Outfoxed: An Andy Carpenter Mystery (2 page)

“How could a dog help him escape?” I ask.

“Atkins locked your trainer, one Fred Cummings, in a supply room and took his clothes and ID. Then he left with the dog, pretending to be the trainer.”

“And that worked?”

Pete shrugs. “It’s a big place, and it’s minimum security. Plus the guard at the gate was new to the job, which your client probably was aware of.”

“Aren’t there cameras in the prison that would have recorded everything? Wouldn’t someone have seen him do that to Fred? Is Fred okay?”

“He’s fine,” Pete says. “The camera in that particular hallway was awaiting repair. Your client did his homework.”

“The dog must be Boomer,” I say.

“Thanks for sharing that; it’s a terrific clue.”

“Who is the other victim?”

“A woman named Denise Atkins. That last name might ring a bell for you.”

“Brian’s wife?” He had told me a few visits ago that Denise had filed for divorce, but that it wasn’t official yet. That filing is apparently now as moot as the parole hearing.

“One and the same. Apparently he found out his soon-to-be ex-wife was involved with his ex-partner, and that didn’t sit well with him. If he contacts you, you might want to suggest that he turn himself in.”

“Okay, good. Any other instructions for how I should deal with my client? I’m hanging on your every word.”

“You think we’re not going to find him anyway?”

“I’m surprised you found me.” Then, “So you’ve made him for this murder already? Rushing to judgment, are we?”

“A neighbor walking by saw him running from the house. She knows him, so had no trouble recognizing him. And she saw the dog in the back of his car.”

“Who found the bodies?”

“She did. Your client left the door open when he ran out. It seemed strange to her, so she went to the door and looked inside. The fact that there was blood everywhere tipped her off that something was amiss.”

“You going to do any detecting, or just let it go at that?”

“I’ll do my best, but it’s a real whodunit.”

The crowd in and around the house seems to be thinning somewhat, so I ask, “Okay if I go in and take a look around?”

“Gee, that’s a tough call. We ordinarily love to invite defense attorneys into our active crime scenes, but maybe not this time.”

There’s not much more to be learned from staying here, and Pete is getting on my nerves, so I leave. I call Laurie and find out that the conferences are over and she is home from the school.

She’s reading with Ricky, a ritual that they both really enjoy, so I don’t ask her how the rest of the meeting went. I’m also afraid that the teacher revealed that Ricky is running a bookmaking operation at the school, utilizing the information he learned from me about point spreads.

The ride home gives me time to consider the situation with Brian. It doesn’t seem likely that Brian is a person who could have committed the murder, though my knowledge of him is fairly limited. It’s not like he was in jail for murder; he’s a white-collar criminal, and one who has always professed his innocence of even that crime.

But while I can’t quite picture him committing the brutal killings, his escape from jail doesn’t really require visualization; it’s a fact. And it is completely bizarre.

Here’s a guy who has served three years already, and was to be released in a matter of months. Being in any jail is no fun, but Brian was not exactly pounding rocks and eating small helpings of porridge. This was a fairly comfortable, minimum-security prison, and his life was not terribly difficult.

Even after paying back the embezzled money and a fine, Brian is still a wealthy man. A comfortable life awaited him on the outside. The idea that he would run from staying in jail for a short time longer, and in the process expose himself to a life on the run and a longer jail term in a tougher prison when caught, defies logic. And there was nothing about Brian that said he was lacking in logic or smarts.

At least I now know why he reacted to my parole news with obvious indifference. Something was driving him to escape from the prison, acting irrationally and against his own self-interest. Whatever that force was also could have caused him to commit murder; that will not be known until he is caught. Pete is making the early assumption that jealousy and revenge were the driving factors, and a jury might certainly accept them as credible motives.

One thing is certain: he will be caught. Brian is not El Chapo; he does not rule a vast criminal empire filled with soldiers who will go to any lengths to protect him. Brian will be out there alone, with few allies, and no understanding of what it takes to elude a manhunt.

