was found by a dumpster on West 23rd Street, his head bashed in by a lead pipe.”

 

Rawlings looked at Nora.  “I was not informed of this development.”

 

James Foster, his assistant, cleared his throat.  “I was, last night.  Capt. Roberts called me.  But it was late, and—“

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Rawlings snapped.  “When it is something this important, you should let me know.”  He turned to Jack.  “I assume you know the whereabouts of your client yesterday evening?”

 

Jack tried to grin, but winced instead.  “She was with someone all the time,” he said slowly.

 

“There goes our case,” Rawlings said, disappointedly.  He looked at Nora.  “Unless you have someone else to offer in exchange?”

 

“I’m getting to that,” Nora said.  “We knew that Justin Downs’ attack must have been connected to Conway’s murder.  We concluded that he followed her to West 23rd, where he watched as she entered the building.  He must have seen something—or someone, that aroused his suspicions, once he realized that Ms. Carmichael had not killed Conway.  He called the person, and a rendezvous was arranged, where he was attacked and left for dead.  We decided to check back with the tenants of the building.  Ed Green talked with Mr. Phillips.”

 

“Yes, and I told him the only person I saw was the lady, Abby Carmichael,” Phillips said.

 

“But then I asked you about men, remember?” Ed asked.

 

“Sure,” Phillips said, relishing in the spotlight, “and I said the only men I saw were people who belonged there.”

 

“And who were those people?” Ed continued.

 

“Why, other tenants.  Like Capt. Roberts, here.  He sublet his apartment to that Conway fellow only a few months ago.  I figured he was back at his place, getting some of his stuff.”

 

Roberts stood up, his hand on his holster.  “I was there to retrieve some mementos,” he said calmly.  “Some things I’d left in the storage locker in the basement.  I never went up to the apartment, never saw Conway at all.” 

 

“That’s funny,” Ed remarked.  “Because I found two folks who remembered seeing you get on the elevator.”

 

“Maybe I did go up,” Roberts admitted.  “To get the rent. But when I knocked on the door, there was no answer.”

 

“Good try,” Lennie said, getting up.  Roberts turned to face him.  “The problem is, Justin Downs woke up this morning.  He says you told him different when you met him down by the dumpster.”

 

Roberts went for his gun, but Ed was right there, tackling him to the floor.  The gun flew from Roberts’ hand, and Paul Romano picked it up. 

 

“Who do I give this to?” he asked Abby.  She pointed to the desk, and he laid it there.  He grinned and went back to his seat as the detectives cuffed Roberts and read him his rights.

 

One week later, Nora and Jack were back in their cabin in the mountains.

 

“It was nice that Mr. Charles was able to book us back in the same place,” Nora said as they sat on the couch together.

 

“I still think we should have stayed in New York until everything was wrapped up,” Jack said, putting his arm around her.

 

“What was there to wrap up?  With Justin’s testimony staring him in the face, Roberts made a complete confession.  He said that Conway hadn’t paid him rent in two months, and he’d gone up to see about it.  The discussion got heated, and Conway came at him with a bat.  Roberts wrestled the bat from him and killed him with a blow to the head.”

 

“Classic Man One,” Jack said, “if he’d left it at that.  But to involve Abby!”

 

“Remember, he didn’t like her.  He wanted to divert suspicion from himself, so he concocted the scheme.  He knew from his officers who had been at the courthouse that the Conway case wasn’t going all that well.  He figured he could lure her to the apartment and make it look like Conway assaulted her and she reacted in self-defense.  If that didn’t work, and she was indicted, well, it wasn’t going to bother his conscience.”

 

Jack shivered.  “What a cold-hearted SOB,” he said. 

 

“Well, he wound up with a plea of Man One and assault, which means he’s upstate for quite a long time.” Nora put her arm around Jack.  “So it’s over, Jack.  Simon assures me that nothing important is going on at the office, so relax!”

 

“That’s what we thought last time,” he said, reaching over and kissing her. 

 

She smiled.  “This time, I know we’ll have privacy,” she said as she reached over and pulled out the phone plug.  Jack smiled and they snuggled together.

 

“That’s funny, there’s no answer,” Abby said as she put down the phone.  She turned to Justin, who was in his hospital bed.  “I’m sure Jack and Nora are out hiking, or whatever you do in the mountains.”

 

“You’re not from the Hill Country of Texas, then,” Justin said softly.  “Yeah, I know about that.  I was an Air Force brat.  Lived around San Antonio for the first ten years of my life.”  He looked at her.  “I’ve always liked Texas—and Texans,” he said.

 

Abby looked at him and blushed, uncertain what to say next.  Finally, she said, “Get well.  I want to have you sitting in my second chair again really soon.”

 

“You mean it?” Justin said with hope in his voice.

 

Abby smiled.  “I sure do.  Only next time, let the detectives do the detective work.  All we have to do is convict the perps, not gather the last shred of evidence.” 

 

 

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