FORGOTTEN (17 page)

Phyllis started to cry and Pat gave her his handkerchief.

“I’m sorry, Phyllis. I know you’re still hurting.”

“Thanks, Chief, I think you and Harry would have hit it off great. You think a lot like Harry.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I didn’t have the pleasure.”

Pat was certain he and Harry would have absolutely nothing in common. After all, Harry was a crooked cop, a killer, a thief and his last living action was to try to kill Pat and some New Jersey State Troopers. However, for now he played the role he needed to in order to keep Phyllis cooperative.

Pat managed to keep Phyllis away from the apartment for almost two hours. By the time they returned the search was almost complete. Bryan Flannery and Mary McDonald stepped out into the hall to tell Pat what they had located so far.

“This place was a gold mine, Chief.” Bryan said.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks for getting her out of our hair. We basically started in the extra bedroom where Harry had his stuff. We looked at his computer and immediately saw the live feed from the Butelli house. I guess it was Harry who was looking and not Daniel Pellegrino.”

“I’m a little surprised. I thought for sure that feed would be going to Pellegrino.”

“I guess not, since they saw the feed with their own eyes. Of course they’ll seize everything and do a full forensic examination and see what they find. We’ve found a lot of notes and things in his desk. He has the initials ‘DP’ several times in some printed emails. We found a print-out of directions to your apartment, Chief. It was dated the day before your encounter in New Jersey.”

“Did you find anything related to the judge or an attorney named Moses?”

“Not that I know of, but there are lots of photographs of Margaret Butelli’s house. There is even a photograph inside the house, so I’m assuming that ‘numb-nuts’ put the bugged phone jack in himself.”

“Did you find any cash?”

“Only about $2,500. Do you want us to seize it?”

“No, just make a note of it. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”

“Okay, Chief. Anything else?”

“Did you find any guns?”

“No, there’s a little ammo and some holsters, but no firearms.”

“Check the bathroom really good. Phyllis thinks he kept a .38 somewhere in there.”

“Okay, Chief. We should be finished in another half hour.”

“Thanks, Bryan.”

Pat walked back in the apartment only to find Phyllis Duran in the room with the team looking over their shoulders asking questions. He tried to intervene.

“Could you step outside a minute?”

“Sure, Mr. Boss Man.” Pat and Phyllis walled out into the hall.

“You would do me a great big favor, Phyllis, if you would let my guys get finished. I promise we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t I get to spend the night at the hotel?”

“Of course, the sooner we finish here, the sooner you get to go back and be spoiled.”

“Alright. You told me to get what I wanted to eat and you guys would take care of it.”

“Sure, Phyllis, just live it up on the NYPD, at least for one more night.”

In 30 minutes, Bryan Flannery told Pat they had completed the search and were getting ready to pack up. Pat looked concerned. “Did we find that .38?”

“No, Chief. We tossed that little bathroom, but it’s not in there.”

“It wasn’t with the black Charger and Phyllis says he told her it was in there a few weeks ago. Everything else she told us has added up. I’d like for you guys to give it one more try.”

“It’s not in there, Chief, but we’ll look one more time, top to bottom, to prove it to you.”

Pat rarely saw Bryan Flannery frustrated, but his persistence had clearly irritated the tall and talented captain. Pat just couldn’t believe Harry Pittsford had ditched it. There is just something about cops hanging on to guns, even when it would be a big mistake. Although court officers didn’t really perform actual police work, he assumed the same thing would be true.

In 20 minutes, Bryan Flannery came back out and shook his head.

“It’s not in there, Chief. There’s nowhere else to look.”

“Show me, I want to take a look.”

Bryan Flannery let out a gasp and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, Chief, but if it’s not there, it’s not there.”

“Humor me. I want to look for myself.”

Pat and Bryan walked back into the apartment. Phyllis was seated on the couch. They walked into the hall by the bathroom. Mary McDonald and Sergeant George McBain were in there. George shook his head and said, “We went over this room with a fine tooth comb, Chief, and there’s no gun in here. We checked the toilet tank, the linen closet, the shower curtain, the medicine cabinet, and even the light fixtures. There’s nothing to be found.”

“Did you check behind the switch plates?”

“No sir. We did not do that.”

“Let’s check them, I’ve found a lot of dope behind switch plates in the past.”

George McBain pulled out a screwdriver and removed the only switch plate in the bathroom. There was nothing behind it. Pat looked under the seat and even stood on the toilet to look inside the light fixtures. There was nothing there. Pat got down on his hands and knees and looked under the sink. There was nothing there.

Pat looked around the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He took everything out and set it on the toilet tank. He asked George
McBain for a screwdriver and started tapping around the medicine cabinet. The others clearly thought Pat was being ridiculous. When he tapped the back of the bottom shelve it opened.

“Hand me a flashlight, George.”

Pat moved the shelf again and he could see that the bottom shelf was hinged. He pushed the shelf open. It had a magnetic latch which kept it closed.

“Get your camera George. It looks like we have found ourselves a .38. It looks like a Colt.”

George McBain returned with a camera. He took some photographs and then removed the revolver. It was a blue-steel Colt Detective Special. He held it in his gloved hand, took more photographs, and then carefully placed it in an evidence bag.

