No Mercy (3 page)

“Hey, my partner,” Bud yelled, “you don't have to read aloud to me. I looked at the house because of the book.”

Paul didn't even realize he was speaking but quickly started reading to himself. After a few minutes of reading he looked up at Bud and said,

“You know, I'm surprised, you of all people are moving into a house built in 1848. I bet the place is haunted. Did you ask if anybody died in the house?” Bud dropped his pen as he stared back at Paul.

“OK, OK, let's hear it; give me your best shot,” he said as he leaned back on his chair.

Paul leaned forward. “No, I'm serious; someone as nervous as you buys this old rickety house with tubs from the 1800s and tires in the basement from the '50s. You don't think there are ghosts in the house?”

He had Bud's attention, who now leaned forward and asked,

“How did you know about the tires in the basement?”

Paul smiled and replied, “You took a nap last week and you were talking out loud.” Paul got up to go to the men's room but made it a point to say one more thing as he walked by Bud: “Ooh, the ghosts of Port Jefferson love that house,” and he raised his hands and shook them in the air.

Bud stood up and asked, “You don't really think the place is haunted do you?”

Paul acted like he didn't hear Bud as he turned the corner, but he had a big smile on his face. Bud sat at his desk as he looked at the photos he had placed there, one of his mother who had passed away and one of Lindsey with her dog, Monty, and one of Deborah. A small bowl of gummy bears in small packets was also a mainstay on his desk. He picked up the book Rachelle wrote that included the house he bought and tried to convince himself the place was not haunted. “Nah,” he said to himself as he dropped the book back on Paul's desk.

4:00 PM

A
l Simmons had been waiting for Madison for about ten minutes in the attorney room when she was let in by Officer Bay. “Thank you,” she said to the officer as he closed the door to give them privacy. She gave her attorney a hug as he asked her how she was being treated. “They treat me well, as always, Al,” she replied. “Thank you for coming every couple weeks, but I understand you are busy. My sentence is for the next five to six years; it won't change,” she said with a forced grin on her face.

Al Simmons took her hand. “You are my client, and I will be here every couple weeks. One, to give you a chance to get out of your cell; two, I want the officers to see you are being looked after; and three, for you to know that many of us support you.”

Maddie bowed her head and looked up again at her attorney. “You never told me who compensated you for all this . . . the trial, the work.”

He smiled at her as he replied, “If I knew who, I don't think they would want me to tell you anyway.” Al Simmons had his feelings about the matter. Someone had left $300,000 in his house to handle her case, with a note telling him to use discretion. He never spoke about it with anyone except Madison and did a nice spin job with Judge Green before the trial started. Every time he thought about his confrontation with the judge he couldn't help but laugh.

Maddie asked, “What's that grin for?”

Simmons shook his head. “Sorry I was just thinking about being called into Judge Green's office before your trial started.”

“Tell me, please,” Madison said as she grabbed his hand.

“Please, I need a good story.”

“OK,” he laughed. “Looking back, it's humorous, but at the time I was very, very concerned about you. It was six months after the Face of Fear investigation ended, and the trial was set to begin when Judge Green called in ADA Ashley and me. He sat down in his chair, let out a belch, drank some water, and said,

‘What the fuck is going on here?' We both looked at him puzzled because we didn't know what he meant.

“‘Gee,' Judge Green said as he tapped his temple with his forefinger. ‘First you clowns get me to release Patty Saunders to bait the killers. She gets herself sliced open, and now look who is here defending her murderer, the attorney who represented Patty Saunders.'”

Judge Green's concerns were accurate. Simmons was the attorney for Patty Saunders who was responsible for the kidnapping of Deborah Lance on the Cross Island Ferry. He took her case pro bono in the hopes of building his résumé and it paid off. He earned the respect of the detectives involved in the case, including the grumpy Detective Lieutenant Cronin. They all agreed he was the best choice to represent Madison, but Judge Green was not happy he was preparing a case for someone who murdered his client.

“‘Your Honor,' Ashley replied, ‘Mr. Simmons had nothing to do with setting up Patty Saunders's release. It was at the request of Detective Lieutenant Cronin and the DA's office.' ‘Bullshit,' Judge Green replied. ‘He was sitting in my chambers with you and Cronin agreeing to let Saunders out on bail. She is killed by Madison Robinson, and here he is again. Just what in the hell are you guys up to?'

“Green looked at Ashley and said, ‘So now you're defending Simmons,' and then looked back at me. He asked, ‘Just who the hell is paying you for this?'

“I looked over at Ashley, then back at the Judge, and said, ‘They are anonymous.'

