Detective Dawgleash: Leave No Bone Unturned

Book Four
Breaking Bones
Tuesday 7 December -> Monday 13 December

5.1

"Hello little darlings," said Dingwall, "do anything useful in my absence? Find something disgusting enough to send back to the lab?"

"Just the usual blood, sweat and tears plus some less savory bodily fluids Gov."

"Working class lads, they're so endearing," Dingwall noted to Drymore in a loud stage whisper.

By now the team had not only gotten used to Dingwall's egocentricities, they'd even managed to pick up his Newcastle drawl. After all, he was the best DNA analyst around; a student of the great Alec Jeffreys himself. Had Dingwall asked they would have followed him to the ends of the earth —which would probably have been a great deal pleasanter than their present workplace.

Drymore led the expedition down and around the meandering corridors of 455 East 51^st Street's sub-basement and Dingwall followed with his forensic scientists trailing behind like ducklings. They wandered through the close-packed, musty-smelling halls past the spot where Miriam Goldman had taken her last breath and turned right at a fork in the hall. There were a series of rooms used by the 51^st Club members and each door was opened in turn. Miriam had told Drymore that other things lay beyond these rooms. Things that Drymore neither wanted to hear nor wanted to believe. But Drymore searched the dark places in his memory as he walked into the rooms one by one and looked around. Finally, one room looking very much like all the others felt different. Suddenly, and with disgust, Drymore remembered.

"Back there," he said to Dingwall. "Way in the back, Miriam said there was something there, a closet in the farthermost corner. You can barely see it from here."

"O.k. lads, let's go in," said Dingwall, carefully tapping as he went. The section around the closet and its back were hollow.

"Work quickly my friends. I'm getting Emergency Services down here to break down that wall as fast has I can."

5.2

King arrived at Ruffian's about the same time as Dingwall and Drymore reached Peter Detmold Park on that Tuesday, the seventh of December. He found Bonnie eager to go back to her old apartment. She turned impatiently towards the kitchen door and beckoned him to follow her outside.

Bonnie, King and his handler walked the short block to 455 East 51^st Street. Bonnie nodded to the doorman and the three went up to where she last saw Francis Hughes alive. She hung back for a split second but then her tail went up and led them forward. They walked past the uniformed officer standing guard inside the apartment, out through the back door and down a dark, badly lit stairwell. Bonnie scratched at a heavy metal door that, when the human opened, led into a cold hallway. The chill was unnatural, even in midwinter. Eventually the team reached another door, this one was locked and the dogs, with their keen sense of smell, knew wasn't empty.

Bonnie sniffed around and called to whatever or whomever was inside with a low humming sound, almost a purr. Someone came close to the door and whispered, "Bonnie, mon ami?" Bonnie barked back and her tail began to wag. The door opened and behind it was a very small very think black boy. They hugged each other like lost friends but then the boy looked up, saw King and the human beside him and recoiled in fear. Bonnie came between them, reassuring the boy that he was safe. They would get him to safety. King's handler called for backup and an ambulance. The boy had only water and there was no telling how long it had been since he'd eaten. They carried him gently up the stairs and the duty officer, a kindly soul with two youngsters of his own at home, offered the boy some of his lunch. It was gratefully received.

The ambulance and emergency services arrived almost simultaneously.

The boy was driven to the safety of Bellevue Hospital and the emergency service police rushed down into the sub-basement with drills, hammers and blowtorches. Bonnie was walked the short distance back to the Mac Lane's house by her favorite doorman.

"It's here," shouted Dingwall. "We need to get behind this wall." And the drilling began. When the debris was cleared they looked in and saw a room, a prison. The opening was enlarged and, holding their noses against the overpowering odor of decay, four forensic scientists crawled inside. If all went well, the samples they collected would be processed and the DNA profiles in every forensic database in the world within a week.

King and his handler had rushed down to the basement to tell Dingwall about the room to which Bonnie had led them and imprisoned little boy. "We're going back to investigate further, may we borrow a forensic scientist or two?

"Of course. Any of you lads care to volunteer and save FBI butt?"

A low growl escaped from the back of King's throat, "they are FBI you pretentious Brit." Dingwall pretended not to understand, but couldn't conceal the shadow of a smile that lit up his eyes.

At that moment his phone rang. Dingwall smiled out loud, it was Detective Tooney calling from upstate. "Yes, the interview is going nicely," she said. Irwin Cohen contends he was framed, probably by Phoebe Figophilus. It may have been simple spite but she may also have been protecting Francis Hughes with whom she'd struck up some sort of bizarre friendship. No sex apparently. Hughes was quite gay.

