Trial and Terror (4 page)

“Or smell it,” Frank replied with a chuckle.

Once downtown, Frank found a parking space on a side street, and the Hardys returned to the criminal court building. They soon found Nellie Rodriguez and Bernie Myers waiting in the gloomy corridor where the Hardys had spoken earlier with Nellie. Holding a briefcase, Myers looked even more rumpled than before.

“Nellie explained to me your very generous offer to help out,” Myers said, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, “but I really don't think you boys are qualified for this kind of work.”

Without taking offense, Frank and Joe explained what they had learned that afternoon
about Fred Garfein's eviction plans and the missing set of keys.

Myers was silent a moment. “Well, I just did something a lawyer should never do,” he said with a chuckle. “I spoke too soon. I take back my previous statement. In a few short hours, you boys have done some excellent work.”

“And you haven't even heard about the garbage yet,” Frank said with a sly glance at Joe.

“However,” Myers continued, “if I'm going to imply to the jury that someone else committed this crime, I'm going to need a bit more evidence to back up my claim. What you have now isn't quite strong enough for me to bring into the courtroom.”

“We're on it,” Joe said.

“You don't have long,” Myers pointed out. “The prosecution rested its case this afternoon. I start my defense tomorrow morning, and I guess it will take about two days. Today is Monday. If you're going to find something usable, I need to have it by Wednesday afternoon.”

“Two things,” Frank told Myers. “First, could we get keys to Nick's apartment? We want to check ways someone might have gotten in there. Second, would it be possible for us to look at the evidence the police collected from the scene of the crime?”

“I've already checked the evidence,” Myers said. “There's really nothing helpful there.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Frank said, “we
might find something you may have overlooked. You're a lawyer, and we're detectives.”

Myers looked the Hardys up and down. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “I've got the keys in my briefcase, and tomorrow I'll request permission for you to look at the evidence. Right now Nellie and I are going to visit Nick. Why don't you guys come along?”

“That would be great, Mr. Myers,” Frank said.

“And by the way,” Myers told the Hardys, “call me Bernie.”

“You two are doing a wonderful job,” Nellie said, her face beaming with approval.

The group left the courthouse and walked to the Manhattan House of Detention, a high-rise building next door. On the tenth floor a policeman took the Hardys, Nellie, and Myers into one of the interview rooms in which defendants were allowed to meet with their lawyers.

Everyone sat at a table under a harsh fluorescent light. “Nick has been in this place since his arrest, right?” Joe asked.

“I'm afraid so,” Myers said. “If defendants can't afford bail, they have to stay here until their trial comes up. And for serious crimes, the bail can be a lot of money. Nick's been here four months.”

Joe knew the bail was to ensure that the defendant would show up for the trial rather than avoid it. If they did show up, the money was returned.

Soon a policeman brought in Nick Rodriguez, who was now dressed in gray prison overalls. Nick took a seat at the table, and Myers introduced him to the Hardys.

“Thanks for your help,” Nick told the Hardys as he shook their hands.

He was a handsome man up close, Frank thought. Even so, Frank could see the strain of the trial in Nick's face. Wanting to learn more about Karen Lee, Frank asked Nick to talk a bit about his relationship with her.

“I first met Karen two years ago,” Nick said, his hands resting on the table in front of him. “She came into the computer software store where I work, and we seemed to hit it off. I worked up the nerve to ask her out, and, to my amazement, she agreed.”

“And you dated for a while, right?” Frank asked.

Nick nodded. “And we were happy,” he said. “Every time we got together, it was like magic. After a year of dating, I asked her to marry me, and, again to my amazement, she accepted. This was last April.”

“Then what happened?” Joe asked.

“A month later, in May,” Nick said, “Karen finally got her big break. She landed a role on the soap opera
Days of Destiny.
Right away she was making pretty good money, and people were recognizing her everywhere we went.”

“Is that what came between you?” Frank
asked. “The fact that her career was taking off and you still had the same job in a computer store?”

