{"id":64,"date":"2013-05-23T07:49:11","date_gmt":"2013-05-23T11:49:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64"},"modified":"2014-02-22T09:47:45","modified_gmt":"2014-02-22T13:47:45","slug":"my-books","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64","title":{"rendered":"The Lemrow Mystery"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"fcbkbttn_buttons_block\" id=\"fcbkbttn_left\"><div class=\"fcbkbttn_button\">\n                            <a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/\" target=\"_blank\">\n                                <img src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nymysteries.com\/wp-content\/plugins\/facebook-button-plugin\/images\/standard-facebook-ico.png?w=474\" alt=\"Fb-Button\" data-recalc-dims=\"1\" \/>\n                            <\/a>\n                        <\/div><div class=\"fb-share-button  \" data-href=\"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64\" data-type=\"button_count\" data-size=\"small\"><\/div><\/div><table id=\"bookHeader\" width=\"584\" border=\"0\" cellspacing=\"0\" cellpadding=\"0\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td><\/td>\n<td>\n<div><img loading=\"lazy\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com\/images\/I\/51fVaSD32lL._SS140_SH35_.jpg?resize=337%2C299&#038;ssl=1\" width=\"337\" height=\"299\" border=\"0\" data-recalc-dims=\"1\" \/><\/div>\n<div>The Lemrow Mystery (New York Mysteries)<\/div>\n<div>Kindle Edition<\/div>\n<p><b>Paperback Edition<\/b><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li><b>Average Review:<\/b>\u00a0<img loading=\"lazy\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com\/images\/G\/01\/x-locale\/common\/customer-reviews\/stars-4-0._V192240704_.gif?resize=64%2C12&#038;ssl=1\" width=\"64\" height=\"12\" border=\"0\" data-recalc-dims=\"1\" \/><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/dp\/B00B25Q9KW\" target=\"_blank\">View on Amazon.com<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Available at Barnes &amp; Noble Nook, Sony Reader, Kobo<\/p>\n<p><em>The Lemrow Mystery<\/em> is about NYPD Detective Steve Kulchek who compromises a homicide case and is demoted to art provenance. Not only does Steve hate art, he knows nothing about it. His heart belongs to homicide.\u00a0Steve is assigned to the Lemrow Museum to check out the provenance and security of Chinese statues that are the focus of the upcoming Chen exhibit.<br \/>\nWithin days, three people die: one of a supposed heart attack, one as a suicide, the last one as a hit and run victim.<br \/>\nSteve is back in homicide, investigating a case that pries open the secrets of NYC&#8217;s most prestigious museum. With his Captain openly rooting for his downfall, Steve not only links the three deaths as the work of one killer, he makes the chilling discovery that the murderer is one of the Lemrow insiders.<br \/>\n<em>The Lemrow Mystery<\/em> is set in the rich and ripe atmosphere of New York life. It is the first in a series about Detective Steve Kulchek.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Please enjoy this first chapter introduction to The Lemrow Mystery both in English and Spanish. Translated by<b> <\/b><em>Queta Fernandez<\/em>.<\/p>\n<div>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>The Lemrow Mystery<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>Mary Jo Robertiello<\/b><b><\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>\u00a0<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>\u00a0<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>Copyright 2011<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>All rights reserved<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>\u00a0<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>\u00a0<\/b><\/h1>\n<h1 align=\"center\"><b>eBook ISBN 978-0-9888850-0-4<\/b><b><\/b><\/h1>\n<p align=\"center\">\n<\/div>\n<p align=\"center\"><strong>Chapter 1<\/strong><\/p>\n<p align=\"center\">10 p.m. Thursday, January 29<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRita told me to keep the answers short and sweet.\u201d Detective Steve Kulchek referred to the prosecutor, Rita McCarthy, and to their warm up session for the last day of the trial. He nodded at his iPhone as if he were talking across his desk to his partner, Dominique Leguizamo.<\/p>\n<p>After clicking off, he flattened his aching back against his customary booth at BOLOS, rotating his right shoulder, then his left. Steve pushed back the dingy calico caf\u00e9 curtains and stared out at the rain beating down in the alley. The cozy bar was housed in one of the last remaining one-story brick buildings on First Avenue. It squatted between a fifty-two story glass and steel high-rise and an under construction skyscraper.<\/p>\n<p>Life was good. No, life was better. He licked his lips over their tight murder-felony case. Arson with three dead. He figured the building owners, owing lots of money, had arranged the fire. Taking down the perp, a twenty-four-year-old Mexican-American, was their first step.