“So tell me what this is all about,” he demanded. “In twenty-five words or less.”
Carella didn’t even blink.
“We have a necropsy report indicating that Andrew Hale died of asphyxia,” he said. “Is that twenty-five words or less?”
“Twelve,” Meyer said. “But who’s counting?”
“Evidence would seem to indicate that the belt from Mr Hale’s cashmere robe was knotted and looped around his neck,” Carella said, “and then dropped over the hook on the bathroom door in order to effect hanging, either suicidal or homicidal.”
“What’s that got to do with my client?”
“Your client seems to think her father died in bed.”
“Is that what you told them?”
“I told them I found him in bed.”
“Dead?”
“Yes,” Cynthia said.
“Has Mrs Keating been informed of her rights?” Alexander asked.
“We haven’t asked her any questions yet,” Carella said.
“She just told me…”
“That was at the scene.”
“You haven’t talked to her since she arrived here?”
“She got here literally three minutes before you did.”
“Has she been charged with anything?”
“No.”
“Why is she here?”
“We want to ask her some questions.”
“Then read her her rights.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Detective. She’s in custody, you’re throwing around words like homicide, I want her to hear her rights. Then we’ll decide whether she wants to answer any questions.”
“Sure,” Carella said again, and began the recitation he knew by heart.
“In keeping with the Supreme Court decision in the case of Miranda versus Escobedo,” he intoned, and advised her that she had the right to remain silent, asking her every step along the way if she understood what he was saying, told her she had the right to consult a lawyer, which she already had done, told her they would obtain a lawyer for her if she didn’t have one, which no longer applied, told her that if she decided to answer questions with or without her lawyer present, she could call off the questioning at any time, do you understand, and finally asked if she wished to answer questions at this time, to which she responded, “I have nothing to hide.”
“Does that mean yes?” Carella asked.
“Yes. I’ll answer any questions you have.”
“Where’s that autopsy report?” Alexander asked.
“Right there on my desk.”
Alexander picked it up, looked at it briefly…
“Who signed it?” he asked.
“Carl Blaney.” … seemed abruptly bored by it, and tossed it back onto the desk again.
“Did you also speak to Blaney in person?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Did he have anything to add to his findings?”
“Only that because the ligature around the neck was soft and wide, there was only a faint impression of the loop on the skin. But the knot caused a typical abrasion under the chin.”
“All right, ask your questions,” Alexander said. “We haven’t got all day here.”
“Mrs Keating,” Carella said, “what time did you get to your father’s apartment this morning?”
“A little after ten.”
“Did you call the Emergency Service number at ten-oh-seven A. M.?”
“I don’t know the exact time.”
“Would this refresh your memory?” Carella asked, and started to hand her a computer printout.
“May I see that, please?” Alexander said, and took it from Carella’s hand. Again, he looked at the document only perfunctorily, handed it to Cynthia, and asked, “Did you make this call?”
“Well, may I see it?” she said.
He handed her the printout. She read it silently and said, “Yes, I did.”
“Is the time correct?” Carella asked.
“Well, that’s the time listed here, so I guess that’s the time it was.”
“Ten-oh-seven.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell the operator that you’d just come into your father’s apartment and found him dead in bed?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you ask her to send someone right away?”
“I did.”
“Here’s the call sheet from Adam Two,” Carella said. “Their time of arrival…”
“Adam Two?” Alexander asked.
“From the precinct here. One of the cars patrolling Adam Sector from eight A. M. to four P. M. today. Mr Bale’s apartment is in Adam Sector. They list their time of arrival as ten-fifteen A. M. And this is my own Detective Division report, which lists the time of our arrival as ten-thirty-one. My partner and I. Detective Meyer and myself.”
“All of which is intended to prove what, Detective?”
“Nothing at all, sir, except the sequence of events.”
“Remarkable,” Alexander said. “Not twenty-four minutes after Mrs Keating called 911, there were no fewer than four policemen at the scene!
Wonderful! But before you ask any more questions, may I ask where all this is going?”
“I want Mrs Keating to tell me what she did before she called 911.”
“She’s already told you. She came into the apartment, found her father dead in his own bed, and immediately called the police. That’s what she did, Detective.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you think she did?”
“I don’t know. But I do know she was in that apartment for almost forty minutes before she called the emergency number.”
“I see. And how do you know that?”
“The super told me he saw her going in at nine-thirty.”
“Is that true, Cynthia?”
“No, it’s not.”