Nick let out a heavy breath. “I'm not sure what came first,” he said. “Me being jealous of the glamor in her life or her becoming distant. It was probably a little of both. Suddenly . . . I don't know . . . the magic vanished.”

“Then she broke up with you,” Joe said.

“Yeah. It was a beautiful day in June,” Nick said, a far-off look in his eyes. “We were walking through Central Park. She said her feelings for me were cooling off a bit, and it would be a big mistake for us to get married. She slipped off the diamond ring I had given her and handed it back to me.”

Nick paused a moment. Frank was watching him carefully, trying to determine if this man was guilty or innocent. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Joe was doing the same thing.

“I told her I'd try harder,” Nick continued. “I'd be nicer, more supportive—anything she wanted. But she said no, and that her decision was final.”

“Then what happened between you?” Frank asked.

“I moped around a few days, then I started trying to get back together with her,” Nick explained. “I called every week or so, but nothing I could say would change her mind. That's why I went to see her on the night of August
fourteenth. I wanted to try to win her back one last time. Face-to-face.”

“But it didn't work,” Joe said quietly.

Nick shook his head sadly. “This was such a hard time for me,” he said. “I was feeling so many bad things. Anger, rejection, loneliness. I felt lost.”

“But you wouldn't hurt her, would you?” Frank said, trying to get inside the man's mind.

“No!” Nick cried out, driving his fist down hard on the table, his dark eyes seething with rage. “I would never have hurt her! Don't you see? I was in love with her!”

Joe jumped at this sudden outburst. He felt as if he had just witnessed an explosion.

At that moment Joe felt he was sitting across the table from a possible murderer.

No one spoke for a moment.

“I'm sorry,” Nick said finally, a surprised look on his face. “I'm not sure where that came from.”

“It's all right, Nick,” Myers said evenly. “You're under a lot of pressure these days.”

“We're all on your side,” Nellie said, taking her brother's hand.

Frank nodded his agreement, but he could see that Joe was not sure whose side he was on.

Staring at the table, Nick spoke in a calmer voice. “Do you have any idea what it's like for an innocent man to go through this? First the policemen came into my apartment and handcuffed me. Then they drove me downtown and took away my wallet, my keys, even my pocket change. Then they took mug shots of me and finger-printed
me. Then they locked me up behind bars like an animal in a cage.”

As if showing how trapped he felt, Nick stood and walked across the room. He pounded the wall once, then said, “And you know what the worst part of this whole thing is? The very worst!”

“What, Nick?” Nellie asked.

Nick turned back to face the others. “The worst thing is that Karen believes I tried to kill her. I give you my solemn word—I did
not
try to kill her. And that is the truth!”

Nick returned to the table and sank into his chair, his head in his hands.

“Nick, do you know of anyone who might have done it?” Frank asked.

“No,” Nick said, looking Frank squarely in the eye. “But there's one thing I do remember. When I left Karen's apartment that night, I walked down the hall and pushed the button for the elevator. And while I was standing there waiting, I glanced over at the door that leads to the stairwell. There's a small window in that door.”

“I've seen it,” Joe said, nodding.

“Well, for a second, I thought I saw a face in that window,” Nick said. “At the time I didn't think anything of it, and I have no idea what the face looked like. But that was probably the real attacker. Whoever that might be.”

“Will this be mentioned in court?” Frank asked, turning to Myers.

“Bernie won't say it,” Nick cut in, “but the fact is, he's not sure he believes me about this face. You see, even Bernie thinks I did it!”

Myers sat silently in his chair, a finger to his lips, not arguing the point.

Soon the Hardys left to give Nellie and Myers some time alone with Nick. It was completely dark when Frank and Joe stepped out of the House of Detention, and they headed east in search of dinner.

After a few blocks, the Hardys found themselves in a maze of narrow, winding streets crowded with Chinese restaurants, shops, newsstands, and businesses.