<\/p>\n<p>They had a witness. Reluctant but a witness, an ex-con who had been working security at a nearby building on 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street and Third Avenue. He had taken photos of the perp pouring gasoline and then lighting it. Steve\u2019s team figured that their witness was interested in blackmail, but they got to him and his cell phone first.<\/p>\n<p>All wrapped up except for the lead detective\u2019s testimony in court tomorrow. Steve was ready.<\/p>\n<p>He left his phone on the table. Let Carmen call him. He was sick to death of their seesaw affair: one minute, fighting, the next minute, make up sex. \u00a0He inhaled deeply, hating her. Why isn\u2019t she here? What\u2019s the point of a girlfriend if she can\u2019t celebrate with you?<\/p>\n<p>Steve gazed at his second home, soaking up its cracked fake leather stools at the zinc topped bar, year-round Christmas decorations slung on the mirror facing the patrons, neon signs advertising beers that were long gone into bankruptcy, deep wooden booths, dim lighting, a twinkling juke box. He raised his bourbon to the plaintive Sinatra rendition of Sinatra feeling sorry for himself.<\/p>\n<p>It was the scene of celebrations: cases won, promotions, weddings, you name it. It was the scene of defeats: cases lost, demotions, divorces.<\/p>\n<p>Steve signaled the bartender\/owner\/ex-cop for another Jack and inhaled the stale smell of booze and babes. From the wooden bar\u2019s past life, his olfactory nerves picked up the scent of unfiltered Camels. He couldn\u2019t retire. He had to make enough cash to buy them.<\/p>\n<p>Steve ducked out the side door for a fix. He stood under the overhang, shivering and listening to Johnny Cash walking the line. He blew a smoke ring and considered giving up smoking. Go to a clinic? Be hypnotized? Wear funny things over his ears? Acupuncture? Steve shuddered at the thought of needles.<\/p>\n<p>All for Carmen. Carmen the tall, proud, passionate, opinionated woman he adored. Fire, that\u2019s what she was. So, giving up smoking and getting married. That\u2019s what she wanted. Giving up smoking? Maybe. Getting married? Steve\u2019s stomach did somersaults. Not for him. Once around the block had been enough. The one good result was his nineteen-year-old daughter.<\/p>\n<p>What\u2019s this? The slamming of a taxi door and then a good-looking woman running out of the rain toward BOLOS. For a second, he imagined it was his Carmen. In your dreams. He liked her legs and her short tight skirt. By the time he took a deep drag, ducked back into his BOLOS booth, and slipped a lozenge into his mouth, she was seated on a bar stool. Her curly chestnut hair glistened with raindrops. He studied her ass then signaled to the bartender to give her a drink on him.<\/p>\n<p>In a stage whisper laced with a fruity tone, the bartender said as he placed Makers Mark straight up in front of her, \u201cThe gentleman in the third booth would like you to accept this with his compliments.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She swiveled around to give him the once over.<\/p>\n<p>No competition for Carmen but not bad. The legs were great. The face was heavy on the blush.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJoin me?\u201d He knew his lopsided smile got them, at least initially. The red light in Steve\u2019s brain was blinking on and off. He ignored it. He wanted to celebrate almost winning the case. Any excuse to get laid. He tucked his phone into his pocket.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy not?\u201d She grinned and slid off the stool, grabbed her drink and her bag. She flung her Armani knock off into the booth and plopped down next to it. \u00a0She gave him a fleeting smile as she rooted in her bag for a Kleenex. She didn\u2019t wipe off her face or run the tissue over her hair. Instead, she stroked her purse, working the tissue down the fake leather.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cArmani?\u201d Steve said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVery classy.\u201d Steve\u2019s tone and look included the woman. He didn\u2019t mention that his three years in Robbery had honed his skills at identifying any up market knock offs from heels to bags to jewelry.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou smoke?\u201d She took a sip of her drink.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy?\u201d <i>Not another female minding his business for him<\/i>.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMaybe I can bum a cigarette.\u201d \u00a0He knew she smelled it.\u00a0 Who\u2019s picking up who?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m Steve.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m Kimberly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cClassy name.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Kimberly smiled. She looked vaguely familiar. The gap between her two middle upper teeth reminded him of a model who had a minor acting career. \u201cYou\u2019re a model? An actress, excuse me, an actor?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She giggled. Her breasts rose invitingly above her low cut satin blouse.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat do you do, Kimberly?\u201d Steve signaled the bartender for two more.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m resting.