21
ART MASI SAT AT HIS COMPUTER and Googled Pio Farina; he found a website. Art went there and clicked on Bio. Pio had attended a coed, arts-oriented prep school in New Hampshire for four years. He found the school’s website and did a search for Pio; in a moment he had found the school yearbook for his senior year.
There was a photograph of the young Pio with lots of hair, and underneath, a list of school activities: Sketch Club, 123&4; Drama Club, 3&4; Climbing Club, 123&4, captain, 3&4. Art didn’t need to read any further. Pio had lied to him about his fear of heights. Art loved it when suspects lied to him, and in this case, badly.
The two could have said they had both stayed home and watched the football game; instead, they had contrived to put Ann in Connecticut, and Pio thus had no one to back up his alibi. And since Ann had lied about her lunch at the Mayflower with her dying mother, neither did she. They had blown each other out of the water. How stupid could they be?
Art looked up Pio’s number in East Hampton and called. Pio answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Farina, this is Art Masi from the NYPD.”
“Oh, yes, we met at our opening.”
“I’d like for you and Ms. Kusch to be in my office tomorrow at noon, to answer some more questions.”
“What?”
“I believe I spoke clearly.”
“In New York?”
“That is correct.”
“You want us to drive all the way to New York to talk to you? If you like, I’ll put Ann on the extension and you can talk to both of us now.”
“I’m sorry, this meeting will have to be face-to-face.”
“It’s a four-hour drive!”
“That’s why I scheduled our meeting for noon. Would one o’clock be more convenient? That’s the only other available time.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Masi, but we’re not going to make a trip into the city just to answer some questions that we can just as easily answer on the phone.”
“I can arrange for you to be driven to the city in a police car, if you like. Handcuffed.”
“What are you charging us with?” Pio demanded.
“We’ll discuss that at our meeting. One o’clock. The address is One Police Plaza. Ask for me at the front desk. Good day.”
Art hung up.
? ? ?
“JESUS CHRIST!” Pio said.
Ann came in from the next room. “What’s wrong?”
“That art cop, Masi, just called. He says he wants us in his office at one o’clock tomorrow to answer some questions.”
“He doesn’t really expect us to drive all the way into the city just to see him, does he?”
Pio looked up at her. “He offered us a ride in a police car, handcuffed.”
“Oh, shit.”
? ? ?
ART CALLED Stone Barrington.
“Hello, Art.”
“Stone, I’ve called Pio Farina and Ann Kusch in tomorrow at one for questioning.”
“Don’t they live in East Hampton?”
“They do.”
“Do you think they’ll show up?”
“As an alternative, I offered them a ride in a police car.”
Stone laughed. “That should do it.”
“I’m going to question them separately, and I’d like you to observe, if you have the time.”
“Sure, one o’clock. Are you downtown?”
“Yes, just ask for me at the desk. Make it twelve-thirty.”
“I’ll bet they bring a lawyer,” Stone said.
“I don’t think so, they still think I don’t have anything on them.”
“Do you?”
“They both lied to me when I questioned them at the gallery, and I can prove it.”
“So you’re going for a confession?”
“I may not be a homicide detective, but I’m a pretty good interrogator.”
“I’ll see you at twelve-thirty,” Stone said.
? ? ?
“WE’D BETTER CALL A LAWYER,” Pio said.
“Bringing a lawyer is as good as a confession,” Ann said. “Don’t you ever watch TV?”
“We watch all those cop shows together. If somebody lawyers up, they have to let them go.”
“Look,” Ann said, “we’ve got one more shot at getting Masi off our backs, before we get lawyers involved.”
“We don’t even know a lawyer,” Pio said.
“Sure we do,” Ann replied. “His name is Stone Barrington.”
22
STONE ARRIVED AT One Police Plaza at 12:30 and was immediately sent up to the art squad offices. Art Masi greeted him.
“How is this going to work?” Stone asked.
“We’ve got two interrogation rooms,” Art replied, “and my colleague—” He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and a handsome woman in her forties entered. “Stone, this is Adrian Halstead, my colleague. Adrian, this is Stone Barrington, who has an interest in this interrogation.”
They shook hands. “Just what is your interest in this case, Mr. Barrington?”
“Call me Stone, please. I represent the insurance company that covered the van Gogh.”
“Adrian has been fully briefed on this case, and she will conduct the interrogation of Pio Farina, while I interrogate Ann Kusch. We have two interrogation rooms set up, each with two-way mirrors, and there is a small room between the two, so you can witness both interrogations simultaneously.”
“I hope I can keep up,” Stone replied.
The phone on Masi’s desk rang, and he answered it. “Thank you, please send them up to my office.” He hung up. “Stone, let’s get you in position.”
Stone followed him down a hallway and into a small room with blinds on either side. Masi raised both, revealing standard interrogation rooms. “There are speakers for each room above,” he said, pointing upward. “There are volume knobs on the table.”
Stone sat down at the table; he had never seen a setup quite like this. Masi left him there and closed the door behind him.
Stone took the moment to check his e-mail; there was one from Dino. “Dinner with girls, Rotisserie Georgette, 7:30?”
“Done,” Stone said. He forwarded the message to Morgan, who responded quickly.
“I’ll meet you there. Looking forward.”
Then the doors to the adjoining rooms opened simultaneously, and the interviewers and their subjects entered and took seats. Masi and Halstead spoke together: “I’m required to read you your rights. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you at no cost to you. If you choose to speak to me, your answers may be used as evidence against you in a court of law. Do you wish an attorney?”
“No,” Pio said.
“Not at this time,” Ann replied.
Masi and Halstead produced documents for their signatures. “This document says that you have been read your rights and have declined to have an attorney present during your questioning. If you agree, please sign and date.”
Both of them signed.
“Now, Mr. Farina,” Halstead said, “on a previous occasion you spoke to my colleague Lieutenant Masi, did you not?”
“I did.”
? ? ?
MASI BEGAN: “Ms. Kusch, do you recall speaking to me two days ago at an art gallery?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Do you recall being asked about your whereabouts on the date of the death of Mark Tillman?”
“I do.”
“And what was your response?”
“I told you that I had had lunch in Washington, Connecticut, with my mother.”
“At the Mayflower Inn?”
“Yes.”
“The headwaiter there, who was acquainted with both you and your late mother, denies that you were present in his dining room on that date. He recalls because the restaurant was very crowded that day, and he was turning people away. His reservation book does not contain either of your names.”
“I suppose we must have had lunch in the bar that day,” she said. “They don’t require reservations there.”
“They do on weekends,” Masi said. “Why did you lie to me?”
? ? ?
HALSTEAD STARED INTO PIO’S EYES. “Do you recall telling Lieutenant Masi that you have no experience mountain or rock climbing?”
Pio blinked. “I’m not sure I recall being asked that,” he said.
“It was only two days ago, Mr. Farina.”
“I still don’t remember.”
“Do you recall telling my colleague that you are afraid of heights?”