The Hardys entered a small restaurant and sat at a table. A waiter brought the Hardys menus, chopsticks, and cups of steaming tea.

“You know,” Joe said, opening his menu, “I still think Nick is guilty. Even more so now.”

“That outburst was something,” Frank said after a sip of tea. “But he's been cooped up for four months.”

“That's true, but I think it really drove him crazy that he couldn't marry Karen Lee,” Joe explained. “I think the anger just built up, day by day, and then on the night of August fourteenth the dam burst wide open. I think that flash of temper we saw was just a sample of what this guy has stored inside.”

Frank and Joe spent several minutes in silence while they studied their menus.

“I think he's innocent,” Frank said after they had placed their orders.

“Why?” Joe asked.

“For one thing,” Frank said, “I don't think that outburst was anger at Karen Lee. I think it was anger that everybody thinks he could have tried to murder her. I was watching him carefully. Each time he got the least bit mad, it was about that. For another thing, Nick's not dumb. If he really did commit that crime, he would have gotten rid of the gloves and ski mask instead of stuffing them under his mattress. The cops found those items a whole day after the attack.”

“But he's not a criminal,” Joe said. “Amateurs make stupid mistakes all the time.”

The Hardys argued the point several minutes, then steaming plates of food came. Frank's dish had a variety of fresh-looking seafood, and Joe's contained items Joe had never seen before.

“Well, guilty or not,” Frank said, spearing a shrimp with his chopsticks, “everyone has a right to a fair trial.”

“I guess that's why Bernie is doing his best to defend his client,” Joe said, picking up a squiggly thing with his chopsticks. “Even though it seems he doesn't believe his client is innocent.”

“Happens all the time,” Frank said. “Hey, this is pretty decent chow.”

“Do you think Bernie will put Nick on the witness stand?” Joe asked. “You know, give Nick a chance to tell his side of the story?”

“If Bernie thinks Nick is guilty, he probably won't,” Frank replied. “He'll be afraid that Daggett will shake Nick up on the cross-examination and get the truth out of him.”

While he ate, Joe mulled over the way the American criminal justice system worked. Was it right for him to help Nick's side of the case when he had a strong suspicion the man was guilty of a serious crime?

“I know what you're thinking,” Frank said, watching his brother. “But remember, the reason defendants are supposed to get a fair trial is because a person is considered innocent until proven guilty. You said it yourself this afternoon.”

Joe continued chewing and thinking. “Okay,” he said, suddenly pulling some envelopes and papers from his coat. “I say we do our best for Nick Rodriguez.”

“What are those?” Frank asked.

“The letters I found in Lee's trash,” Joe said, spreading them out for a better look. “We've got to bring Bernie something good by the day after tomorrow, and I don't want to waste any time.”

“So far we've got one possible suspect,” Frank
said as Joe studied the envelopes. “Fred Garfein. I think we should pay him a visit first thing tomorrow and see what we can learn.”

“Check this out,” Joe said, sliding a piece of paper over to Frank. “It's a fan letter.”

Frank looked at the letter. “ ‘Dear Karen,' ” he read aloud. “ ‘I watch
Days of Destiny
every single day, and I've decided you are my favorite actress. In addition to being talented, you are also one of the most beautiful women on earth. This may sound strange, but somehow I feel we are fated to be together, and I hope one day this dream of mine will come true. That will be my Day of Destiny. I will be writing more letters to you in the near future.' Signed, ‘John Q.' ”

Frank finished reading and put the letter down.

“You know,” Joe said, “a crazy fan could have attacked Karen Lee. It's been known to happen. And this guy goes a little overboard.”

Frank studied the envelope. “Somehow this guy got Lee's home address,” Frank said. “Which means he knows where she lives.”

“And we know where he lives,” Joe said, pointing to a return address on the envelope. It was a New York City address.

When the Hardys finished dinner, the waiter brought the check and two fortune cookies. Joe cracked open his cookie, pulled out a slip of paper, and read, “ ‘You make your family very proud.' ”