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CHAPTER 32
They picked up Alex at Adamson’s, and Dean made sure to make a show of it, ensuring all his co-workers saw and heard he was being arrested. Alex did not say a word as he was escorted out, where Paige snapped a few photographs and asked for his comments. Dean had called and told her the Zion Police were bringing in a suspect for questioning relating to drugs and the officer shooting the day before. Alex sat in silence for the ride to the station. Once inside, Dean sat him in the interview room, leaving the cuffs on. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Let the kid sit for a while.
As he walked out to the main part of the station, Guthrie handed him a typed report: A brief summary of the arrest of Josh and interview. Dean breezed through the text of how they picked him up at the store and the fiction of bringing him to the station followed by the largely accurate summary of what Josh said. Guthrie noted that the suspect twisted his ankle coming down the stairs into the station. Dean grabbed a pen out of his jacket and counter-signed the report. He handed it back to Guthrie and said maybe now the city would give them a proper station to avoid any more twisted ankles. They smoked a couple of cigarettes and then returned to the interview room, where Alex seemed intent on mimicking a statue.
The detectives sat across from him. Dean put his hands together. Guthrie wiped his nose with the edge of his index finger, leaned back, and put his hands in his pockets.
“Do you know why you’re here?” asked Dean, tilting his head and smiling.
“I want to talk to my dad.”
“About what?”
“He said last time I was here you needed to talk to him first,” said Alex with a righteous tone.
“About William Nimitz’s murder, right?” Dean let his hands drift below the table as he leaned forward.
Alex nodded.
“This isn’t about your friend.”
“What?” He wanted to raise his hands, rub his face, his arm, do something. Instead, the cuffs jingled. “I—”
Guthrie raised his hand. “Look, kid, you’re in deep shit. We know all about your lab in the woods east of town. The one you torched yesterday morning after shooting at a bunch of cops and killing one of them.”
“I don’t—”
“He was a friend. Reggie. Had a wife and a kid. Five-year old kid. He was just doing his job and you had to shoot him. You think we’re going to just let you get away with that.” Guthrie had leaned over the table, elbows on it, arms crossed and in front of his chest.
“But I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Do with what?”
“Shooting that cop. I didn’t know. I didn’t.”
“But the lab was yours?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, the lab was mine. But I don’t know about any cop being shot.”
Dean leaned back. “Your lab got torched. You didn’t do that either?”
“Torched? It’s gone?”
Guthrie gestured an explosion with his hands. “Boom.”
Alex hung his head.
“Don’t worry, we got enough evidence to bust you for making crank. You won’t be needing your lab anymore. The question is about your involvement in the killing of a cop.”
“I didn’t do that.” His chest bumped against the table. “I didn’t man. I made crank. I sold it to the Grim Devils. That’s it.”
“Why use Josh in your operation, but not Corey?” asked Dean.
“That motherfucker rat me out?”
“Let’s say he was inclined to talk. Why not Corey? Or did you work with him, and Josh didn’t know?”
“No. Not Corey. Too hard to work with. And he bragged all over the place. Thought he knew everything. If he was part of it, he’d be telling me what to do like he was some expert. Then he’d get drunk and spill everything at the Shambles. No. Josh may be a pussy, but he takes orders and keeps his mouth shut.” Alex bit down and crunched his lips together. “At least I thought he would. Shithead.”
“Mostly.” Dean could not help a smile. “So Josh knew about your operation. Helped you out. Who else?”
Alex jerked on the cuffs again.
Dean got up and walked behind him. As he was unlocking the cuffs, he said to Alex, “Either there’s someone else who knows about the lab, or it’s just you and Josh who know. And I don’t think Josh did any shooting.”
“Yeah,” said Guthrie, “I don’t see Josh being able to fire a gun at a rat, let alone a person.”
Alex rubbed his right wrist and then his left. “I want to talk to my dad.”
“You don’t have a right to talk to your dad. And you’ve got only one way to avoid a murder charge. Talk.”
