2New York County District Attorney's Office
Friday 9:00 AM
Erin's phone rang as she made the finishing touches to her written opening statement. She picked up the phone and tucked it against her shoulder as she continued typing. "Yeah?" she asked, her head at an uncomfortable angle.
"Ben Downs to see you, Miss Reagan," said the person at the front desk.
"Good, send him up," Erin said, and she hung up.
Ben Downs was a private detective, and a damn good one. Erin had known him since he was an investigator for the District Attorney's office, but he'd resigned for the money. With Downs' skills (and anti-establishment disposition), Erin could understand why he'd opted out for the public sector. Not to mention he was making bank.
The door opened and the short, black-bearded man entered. He wore a long dark trench coat and a grin. "Hey, Erin. How's it going?"
"It's good to see you Ben," said Erin, standing up and shaking his hand. "Now I know you've been through all this before. I just need you to run down what all you're going to say on the stand."
Ben cleared his throat and smiled his most charming smile. "I was contacted by Miss Watson two months ago after five years of her going through a run-around with the justice system. She'd been a victim of insurance and security fraud, had substantial evidence to take it to court, but the judge ruled out of favor. I looked at the evidence myself and it seemed sketchy. I investigated Judge Holmes's bank accounts, which I can legally do as a licensed private detective, and discovered that the insurance agent, Mrs. Strong, was paying off Judge Holmes to keep his silence."
Erin smiled and nodded. "Sounds like a solid case. And you're prepared for a cross-examination from the prosecuting attorney? Shirley Cole is what my father would describe as a 'piece of work' and my brother would call a 'bitch'." She stopped and thought. "Actually, he did call her a bitch once."
Ben laughed. "There shouldn't be any problem. I've met with her before, we get along just fine. I promise there will be no surprises."
One Police Plaza
Friday, 11:00 AM
Garrett walked into Frank's office with an air of annoyance, as per usual. "Frank, why is it one of your Marine buddies always conveniently visits the city the weekend of an important Gala?"
Frank glanced up from the work on his desk. "It's the mayor's birthday. I'd hardly call that important."
"So you're not going to do anything?" Garret demanded, exasperated.
"I already sent a card," said Frank.
"Did the card have an appearance from NYPD Commissioner Frank Reagan, because that's what the mayor is expecting at the Gala."
"No, but it sings Stevie Wonder when you open it."
Garrett shrugged and started to leave. "Would you relax?" said Reagan. "The mayor is gonna be surrounded by some of his closest liberal friends. Believe me, he's gonna be as glad I'm not there as I am."
"And who's this friend you're having over?"
"His name is Liam Hannibal," said Frank. "We served together in Nam. He had good double agent contacts behind enemy lines. He saved my butt more times than the mayor would even consider it." Frank glanced at the door. "And here he is now."
A tall man with close-cropped greying hair and a too-small suit stepped through the door and stood next to Garrett. "Frank, how have you been?" he said, his eyes beaming.
"Cpl. Liam Hannibal, meet Deputy Police Commissioner Garrett Moore," said Frank, standing up.
"Good to see you," said Liam, his smile never faltering as he shook Garrett's hand forcefully.
"Well I can certainly tell you he's friendlier than the mayor," said Garrett.
"Liam and I have lunch plans," said Frank. "Excuse us." And the two men left.
Upper West Side of Manhattan
Friday 11:17 AM
Danny and Baez pulled up to the police line and stepped out. "I can't believe we caught a new case on a Friday morning" said Danny. "You know what I had plans for this weekend?"
"I can imagine it involved the Giants game and a six pack," said Baez.
"Giants and Knicks. And it's a twelve pack."
"Detectives," called an officer and he waved them over. "I'm Officer Calvin."
"What have we got, officer?"
"Apparent suicide," Calvin said. "Witnesses reported a jumper on the building, but he jumped before any of us arrived. Paramedics called it a D.O.A."
"We got an ID?" asked Baez looking down at the man. He looked to be close to fifty. He had stress lines all over his face and his hair was stark white.
"The super in the building said his name's Smith. He's a Wall Street man," said Calvin. "Not for nothing, but this wouldn't be the first time we've had a jumper from Wall Street, would it?"
"Not even the first time this month," said Danny. "Get him taken care of. We'll need evidence from his apartment. Any financial records, computers, laptops. The works."
"You got it, sir," said Calvin.
"Maybe this one will be open and shut?" asked Baez.
"Yeah, cause that always happens," said Danny sarcastically.
*Blue Bloods theme*
NYPD Midtown North Precinct
Friday 1:00 PM
Danny and Baez were at their desks, finishing their lunch and running down the list of their victim's associates.
"Alright, thank you Mr. Sanders," said Danny and he hung up the phone. He crossed the name off the list.
"Still more of the same?" asked Baez.
"Everyone Smith worked with said that he had no problems at work. He was well-liked, at least as much as these stock market people like someone. But his suicide does't make any sense. He was making money hand over fist and he's got the financial records to prove it."
"Maybe his suicide doesn't have anything to do with the market," Baez suggested.
"Or maybe it wasn't a suicide."
Baez chuckled. "The great Danny Reagan. Always thinks that nothing is as it seems."
"Hey, I'm just saying that an apparent suicide doesn't always end that way."
