187Thanks to Xenitha, max2013, BMSH, Caranath, hlahabibty, julzdagger88, Paulina Ann, sm2003495, EvergreenDreamweaver, Barb, malinda6069, Jilsen, and everyone who read and enjoyed.
Sorry, this chapter just did not want to write itself, but I finally wrestled it into submission.
Chapter 15
"Seriously, I want to thank you for letting us be here today." Joe flashed one of his feral grins at the detective leading him and his brother down a long hallway. "I can't wait to hear him try to weasel out of this." He faltered as one of Frank's elbows jabbed in the side. "I mean..."
The uniformed man chuckled. "I get it. And you don't need to thank me," he said. "Carmine spoke very highly of you and your brother, and while I never worked with your father, he still has a good reputation around here. Besides, I'm just the tour guide today." He indicated a door just ahead of them on the right with a wave of his hand. "You can head on in. They'll be getting started in a couple of minutes. They're giving the suspect a few minutes alone to contemplate his situation before questioning."
"Does he have a lawyer with him?" Frank asked, nodding when he got an answer in the affirmative. "I would have been surprised if he didn't," he muttered.
Joe waited, one hand on the doorknob and one foot tapping a staccato beat on the worn floor tiles as his brother thanked the detective, shook his hand, and assured him they would pass on a greeting to Carmine for him. Once the man had walked off, he took a deep breath and stilled his foot.
"You all right?" There was a note of concern in Frank's voice.
"Fine," Joe said. "I just wish we were on that side of the wall instead of this one. I want us to be the ones asking the questions."
Frank huffed out a chuckle, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "I can almost imagine the look on his face." He laid a hand on his ribs. "It would almost be worth this. Almost."
Without any warning, the door opened into the hallway. Joe jumped back and twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding being hit in the face. "Hey!" he yelled. "Watch where..." His voice trailed off.
"Sor… Oh, it's you." Detective Rodriguez had one foot in the room, the other in the hallway. She stepped aside to let them enter the viewing room, shaking her head as they walked past her. "Obviously, I don't have to tell you this wasn't my idea." She scowled, pointing a finger at them. "You make one sound, and I'll have the two of you arrested for interfering in a police investigation," she said, before pushing past them and opening the next door down, practically wrenching it off its hinges.
Joe watched the door shut behind her, his head tilted to the side and a half-smile on his face. "That exit would have been far more effective if she'd had to go more than four feet to get in there." He snorted. "And this room is soundproof. We could bring a drum kit in here, and no one next door would hear a thing. She must really think we're stupid."
"I think it's more that our invitation was a mandate from above." Frank settled into a chair in front of the two-way mirror and indicated the men at the table in the other room with his chin. "Do you recognize the lawyer?"
"No." Joe shook his head. "I wonder if he's the lawyer for the gallery or if von Ormond has his own attorney." He shrugged, watching the reactions of the men through the two-way glass as the detective stomped over to the other side of the table. The lawyer was obviously working hard to look both impatient and unimpressed, but Von Ormond's shoulders stiffened slightly as she passed him.
Rodriguez held up a finger then pressed a few buttons on black box on the table, said the date, time, case number, her voice coming in through speakers mounted on the wall over the glass. "Now we can start." She pointed at von Ormond. "Please state your name and address." When he had done so, she had the lawyer do the same.
Joe leaned to the side. "She filming this as well as taping it?"
Frank pointed to a red dot that appeared to be floating in the glass. "Camera's near the ceiling. It's pointing down to the table."
Joe nodded. "Good. Maybe we can get a copy when this is all done."
After summarizing the case, the detective cleared her throat. "Mr. von Ormond, I need to ask you where you were the night of the art theft."
The gallery manager glanced at his lawyer, who nodded.
He cleared his throat. "I was at home. I left the gallery about nine or so then walked to the subway station." His accent, though still subtle, was more noticeable than usual.
Must be nervous, Joe thought. Good.
"The subway station?" Rodriguez pulled the notebook from her bulging jacket pocket and flipped a few pages. "You told me you usually take a cab home. What made you ride the subway that night?"
Von Ormond shrugged. "Usually does not mean always, Detective. That night I took the subway." There was a hint of defiance in his voice.
Rodriguez nodded. "And you left around nine? Did you return at all?"
The lawyer raised his hands in an exasperated gesture. "For what reason would he return?"
The detective threw him a bored look, sniffed, then turned back to von Ormond. "Answer the question."
"No. I had a late dinner and went to bed." The manager shifted slightly in his chair. "There was no reason for me to go back. I believed the art to be in good hands."
From the corner of his eye, Joe saw Frank nod once. "What?"
"He's not quite as cool and collected as he wants her to think."
