Blindman's Bluff (33 page)

“Lieutenant Peter Decker. Can I get you anything?”

Cruces’s voice was slurry. “Are you…like The Boss?”

“I’m in charge of the detective squad.”

“So tell your people to stop lying.”

“What do you think they’re lying about?” Decker sat across
from Cruces, giving him space. He’d move over later to the middle seat for intimidation or intimacy depending on how the conversation was going.

“They keep telling me I was involved in the Kaffey murders. I wasn’t anywhere near the Coyote Ranch. I was at a bar, getting drunk. You checked out my alibi. I was where I said I was. Why you come back and hassle me?”

“Because your bloody fingerprint was lifted from the crime scene.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Forensics doesn’t lie.”

“But you do.”

“I do lie,” Decker admitted. “But this isn’t one of the times.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Martin, I don’t care if you believe me or not. We have your fingerprint and you, my friend, are in deep trouble. Not only do we have forensics, we have an eyewitness who puts you there.” Decker leaned across the table. “I found Rondo Martin. I’ve been interviewing him for the last twenty-four hours. He’s locked up and he’s safe and you can’t get to him. None of your cousins can get to him either, because we’ve arrested almost all of them. Rondo can’t wait to testify against you.”

“You don’t know how many cousins I have,” Cruces told him. He looked upward and closed his eyes.

“Martin…” Decker moved over to the middle chair. “Even if someone did manage to whack Rondo Martin, it still wouldn’t do you any good. We’ve got everything that he told us videotaped, and we’ve already made copies. Help yourself and talk to us.”

“I never seen no videotape.”

That’s because it didn’t exist. Since Cruces did seem to have oodles of cousins, Decker decided that saying he had a videotape would be a good idea. He actually should make one in case something did happen. “Why in the world would I show it to you?”

“I wanna see it.”

“If you cooperate, maybe I’ll show it to you. So this is what we
have, Martin. We’ve got José Pinon telling us all about you and Esteban and Miguel and Gordo and Julio Davis—the guy who gave you your alibi. We’ve got Joe telling us where Julio is. We have bloody fingerprints, we have an eyewitness who puts you at the scene.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Martin, it’s over. Joe Pine told us everything because he was looking at the death penalty.”

“So José tells you lies to save his skin and I’m supposed to be upset? It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not just him, Martin. It’s José and the rest of your homies from Bodega 12th. We’ve got them all…except maybe Julio.” Decker liked to throw in a bit of truth. “But we’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time.”

Cruces laughed derisively. “You got a problem, man. José is feeding you bullshit.”

“But José makes sense,” Decker said. “Sure, he’s probably handing us some lines, but the story makes sense and the forensics back him up. He’s saying that it’s all you, Martin. You set up everything, and you paid each of your cousins ten grand to do it. It’s all over, Martin. Help yourself out by helping us out.”

Cruces was silent.

Decker said, “How’d you get that kind of money, Martin?”

“José is telling you
lies!
How many times do I gotta tell you?”

“Why should I believe you when we have your bloody fingerprints, Rondo Martin’s eyewitness testimony against you, and Joe Pine talking like a mynah bird?”

“Rondo’s lying, too. He hates me.”

“The fingerprints don’t lie.” Decker leaned in close. “Martin, I know that you didn’t set this up without help. From the very beginning we knew that you were paid off by someone who wanted to murder the Kaffeys. Someone who had a lot of money. Help yourself and tell us who paid you to do the murders.”

“I didn’t get paid off by anyone. How many times do I have to tell you? I wasn’t there. And I’m gonna keep saying this until you guys let me go.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Martin. We’ve got enough to arrest you on three counts of premeditated murder, which can carry the death penalty. This crime was so cruel that I’m sure a judge would have no problem ordering the needle. Is that how you want it to end?”

“I wasn’t there!”

Decker went at him for another hour, but Martin refused to budge. If this had been going on for eight hours prior to Decker’s questioning, how likely was it that he was going to crack?

Patience, patience.

