Chapter 21 Kate

21

Kate

When Kate arrived in the office, Denise was already there, working the Xerox machine.

Eddie's plan had worked.

Yesterday she had met with Castro, and told him she needed time. Her client was on the ragged edge, ready to crack and plead to a crime he didn't commit. The odds of getting an acquittal with the DNA evidence against him were just too great. She told Castro they needed time to find a DNA expert, a latent palm print expert and a ballistics expert who was probably going to have to come from overseas, seeing as how Castro had poisoned the pool of experts in the US.

Castro said he would think about it.

Harry's talk with the judges corroborated what Kate had told him. Lawyers talk.

Trial date was set for four weeks from today. And the interviews of Brett Bale and Todd Ellis had come through to the office that morning.

It was clear the investigating officer, Detective Chase, had thought Bale and Ellis were suspects. They were interviewed days apart. But both men had stuck to their stories. Yes, they'd had a relationship with Maggs, but that was all in the past. They'd been at the party, with forty witnesses, and they'd stayed until after three in the morning.

A separate statement from Petra Schwartzman confirmed both men left after three a.m. The medical examiner put the time of Margaret's death at between midnight and one a.m., but absolutely no later.

Castro would have held these interviews back, buried them. And then unleashed them in court if Eddie and Kate had decided to use Bale and Ellis as alternative suspects. He was sharing them now, to try to add to the pressure on John Jackson to throw in the towel.

No way was that going to happen. And they now had a trial date, which helped John focus on getting through this ordeal.

Kate left a note for Eddie and a copy of the statements, then left the office and saw Bloch pulling up in her Jeep. Kate got into the passenger seat.

‘Let's go shake some trees,' said Kate.

They drove to Brett Bale's tennis camp in Yonkers, where he had offices and managed the rest of his empire – a base close to his home in Manhattan. Bloch parked in the lot beside Bale's Ferrari, and walked with Kate into the reception area.

There was a tennis shop on the left, and an office on the right with a reception window. Kate could see a formidable lady sitting in that office, focused on her screen. A bell sat at the reception window. A corridor facing the entrance doors led to changing areas and tennis courts beyond. A set of stairs led up to the next floor.

‘His office must be upstairs,' said Bloch.

If no one was stopping Kate going to find Bale, she wasn't about to ask permission. Better not give people a reason to say no.

Kate followed Bloch up the single flight of stairs. At the top was a storeroom on the left, and a short corridor leading to an office.

The plaque on the door read Brett Bale #1 .

‘How do you want to handle this?' asked Bloch.

‘Diplomatically,' said Kate.

Bloch raised an eyebrow.

‘That means we don't threaten to remove any limbs,' said Kate.

‘I'll play it by ear, for now,' said Bloch, considering the advice.

Kate knocked and opened the office door in one smooth motion. Again, she didn't want to give anyone an opportunity to stop them.

Bale stood behind a large desk. A wide window behind him overlooking the tennis courts. He wore an expensive white silk shirt and navy chinos with, as Kate expected, tennis shoes. He held his phone to his ear.

The office was neat, with a few filing cabinets on one side and two chairs facing the desk.

‘Hold on a second,' said Bale into the phone, then lowered it and addressed Kate and Bloch, who were both now standing in his office.

‘Wait a second, who are you?'

‘Hi, Mr. Bale, we're here to talk to you on behalf of a resident of West 74 th Street,' said Kate. Not lying, but not exactly telling the truth either.

‘How did you . . .? Wait one second,' he said, then returned the phone to his ear and said, ‘Look, I pay Rudy Carp a small goddamn fortune every month. When I call him, I want him to pick up the phone. I'll call him right back and he'd better answer or I'll get myself another lawyer.'

Kate knew the name Rudy Carp. He was a celebrity lawyer, one of the richest in New York. Eddie had worked with him once, briefly. A real barracuda.

Bale looked at his phone, began typing a message, said, ‘Just one second . . .'

Kate glanced at his desk, saw a piece of paper sitting there. Letter-sized. Nothing unusual about a letter on a desk, but this was unusual. It was handwritten. Block capitals. In red pen.

Angling her head, Kate read the first line . . . I SAW YOU AT . . .

Bale must've seen Kate looking at it, because his hand snaked out at great speed and snatched it off the desk, crumpling it into his fist.

‘Sorry, I hate mess,' said Bale.

‘No problem,' said Kate, taking out her phone. ‘Oh dear, I'm sorry. Now, just a second . . . God these cell phones are torture, aren't they?' said Kate as she typed something quick on her phone. A text message to Bloch.

CALL ME NOW. DON'T HANG UP.

Bale forced a smile, said, ‘Sorry, I'm confused. Did you speak to my secretary or the office manager before you came up? It's just I'm really busy. I have to make an urgent call . . .'

‘No, sorry. There was no one at reception. We won't take up too much of your time . . .' said Kate, taking her handbag from her shoulder. She placed it in her lap as she sat down on one of the chairs facing Bale's desk.

Bale's lips peeled over his teeth, just for a second, and his eyes darkened with a flash of irritation.

Kate felt her phone vibrate. Keeping the screen pointed toward her, she accepted Bloch's call, put her handbag on the floor and, most importantly, her phone beside the bag.

‘Who did you say you represent?' asked Bale.

‘A resident of West 74 th Street.'

‘Which one?'

‘John Jackson, he is falsely accused of the murder of Margaret Blakemore. I believe you knew Mrs. Blakemore.'

Bale's tone, which up to now had been polite, changed.

‘This conversation is over. If you want to talk to me, you need to speak to my lawyers. Now, please leave.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, we're just looking for some background—'

‘Get out or I'll call the police,' said Bale.

Kate picked up her handbag, left her phone and exited the room with Bloch. They walked down the corridor and stood at the top of the stairs. Bale's door was closed. Bloch raised her phone so they could both listen.

‘ Rudy, it's Brett Bale. I think someone is trying to blackmail me over Margaret Blakemore . . .'

They couldn't hear Rudy Carp's side of the conversation.

‘ I got a letter. Handwritten. Red ink. Demanding a lot of money or this person is going to tell the police they saw me murder Margaret . . .'

‘ I know . . . I know . . . but with the accusations still flying around about Jane . . . Okay, just keep the letter . . . Can I— Look, I just want this to go away . . . No, okay, I won't pay a dime . . . Well, what do I pay you for? . . . Okay, okay, Rudy, bye . . .'

He hung up, swore and said some unsavory things about Rudy Carp. Jane was Bale's late wife – the swim champ who'd drowned while on vacation in Florida with Bale.

Kate opened his office door, said, ‘Oh, God, I'm sorry. I think I left my phone . . . Yes, here it is . . .' She bent down, picked it up. Bale gave her a look like he wanted to strangle her.

As they made their way downstairs, Bloch said, ‘That was a cute move with the phone.'

‘I'm spending far too much time with Eddie Flynn,' said Kate.

In the parking lot, Kate called Eddie, gave him an update.

‘What do you think?' asked Kate.

‘I don't know. Could be a scam artist. But maybe not. John didn't get a blackmail letter. Some anonymous caller started this entire case against him. There are definitely people somewhere in the background of this case that are playing dangerous games. Could be multiple people.'

‘But it might just be one person,' said Kate.

‘I don't understand any of this. Harry and I have tracked down Ellis. He goes for lunch in the Cardozo Hotel every Tuesday. We're going to go see him tomorrow. I made arrangements with the concierge.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Harry's going to offer him some legal advice.'