“Did you notice what time he left?”
“I did. By then, I knew it might be important. It was 11:28, according to the clock in my kitchen. He’d only been there about ten minutes.”
Christina closed her notebook. There were only two more questions left, and it was important that her witness get them both right. “Ellen, in the aftermath of the tragedy, you spoke to the police, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Several times.”
Rather than let the prosecution make a fuss about this on cross, Christina knew it was best to raise the issue on direct. “Did you tell them what you just told us?”
“No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have lied about it. But I couldn’t volunteer that he had come to my house and… basically confessed. I didn’t know then that Johnny himself would admit what he had done. I didn’t know then that the principal remaining question would be where he went when he left the bar a little after eleven. When that became an issue-I knew I had to come forward.”
“And you’re absolutely sure that Johnny was with you at the time of approximately 11:10 to 11:28?”
“Absolutely. And there wasn’t time for him to go anywhere else.”
Christina nodded. So far, so good. Only one more hurdle to jump. “Mrs. Christensen, as you know, the main question before this jury at present is not whether your son beat Tony Barovick, but whether he killed him. When he visited you that night, did he refer to that at all?”
“He did.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that his friend Brett had wanted to kill him. As he described it, Brett had been consumed with something like a blood rage, had all but lost his mind. He wanted to murder the boy in some horrible fashion. But my Johnny stopped him.”
“So you’re certain Johnny didn’t kill Tony Barovick?”
“More than that. As ironic as it might seem, Johnny saved that boy’s life.”
“Thank you. Pass the witness.”
That had gone well, Christina thought, as she returned to her seat. Better than she’d expected, actually. She couldn’t gauge whether the jury was buying it, but the points had been established. Whether they made an impact, ultimately, would depend on whether the jury believed Mrs. Christensen was telling the truth. At any rate, she hadn’t left any openings for Drabble’s cross, at least as far as she knew.
Drabble slowly approached the podium. Christina could only imagine what he had up his sleeve. She had cautioned Ellen not to become restless; this cross could easily go on for hours.
Drabble gazed at the witness for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was with a sort of sigh. “Mrs. Christensen, aren’t you the defendant’s mother?”
She hesitated a moment. “I’m his stepmother. I said that.”
He continued to look at her for a long while. “Mrs. Christensen,” he repeated. “Aren’t you the defendant’s mother?”
“Y-yes. Yes, I am.”
Drabble smiled, nodded, closed his notebook. “Thank you, ma’am. I have no more questions.”
42
Mike finally found Special Agent Swift in the basement firing range, protective earphones over her head. She was pouring long-range automatic ammunition into a man-shaped figure fifty feet away, and she looked as if she was enjoying herself. Which Mike didn’t doubt.
She didn’t hear him coming, no surprise, given the earphones and the thunderous clatter. He lifted the cushioned cones over her ears and said, “Boo!”
She started, but quickly recovered herself. “Mike! What’s up, sugah? Come to take out your frustrations on a cardboard target?”
“No. Came looking for you.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows danced. “You finally gonna take me up on my offer?”
“Yes, but possibly not the one you have in mind. Remember when you said you were going to come clean with me?”
“Ye-esss…”
“Well, now you really are.” He guided her into a nearby room and closed the door. “I want to know why you came down to Tulsa and started messing around in my murder investigation. And this time don’t give me any bull about drugs.”
“But Mike-”
“Mind you, I’m not saying there aren’t drugs running around that club or that Manny Nowosky wasn’t peddling them as a sideline. But that’s not enough to get a top Feeb wrapped up in an Oklahoma murder.”
“I’m certain that your murder was connected to our Chicago murder.”
“I am, too, but that still wouldn’t bring it under federal purview. What’s the real reason you thrust yourself into this case?”
She locked a finger around one of the buttons on his shirt. “With you involved, Mike, I didn’t need much of an excuse. For thrusting myself into things.”
He slapped her hand away. “Oh, give me some credit. I’m not so blind that a little flirting will turn me into an unquestioning idiot.”
“But I-”
“You’re not working any drugs case. You’re working the same case you were always working. The Metzger kidnapping.”
The humor drained from her face. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I finally realized where I’ve seen that guy before. Charlie the Chicken. I knew I’d seen his face, but the image was slightly different, and I couldn’t figure out why. Until I did.” He paused. “It seemed different because the last time I saw him, I was way down looking up at him. Through the crosshairs of a sniperscope.”
“Indeed.”
“Yeah. That creep was one of the thugs who kidnapped the Metzger boy, and I’m willing to bet that Manny Nowosky was in on it, too. And Tony Barovick. My hunch was right about them being co-conspirators in some crime-I just had the wrong crime.”
“What a theory.”
“It explains a lot. Like why a two-bit punk like Manny had fifty grand lying around. And it helps me figure why Charlie was leaving town-given what had already happened to two of his partners.”
“I’m not following you.”
“We always thought the kidnapping was handled by a gang of four, and we were right. The fourth man-the only one who isn’t dead-is still on the loose, having knocked off his former partners.”
“But-why?”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to share the ransom they got away with. Maybe he knows they’re the only ones who can testify against him.” Mike turned, pacing around the tiny room. “But why am I telling you this? You’ve known all along these murders were linked to the kidnapping. That’s why you’re on the case. Right?” He leaned in closer. “Am I right?”
She stared back at him. “You are so hot when you’re mad.”
It was all Mike could do to restrain himself. “Am I right?”
She released a long stream of air. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Then why the hell-”
“But don’t start screaming at me. We had an anonymous tip linking the drill bit murder to the kidnapping, but I was under strict instructions from my superiors not to give you the lowdown. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t my call.”
“Did it ever occur to you… pompous… goddamn white-shirts… that local law enforcement might actually be able to help you? If you’d give us half a clue what’s really going on!”
“I told you. It wasn’t my decision!” She stomped around a few moments. “But now that you know, I don’t see why I can’t tell you the rest.”
“Please do.”
“We think the fourth man-the remaining living kidnapper-is based here in Chicago. Now that he’s killed off his associates, assuming he has the ransom money, he should have no reason to remain. So we’ve got to catch him quick.”
Mike folded his arms across his chest. He still wasn’t pleased about this, but he was happier inside the loop than out. “And how do we do that?”
“Remote Control seems to be the nerve center of this operation, even after Tony Barovick’s death. Since we don’t have any leads and don’t know who Mr. Big is-we look for his shadow. Traces of his presence. Disruptions in the normal routine. People flashing a lot of cash who shouldn’t be. Signs of people being roughed up or acting in a strange-”