Decker suddenly recalled a police seminar he had about ten years ago. The lecturer spoke about a shrink who had been a master hypnotist. Sometimes instead of fighting the induction, the head doctor would incorporate the patient’s resistance in part of the induction. So what would it hurt if Decker just played along with Cruces’s lie?

“All right,” Decker said. “You weren’t there, okay?”

Cruces narrowed his eyes and stared at him. “That’s right.”

“You were not there. Rondo Martin was mistaken, Joe Pine was mistaken, the fingerprint was wrong, you weren’t there.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay.” Decker nodded. “I believe you.”

There was a long pause. Cruces said, “Good.”

Decker said, “You know why I believe you?”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve been questioning you for a long time and you keep coming up with the same sentence.
You weren’t there.
I have to ask myself: why would someone keep saying that when the evidence is so overwhelming against him? And the only thing that I can come up with is…it must be the truth.”

“That’s right.” Cruces straightened his spine. “It’s the truth.”

“Okay, you weren’t there,” Decker told him. “But you know some of the people who were there.”

“I don’t know who was there because I wasn’t there.”

“All I’m saying is that you know Joe Pine, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And you know Esteban Cruz and Gordo Cruces. They’re your cousins, right?”

“Yeah, they’re my cousins.”

“And you know Julio Davis. He’s the one who gave you your alibi.”

“Yeah, I know Julio. He wasn’t there, either. I told you we were both getting drunk in a bar. About a million people saw us.”

“And you know Miguel Mendoza.”

“Met him a couple of times.”

“That’s all I’m saying. That you know the guys that Joe Pine said were involved in the murders.”

“Joe’s full of shit.”

“Probably. But let’s get back to you. If I believe you and I’m willing to help you out, you’ve got to help me.”

“Depends on what.”

“Can I be straight up with you?” When Cruces didn’t object, Decker said, “We’re in a little bit of a quandary. We know that the people who shot the Kaffeys were paid off by someone with a lot of money. Because Joe Pine said he got ten grand for the murders.”

“Joe’s full of shit.”

Decker leaned forward. “We know that the Kaffey murders were an inside job, Martin. We know that it wasn’t just planned by a bunch of Bodega 12th Street boys and a couple of guards. We know someone with a lot of money started the whole thing going, know what I’m saying?”

Cruces didn’t say anything, but he managed a small nod.

“And whoever started it…he’s the real bad guy. Why should your cousins take a fall for some fat cat?”

Cruces didn’t answer.

“Look, you had nothing to do with it,” Decker said. “So you’re okay. So why don’t you man up and help your cousins? Tell me who paid them to murder the Kaffeys?”

“I don’t know,” Cruces said. “I wasn’t there.”

Decker said, “But if you had to guess who El Patrón was, who would it be? You know El Patrón, right?”

“Why should I know?”

“Because you’re a player, Martin. You know about these people.”

Cruces didn’t answer.

“Who is El Patrón?”

“Why would I know about him?”

“I’m just asking for your opinion.”

“Well…” Cruces sat back. “If I give you my opinion, are you gonna let me go?”

“It’s not up to me. But I’ll tell everyone that I believe you. And I’ll tell everyone that you helped me out by giving me your opinion.”

“That means you ain’t gonna do dick.”

“What’s the harm in giving me your opinion? You’re not admitting to anything.”

“That’s right. I ain’t saying anything.”

Decker made a point of sighing. “I know you could help me. You’re a smart guy.”

“Why should I help you?”

“’Cause I’m the only one who believes you.”

“Are you really a lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir, I am. All I want is your opinion, smart guy. Nothing that’s admissible in court. Just want your plain honest opinion, sir.”

Cruces blinked then lay back in the chair. “Okay…in my opinion, if I was you…I would say…look at the brother.”

“Grant Kaffey or Gil Kaffey?”

“Not the sons, dude, the hermano. Mace Kaffey. Man, he never liked Guy at all.”

“Excuse me for a moment.” Decker walked out of the room—a big smile on his face.

Sometimes all you have to do is ask.