\u201d She raised her glass and drained it.<\/p>\n<p>The second round arrived. The bartender set the drinks on the table and gave them a thumbs up.<\/p>\n<p>Steve and Kimberly laughed together, their eyes signaling what a jerk the guy was. Steve held up his Jack and clinked his glass with hers. They both drank deeply. In the background the room was warming up with some folk music.<\/p>\n<p>Steve tilted his head toward the jukebox. \u201cI hate that shit.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She leaned across the table, her breasts resting on the surface like rising dough. \u201cI\u2019d love a cigarette.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe can stand outside. Not get too wet. Not get too cold.\u201d Steve stopped. \u201cI have a better idea.\u201d He stopped again. He couldn\u2019t suggest they go to his place. Carmen\u2019s photos were scattered all over the place, not to mention some of her clothes, make up. Nah.<\/p>\n<p>As soon as they were out the door, they lit up. Both blew the smoke any which way, not having to care about annoying other people.<\/p>\n<p>Steve stood in front of her, shielding her from most of the rain. Kimberly inhaled, \u201cGod, this is good.\u201d She smiled and, shivering, came close to him.<\/p>\n<p>It was cozy, them against the non-smoking world being splattered by the raindrops hitting the alley and pinging onto their legs.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat was your better idea?\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI thought we could go to my place, get to know one another better, but I just had it painted.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPainted?\u201d She gave him a knowing grin.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHonest.\u201d He held up his hand as if he were taking an oath. \u201cIt stinks. I\u2019m sleeping on my brother\u2019s couch tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo girlfriend? A good looking guy like you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot at the moment.\u201d Steve reached down, cradled his right hand in her curly, scented hair and drew her close for a long kiss. \u201cI\u2019ve wanted to do that ever since I saw that sexy mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMy place hasn\u2019t been painted in years.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLive alone?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAt the moment.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Steve used his special parking medallion to get as close as possible to Kimberly\u2019s building, a high-rise on Second Avenue and 56<sup>th<\/sup> Street. As they ran through the rain, Steve played the gentleman and held his coat over her head. Up they went to the tenth floor, cuddling in the elevator. Once inside the studio, Kimberly clicked on the lights, then lowered them. Without asking, Steve went to the window overlooking Second Avenue, and lowered the blinds.<\/p>\n<p>When he turned around, Kimberly was standing like a modeling agency\u2019s idea of a little girl. Head to one side, hands behind her back and her pampered feet, pigeon toed. In record time she had stripped down to a black satin slip. He felt a twinge of disappointment. How he loved to undress women.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCatching up,\u201d Steve said as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it toward the night table, narrowly missing a cat-shaped clock whose mechanical eyes rolled back and forth.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWatch out.\u201d Kimberly\u2019s sharp tone surprised him. \u201cSorry,\u201d she whispered, coming close and running her right hand down his side. \u201cLet me.\u201d She pulled him by his belt to her bed. It registered in his fevered brain that her apartment was neat, even her bed was made but not for long. They sunk on to it. Part of the rush, he realized later, was the smell of clean sheets.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Steve woke up about four a.m. He looked across at Kimberly who opened one eye and rolled over away from him. He turned on his side, giving himself a three-minute snooze. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him. \u201cHey, big guy\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He turned over to face her. She planted a big kiss on his mouth.<\/p>\n<p>He ducked. \u201cHoney, I have morning mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Kimberly kissed him anyway.<\/p>\n<p>Steve struggled between a quickie and Murder-Felony. Murder-Felony won. He threw the upper sheet toward the bottom of the bed and swung his legs over his side.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cKim, I\u2019m out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cKimberly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cKimberly, I\u2019m out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnnoyed because I want you to remember my name? What\u2019s the hurry?\u201d Anger fringed the hurt tone. \u201cI thought you liked me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re great but I gotta go.\u201d He reached for his underpants and trousers.