Cohen had met Miriam Goldman through an online dating service. They went to lunch once or twice but nothing romantic came of it. However, Goldman wanted a job and he could give her one although he'd have to get rid of Figophilus in order to do that. Cohen viewed this as an advantage rather than a problem.

Eventually Goldman told him her stepfather was involved in a slave trade, buying children abducted from their villages by African warlords. Those that the warlords couldn't turn into child soldiers were sold to profiteers like Girmente. Cohen didn't believe Goldman at first but then she began bringing him proof. And he figured a little blackmail was worth a shot. To his surprise, it worked; Girmente began sending envelopes with cash in them. Thanks to Miriam, Cohen had stumbled onto a golden goose, at least until the police came and took him away.

"Why didn't he tell the police about all this?" asked Dingwall.

"He tried but no one would believe him, they thought he was just looking to get a deal."

"I'll fill you in on all the details when we get back to the city Colin. But could you give Sybille Saks a call as soon as possible? Interesting DNA results are starting to come in from our lab and Sybille would like you to help her run them through Interpol's universal database."

5.3

Dingwall was dialing Dr. Saks' office as they spoke and when she answered he told her that Diane Tooney had just called to say NYPD's DNA results were coming in. If convenient, he could come right down to her office. Father Drymore would like to come as well, would that be o.k.? "I'll ask one of the officers parked on 51^st Street to bring us there it isn't far."

"Yes of course, Father Drymore is welcome. Come right now Colin. My guys have been working all night and the results are astonishing. I'll leave word at the desk that you're coming and have someone bring you right up. I can't wait until you see what we've found."

"On our way love. Oh, and we've found a small boy locked up in a secret room in the sub-basement. King's handler thinks he was Hughes' private plaything. The boy is right next door at Bellevue hospital, probably still in the Emergency Room. Let's get his DNA now—could someone from your lab get there while he's being examined? Make the call will you my little genius?"

They arrived at the modest building housing the New York's Medical Examiners in minutes and were immediately escorted up to Saks' office. She was beaming. "Look at this Colin, just look. I'm so excited. We've got the preliminary DNA analysis from Hughes' apartment. Some matches Hughes' of course and some will undoubtedly match that poor little boy he was apparently abusing. But there's more. Here's some nuclear DNA from Harriet Girmente, we have her profile in the database now. Now this is cool: there was an unknown DNA that we matched to a Seymour Girmente who was arrested for smuggling endangered species into the UK a few years ago. Seymour is Norman's brother."

"Let's hear it for the bloody Queen," shouted Dingwall, grinning from ear to ear. Drymore looked puzzled.

"Policy in the United Kingdom stipulates that just about any collision with law enforcement gets someone's DNA collected and entered into a national database. As with many things the US is following our lead, but we're still way ahead."

"We have Norman Girmente's brother's DNA and that gives us the authority to pick up Goldman's husband for questioning,' said Saks. "We want to get this started before good old Norman suspects that we can link him Hughes' death and scoots. Tooney is running the information through Assistant Commissioner Brandtly right now and Girmente will be picked up as soon as they locate him."

Drymore looked uncomfortable. "Is it legal to arrest someone based on a relative's DNA?"

"Yes my second favorite Priest," answered Dingwall. "It's called kinship analysis. Families share ancestry which means that close relatives have almost identical DNA profiles. We can identify an entire clan with a genetic sample from only one family member."

"And your most favorite priest is?" asked Drymore. "The red one of course," answered Dingwall, "the great Vivaldi." but you're my favorite living priest."

"Or course there are some civil liberties issues with kinship analysis," continued Saks, ignoring Dingwall's wandering comment. "There will always be and should always be discussion about what's best for society as a whole versus an individual's private interests. But kinship searching is absolutely legal and we have no doubt that it will remain so, especially with the global worry over terrorism."

This jolted Dingwall back to the present. "Kinship analysis is a forensic gold mine," he said. "Almost half of jailed inmates in the U.S. have at least one close relative who have also been incarcerated at one time or another. Now suppose that our 'cold hit' rate —the chance of finding a match between a crime scene sample and someone in the offender database —is 10%. Then suppose that even 5% of criminals not yet in the database have a close relative —a parent, child or sibling— who is listed. This increases our cold hit rate by almost 80%."

"But," clarified Saks, "it's 80% only of that 5% with a close relative in the database, Colin."

"It still give us a decided upper hand against criminals. And the odds continue to grow in our favor as genetic profiles are added to the database."

"Colin," asked Saks, "could we send some of our readouts through Interpol and see what pops up? It appears we have a very nasty family here. Miriam's mom started a sex ring with her second husband and then seems to have expanded it into child prostitution with her third husband, murdering her own daughter in the process. And the brother is a known smuggler. It isn't that big a big jump from endangered species to endangered children."