Joe looked from his brother to von Ormond and back again. "He looks the same as usual to me. Okay, maybe a little nervous, which makes me very happy, but who wouldn't be in this situation? And you can tell this how?"
"Look at the lawyer. He's not happy. Von Ormond answered more than she asked." A gleam appeared in his eyes. "She asked if he went back. All he had to do was saw no. But he didn't. He embellished. If she or someone else asked that already..." His gaze sharpened on the glass wall.
Rodriguez was pulling something from a file folder that Joe couldn't see.
"Can you explain this then?"
As she handed him the paper, Joe caught a brief glimpse of the image of him in the chair. There was a red circle drawn in marker around the brown blob on the right side of the page.
The lawyer took the paper, examined it, and handed it to his client who glanced at it once and immediately shifted his gaze back to the police detective.
"I do not know what that is supposed to be. A stain on the floor perhaps?" He turned to his lawyer. "If they are not charging me with anything, they have to let me go, yes?"
"How about this one?" Rodriguez took another piece of paper from the folder. This one Joe could more easily see as she flourished it and placed it on the table. It was the enlarged and enhanced photo. "As you can see. It's a shoe."
Von Ormond's face remained still.
"One," she continued, "that looks remarkably like one of a pair found in your apartment this afternoon when we conducted our search."
The lawyer placed his hands on the table. "My client is done answering questions, Detective."
"Just one more," Rodriguez said. "Are you a naturalized citizen, or are you here on a green card, Mr. von Ormond."
The lawyer sputtered. "I fail to see..."
Rodriguez scowled at him, pointing a finger in his face. "I didn't ask you. I asked him." She turned back to the gallery manager. "So, which is it? Citizen or green card?"
"I have a green card," von Ormond said, a puzzled expression on his face. "I am in this country legally, Detective Rodriguez. You have no right to accuse me of being here illegally." His voice grew louder, his tone going up half an octave. "I came through the proper channels, and..."
"Oh, I'm not concerned about that." The detective smiled, interrupting his protest. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that since you are here on a green card, if you're convicted of an aggravated felony, you can be deported. Did your lawyer mention that to you? And I'm pretty sure that once you have that on your record, INS won't allow you back in the country."
This time von Ormond blanched. "Vot?" His accent suddenly became much more pronounced.
"I need some coffee. Would either of you gentlemen like coffee? No? Okay. I'll be right back." Rodriguez stood, turned the recording devices off, and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Joe smiled.Gotcha.
For the few minutes the detective was gone, von Ormond raged in whispers at the lawyer, who had his hands raised out in front of him and was frantically whispering back.
"Boy, I wish I could read lips," Joe said. "Not that this isn't entertaining, but it could also be a lot more informative."
Frank sighed. "I'm not sure it would do us much good. A good chunk of it seems to be in German. Which neither one of us speaks."
"How can you tell?" Joe's glanced quickly at his brother before returning his attention to the scene in front of them.
"Because I can read lips. Somewhat," he amended after seeing Joe's raised eyebrows. "I have no idea what von Ormond is saying, but as near as I can tell, the lawyer is mostly telling him he doesn't understand German and to calm down."
Finally, the gallery manager stood, swung his arms to the front, and made an extremely rude gesture with his hands.
Joe turned to his brother, his own hand outstretched and palm up. "Oh, hey. Now that I understood." His left leg started bouncing. "This is better than television."
The silent shouting stopped when the door swung open. The detective entered, now carrying a steaming mug of coffee. She took a look at the two men, one standing and scowling, the other seated and wide-eyed.
"Everything all right in here?" she asked, an innocent expression plastered on her face. She took a sip of her coffee. "I feel like I missed something." She sauntered over to her seat and pressed the buttons again. "So, to continue."
"Nein."
Rodriguez raised an eyebrow at von Ormond. "Excuse me? This is my investigation. You don't get to decide when we stop."
Von Ormond sat back in his seat. "I no longer wish this man to represent me. I would like him to leave."
"But… Mr. Michaels..." The man's eyes grew even wider.
"You don't seem to be listening, sir," Rodriguez said. "Mr. Michaels isn't here, and I very clearly heard Mr. von Ormond say he doesn't want you as his lawyer." Her voice grew steely. "So, you need to go." She stood, opened the door, and waited for the man to leave. "Have a nice day," she called after him before turning back to the table. "So, should we continue?"
The next hour was extremely interesting as the gallery manager started talking and didn't stop.
"It was all the idea of Mr. Michaels," he said. "He wanted die scheidung, and..."
Rodriguez put up a hand. "The what-huh?"