<\/p>\n<p>She moved up behind him and hugged him, covering his upper back with kisses and playful strokes with her nails. Then, she wrapped her legs around his waist.<\/p>\n<p>What a pain in the ass, he thought but didn\u2019t say. He pretended to play along by tickling the bottom of her feet.<\/p>\n<p>She giggled. He pulled at one of her legs, then the other.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCome on, baby.\u201d He kept his voice soft.<\/p>\n<p>He was surprised by her strength. \u201cCome on, baby,\u201d he said again. Then, he pulled her legs apart and stood up, yanking up his underpants and trousers.<\/p>\n<p>He looked down at her. She glared up at him as she rubbed her legs.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCome on, Kim \u2013 Kimberly &#8211; \u201d<\/p>\n<p>She put her hand under her rumpled pillow, pulled out her black slip and pulled it on.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll call you,\u201d he lied.<\/p>\n<p>Still examining her legs, she looked up only to glare.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAny bruises?\u201d Steve buckled his belt.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll be sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He opened the door and took the elevator down to the lobby. <i>Why did she turn like that?<\/i> He shrugged his shoulders. \u00a0By the time he was at ground level, he was concentrating on the big day ahead. \u00a0Outside, the air was fresh, the rain had stopped and the birdsong surprised him on Second Avenue. Steve felt great. As he headed to his car, he figured he\u2019d get home to Stuyvesant Town in time for a few hours sleep before showering, shaving and putting on his seldom worn business suit, just back from the cleaners. Then he\u2019d head downtown to court.<\/p>\n<p>At 9 a.m. Steve stood in the crowded hallway outside the 100 Centre Street courtroom. Assistant District Attorney Rita McCarthy and one of her aides flanked him. They were surrounded by Latinos. Not surprising, since three Ecuadorians had died in the fire and the defendant was a Mexican-American. In addition to the victims\u2019 relatives and friends, Steve recognized reporters from Telemundo and Univision.<\/p>\n<p>The defense lawyer, a guy Steve had seen around the courts but didn\u2019t know, smiled at Rita and passed by. Why? Calm down, Steve said to himself, but his inner detective worried about that smile.<\/p>\n<p>After the crowd was ushered into the dingy courtroom, Steve scanned the room for the newest addition to his team.<\/p>\n<p>He saw King standing at the back of the room, a tall, good looking black guy with a shaved head. He had been brought on board during one of the department\u2019s multicultural sweeps. This case was as important to him as it was to Steve.<\/p>\n<p>Dominique Leguizamo, Steve\u2019s partner, wasn\u2019t there, but he knew she was checking her iPhone. This was her last case before moving up to Lieutenant.<\/p>\n<p>Rosaria, his buddy, wasn\u2019t there either, but she\u2019d called him early this morning and given him an account of what a homeless person, Bettylisha Moishabisha, had said on the witness stand. Bettylisha claimed she\u2019d seen a security guard photographing the perp, Jorge Sanchez, pouring some smelly stuff on the corner of the 203 East 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street building and then lighting it.<\/p>\n<p>The evidence was in. The perp was responsible for the Ecuadorians\u2019 deaths. Convict him and sooner or later he\u2019d reduce his sentence by implicating the building\u2019s owners.<\/p>\n<p>Promptly at 9:30 a.m. Judge Michael Feingold entered the courtroom and stepped up to the bench. He was a no nonsense judge with a tired expression who was facing retirement in two weeks time. His black robes, shiny with age, hung lopsided on his stooped shoulders. Without expression, Judge Feingold\u2019s beady eye swept over the well, the area in which the defendant, his lawyers, the prosecution lawyers, the court clerk, and the court stenographer were seated at adjacent tables. He then nodded at the court officer at the back of the courtroom before seating himself under the In God We Trust sign.<\/p>\n<p>As soon as the court sat down and the judge thanked the jury for its attentiveness and punctuality. The defendant, Jorge Sanchez, gabbed into his lawyer\u2019s ear. Like Detective King, Sanchez had a shaved head. Unlike King, he had a tattooed snake slithering out of his orange regulation uniform, ringing his neck and then slinking up the back of his head. Since it was a criminal trial, two security officers sat behind him.<\/p>\n<p>As soon as Steve was sworn in, ADA McCarthy led him through his background:<\/p>\n<p>John Jay College of Criminal Justice graduate, three years on Robbery, two years on the Anti-Crime Unit and for the last eight years Detective second grade.<\/p>\n<p>The ADA addressed the jury, \u201cDetective Kulchek was awarded a Medal for Valor and an MPD Medal.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWear your medals,\u201d McCarthy had ordered during their warm up session.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd resemble a South American dictator? Never.