Alex shook his head and crossed his arms. “I want to talk to my lawyer.”
Dean patted Alex on the shoulders, still standing behind him. “Fine. Fine.” He and Guthrie walked out of the interview room, slamming the door behind them.
* * *
Dean sat at his desk, smoking a cigarette. A blank interview sheet was rolled into the typewriter, but he kept an eye on the chief’s door, occasionally glancing at Guthrie, who smoked two to every one cigarette of Dean’s.
Thirty minutes after Alex’s dad arrived and closed the door to the chief’s office, he came out, his face red and jaw clenched. Eric waved over Dean and Guthrie. All three formed a crescent in front of the Clinton County District Attorney.
Henry bit his lip and looked back and forth between the two detectives. “I’m serving as my son’s attorney, so you can’t talk to him without me. As the chief made clear, I can’t be both my son’s lawyer and the district attorney. So I’ve called my ADA, who’ll act as the DA for this case.”
Dean crossed his arms. “That’s fine, Henry. We’ve got more questions for Alex. Has the chief told you what we’ve got so far?”
“I need to talk to my son.” Henry cut between Dean and his dad.
Guthrie followed Henry and unlocked the interview room, letting the DA in and closed the door behind him. The detective walked back to Dean and Eric. “So now what?”
“We wait,” said Eric, who walked back into his office. Guthrie shrugged and walked back to his desk, and Dean lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall of the hallway.
After forty-five minutes, Henry opened the door of the interview room, spotted Dean, and nodded that he and Alex were ready. Dean called over Guthrie, and both walked into the interview room, Dean closing the door behind him.
As Dean sat across from Henry and Alex, Guthrie drifted back to the corner of the room, rested his shoulders against the wall, and crossed his arms. Alex’s eyes were red.
Henry said, “Do you want the ADA here?”
Dean said, “Do we need her here?”
“Alex is willing to talk about what he knows, but he wants immunity.”
“So you know how this works. He has to tell us something, and we’ll tell the ADA, and we’ll see what she thinks. But I’m not—we’re not giving blanket immunity.”
“First, he wasn’t involved in the killing of the officer. He was at home when I left for work, and that was about a half hour, forty-five minutes before the attack. He went from home to work. And he did not know the attack was going to happen and would have warned officials if he knew otherwise.”
Dean nodded. Having a DA sit across from him defending himself or a relative was nothing new. He had seen it in New York a few times. Like Henry, they thought they could think their way through to safety, outwit the investigators across from them. Some could, but they were the corrupt ones, the ones the Five Families owned. The decent ones cooperated too much for their own good. An innate sense, Dean guessed, of justice, the rule of law, of not hindering a police investigation. They knew the law, but they should hire a true defense attorney, particularly when they were sitting in the interview room.
“You have a confession about Alex’s role in the crank lab?”
Dean said, “Yes. The witness states he assisted Alex in making the drug and providing it to the Grim Devils. We’re not inclined to believe the witness or Alex were involved or arranged the attack yesterday morning.”
“My son is prepared to admit to the illegal manufacture of a controlled substance, participation in an ongoing criminal enterprise, and other minor charges. But before he tells you what he knows, he wants immunity from the murder or manslaughter charges. Anything related to the attack.”
Dean looked back at Guthrie and then back at Henry. “Let’s see if the ADA is here.” He and Guthrie exited the interview room. The ADA was not in the main area, so Dean knocked on his father’s door. ADA Clara Pond sat in the chair across from Eric. She looked up at the intrusion and smiled. Dressed in a red, long-sleeved blouse with a large bow and high-waisted, black pants that flared out from the knees down, she styled her light brown hair straight and down below the shoulders. Dean had seen her once or twice, and Henry was considered forward thinking for his hiring of her. Eric introduced them and told Dean he had briefed her. Dean, in turn, gave her a summary of the conversation he had just had.
She smiled and nodded. “Okay then. Let’s talk to him.”