“‘Oh shit, here we go again,' Green replied. ‘This is giving me gas pockets, excuse me,' he said as he got up.

“When he left the room, Ashley remarked, ‘Some things never change,' and we both laughed. Judge Green was back within a few minutes and sat down.

“I had started to take a seat when the judge said, ‘Please don't get comfortable. Listen you two; I won't be allowing cameras during the trial. There will not be any grandstanding in my courtroom, and if I think for one second you two are conspiring a verdict together, I will not only throw both of you in jail, I will have you disbarred. Do I make myself clear?'

“‘Yes, Your Honor,' we both answered at the same time. We both stood there as Judge Green continued to stare, until finally he spoke again: ‘Will you two please get the fuck out of my chambers?'”

Madison laughed as Simmons finished telling the story. The truth is Judge Green was as off-the-wall as most considered. It was a favor called in from DA Steinberg's office to have him preside over the case. He kept things moving, hid his sympathy toward the defendant, and reminded everyone of the letter of the law many times during the trial. He made himself available to the jury for their questions and scolded them when he felt interpretation of the law was misunderstood by them.

Madison's face became serious for a moment, and she asked, “Was it difficult for you to defend someone who killed your client?”

“Yes,” the attorney answered right away. “I only accepted the case because people I respected asked me to take it. I couldn't understand why detectives such as Powers, Johnson, and Cronin wanted you represented, but as time went on and I got to know you, I understood. While the law doesn't agree with you, it can't change that people care about you, Maddie.”

She brushed her hair off her face and said, “Well, Powers loves my sister, so that's part of it.”

“No,” Simmons answered, “Detective Johnson told me he was going to shoot you while you had the mask on. It was Powers that stopped him, and you know Johnson, he has no problem shooting people.” They both laughed.

“Listen,” Madison said, “tell Paul that many of the women in this facility are here because of drugs.”

“So?” Simmons asked.

Madison replied quickly, “They're getting the drugs from licensed, professional doctors.”

Simmons looked confused, and Madison said, “Listen, these girls are making appointments to see their doctors and once they are alone in the little room they slip the doctor a few hundred dollars and they get their prescription for oxycodone or samples that doctors have. These girls have no chance, and the doctors are part of the problem. This is not a rehab center. They get out, and because of background checks, they get no jobs and end up back here 80 percent of the time. All that is going to happen is the jails are going to get more and more overcrowded.”

Simmons tilted his head and asked, “And what do you expect Paul to do?”

Madison shook her head at the attorney. “Don't you think the doctors should be held responsible for being part of the problem?” Al Simmons nodded and replied, “I will speak to him.”

Officer Bay opened the door to tell them their hour was up. Madison looked up at the tall guard and remarked, “It's been an hour and ten minutes, Officer Bay, thank you.”

He looked at her and Simmons and said, “Oh, guess my watch is off.”

Madison hugged Simmons good-bye, and she started to go to the changing area to put on her regular orange coveralls. As Maddie and Officer Bay walked back to her housing cell she turned and thanked the officer for being polite and courteous to her.

“It's my job, ma'am,” he replied.

As they continued to walk she spoke again, asking, “What is your first name, Officer Bay?”

“It's John, Madison.”

“You have escorted me on and off for eighteen months and I never knew that,” she replied.

“You never asked,” the officer replied.

As he put her back in her cell, Madison replied, “That's interesting.”

“Why is that?” the officer asked.

“Oh, nothing I guess,” she answered, “other than I killed a man named John.” Officer Bay stopped in his tracks and looked at her as she began to laugh. “I'm sorry; I guess I have a sick sense of humor.”

The officer nodded as he began to walk away, and said, “I will see you Wednesday.”

Madison sat down on her bed and had a flashback about the day she killed John Winters in the abandoned building across from St. Charles Hospital. They had since torn down the building and converted it into a parking lot. It seemed like yesterday that she cut him deep for bringing misery to her sister. Unlike in movies, she wanted her victims to see her face before they died. She felt so much anger that, depending where she was, she would pull off the Ghost Face mask just to see their expressions before taking their last breath. She could still go over each killing in her head. Sometimes she couldn't believe she was the vigilante, but as her thoughts showed her taking the mask off to see their faces, reality would set in. John Winters, the leader, his brothers Kyle and Mason, as well as Wayne Starfield were responsible for Deborah's kidnapping. Her thoughts were broken by Officer Bay's replacement, Officer Gates, a pretty young female officer, petite at 5'4” and one hundred pounds, who had been a regular escorting Madison during the night shifts as well as alternate Sundays for the past three months.