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Then McCarthy wanted Steve to wear his uniform, but the minute he reminded her that juries hate cops, she desisted.<\/p>\n<p>The ADA didn\u2019t waste time. \u201cDetective Kulchek, please describe what you did on July 11 of last year.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFire Marshall Ross called me at 5:10 a.m. at the 19<sup>th<\/sup> Precinct, 153 East 67<sup>th<\/sup> Street.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat, if anything, did Fire Marshall Ross say?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cA building at 203 East 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street was on fire. Three burned bodies had been found in the basement.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat, if anything, did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI left the precinct and arrived at the scene at 5:25 a.m.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDescribe what you found at 203 East 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe 19<sup>th<\/sup> Ladder Company had put out the fire, but I saw the burned bodies of three people in the cellar.\u201d The ADA had told Steve to look at the jury when he said this. He singled out a man who looked Latino.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDo you know how the cause of their death was determined?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, the forensic and the coroner\u2019s units determined the victims had died from smoke inhalation and burning.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Although the jury had seen the photos of the fire and of the burned bodies, Steve paused, as instructed, to refresh the grisly memory.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat was your first action at the scene?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI inspected the scene with Marshal Ross. He showed me a gallon can at the building\u2019s northeast corner. A substance I identified as gasoline, had been thrown around the area. There was evidence of gasoline in the can.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat was your next action?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI had the scene photographed. My team found a witness who\u2019d seen a person taking photos of the gasoline being poured out of the can.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDescribe what, if anything, you did upon learning that\u2026,\u201d the ADA glanced at her notes and stated the homeless woman\u2019s name carefully, fully aware of the jury\u2019s desire to pounce on a snotty attitude, \u201cMs. Bettylisha Moishabisha had witnessed Mr. Iggy Martin, the security guard at the adjacent building, 205 East 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street, photographing the defendant as he poured gasoline\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cObjection, your Honor,\u201d said the defense lawyer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSustained. Watch your step, Counselor,\u201d Judge Feingold eyed the ADA.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, your Honor. Detective Kulchek, describe what, if anything, you did upon learning that Ms. Bettylisha Moishabisha had witnessed Mr. Iggy Martin photographing the defendant.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The prosecution didn\u2019t mention that Mr. Martin, their only witness, had done time. This would be hammered home by the defense.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe interviewed Ms. Moishabisha.\u201d Steve had plastered his standard issue altar boy look on his face before making eye contact with a heavy set black woman he knew was the jury\u2019s spokesperson.<\/p>\n<p>His subconscious kicked in with a replay of the reek of urine, cheap booze, her dog\u2019s feces and the remains of give-away food that had been emptied from Bettylisha\u2019s unspeakable Goodwill sleeping bag before his crew found the 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street All Night Bagels to Go receipt stamped with the time 4:55 a.m. placing Bettylisha near the burning building.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFor the record, your Honor, I would like to replay Ms. Moishabisha\u2019s testimony.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Being the head detective who was going to testify, Steve was not in the courtroom when Bettylisha took the stand. Steve recalled his buddy, Rosaria, describing in their early morning phone call how the witness, a homeless woman, bathed and dressed courtesy of the prosecution, had been articulate to the point of loquaciousness and had to be pried out of the witness box.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cApproach the bench,\u201d Judge Feingold said to the two lawyers. \u201cMs. McCarthy, what\u2019s the point?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTo refresh the jury\u2019s memory. We have the witness, the security guard who shot the photos and the defendant.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat do you think, Counselor?\u201d The Judge said to the defense lawyer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWaste of time.