"This family's treachery reaches Shakespearean proportions," said Dingwall. "Not only will I run your DNA profiles through our databases; I'm going to get someone at Interpol on Seymour's tail, he may be our African link in the child trafficking ring."

"Can you color code him?"

"Yes. He's got priors. I'd like to get tag him 'red' but may have to settle for 'blue' and then upgrade as soon as we get more evidence."

Saks nodded but Drymore looked puzzled. Dingwall quickly explained Interpol's color-coded system of "wanted" notices for international fugitives. "People coded red are to be arrested and extradited without hesitation; those coded blue will have arrest and extradition determined once they're apprehended; and code green is used for criminals who, while not currently wanted, are of international significance and need to be watched. A yellow code means the person is missing and a black code gives the international law enforcement community details of an unidentified dead body. All the known information about a people on Interpol's notice scheme is circulated worldwide; this includes DNA and physical fingerprints, photographs and anything else that could help apprehend a criminal or identify missing and dead person."

5.4

Two hours later Dawgleash and Tooney were at Rikers Island and the guards brought Mrs. Girmente into an interview room, her lawyer by her side. She said, "I suppose I should congratulate you."

"Not necessary, thanks. We're here because we still have some questions," said Tooney.

"About my daughter? That's easy. Miriam was blackmailing us, the ungrateful little brat. We sent her away to one school after another, but she kept coming back. It wasn't long before she was blackballed from just about every private school on the planet. We got her an apartment, but the neighbors complained about her filth so I got her a maid. But nothing was ever enough. She convinced that awful Cohen person to blackmail us. Fortunately he had other enemies and landed in jail. Then Miriam found a way to join the 51^st club in an effort to ruin us. Francis told us she'd been down in the basement snooping around. He and I were up in his apartment that past Thursday and saw Miriam go into the shed."

"About what time was that?"

"Somewhere around five in the afternoon. I was at the end, absolute end of my patience. I went down and confronted Miriam. She gave me the usual blather about never loving her and I lost it. I tried to hit her, but missed. She turned to run. The next thing I knew she was on the floor and I was on top of her, a rope around her neck. I don't even remember getting the rope. It must have been right there. I panicked when I realized what I'd done. Miriam was dead and there was an old trunk right there so I stuffed her inside and ran back up to Francis' apartment through the building. I never expected Miriam to be found. It was bad luck that PJ Hartig was murdered right outside that same afternoon."

"Hartig's bad luck too," thought Dawgleash.

The lawyer interrupted saying that this obviously wasn't a planned murder, it was temporary insanity. Mrs. Girmente had been pushed beyond her limit and killed in a moment of rage.

Tooney nodded and continued, "and Francis Hughes? How were you two connected?"

"That, Detective Tooney, is far simpler. I expect you know that he ran the 51^st Street club for us."

"Yes. But we also know that there was a child trafficking ring operating from the sub-basement and that both you and your husband, Norman Girmente, were involved."

Dawgleash thought for a moment that Harriet Girmente was going to faint. She managed to speak but her words came out as a croak.

The lawyer tried to end the interview but Tooney persisted. "Was Hughes running that as well?"

"Not really," Harriet Girmente blurted out before she could be stopped. "But there was a little boy he was fond of and he kept him down in the basement. When Norman and I realized that could expose us we cleaned the place up. But Francis couldn't bear to lose the boy and hid him from us."

"Is that why you had to kill Hughes?"

"Enough," said the lawyer. "This interview is at an end."

"I didn't kill Francis, he was already dead when I got back up to the apartment."

"When did your husband arrive at Hughes' apartment?"

Mrs. Girmente looked startled, "Norman? I had no idea he was there."

"My client has confessed to killing her daughter in a moment of insanity, but she didn't murder Francis Hughes. And it's plain that she didn't know her husband had been there." With that the lawyer took Girmente's arm in an effort to silence her and called for a guard.

"One more thing," said Tooney. "You must have known there was a child locked up somewhere in that building, starving perhaps. Why didn't you alert the police?"

"It wasn't any of my business," replied Mrs. Girmente. Her eyes were cold.

5.5

Dawgleash and Tooney gave the first report. "As you all know," said Tooney, "Phoebe Figophilus confessed both to the murder of PJ Hartig and attack on Millicent Stanhope. The murder was one of opportunity, she was coming into the park through the garage just as he was on his way down the stairs to lock up. The doorman, who was going on break, had already turned the lights off. Normally this wouldn't have mattered, Hartig knew is way around the park very well and all he had to do was walk back up the stairs after locking the gate. As for the attack, that took a little more planning. But Figophilus gave us a confession and Ms. Stanhope recognized her assailant before she lost consciousness. We recovered the iron bar she used on Mrs. Stanhope in the bushes of an adjacent house; it's in the forensics lab now. There won't be a trial but it's still evidence.

