Free Justice Denied by Robert Tanenbaum

New York City at the present time. Sure, in Coon Squat, Georgia, where they have one homicide in a decade, yeah, they grab the town asshole and nail him to a tree. But not here, not recently. Christ, Marlene, that’s why these bozos Bloom put in have been copping stone killers to man deuce. That’s what I’m trying to change. It’s hard to convict someone who you’re absolutely one hundred percent convinced is guilty. Trials are a bitch! And you could get wiped if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. That’s why they don’t do them.”
    â€œOkay, right, but what if Roland is really convinced the guy did it?”
    Karp thought about that for a moment, and then said, “Well, look: this case is two days old. Two days. They’ve made terrific progress, and Roland is hyped up about it. I would be too. Now if, after however many months, Roland brings this case to trial, then he’ll really believe the guy did it, and moreover, if he does, then the guy really did it. Roland is good.”
    â€œYou’re going to leave it at that, huh?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do, babe? Second-guess him? Conduct a parallel investigation? You know I can’t do that. Meanwhile, Roland’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”
    â€œWell,” said Marlene, “you have touching faith, but faith is as nothing without works. You might think about an ancillary investigation.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œWhere’s the girl? The alibi? She’s missing, a missing person. Her family will be concerned.”
    â€œWhat are you suggesting, Marlene? That I pump up the cops to find a girl who just happens to be a possible material witness in Roland’s case? What do I tell Roland? Gee, Roland, there are fifty thousand missing persons every year in Manhattan, and I thought I’d pick one and put the max on it, just for laughs, and guess who it is—”
    â€œOkay, okay, it’s a lame idea. Why are we talking about this goddamn case anyway? It’s not like I don’t have my own problems. And speaking of which, since we’re talking shop in the sanctity of our home, I think I can get Harry Bello to come over to the D.A. squad.”
    â€œYou can? That’s great,” said Karp, genuinely impressed. Bello was a detective of uncanny skill, whose eccentricity, alcoholism, and general mulishness had caused him to be banished to a backwater in Queens, which had not prevented him from solving, in concert with the Karps, a case that the criminal justice hierarchy in Queens had not wanted solved. Bello had become, as a direct result of this, both dry and Lucy Karp’s godfather, as well as persona non grata from one end of Queens to the other.
    â€œYes,” Marlene continued, “the borough assistant chief was delighted to help. In fact, he gave out that if Harry never sets foot on his turf again, it’ll be a day too soon. He’ll start next Monday.”
    â€œI presume you’ll monopolize him,” said Karp.
    â€œIt’s not a choice. I doubt he’ll work for anybody else. You know Harry.”
    â€œVery clever, Marlene. Your own private investigator, and I bet it’s a permanent steal. Harry’s not going to show up on the D.A. squad’s budget, is he? He’ll be on the Queens detective chart until the day he hands in his tin.”
    She giggled. “How well you know me, my love. And I learned how to run that scam from you, if you recall.”
    â€œSo you did,” responded Karp, happy now that both the unpleasantness about Roland’s case and the agony in his knee had abated. “And I believe it’s time for us to stand clutching each other at our baby’s doorway, watching her sleeping and making stupid noises, after which, if you’ll help me climb that fucking ladder, I intend to take to my bed.”

4
    I t took Denny Maher two and a half hours to finish