\u201d This was a savvy answer. Judge Feingold was known for his speedy trials.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRequest, denied, Counselor McCarthy. Lunchtime approaches.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, your Honor.\u201d The ADA moved back to her table and leaned against it before addressing Steve. \u201cDetective, you stated that you interviewed Ms. Bettylisha Moishabisha.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The ADA paused to let the jury remember Bettylisha\u2019s account of the defendant being photographed setting fire to 203 East 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat if anything, did you do then, Detective?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe interviewed Mr. Martin who corroborated he took photos on his cell phone. We confiscated his cell.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cObjection, hearsay, your Honor,\u201d the defense lawyer said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGranted,\u201d Judge Feingold said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, your Honor,\u201d ADA McCarthy said. \u201cWe want to show the photos of the fire again.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cObjection, your Honor. Repetitive. The jury has already seen those photos,\u201d the defense lawyer said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s the point, Ms. McCarthy?\u201d Judge Feingold said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTo give the jury the opportunity to study the photos.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOverruled.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, your Honor.\u201d McCarthy had expected this. \u201cMay we approach the bench?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The judge nodded, rose from his chair and stepped down from the bench on the far side of the jury. He was joined by the lawyers for the prosecution and the defense, the law clerk and, in the middle of the huddle, the court stenographer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, Counselor?\u201d The judge eyed McCarthy and crossed his black bat-like arms.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMay the People show the photo of the gasoline being poured near the building?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The judge beat the defense lawyer in objecting because the jury had already seen it.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe jury saw a blurry photo,\u201d McCarthy said. \u201cIt\u2019s been made clearer. Not any alteration, simply made clearer.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShow me the original and the second version,\u201d the judge said to the court stenographer. She and the law clerk shuffled through evidence envelopes like poker pros and handed one to the judge. He held the encased photos so the defense and prosecution could see them. After the judge studied them, he said, \u201cOkay, but only this one photo.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI object, your Honor,\u201d the defense said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNoted, Counselor,\u201d the judge said and then climbed back to the bench.<\/p>\n<p>After copies of the clearer version of the photo were distributed to the jury and to Steve, ADA McCarthy said, \u201cDescribe what\u2019s in exhibit Number One A and B for the People, Detective Kulchek.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThey\u2019re the same photo of a man pouring a liquid near a corner of a building.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s printed on the bottom of the photo?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe date, the present year and the time: July 11, 2011, 5:02 a.m.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCan you identify the man?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, it\u2019s Jorge Sanchez.\u201d Steve kept his tone neutral but noticed three of the four women on the jury were glowering at the defendant.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow do you know it\u2019s Mr. Jorge Sanchez?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe\u2019s the one in the photo.\u201d Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed three jury members nod. \u201cHe has a record.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe prosecution rests, your Honor. Thank you, Detective Kulchek.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201dThe Defense will present after lunch.\u201d Judge Michael Feingold looked at the defense team. He then addressed Steve and the jury. \u201cWe caution the witness that he\u2019s still on the stand and not to discuss his testimony. Ladies and gentlemen, we will take a lunch break and resume at 1:30 sharp.\u201d Bang went the gavel.<\/p>\n<p>Still seated, Steve noticed the defense lawyer with the curious smile glance back at the courtroom\u2019s entrance. The door opened and a young woman bustled to the rail that separated the well from the rest of the court and handed the lawyer a\u00a0 9\u201d x 12\u201d envelope. The defense lawyer opened the envelope, slid out a few photos and let a grin escape before assuming a poker face and shoving the photos back. He rose from his desk and walked the three feet between his space and ADA McCarthy\u2019s desk. \u201cThese just arrived. Sorry about the short notice.