An exasperated sigh escaped von Ormond's lips. "The divorce," he said. "He wanted to divorce Mrs. Michaels but was afraid she would get the gallery, so he arranged for the theft to ruin its reputation."
The detective nodded. "And the reputation of the detective agency that was hired to do the security."
Von Ormond shrugged. "He did not deem that to be important."
Joe stiffened. Glancing over at Frank, he could see his brother's eyes go dark.
"And what did you think about it?" The woman's voice was calm and measured, but the steel in her eyes made the manager shrink back into his chair.
"I… I did not like what he was doing," he finally said. "He was threatening me. He was withholding my paychecks. I had to do what he wanted. I had no choice." Panic made his voice louder and shriller.
Joe snorted. "Just like he had no choice to drug me. Right..."
As if she had heard him, Rodriguez immediately said, "And what about the assaults? Did you know about those?"
"There was more than one?" The man let out a breath and looked at the table. "Not exactly." He let out a breath. "I thought the soda might have been tampered with, but..."
"Don't ask; don't tell?" There was a sardonic note in the detective's voice.
"Ja." Von Ormond almost looked relieved, as if the detective understood.
"And the assault on Frank Hardy?"
At this von Ormond tilted his head to one side. "Is that the second assault you mentioned? I do not know that name," he said. "Is he related to…?
Rodriguez cut him off. "Oh, that's right. You didn't meet him as Frank Hardy." She paused, looking down at her notes. "You know him as Paul Sorrento."
Joe watched as the blood drained from the gallery manager's face. "You know, I think the penny dropped."
Frank just smiled.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
By the time the interview ended, a warrant had been put out for Mr. Michaels' arrest, and von Ormond had written out a lengthy statement detailing the insurance fraud, the assault on Joe, and some additional questionable financial dealings Mr. Michaels had been involved in. He adamantly refused to admit to knowing anything about the attack on Frank, though, and dedicated several paragraphs of the statement enumerating the ways in which he was also a victim of his employer which made Detective Rodriguez grit her teeth as she read the statement out loud. Finally, the statement was signed and the gallery manager was escorted out by the detective and a uniformed officer with the standard warning about not leaving the city.
"Or the country," Rodriguez added.
Von Ormond gulped and nodded, practically bolting from the room after the officer.
Joe turned to Frank. "Well, I guess that's that. Can we leave now?" At his brother's shrug, he sighed. "Well, I hope we don't have to sit here too long. My butt's falling asleep."
"Thanks for sharing," Frank said. "I really needed to know that." He slowly stretched his back, straightening slightly in his chair and grimacing with the motion. "Okay, to be fair, I feel some sympathy for your behind. I think I've rusted."
"Maybe we'll get lucky," Joe said, pushing himself up and pressing his hands against his lower back.
"Lucky how?"
Joe grinned. "Maybe he'll still be out there when we leave. I would love to see his face as we walk by."
"Wishful thinking, little brother. Wishful thinking."
"Yeah, I know, but I can dream, can't I?" He looked up at the clock on the wall. "Do you think they've forgotten us? It's been..."
The door swung open.
For a long moment, Detective Rodriguez stood just outside the room, her face a professional mask. She looked first at Frank, then turned her gaze to Joe. "Obviously you heard all of that."
"It would have been hard not to." Joe knew his voice held an edge, but he couldn't help it.
"Joe." His brother's voice was soft but insistent.
Joe gritted his teeth and nodded, his right foot starting to tap on the floor.
"Does this mean we're cleared as suspects in the robbery?" Frank's tone changed to one of steely professionalism.
Rodriguez regarded them both. "Yes."
Joe threw up his hands. "And?!"
She blew out a breath. "I suppose you're waiting for me to apologize for suspecting you." The words were flat.
"You think?" Joe shook his head. "But you're not going to, are you?"
"Apologize for doing my job?" She shook her head. "No." Her shoulders softened. "Apologize for not doing all of it? Yes. I'm sorry I didn't look more diligently into the attacks on you both. But I won't apologize for looking at you as suspects." Her back stiffened again. "It's what any good cop would do. And your methods of getting evidence..." She shook her head. "You're lucky I'm not looking into those too closely."
"I can't…!"
Frank laid a hand on his brother's arm and turned to the detective. "Have someone from the department contact us when this goes to trail. You'll need our evidence." He locked his gaze on her, his eyes like frozen stone. "And maybe next time our paths cross, if there is a next time, you'll remember we're the ones who handed you your suspect." His hand dropped back down. "Come on. We're done here." Then he pushed past the woman standing in the doorway.
Joe stood for a second, anger burning on edges of his skin. "I don't know why you had it out for us – our ages, who our dad is – it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you need to lose it, or you're going to lose your integrity as a cop."
He followed Frank out the door.