If he is lucky and smart, he will be taken into custody. If he’s unlucky and stupid, he could get killed in the process.

Laurie is tucking Ricky into bed when I get home, so I get a chance to go in and kiss him good night. They had dinner together earlier, so while I eat she tells me that Mrs. Dembeck was basically glowing in her praise of his progress in school.

I then go on to tell her about Brian’s escape and the subsequent murders. She never met him, but she’s heard me talk positively about him these last few months. Regardless of Brian’s true character, or lack of it, escaping prison a few months before parole is not an easy thing to understand.

After we talk about it for a few minutes, Laurie asks, “Have you checked the animal shelter? Is there any sign of the dog?”

“No. Maybe he still has Boomer with him. I hope he’s okay.”

“You would think he wouldn’t want a dog with him. It just makes him easier to find.”

It’s not until I’m in bed, still thinking about this at three o’clock in the morning, that it hits me. I don’t know where Brian is, but I sure as hell know where Boomer is. Or at least I know how to find out.

I wait until 6:30
A.M.
to call Willie Miller. He’s an early riser, so he’s probably up by now. But either way, I don’t want to wait any longer.

He answers on the first ring with the words, “I was about to call you. I saw the news; why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

“Sorry,” I say. “I should have.” Willie loves every dog we take in, so I know he’s worried about Boomer. I doubt he gives a damn either way about Brian.

“I’m going to get him,” Willie says. “You want to come?”

Once again, Willie is way ahead of me. We put small GPS devices in the collars of all our rescue dogs, in case they get out or run away from owners that have adopted them. We’ve used it to great advantage a number of times. Willie has instantly realized this, while it took me until last night to do so.

“Have you checked the GPS?” I ask. The base unit is at the shelter, so Willie would have had to have gone down there early this morning.

“Just got back,” he says. “Boomer is in Freehold, the address I’ve got is a motel.”

Freehold is about an hour south of Paterson, and the fact that Boomer is there tells me one of two things. One could be that Brian wanted to get out of the immediate area, where the publicity would be greater and there would be more chance that he would be noticed by someone.

The other, more likely possibility is that he is simply stopping there on a trip to take him much farther away … he could even be hoping to escape to Mexico.

I don’t know if I care much about him either way; I certainly don’t if he stabbed two people to death. But I do care about Boomer.

When we rescue dogs, we enter into a covenant of sorts with them, in that we promise to be responsible for their welfare on a permanent basis, even after they go to a new home. The adopting owners know that if they ever cannot care for their new dog, we are there for them.

“I’ll pick you up,” Willie says.

“I need to think this through.”

“You can think it through while I’m driving over there,” he says, and hangs up. It’s fair to say that Willie doesn’t hang on my every word.

But I really do need to analyze this situation carefully, especially the legalities of it. While we are going to get Boomer, at the very least we probably also will learn the whereabouts of a fugitive wanted for murder.

If it were just me, that wouldn’t be a problem. I remain Brian’s lawyer, so I have no obligation whatsoever to report his location to the authorities. In fact, I am prohibited by my oath from doing so.

Willie’s position is somewhat different. My view is that even as a private citizen he does not have to turn Brian in, but there is one distinction: if he is asked specifically by a member of law enforcement if he knows where Brian is, then he has to surrender the information. Lying to the police is a crime.

I’m not too worried about this; there would seem to be no reason for law enforcement to think that Willie might have the information. And I’m not breaking privilege by bringing Willie with me; since he has the GPS device, he is actually showing me where Brian is, rather than Brian having revealed it.

So legally I think we’re fine, but that is not the only consideration. There is also the fact that Brian might have brutally murdered two people with a knife, is on the run, and might be less than welcoming to someone who shows up unannounced.

Confronting a dangerous killer is something I have done involuntarily a number of times, and it wasn’t on my bucket list in the first place. My instincts about Brian still tell me that he would not do anything to hurt me, but he may be desperate and not completely familiar with the attorney-client-privilege concept.

