“Myself and my partner. The orders were that he wasn’t to come into contact with the other three suspects. We walked him through, walked him up to this level.”
“You didn’t use the secured elevator?”
“No, sir.” He twitched very slightly at that. “It was jammed, Lieutenant. We brought him up the steps. He didn’t give us any trouble. His lawyer was here and asked us to wait a moment until he’d finished up a consult with another client, via palm-link. We stood by, then the subject staggered and fell. He gasped for breath, and while my partner checked him over, I attempted to keep the crowd at a distance. Shortly thereafter, you arrived on the scene.”
“What precinct are you with?” She skimmed a glance over his nameplate. “Officer Harmon.”
“Sir, I’m assigned to Central, Security Division.”
“Who approached or had contact with the subject?”
“No one, sir. My partner and I flanked him, per procedure.”
“Are you telling me no one came close to this guy before he dropped?”
“No. That is, we went through security, as required. There were a number of people on line, and a number moving through the area. But no one spoke to the deceased or had physical contact with him. Someone stopped my partner and inquired about directions to the civil court area.”
“The person who wanted directions—how close did he get to the subject?”
“She, sir. It was a female. She appeared to be in some distress and stopped as we were walking by each other.”
“Get a good look at her, Harmon?”
“Yes, sir. Early twenties, blonde, blue eyes, fair complexion. She’d been crying, sir, was crying but trying not to, if you understand me. She was visibly distressed, and when she dropped her handbag some of the content
s scattered.”
“I bet you and your partner were very helpful picking up those items for her.”
Her tone alerted him, and Harmon began to feel slightly ill. “Sir. It couldn’t have taken more than ten seconds, and the suspect was restrained and never out of our sight.”
“Let me show you something, Harmon, and you can tell your partner once he finishes jerking off.” She signaled the MTs aside. “Come down here,” she ordered, once again crouching by the body. “Do you see this faint red mark, the small circular mark over the deceased’s heart?”
He had to look hard, but since he was now close to terrified, Harmon all but jammed his nose against Lewis’s chest. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know what that is, Officer?”
“No, sir. No, sir, I don’t.”
“It’s the mark left by a pressure syringe. Your weepy blonde assassinated your charge under your goddamn nose.”
She had every corner of the building searched for a woman matching the description Harmon gave her, but she expected to find nothing. And found exactly that. She called in a crime scene unit to start the process of a homicide investigation and gave herself the pleasure of interrogating Canarde.
“You knew he was going to roll, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.” Back at Central, idly examining his manicure, Canarde sat placidly in Interview Three. “I will remind you that I’m here voluntarily. I was nowhere near my unfortunate client this morning, and you have yet to determine whether his death was other than by natural causes.”
“A healthy man, under fifty, keels over from a heart attack. Convenient, particularly since the PA’s office was prepared to offer him immunity for turning evidence against another of your clients.”
“If immunity was being offered, Lieutenant, I am unaware of it, as I was uninformed of such an offer. As the deceased’s attorney of record, it would have been required that such an offer be made through me or in my presence.”
He had small teeth, perfect little teeth. And he showed them when he stretched his lips in a smile. “I believe you’ve stepped over, or certainly around, a line of legal procedure. It doesn’t appear to have worked out well for my client.”
“You got that right. You can inform your client, Canarde, that all he’s done here is piss me off. I work harder when I’m pissed off.”
Canarde gave her another of his snakelike smiles. “My client, Lieutenant, is beyond caring. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must do my duty by the tragic Mr. Lewis. I believe he had an ex-wife and a brother. I’ll offer them my condolences. And, if by some quirk of fate, you happen to be correct about Mr. Lewis being helped into the grave, I will advise his family to sue the NYPSD for negligence and wrongful death. It would be a great personal pleasure to represent them in the civil case.”
“I bet he doesn’t even have to pay you, Canarde. He just tosses you the fish, and you jump up, squeal, and dive into the muck to get it back.”