Pat put the contents of the medicine cabinet back and walked out of the room. Bryan Flannery was speechless. As they walked down to the car, he finally got the words out. “I’m really sorry,
Chief. I didn’t mean to let you down.”

“Forget about it, Bryan. You’re obviously having a bad day.”

“I haven’t had any sleep and my wife is starting to raise hell about me being gone all the time. I was impatient. How did you know to look there?”

“The other two shelves were cluttered. I figured Pittsford would have put the gun where he or Phyllis could get to it quickly in a jam. There was only one small bottle on that shelve. I thought there might be a reason for it and as it turned out, I was right.”

“It was impressive, but I know I was way too impatient.”

“That’s an understatement, my friend, but we’re a team, and we still got the results we needed. I had your back.”

“You always do. I’ll never question you again.”

“As I said before, Bryan, just forget about it and go home and spend some time with your family.” 

Chapter 43

Tuesday, February 8 - Day 21

City Lights Diner

Borough of Manhattan, New York

1900 Hours

M
ary McDonald took Phyllis Duran back to the hotel, where she promised her another night’s stay. According to Mary’s call to Pat, Phyllis was elated. He was tired after only three hours sleep. He felt like one more cup of coffee would turn his stomach inside out. He took a chance and called Maggie. She had just left the office and agreed to meet him at the City Lights Diner, a 24-hour breakfast joint Pat liked.

Pat saw Maggie’s black SUV, but had a hard time finding a parking spot. He finally parked around the corner in a loading zone and tossed his
Official Business NYPD
placard on the dash of the black Chrysler. He walked into the diner and spotted Maggie sitting near the back.

“You look tired, Pat.”

“I know, Maggie. I slept at the office, but only got about three hours sleep.”

“I hate it when you do that. You’re going to drop dead of exhaustion or have a heart attack someday.”

“Well, you have to die of something.”

“That’s not funny. You know I worry about you.”

“I appreciate it, Maggie, but we’ve had some important breaks in the last 24 hours in the Butelli case.”

Pat quietly shared the progress with Maggie. He figured she had a right to know, since she could have easily gotten killed in the middle of this case. They ordered breakfast and Pat opted for a glass of milk. Maggie laughed at his choice.

“Since when did New York’s toughest cop have milk with a meal?”

“I’ve probably had a dozen cups of coffee today and my stomach needs some soothing.”

“I expect so. I don’t know how you can just pull these leads out of thin air, Pat.”

“You live right, pray over the cases, and sometimes your prayers are answered with a lead.  In this case, I don’t want to celebrate until we catch Daniel Pellegrino.”

“You’ll catch him. However, I still want you to be careful.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve actually started carrying one of my magnums in the pocket of my top coat.”

“I wish you carried a Glock or something with more ammo capacity.”

“I hate those damn
Glocks. There’re super reliable and a lot of guys love them, but I guess I’m just a wheel gun man.”

“You, John Wayne, and Dirty Harry.” Maggie joked.

“Hey, if I miss them with one of these, the noise will scare them to death. I actually feel very well armed with a .357. I’m dating myself a little, but it wasn’t that long ago when the Secret Service and the FBI carried .357 Magnum revolvers.”

“I know, and President Roosevelt loved them.”

“It hasn’t been that long, but I’m just a creature of habit and they’re my choice at the moment.”

“Just carry plenty of ammo.”

“I always do.”

Chapter 44

Wednesday, February 9 - Day 22

Chief of Detectives’ Office - One Police Plaza

Borough of Manhattan, New York

0800 Hours

P
at went home from the diner and immediately fell asleep. He woke up early and was in the office at 0730 catching up on paperwork. He had almost finished when Lieutenant Angie Wilson popped in.

“Good morning, Chief. You look rested.”

“Thanks. I did some serious sleeping last night, and I feel much better.”

“I think I’ve found our lawyer victim. Nathaniel Moses was killed in October 2001, within a week of Judge Fitzpatrick’s hunting accident. He was walking across the street on 49
th
Street and was apparently struck by a hit-and-run driver. There were no witnesses, and the case remains unsolved.”

“What else do we know about Nathanial Moses?”

“He was an African-American trial lawyer.  He did a lot of legal-aid work for the defense.”

“Did he handle Kings County cases?”

“He sure did.”

“Did he have any survivors?”

“Yes, a wife, Gloria.”

“I’d really like for you to find her and see if she knew anything about her husband hiring a private investigator.”

“You think he’s the one, don’t you, Chief?”

“It makes sense, and apparently he created a pretty good motive for murder. Try not to give her too many details. We don’t want her to get her hopes up.”

“Chances are the perp’s already dead.”

“The guy who killed him is probably dead, but not the one who ordered it.”

“If you can spare me, I’d like to try to find her this morning, while you’re in the office.”

“Sounds fine. Take
Dickie with you if you like.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Pat decided he should update the commissioner on the progress. He reached him on the first ring.

“Longstreet.”

“This is Pat O’Connor.  I need to update you on our progress in the Butelli case. Is this a bad time?”

“Actually, Patty, I have a 0900 meeting across town. I’ll call you back from the car in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Commissioner. I’ll wait for your call.”

Pat rounded up a couple of doughnuts from the suite of offices, and in just a few minutes the commissioner returned his call. Pat explained the progress in general terms, informing the commissioner of the possibility of another murder.  The commissioner was concerned.