"And don't you know that not every rich white man has people who want him dead," said Baez.
"Yeah, okay," said Danny.
"Detectives?"
The two of them looked up to see a young woman with a badge hanging from her neck.
"Detective Spooner," said Baez. "What a surprise." The way she talked conveyed annoyance, but Danny caught the smile in her eyes.
"Who is this?" He asked
"Baez and I worked together before," said Spooner. "Nice to meet you, Detective Reagan."
"Likewise," said Danny, shaking her hand.
"Evidence called me in on your case," she said.
"Why would they do that?"
"Because they were having trouble getting into Smith's computer," said Spooner, taking a seat beside Danny. "The guy has more firewalls and run-arounds than any private computer I've looked at. It's a regular Fort Knox. They asked for my help getting into his files."
"And how'd you get in?" asked Danny.
"I didn't," said Spooner. "But someone else was in, and should we say, left the backdoor open?"
"You saying this guy's computer was hacked?" asked Baez.
"By someone who really knew what they were doing," said Spooner. "We're talking wiki-leaks levels of computer hacking."
"How can we find them?" asked Danny.
"They did a decent job of covering their tracks," said Spooner. "And they probably could've done more if they were at their computer and realized that I was looking for them. But they weren't at the time. The only type of computer hacker I can think of who isn't at their computer in the middle of the day..."
"One with a job," suggested Danny.
"Bingo," said Spooner. "It just so happens, their were pinging their IP around the city like a damn pinball machine, but it stopped at a building on West 28th."
"Thanks, Detective," said Danny, grabbing his coat.
West 28th
Friday 1:16
Danny and Baez pulled up to the building and parked. "Wait a second, I've been here before," said Baez.
"You have?" asked Danny.
"Another detective and I came to a town hall meeting for women in male-dominated work environments before."
"So what is this place?"
"Something like Women for New York or something?" said Baez. "They're a p.a.c."
Danny sighed. "Oh, great. One wrong move and we can paint a target on the NYPD's back for investigating a liberal political action committee."
They opened the door and proceeded to the front desk. Beyond the desk looked to be several rows of cubicles with what looked like mostly women in professional dress. A young man was working at the front desk. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"NYPD. I'm detective Reagan. This is my partner, Detective Baez. We'd like to talk to whoever's in charge."
"That'd be Ms. Lanning," said the young man. "That's her over there." He pointed out an older woman with shoulder-length greying blonde hair.
"Thank you," said Danny. He and Baez walked over.
Baez hissed at Danny. "Why don't you let me talk to her? If I remember correctly, some of these women can be a little hostile towards men."
"Be my guest," said Danny, hanging back.
"Ms. Lanning?" asked Baez, approaching.
"Yes?" asked the woman looking up.
"I'm Detective Baez. This my partner, Detective Reagan. We're with the NYPD. Is there a place we can talk privately?"
"Yes, of course," said Lanning, eyeing the two detectives distrustfully. "I'm afraid you caught me at something of a bad time," Lanning said as she led them into a small conference room off to the side. "We're launching a huge campaign next week against street harassment. What is this about?"
"We're looking into the suicide of a man named Robbie Smith," said Danny. "Do you know him?"
Lanning shook her head, but Danny caught her eyes barely widening in surprise. "No, I've never heard of that man before."
"Ok," said Danny. "We found out his computer was hacked by one of the computers in this building. May we talk to your employees, see if anyone may have known him?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to keep it short," said Lanning. "As I said, we're very busy. I can't let my workers get distracted."
"Yes, I understand," said Baez. "We'll try to stay out of your way. If you could, just send your employees in one at a time."
New York County Courthouse
Friday 2:30 PM
So far, the trial was going more or less to Erin's plan. She had just finished questioning her star witness and Downs was doing everything in his power to charm the ladies- and some of the men- on the jury.
"Mr. Downs," said Shirley Cole, the defense attorney for Judge Holmes. "You're a private detective, correct?"
Ben grinned roguishly. "Yes, councilor, that's accurate."
"Maybe you should explain to the jury what that means exactly," said Cole. "Are you in any way affiliated with law enforcement?"
"No, councilor," said Ben. "It means that I've completed the requirements and procedures for the qualifications and that I've passed an exam set by the state of New York."
"A licensing exam?" asked Cole.
"Yes, exactly," said Ben.
"And without this license, any evidence you've collected would be obtained illegally and admissible by the court. Right?"
"Yes," said Ben, without hesitation.
Cole withdrew a piece of paper from her briefcase. "Mr. Downs, can you verify that this a copy of your current license?"
She passed the piece of paper over and Ben looked at it. "Yes, it is."
"Can you read the date issued?"
"June 15."
Cole smiled. "Can you verify that this is your prior license before you received your new license on June 15?" She handed him a separate piece of paper.
"Yes," said Ben.
"And what is the expiration date?"
Ben hesitated. Erin shifted in her seat. Something was off. What was Shirley trying to pull?
"It was June 10," said Ben.
"So, did you have a license to be a private detective between June 10 and June 15?" asked Cole.
Ben looked like a whipped child. Erin hadn't even realized when he'd transitioned into shame from all charm and dignity. "No, I didn't."
Erin's jaw dropped. Ben had already testified that it was June 11 that he had acquired Judge Holmes's financial records.
"No further questions, your honor."