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Rita McCarthy put down her leather briefcase and opened the manila envelope. She slid out the photos, caught sight of them and pushed them back into the envelope. \u201cI\u2019ll look at these in my room.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>From the witness box, Steve watched Rita and the other lawyer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDetective? Lunchtime, \u201d said a court officer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cForget about lunchtime, Detective. Follow me. Now,\u201d Rita said in a crisp tone. The muscles in her left cheek were pumping.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Rita McCarthy closed the door of her assigned room and locked it.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat the fuck is this, Steve?\u201d She kept her voice low, but he noticed her right hand shook slightly as she reached into the manila envelope and pulled out three photos. She spread them on the scarred desktop.<\/p>\n<p>Steve looked down at a photo of him sleeping like a baby, a naked baby. In the corner of the shot was a nightstand. On it was a cat-shaped clock. A shirt, his shirt, partially hid the dial. On the bottom of the photo was 12:30 a.m. 01\/30\/12.<\/p>\n<p>Photo number two showed bruised legs.<\/p>\n<p>Photo number three showed Steve\u2019s buffed, muscular back and arms.<\/p>\n<p>The ADA\u2019s cell\u2019s tone, a blues number, pierced the tense atmosphere. Steve glanced down at his business suit and wanted to rip it off.<\/p>\n<p>Rita McCarthy listened. Her left cheek was twitching. \u201cI\u2019ll call you back in five minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere were you last night?\u201d She eyed Steve.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cObviously, you know. So?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSo you were set up. She\u2019s the perp\u2019s girlfriend. She\u2019s claiming you threatened to beat her up if she didn\u2019t testify that her boyfriend set the fire.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMeaning?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t play dense with me, Steve. Meaning she was forced to sleep with you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou believe her?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFrankly, no, but the defense is going for a mistrial. The fact that you had anything whatsoever to do with one of their witnesses\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWho knew? I saw her in BOLOS and picked her up.\u201d He thought that over. \u201cWe picked each other up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe\u2019s claiming you smacked her, bruised her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBull shit.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo on.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis morning she wrapped her legs around me to keep me in the sack.\u201d Steve was bright red. \u201cI had to part her legs with force, but honest, Rita, I didn\u2019t hurt her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019d like to kill you,\u201d she muttered. \u201cDo you know how this is going to sound in that courtroom?\u201d She pointed toward the door.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWho is she?\u201d Steve said. Something rattled around in his brain. He recalled in the bar that he had thought she looked familiar. He\u2019d assumed she was an actress he\u2019d seen in a skin flick.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d The ADA said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019d like to know who\u2019s accusing me of beating her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Rita McCarthy reached into the manila envelope and pulled out a photo of a woman with long straight blond hair and a closed mouth smile. \u201cKelly Smith, makeup artist and runner up in the Hooters International Swimmers Pageant,\u201d Rita read from a print out. \u201cShe has those bruises on her legs.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSelf-inflicted.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe\u2019s the long-time girlfriend of Jorge Sanchez. The perp.\u00a0 In case you forgot,\u201d said through clenched teeth.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI was set up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTampering with a witness.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow did she know I was at BOLOS?\u201d He said more to himself than to Rita McCarthy.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSince you practically lived there, it\u2019s a no brainer.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>An insider, he figured. Did Carmen betray him? He dismissed the shameful thought. Another one popped up. Oh shit, Carmen will find out.<\/p>\n<p>Rita held up the photo. \u201cDidn\u2019t you recognize her? This shot was hanging with the other possible defense witnesses.