T
HREE WEEKS LATER,
Martin Cruces agreed to turn state’s evidence against Mace Kaffey in exchange for a plea of life in prison
with
the possibility of parole. But even after Decker had heard the story, Mace was not an easy fish to land. The district attorney wanted more and more, and it took months of tedious investigation to uncover the few shreds of evidence against Mace. With Cruces’s testimony, a judge agreed to issue warrants that allowed the police to study Mace’s bank accounts, credit card receipts, e-mail correspondence, and phone records.

Oliver and Marge were able to document two places where conversations took place between Cruces and Mace. The sides argued vociferously about what was said between the two of them.

Lee Wang uncovered a trail of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in ten withdrawals that exited Mace’s bank accounts and traveled from one dummy corporation to another until it appeared to reach Martin Cruces’s hands. It was never specified what the money was for, and each side gave a different interpretation. Cruces claimed it was ten thousand for each of his drones in the hit and one
hundred thousand for himself. Mace’s lawyers claimed it was a payment for beefed-up security after Guy received anonymous threats against his life. Why it went from Mace to Cruces was the subject of more speculation on the defense side.

Messing and Pratt were able to find about a half-dozen phone calls from Cruces to Kaffey, all of them placed on disposable cell phones that Cruces never disposed of. Particular attention was paid to two calls made on the night of the murders—one before and one after.

Willy Brubeck probably was responsible for the most damning piece of evidence: a gun registered to Mace Kaffey that was matched to the bullets pulled from Kaffey’s own body as well as in the jacket taken from Neptune Brady. Why Mace chose to set himself up using his own gun was anyone’s guess, but it probably had more to do with desperation measures than with common sense.

The total evidence was enough for the Los Angeles D.A. to take the case.

Immediately a warrant was issued for Mace Kaffey’s arrest.

The man came into the police station armed with a posse of lawyers, all of them claiming that Martin Cruces was a lying psychopath and his statements were fabrication. The charges were foisted upon Mace because the police needed a quick solve. The money transfer never happened. The conversations between them never happened. And the phone calls on a couple of throwaway phones? Who knew why Cruces was calling Mace? And suddenly Mace had remembered that Guy had asked Mace to borrow his gun. The thugs must have picked up the gun when they rampaged Coyote Ranch.

The defense claimed that the murders were a case of robbery gone wrong, and the subsequent shootings were the thugs trying to get rid of witnesses against them. Mace needed all the spin and help he could get. The charges against him included the premeditated murders of Guy Kaffey, Gilliam Kaffey, Denny Orlando, Alfonso Lanz and Evan Teasdale, Alicia Montoya, and the attempted murders of Gil Kaffey, Grant Kaffey, Neptune Brady, Antoine Resseur, Piet Kotsky, Peter Decker, and Cindy Kutiel. It had taken almost a
year to bring the case to trial. With the evidence and a star witness, the prosecution convinced a jury of twelve peers that Mace Kaffey was guilty of six counts of murder one. He was also found guilty of the attempted murder of Gil Kaffey. But the jury remained deadlocked on the charges of the attempted murder of Neptune Brady, Grant Kaffey, Antoine Resseur, Piet Kotsky, Peter Decker, and Cindy Kutiel.

It was unlikely that Mace would be tried again by the state as he already faced the death penalty.

“
IT’S STINKY THAT
you won’t have your day in court,” Rina told Decker over dinner.

“You can only die once,” Decker answered.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t on that jury.” The verdict had been announced a week ago, but it was still on everyone’s minds. “That would have taken me away for months.”

Decker eyed her over a glass of cabernet. “You would have been recused.” They were in Tierra Sur restaurant inside the Herzog Winery, Decker’s favorite place. It had a friendly waitstaff, the best kosher wine list bar none, a lovely ambience, and a killer chef who made magic with every edible thing he touched. “Do you know what you want to eat?”

“I’m looking at the lamb.”

“Is it looking back at you?”

“That would be a little too rare for my taste,” Rina said. “What an evil man.”

“You’re still back on Mace?”

“It’s pretty astounding.”

“He is evil.”

“But…”

Decker took another sip of his wine. “Why do you think there’s a but?”

“You just have that look in your eyes…that you’re about to offer excuses.”