Dr. Finch said that Figophilus' behavior was in character. He'd submitted a full report that morning, and as he noted in it, she suffers from a borderline psychotic disorder exacerbated by a difficult and very fragmented childhood. Her personality defects run deep. "These patients make other people uncomfortable but they can't quite put their fingers on just why. They're just a little out of sink," he said.

"When Figophilus finally escaped her childhood prison she found the outside world hostile and bewildering," continued Finch. "Unable to cope, Figophilus yearned for the more structured environment she was brought up in, albeit subconsciously." An experimental psychologist might say she was "imprinted" to prison life.

"So even though Figophilus' behavior seems odd to us, it makes sense if put in context of her psychopathology. I have no doubt that she was driven by a need to return to the security of prison. She may not have been happy there, but in hindsight it was familiar and safe. Well she's back in and seems relieved. I spoke with Figophilus on Friday and she appears more content than she had in our previous interviews. In fact, I've intervened and am having her transferred to a prison with rehabilitation program that's perfect for her."

"I know the one," said Brandtly. "It's upstate, in Albion. They've working in conjunction with the city's Center for Animal Control, taking dogs on death row and making them adoptable. The inmates acquire skills and the dogs learn how to behave in an adoptable manner."

"Yes. Figophilus will fit in beautifully. She's going to be incarcerated for a long time and may as well do something useful. And her own dogs, the Yorkies, will join her there."

"Going to write a paper, Finch?"

"Why yes, Dr. Saks, I am. This is a very interesting case."

"And, I hear, Miriam Goldman's own mother did her in," said Brandtly.

"The mitochondrial match is indisputable," replied Tooney. "The lawyers will try to get her off lightly, claiming temporary insanity, but she doesn't deny the killing. It's out of our hands now, the District Attorney's Office has taken over."

"I hope she does get off lightly," said Dingwall. "because we have a lovely surprise for Mrs. Girmente the minute she's released. This Lady Macbeth will be joining her husband and brother-in-law in Federal Prison." Seymour Girmente was apprehended in Brussels and is being extradited to New York City tomorrow. He's a U.S. National and will be tried for sex trafficking and the exploitation of children here, along with his brother Norman, who was taken into custody this past Friday."

"We've got enough evidentiary material to hang them all —ooops, you guys don't do that any more do you?"

"Mrs. Girmente will be turned over to the Feds as soon as New York State is finished with her," continued Dingwall with obvious delight. "If all goes according to plan the three of them will spend the rest of their lives in a lock up."

"Big change from Fifth Avenue," Dawgleash whispered to King who nodded, happy to have played a role in their apprehension.

King's handler spoke for the FBI, "It's a serious violation of Federal law to traffic humans in the U.S. And the laws are getting stronger and more inclusive every day. Right now New York's Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney is working to expand the existing laws against the exploitation of women. We've been keeping her in the loop on this case and she's pulling in favors to make sure the Girmentes get exactly what they deserve."

"And," added Dingwall, "five abducted children from the Girmente's last batch, all girls none older than twelve, were found in a container ship leaving for Brussels. The Port Authority Police have been searching every vessel leaving New York and New Jersey for almost a week. We're tracing the children's families and will be bringing them here for the trial. I'm not missing this one for the world."

"You did so good Colin I may ask you to marry me," said Tooney.

"I've got witnesses here, Diane. I might take you up on that."

Laughing, the Fire Department's Inspector O'Rourke congratulated them both and, after promising to be a god parent to their children, began his report.

"The underground garage which runs the length of Beekman Place was a terrorist attack waiting to happen. It's one block north of the United Nations and almost directly under One Beekman Place, home to a number of "sensitive" diplomats. It also runs under a very densely populated community. Yet there was no security at all. Anyone could walk through from one end to the other all hours of the day and night without being checked. Cans of gasoline were laying all over the place. Apparently the attendants were in the habit of siphoning a little out of the cars parked there for personal use. No one was watching the store."

"So PJ Hartig's death alerted us to a potential disaster," said Detective Botuky.

"Without question," said O'Rourke. "One suicide bomber and the whole neighborhood would have blown."

"Do we have the situation under control now?"

"We've fined the management company and they've hired a security firm to go over every incoming vehicle for explosives. Everyone who works there will undergo thorough background checks and the back door will be locked at all times. We're planning on doing frequent inspections to make certain they're following protocol. An occasional visit by the NYPD would be helpful."