\u201d She was referring to the precinct\u2019s bulletin board of recent cases.<\/p>\n<p>Steve didn\u2019t want to admit she\u2019d looked familiar. \u201cI didn\u2019t know who she was. She said she was an actress.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The ADA turned her back on him and spoke into her cell.<\/p>\n<p>At 1:30 p.m. Judge Feingold entered the courtroom and seated himself. Previously, a court officer had delivered a message to the judge stating the lawyers wanted to speak to the judge without the jury being present.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCounselors?\u201d He looked at the prosecution and defense lawyers who approached the bench. With a solemn air the defense lawyer slid out the three photos and handed them to the judge. After Judge Feingold examined them, he shot a look at Steve who was seated at the prosecution\u2019s table. \u201cNow what?\u201d he said, still looking at Steve.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMy witness claims Detective Steve Kulchek threatened to beat her if she didn\u2019t testify that the defendant set fire to the 86<sup>th<\/sup> Street building,\u201d the defense attorney said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDetective Kulchek assures me he did not threaten or hurt the defense\u2019s witness.\u201d The ADA\u2019s voice was low. \u201cHe claims he was set up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe photos say another story.\u201d The defense lawyer pointed to the bruised legs photo.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo proof, Counselor,\u201d the judge said.<\/p>\n<p>The defense lawyer shifted to the nude, sleeping Steve photo.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe admits to having slept with the defense witness last night.\u201d Ms. McCarthy\u2019s ears were red with rage. \u201cConsensual sex.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot according to my witness,\u201d the defense lawyer said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSpare me, he says, she says, Counselors,\u201d the judge said. \u201cWe\u2019re wasting time. Put him in the witness box or are we talking mistrial?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>ADA McCarthy took a deep breath. Mistrial meant officially the prosecution department could start again from scratch. On paper it was still possible to get a guilty verdict &#8211; in about a thousand years. Unofficially, mistrial meant the case was dead in the water. Not only did the perp walk having killed three people. So did the building\u2019s owners. To make it worse, McCarthy realized the insurance company would have to pay out.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCan I speak to Detective Kulchek?\u201d she said to the judge. He nodded. The defense lawyer permitted himself a pitying smile.<\/p>\n<p>The ADA walked to her table, leaned across it and said to Steve, \u201cJigs up. It\u2019s a mistrial. Three people died, Detective.\u201d She glared into his sad, embarrassed face. \u201cWhat does this do \u2013 what do you do \u2013 for the prosecution of criminality in the state of New York?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>__________________________________________________________________________<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<div class=\"sharedaddy sd-sharing-enabled\"><div class=\"robots-nocontent sd-block sd-social sd-social-icon-text sd-sharing\"><h3 class=\"sd-title\">Share this:connection<\/h3><div class=\"sd-content\"><ul><li class=\"share-facebook\"><a rel=\"nofollow noopener noreferrer\" data-shared=\"sharing-facebook-64\" class=\"share-facebook sd-button share-icon\" href=\"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64&amp;share=facebook\" target=\"_blank\" title=\"Click to share on Facebook\"><span>Facebook<\/span><\/a><\/li><li class=\"share-twitter\"><a rel=\"nofollow noopener noreferrer\" data-shared=\"sharing-twitter-64\" class=\"share-twitter sd-button share-icon\" href=\"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64&amp;share=twitter\" target=\"_blank\" title=\"Click to share on Twitter\"><span>Twitter<\/span><\/a><\/li><li class=\"share-pinterest\"><a rel=\"nofollow noopener noreferrer\" data-shared=\"sharing-pinterest-64\" class=\"share-pinterest sd-button share-icon\" href=\"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64&amp;share=pinterest\" target=\"_blank\" title=\"Click to share on Pinterest\"><span>Pinterest<\/span><\/a><\/li><li class=\"share-linkedin\"><a rel=\"nofollow noopener noreferrer\" data-shared=\"sharing-linkedin-64\" class=\"share-linkedin sd-button share-icon\" href=\"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?page_id=64&amp;share=linkedin\" target=\"_blank\" title=\"Click to share on LinkedIn\"><span>LinkedIn<\/span><\/a><\/li><li class=\"share-end\"><\/li><\/ul><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Lemrow Mystery (New York Mysteries) Kindle Edition Paperback Edition Average Review:\u00a0 View on Amazon.com Available at Barnes &amp; Noble Nook, Sony Reader, Kobo The Lemrow Mystery is about NYPD Detective Steve Kulchek who compromises a homicide case and is demoted to art provenance. 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