“Dinnertime,” Gates announced as she put the tray of turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, and bread through the opening.

“Tell me, Officer Gates,” Madison asked, “why is the food so bland?”

The young officer laughed as she replied, “The cooks don't know everyone's diet restrictions and possible stomach problems. So poof, everything is cooked with nothing added.”

“OK,” the inmate answered. “May I ask your name? I just found out Officer Bay's name is John.”

The young officer had a look of puzzlement.

“Um,” she hesitated, “I'm not sure that's a good idea.” As she began to walk away, she added, “I'm sorry.” Madison looked at her dinner and began to pick up the turkey slices with her fingers. After a couple bites she put her hands over her face and cried. She didn't see Officer Gates looking at her.

As Simmons was driving back to Yaphank headquarters he was upset with himself that he didn't ask Madison how she knew about the drugs being handed out from doctors. He remembered Officer Bay's name badge and called the facility. Officer Bay was unavailable during the lockdown on his shift but would return the call when he left the building. Simmons made it back to Yaphank in thirty-three minutes and asked to speak to both Powers and Johnson. There was no need for a private room because everything about Priority 1 was private. While the relationship between the detectives and the attorney had gotten off to a rocky start eighteen months before, it had transformed into a mutual respect for their work and accomplishments. The attorney told them of his discussion with Madison and wasn't sure if there was anything that could be done but felt they should know. They thanked him and told him most likely it would be given to one of the other squads. Paul warned Simmons that nothing may happen, due to priorities.

“That sucks,” Detective Ellyn Baker remarked. She was doing paperwork across the aisle and couldn't help but overhear the conversation. “Doctors are giving away pills for cash and getting away with it?”

“Allegedly, yes,” Simmons answered.

“Well, that bites the big one,” the detective replied as she walked away in her stocking feet.

As Powers and Simmons looked at each other, Bud spoke. “Now, there's a girl after my own heart, even if she doesn't wear shoes,” he said, as he smiled.

Paul waved at Bud as he spoke to Simmons: “I'll bring it up to the boss, Al, and I'll be in touch.”

“Come on,” Bud remarked, “I'll walk you out. I have to pick up something in the car.” Detective Johnson walked out with the attorney as he received an update on how Madison was holding up. They shook hands as Bud picked up a note pad and entered the precinct just in time to see a loud confrontation between a perp and an officer.

Bud walked by and yelled, “Shut up, shithead!” There was total silence in the room as the cops stared at Bud and the young man arrested was shocked by the detective's remark.

Bud put his fingerprint on the screen to enter into the Priority 1 area. When he got back to his desk, Lynagh, Healey, Franks, Chapman, and Dugan had just walked into Cronin's office for a briefing on the past week. He saw Cronin point his finger at him as well as Baker and Powers to come to his office. Once they were all in his office, Cronin informed them that things were pretty calm and it might be a good time to take some personal time before they were loaned out for other cases. Detective Baker spoke up and told Detective Cronin the story about Simmons and Madison at the jail.

“OK,” Cronin replied. “I need to see schedules within the next forty-eight hours on vacation time.” As everyone left the room, Powers, Johnson, and Baker stayed behind to give Cronin specific info on what Simmons had told them.

As Al Simmons' iPhone started playing classical music he was pleased to find Officer John Bay returning his call. They exchanged pleasantries, and finally the attorney came to his point and asked, “John, how would Madison Robinson find out how the girls are getting drugs from doctors by slipping them a few hundred here and there?”

There was silence at the other end of the phone, and finally the correctional officer answered, “While Madison is kept separate for her own safety, she does have access to the church, the priest, the nun, and on very special occasions, if we have enough officers outside to protect her, we let her have access to other female inmates. She's a human being and we try to give her a chance to speak to others.”

“No, don't misunderstand me, Officer,” Simmons replied. “I appreciate the treatment of Madison. I just wondered where she got the information.”

John Bay spoke again. “Why would she care about this?”

“Well,” Simmons replied, “that's Madison. She cares, sometimes too much, which is why she is there right now.”

“I see,” Officer Bay answered. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, no, thank you, Officer. Maddie is a good person in case you are wondering.”

“I know,” came the reply. “And off the record, she is right about the doctors; they don't care about these girls, all they care about is the cash.”

Before Simmons could reply, there was an end-call sound. He wanted to call back but thought better of it. He would stop and make it a point to see Detective Cronin tomorrow morning. He knew Powers and Johnson were going to speak with him but decided he would speak directly with him as well.