“I would never offer excuses for a man who executed six people and tried to kill me because I was involved in the case. They make very good lamb. If you want it, I’ll be happy to share my steak with you.”

“Great,” Rina said. “Let’s order a side of French fries.”

“Don’t do that. You take two and I eat the rest.”

“So control yourself.”

“I have no control.”

“So I’ll occupy your mouth with conversation so you won’t be tempted to overeat.”

Decker said, “And how are you going to do that?”

“I want your opinion of Mace Kaffey. Why did he do it?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever know, and my opinion isn’t worth anything.”

“It’s worth something to me,” Rina said.

Decker looked in the breadbasket, then pushed it away. “Why don’t you tell me your opinion. You followed the trial as closely as I did. And you have great insights.”

“Thank you.” Rina took a sip of her pinot noir. “But you have insider’s trading info.”

“You go first,” Decker said.

Rina gave her words some thought. “You think of sibling rivalry—as old as the Bible. But it wasn’t that the two of them were arguing and Mace killed Guy in a fit of passion like Cain and Abel. The murders were well-planned executions. Still, I don’t think Mace woke up one morning and decided his only solution was to kill his family. I think it was a gradual process.”

“I agree.”

“I think it was a confluence of things that led Mace to do what he did. First off, Mace took all of the blame when Kaffey was on a downswing. When the lawsuit was settled, Guy came away with a lot more than Mace.”

Decker said, “Mace was stripped of his board position, had his shares in the company taken away, and had his income reduced by half. But he was still making a hell of a lot of money.”

“Not what he was used to making,” Rina said. “We saw what happened during the trough of the recession. How the big three automakers flew to Washington on their private jets asking for billions of dollars. It’s hard to get used to a reduced lifestyle.”

Decker nodded.

Rina said, “I think Mace moved back east to prove himself with this Greenridge Project. But when the economy tanked and the project went way over budget, Mace saw his dreams of redemption being flushed down the toilet. It was pretty clear that Guy was getting ready to pull the plug.”

“Grant was involved in Greenridge, too.”

“I know. But Guy would take care of his son. No such guarantees with his brother,” Rina said. “So there goes Mace’s income and his moment of glory. His world was about to come crashing down, and he blamed Guy for everything. I think he was out to get Guy. Gilliam and Gil and the help were probably collateral damage.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that,” Decker said. “I think Mace waited for a day when Gilliam, Gil, and Guy were all under one roof. Gilliam, had she lived, would have inherited a big share of Kaffey Industries. With her gone, the remaining shares would go to the boys. With Gil gone, all the shares would go to Grant. There was no way that Grant could handle the Kaffey Industries—East Coast and West Coast—by himself. Besides, Mace got along with Grant.

“I think Mace was hoping that Grant would give him the eastern division, including the Greenridge Project, and that Grant would take over the west where most of the business was.”

Rina said, “Also, I suppose with Grant alive, there’d be less focus on Mace because Grant would inherit everything.”

“You better believe it,” Decker said. “We really didn’t know who to focus on at first. Had Mace been the only man left standing, he would have been our best suspect.”

Their waiter approached. His name was Vlad and he was over six seven with black hair, blue eyes, and mouth as wide as a canyon. After he took their order, he refilled Decker’s wineglass.

“On the house,” Vlad said. “Besides, we’re at the end of the bottle.”

Decker smiled. “I’m happy to take the dregs off you.”

“What about you?” Vlad said to Rina.

“I’m fine with my one glass.” After the waiter left, Rina said, “I do have a couple of questions about the case.”

“If it’s only a couple of questions, you’re clearer than I am on it.”

“Did Mace arrange for himself to be shot?”

“I think he arranged for himself to be shot
at,”
Decker said. “The intended target was probably Gil, to finish off what the gangbangers had messed up at the ranch.”

“Then why did someone shoot at Grant, you, and Cindy?”

“That remains a mystery. In my mind, Grant being alive was Mace’s best excuse.” He gave the question some thought. “I will say this from a professional point of view. With all of the Kaffeys being wounded or dead, we were stumped. There was no one person who we could point a finger at. We really did begin to think of maybe an outside crime—like a robbery.”