"Done," said Botuky.

"We also found a cap thrown in a corner that's probably from the gasoline can Figophilus used to torch Hartig. We sent it off to the lab but don't think it will tell us anything more about his death than we already know."

"And Hughes," asked Brandtly. "Do we have the autopsy findings yet?"

"I don't think we can prove murder," replied Saks. "Yes, Hughes was shoved backwards with a great deal force and hit his head on the edge of a table going down; but his cardiovascular system was a mess. Hughes threw a clot and was probably dead before he hit the table. The push itself wasn't what killed him, although it certainly didn't help. There isn't any doubt that Norman Girmente gave him the push though, probably in a moment of anger. His DNA was all over the place."

"Seems a shame not to be able to pin a murder on Girmente in addition to the child trafficking charges," said Dingwall. "Isn't there any way of even hinting that the push precipitated the blood clot?"

"We'll take another look but a good lawyer will have it thrown out of court. There is reasonable doubt. But ultimately that's for the D.A. to decide."

"And you're certain," Brandtly asked "that Father Drymore had nothing to do with any of this?"

"Absolutely," answered Tooney. Dawglesh nodded in agreement.

"He had nothing to do with Hartig's murder or Goldman's. Drymore was certain the girl had not kept her appointment, he was late and waited almost a half an hour. Goldman never came because she was already dead. When he saw the flames he panicked, ran up the stairs and fled. In fact, Drymore fled so quickly he never even noticed Figophilus running behind him into the garage."

"If she really wanted to go back to prison, why didn't Figophilus just stay put and get arrested. Why run?"

"Because," said Finch, she had dogs to walk that evening. Arrest on the spot would have also put her Yorkies in jeopardy. Remember this wasn't a planned murder and that Figophilus isn't a rational person."

"Did Goldman's housekeeper have anything to add? I hear she came down to One Police Plaza last week," said Brandtly.

"Nothing of any real importance. She was very cooperative and verified that Goldman was a real problem for her mother. They fought a lot but apparently the mother did try to do the best for Miriam, if only to keep the peace."

5.6

"Let's go uptown and make certain we've got everything we need before forensics pack up and I pull our uniforms out," said Botuky.

The investigation was a success, so why did they feel such sadness driving up to Peter Detmold Park? The Chiefs were pleased. Promotions would come. But would they ever feel the thrill, the closeness and the excitement of working together as a team again? Their sense of loss was palpable. But they'd be friends and colleagues for the rest of their lives. Of this they were certain.

Dingwall and Tooney's hands touched as they went down the stairs to crime scene. Dawgleash and King walked side by side. And then King spotted Sarah; Dawglesh could feel his fur quiver and his ears stand straight up. It suddenly occurred Dawgleash that there was a whole territory of canine experience on which she turned her back and that this rejection somehow diminished her as a dog. A transitory ache of loss surprised her by its intensity. Dawgleash forced herself to stand very still and consider this sensation so unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Then flashbulbs went off, The Commissioner was there and where the Commissioner goes the press is not far behind. A reporter asked why so many branches of law enforcement were involved in this case. "From the beginning," The Commissioner said, "we believed that the murders and the child trafficking ring were somehow connected. Two completely unconnected homicides occurring at the same time in the same place is unlikely. And that these murders just happened to take place where children were warehoused before being sold to the highest bidder begs total disbelief. Virtually impossible in this universe."

"But now it's time to close this crime scene and return the park to the neighborhood," said the Commissioner. "You'll have a full press release later today." At that moment, Dawgleash turned and saw a dog coming toward them through the park. This dog, a Jack Russell with a bit more Fox Terrier than usual, was skillfully rolling a soccer ball along. He had such natural grace that the other dogs stopped and stared. Not a bark or growl was heard. The dog stopped right in front of Dawgleash and rolled the ball to her, inviting a game. And Dawgleash's heart, which had stopped, began beating again. For the moment she was content just to look into his intelligent brown eyes and let an extraordinary feeling of happiness well up through every vein. It was as if they were the only two dogs in the world. He turned away from the crowd, touched his nose to hers and offered Dawgleash the ball. "Hear you kicked a ball around for Dogchester United, care kick this one around with me for a bit?" he asked. She happily said "yes," and all the cares of the case seem to fade away.

Bieber FR, Brenner CH, Lazer D. Finding Criminals Through DNA of their Relatives. Science 2006; 312:315-316.

Kobilinsky L, Liotti TF, Oeser-Sweat J. DNA: Forensics and Legal Applications. Hoboken, New Jersey: John Wiley & Sons, 2005.