Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

“I don’t want to hear any more,” Jared interrupted.

“Let me just finish the last part: When they did the autopsy on Roger, they found at least a dozen wounds that they identified as postmortem blows – which means that even after Roger was dead, Kozlow kept tearing him apart just for fun.”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jared, I know it’s not the best news, but you’re dealing with a killer. You have to-”

“Please don’t tell me what I have to do. Just call Barrow and let him know I want two people checked out. The first one’s Kozlow; the second one’s Oscar Rafferty.”

“Who’s Oscar Rafferty?”

“That’s what I want to find out.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing,” Kathleen replied. “I’ll make sure we get everything: backgrounds, bank accounts, wives, club memberships, anything that’s revealing.”

“And tell him to keep it close to his chest. I don’t want Rafferty getting wind of it.”

She wasn’t used to seeing Jared so paranoid. “This really isn’t safe, is it?”

“Not if they find out.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Jared paused. “No. Not now.”

Kathleen stared at her boss. In the four years she’d known Jared, she had learned to tell the difference between when he was serious and when he wanted her to pry further. Today wasn’t a day to pry. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here,” she said. Down the hallway, Kathleen noticed Kozlow walking toward them, led by one of the firm’s receptionists. She motioned to Jared, and then, in a loud voice, announced, “…and after that, I’ll have them pull all the cases that deal with burglaries. You’ll have it by lunch.”

“Thanks,” Jared said, eyeing Kozlow.

Dressed in his standard three-quarter-length leather jacket, Kozlow strolled into Jared’s office. A small metal chain dangled from the front pocket of his faded jeans. “So what are we doing today? More legal stuff?”

“Yeah, more legal stuff.” Jared followed Kozlow into his office as Kathleen thanked the receptionist. “Now get in here so we can get started. Today, we work on your testimony.”

“I’m testifying? At the grand jury?”

“Without a doubt,” Jared said, taking a seat at his desk. “If we can get your story into a more believable form, we might be able to convince the grand jury not to indict. And if by some miracle they like you, chances are, they won’t vote against you.”

“Everyone likes me,” Kozlow insisted as he took a seat across from Jared’s desk. “Now what do I have to do?”

“First, I want you to get a good suit.”

“I have a good suit.”

“I’m sure you do, but I want you to have a business suit. Like mine.”

Kozlow looked at Jared’s pin-striped navy-blue suit. “Why would I want to dress like you?”

“There’s a good reason,” Jared said. He hit the intercom button on his phone. “Kathleen, can you come in here one second?” When Kathleen entered the room, Jared continued, “At about ten o’clock, I’d like you to take Mr. Kozlow shopping. He’ll need a conservative business suit, a nice understated tie, some loafers, and some wire-framed glasses. He needs to look believable.”

“I’m impressed – I haven’t been dressed that nice since the service,” Kozlow said.

“You were in the military?”

“Yeah, army for a bit. Now tell me who’s paying for all this.”

“It’s billed to Rafferty as an expense,” Jared said. “Nothing we do here is free. But if you want to convince people you’re innocent, the first step is looking the part.”

When Kathleen left, Jared pulled a legal pad from his briefcase. He was trying his best to treat this as if it were any other case, but he could feel his impatience growing. “Let’s go over your story. Tell me your version of it.”

“I was walking down the street, minding my own business, and some cop grabs me and tells me I’m under arrest,” Kozlow explained, his hands waving to accentuate his point. “Then he takes me to this woman’s house and says to her, ‘This is the guy that robbed your house, isn’t it?’”

“Is that the way he asked the question?” Jared asked as he made some notes. “Was it leading like that?”

“Oh, yeah. She couldn’t say anything but yes.”

That’ll work, Jared thought. “Now, where did you get the Ebel watch?”

“I found that on the street as I was walking.”

“And what about the silver golf ball?”

“I found that in the garbage. I thought it was my lucky night.”

Jared stared angrily at Kozlow. “You’re going to have to come up with some better answers than that. The grand jury isn’t that stupid.”

“How about this: He planted them both on me.”

“If the cop has a sketchy background, that may work. Now what about the four hundred and seventeen dollars?”

“That was my money,” Kozlow insisted. “It was even in my money clip when the cop pulled it from my pocket. Ask him – he’ll tell you.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him,” Jared said impatiently. “Now what about this: If you live in Brooklyn, what were you doing on the Upper East Side at three in the morning?”

Kozlow stopped. “That’s a pretty good question. I hadn’t thought of that before.”

Jared threw his pad on the desk. “Well, think now! We need a good answer. Without that, we’re going to get eaten alive in there.”

“Why? Rafferty said there’s no cross-examination in a grand jury. If that’s how it goes, then ask me all the softball questions.”

“There’s no cross-examination because only one lawyer is allowed to talk in a grand jury. And that lawyer is the assistant district attorney. Sara can ask you whatever she wants, and I can only sit there.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t testify.”

Jared leapt from his seat and strode around the desk. “Listen carefully to what I’m saying. I’m the lawyer here. Not you. Now if you were any other client, I wouldn’t give a damn if you lost this case. But I’m going to do everything I can to win it, and I’m not letting some dumb monkey wreck it for me. So if you’re not serious about this, tell me and I’ll-”

Kozlow jumped up and shoved Jared, sending him crashing into the wall. Grabbing him by the lapels, Kozlow pressed his elbows into Jared’s rib cage. “What’d I tell you yesterday? I’m not an idiot, so stop treating me like one.”

As the adrenaline wore off, Jared knew he was in trouble. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know exactly what you meant,” Kozlow said, letting go of Jared. While Jared readjusted his shirt and tie, Kozlow silently stared out the window, pressing his head against the glass. He lightly tapped the window with his forehead. “If I testify, do we really have a better chance of winning?”

“If you testify and you’re believable , we can start learning the victory dance tonight. Misidentification cases are some of the easiest cases to confuse a jury on. Come up with a rational reason for why you were there, and the rest is easy. You know how many New Yorkers are running around in dark jeans and a dark leather coat?”

“Half a million?”

“At least,” Jared said. “Now let’s start over so we can get your story straight.”

“So Victor has never prosecuted Kozlow before?” Sara asked, leaning over Guff’s shoulder and staring at the computer screen.

“That’s what it says,” Guff replied. “Both of Kozlow’s cases were done by ADAs who no longer work here. But that doesn’t mean Victor and Kozlow don’t know each other. For all we know, Victor might’ve used Kozlow as a witness, or an informant, or for any other reason.”

“Can we check that through here?”