" 'You've convinced me of your innocence,' " the impeccably dressed Italian said skeptically, as he followed McCoy into the kitchen. "Putting it on a little thick wouldn't you say, counselor?"
McCoy shrugged his shoulders as he poured the coffee.
"It gave her something to think about instead of whether or not I was on to her. Besides, anyone brazen enough to pull something like this has an ego. Trust me - she bought it," he said sarcastically. "What about the phone?"
"I copied the data and sent it to my office in Westchester. I have one of my guys working on it now. He's also been in touch with our contact in Corrections. The visitor logs from Weaver's time in the system are being checked for suspects. He'll call as soon as he has anything. Thanks," he said taking the cup from McCoy.
"Joe, I hope you know how much I appreciate your help with I know more, it's premature to bring the police into this. If I thought she was working alone, I'd probably have confronted Weaver myself. But she didn't plan this in the half a day she was out of Riker's. She had to have help on the outside to pull this off. Until I know who else is involved - who else might have access my house - my daughter and ex wife come down here regularly. They could be at risk."
"Don't mention it. You did right by me with the Dolan case - besides anything for another son of the Windy City," Fontana said eluding to controversial rape - murder case he had investigated years before while in the Special Victims Unit.
The case had been cold for years. When a death bed confession opened the whole thing up again, Fontana's theory that the girl's father had been the murderer had been proven wrong, much to his dismay and shame.
"You have any ideas on who else might have a grudge against you?"
McCoy shook his head as the two men took their coffee with them to the spare bedroom. McCoy sat at the small desk glancing at the computer monitor, while Fontana made him self comfortable on the sofa across from him.
"I've logged into my files back at the office. Nothing stands out. Just the usual 'I hope you rot in hell' kind of threats. I've been doing this job so long Joe, there have to be hundreds of people that would like the chance to create havoc in my life - or worse."
The other man nodded.
"Between Leland Barnes' hit list, his shooting, and Miss Borgia's murder I'm surprised you haven't called it quits yet," Fontana said somberly.
"Maybe you had the right idea. How do you like being a private investigator?"
"I miss working with Ed and Van Buren. The 2 7 was starting to feel like home. But, it was time. P.I. work has it perks," Fontana said thoughtfully. "Set my own hours- more time to travel. Besides, when Monique Jefferies suggested teaming up it sounded intriguing. She's a hard lady to turn down."
Before McCoy could reply Fontana's cell phone rang. McCoy listened to the brief exchange, looking at Fontana expectantly.
"Monique tailed Weaver to some bakery on the boardwalk. She said it looks like Weaver changed and then checked out of the hotel. She had her bags with her. She met another woman. Blond, attractive, mid to late forties, tall, slender… ring any bells?"
McCoy shook his head.
"Not off hand. Wait - let me see that list of contacts from her phone again." McCoy frowned as he scanned the sheet. "Nathaniel - no that would be too obvious. Besides, it's been years."
"Jack, you want to let me in on what's going on?"
Fontana listen intently as McCoy relied the facts of his relationship with Diana Hawthorne. He summarized the Dillard case - the case that had gotten McCoy his promotion to EADA. He still couldn't believe he had sent the wrong man to prison because Diana Hawthorne had withheld evidence that pointed to Dillard's innocence. He found it even harder to accept her sole reason for doing such an outrageuos thing was to help him secure a promotion.
"You sure have a way with women," Fontana joked. "She withheld evidence in a murder trial, just to help you get a promotion? Why might she breakfasting on Fire Island, instead of at Bedford, after a stunt like that?"
"Claire," he said his face softening as he thought about his late assistant. "Claire Kincaid was my assistant at the time. It was her case. She dealed it down to criminal facilitation. Diana lost her license to practice law. That was….over a decade ago."
"You think this Hawthorne woman still holds a grudge?"
"It's possible," he said carefully. "It would explain how someone got in here with out triggering the alarm."
"What do you mean?"
McCoy shifted uncomfortably.
"Diana was here the weekend I had the damn thing installed. She was here many times afterward. She knew the code."
Fontana looked at him questioningly.
"You haven't changed your alarm code in ten years?"
"A lot of this modern technology is more trouble than it's worth," McCoy said defensively. "Besides, we've never had any problems. It just didn't seem like there was any need."
Fontana nodded and changed the subject.
"Listen, from what you've told me, that camera's got to be still be here. Even a mini wouldn't fit in that clutch bag. I'll snoop around here. When the camera turns up I'll dust it for prints and some key points on the house - if we're lucky will get a hit and we can hand this over to the locals for burglary," Fontana paused. "I assume you'll want who ever is behind this charged?"
"Even if that damn disk had found its way out of here, I would have to prosecute. Breaking and entering takes this way beyond embarrassment over a one night stand. Yeah, what ever you turn up we'll take to the police and the local DA."
"You think you can be discreet enough to check this blond out and not be spotted?"