Chapter 5: Suspect in Custody - Lucidity

FREMMER KNEW ATTORNEYS, PLENTY OF THEM, THOUGH ONLY A handful of criminal attorneys, two of whom he considered friends. He’d never given much thought as to who would do the better job representing him or who would charge less, but he had asked both whether he could count on them if he ever got into trouble.

“You remember when I asked you whether I could count on you if I ever got in trouble?” he now reminded Carlos Morton, reaching him on his cell phone.

“Who’s this?”

“Max.”

“Oh, hey, Max. How are you?”

“Not well,” Fremmer said. “I’m being held at the 20th Precinct station house on 82nd.”

“For what?”

“I’m not exactly sure. But you gotta get me out of here. The little patience I have left is about to expire. A client of mine was apparently pushed in front of a car this morning while she was walking her dog. They called me in for questioning.”

“Was she killed?” Morton asked.

“No. But she’s in bad shape. They don’t think she’ll survive.”

“And they think you had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I exchanged texts with her last night. They’re questioning people who’ve been in contact with her recently. For background info, they said. But I wasn’t so sure about that. Then I got antsy, partly because I got a little concerned with the tone of their interrogation, partly because I have to pick up Jamie from soccer practice. And I have a spinning class to teach. But when I told the cops I’d come back later, they suddenly pulled this crap about me having an outstanding parking ticket and that there’s a warrant out for my arrest. Apparently, I’ve been driving around with a suspended New York license, which seems odd since I have a Connecticut license. They read me my rights and everything. Is that bullshit or what?”

“When you have an outstanding parking ticket they issue you a virtual New York license if you don’t have a New York license,” Morton explained. “They suspend the virtual license. Look, be very careful what you say over the phone. They’re probably listening. You get someone to pick Jamie up?”

Morton knew the soccer-practice drill. Both of their kids played for the same club, though not the same team anymore. They practiced on Randall’s Island in the middle of the East River and the club provided bus service to and from practice—for an extra fee, of course.

“No,” Fremmer said. “You’re the first call I made.”

“They take away your phone? This isn’t your number.”

“No. But I can’t get a signal in here. I wanted to live-tweet the whole thing. They handed me this cordless phone. I asked them to call the Equinox at 92nd for me, but I don’t know if they did.”

“Hold on a sec, I’m in my car. Let me pull over. I’m just getting back into the city, just drove over the 59th Street Bridge.”

The line went silent.

“Where’d she get hit?” Morton asked after a moment.

“Central Park West,” Fremmer said. “I don’t know what cross street.”

“OK, I got something here. There are a few stories up already. No name released. But it says an unidentified woman was pushed into the path of an oncoming car this morning at CPW and 75th Street. Police are treating it as an attempted murder. Oh, and they’ve got a suspect in custody.”

“In custody?”

“That’s what this article on the Post site says. Timestamp on it is thirty minutes ago. How long you been there?”

“I don’t know. An hour?”

“Well, sit tight. I’ll call the Equinox and grab Jamie. He’s on that 6:30 bus, right? I’ll drop him off at your place and then come over there.”

He said something else, but Fremmer didn’t hear him. He was too busy trying to figure out whether what he was doing—or rather where he was—meant that he was in custody. He was in a holding cell with bars on it. If that didn’t mean he was in custody, what did?

“Max, you still live on 77th, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks. And thanks for getting him. Just don’t freak him out. Tell him I’ve got an old parking ticket I’m trying to clear up, which is true.”

“I got you covered.”

“Carlos?”

“What?”

“I just want you to know I called you first. I had other options, but I called you first.”

“Of course you did,” Morton said. “Why would you call anybody else?”