“Who actually shot at you?”

“I don’t know. None of the thugs owned up to that one.”

“Who do
you
think shot at you?”

“It wasn’t Alejandro Brand: he was already in jail. Joe Pine and Julio Davis were probably in Mexico, and Martin Cruces was probably the type to delegate. That leaves Gordo Cruz, Esteban Cruz, and Miguel Mendoza. I’d say Esteban because he seems to be the smartest.”

“Esteban Cruz never confessed to doing anything.”

“Yeah, he was the only gang member who was smart enough to lawyer up. The others said he was there, but we don’t have definitive forensics. We do have a couple of fibers, a hair that’s consistent with his hair. But that’s not a fingerprint or DNA. He’ll get time, but probably not life without parole. That’s a shame. He seems smart…smarter…and you don’t want a smart evil guy on the streets.”

“Although according to Joe Pine, Esteban messed up on Harriman.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“And he messed up by not getting Gil Kaffey the first time.”

“No, that was Joe Pine who messed up. He ran out of bullets.”

“What a fiasco!”

“We may never figure all of it out, but we have enough to put the right guys behind bars.”

Rina sipped her wine. “Mace must have been crazy with hatred to slaughter his family like that. Surely he could have found another project. It might not have been Greenridge, but he could have found something. And he was making good money. It wasn’t as if Guy was going to boot him out of the business altogether.”

“We don’t know what Guy was planning to do.”

“No one heard Guy say that he was firing Mace.”

“No one heard Guy say that he was canceling Greenridge. But almost everyone in the company knew that it was a done deal, especially once the recession hit.”

“That’s true.”

The waiter brought over the entrées. “More wine?”

“Any more and I’ll be floating home,” Decker said.

“And that’s a bad thing because…”

“I drove.”

“So give the woman your keys.”

“I’m not allowed behind the wheel of his Porsche,” Rina said.

“That’s not true,” Decker protested. “Well, it’s sort of true.”

Rina smiled. “It’s okay. I just think of him as my handsome chauffeur.”

Vlad laughed. “How about you? Another glass?”

“Sure, give her a glass,” Decker said.

“Now I really won’t be able to drive.”

“That’s the idea,” Decker said.

Rina gave him a playful hit. “I’ll take another glass.”

After Vlad refilled her pinot noir, he said, “Anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing,” Rina said. “Everything looks fantastic.”

Vlad left and Rina took a few bites of lamb. “This is delicious. You want some?”

“I won’t turn it down. Want some steak?”

“Just a bite.”

“See, this is why you’re still thin and I’m growing widthwise. I take half your lamb and you take a bite of my steak.”

“You outweigh me by over one hundred pounds. I shouldn’t be eating as much as you.” She took a French fry. “Want one?”

“Jezebel.” But Decker succumbed and ate a couple. “You want to know what I think was the final blow for Mace?”

Rina leaned forward. “Tell me.”

Decker laughed. “You’re my best audience.”

“I’m interested.”

“Okay, this is what I think,” Decker told her. “Mace could have dealt with the closure of Greenridge. Like you said, it was unlikely that Mace would get canned. Demoted yes, but probably not canned. And like you said, he still would be making very good money and could have probably latched on to some other project. In my mind what really got to Mace was the ranch.”

“Guy’s had that ranch for ages.”

“Yes, that’s true. But it was a money pit. Had Guy sold the ranch, even in bad times, he could have cleared a lot of bucks and some of the money could have been put back into the Greenridge Project.”

“Not nearly enough to override the costs.”

“But maybe it would have been just enough money to keep Greenridge afloat until times turned around. I think Mace could have dealt with Greenridge closing. I think Mace could have dealt with Guy owning the ranch. But when Guy and Gil started making plans to turn the ranch into a winery, that’s when Mace went berserk. Not only was Guy not going to give Mace money for Greenridge, Guy was going to spend millions of dollars for a vanity project.”

“Interesting,” Rina told him.

“I think Mace just couldn’t bear Greenridge being canceled for lack of funds while millions of dollars were going into a money-losing proposition like a winery.”