I could bring Marcus Clark, a private investigator that I often employ to protect me. I would feel comfortable confronting a Russian tank division with Marcus alongside me, but I’m not sure it’s necessary in this case.

First of all, it might take a while to reach Marcus, and I don’t want to take a chance by giving Brian and Boomer more time to get farther away. But more important, I’ll have Willie with me.

Willie is a martial arts expert, and the toughest and most fearless guy I’ve ever met, with the exception of the aforementioned Marcus. Willie spent seven years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit, and I represented him in the successful retrial. He had a number of violent skirmishes in prison, and if there is a prison version of
The Ring Magazine,
it would list him as undefeated.

The third and final consideration is what we hope to accomplish, if anything, beyond getting Boomer back. I think I need to play it by ear; we will just have to react in the moment depending on Brian’s actions and attitude.

I talk it out with Laurie, which is pretty much what I do about every topic more important than what to have for breakfast. She offers to go along, and as a former police officer licensed to carry a gun, she would make us a much more formidable group.

But Ricky is home, and there’s no one to leave him with. We tend to shy away from having him meet vicious murderers on the run, even the alleged kind, so she’s going to stay here with him.

Laurie agrees that Willie should be able to handle Brian, but she strangely makes no mention of my potential contribution in a confrontation. Her only suggestion is, “Stay behind Willie.”

By the time Willie pulls up, I’ve decided that it makes sense for us to go, and I’ve established a few ground rules that Willie needs to be made aware of before we leave. We’ll take ten minutes to talk it out before heading out.

I go outside and wait for Willie at the curb. He pulls up, reaches over, and opens the passenger door, and says, “Get in.”

So I do.

We can talk on the way.

We switch roles after a few minutes; I drive and Willie gets in the passenger seat. It has nothing to do with our driving abilities; it’s because I don’t have a clue about how to work the GPS device. We need to be watching it, in case Brian and Boomer leave the motel before we get to Freehold.

So Willie keeps it in his lap, alert for any sign that Boomer is moving. I use the time to tell him his legal obligations, and I extract a promise from him that he will not lie to law enforcement, in the unlikely event that he is ever asked if he knows where Brian is.

Willie has an intense air about him that I have seen before, and that can be intimidating. He does not take kindly to being wronged, in any fashion. I suspect it’s a natural reaction for someone who had seven years of his life taken away from him.

But he wants to, he needs to, immediately set things right, no matter what it takes. Boomer is his dog, and he will see to it that Brian regrets having taken him. Whether or not Brian is also a murderer doesn’t factor in to his thinking.

“They’re moving,” Willie says, watching the GPS device.

“They left the motel?”

“Yeah, they’re on the road.”

“Okay. I’m still going in the direction of the motel. You tell me how I should change the route.”

Willie informs me that they’re heading for the Garden State Parkway, which makes sense if Brian wants to go south and get farther away from Paterson. He doesn’t seem to be driving particularly fast, a smart move since the last thing he would want is to be pulled over by a cop for speeding.

I don’t want to be stopped either, but I’m more willing to risk it than Brian, since I am not wanted for murder. So I drive ten miles over the limit, and in the process we manage to make up a lot of ground on Brian and Boomer.

We’re down near the Asbury Park exit when Willie says, “They’ve stopped.”

“Did they turn off the road?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he says. “Maybe he’s going to the bathroom, or getting something to eat.”

It’s only about three minutes later when Willie says, “They’re just about a half mile from here.”

About twenty seconds later we see a rest area on the right of the road. I only see one car parked there; I have no idea if it’s Brian’s or not. My guess is that he managed to rent a car, possibly with a fake ID. Who knows where he got that.

Any question about whose car it is gets answered a few seconds later. There is Brian, near the side of the rest area building, walking Boomer on a leash. I turn off the highway and drive toward the building. There is no way to sneak up on him, so I might as well just drive toward them.

Brian looks up and sees our car approaching. I can see the look of alarm on his face, but he doesn’t react physically. He just waits until Willie and I get out of the car and approach him.