The Investigation: A Novel by Uhnak Dorothy

Author:Uhnak, Dorothy [Uhnak, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Itzy, Kickass.to
ISBN: 9781453291054
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

CHAPTER 1

IT TOOK ED QUIBRO six days to present the case against Kitty Keeler to the Queens grand jury. The biggest headline during that time was KITTY, GEORGE CLAM ON KIDS’ KILLING, over a front-page picture of Kitty and George dashing for a car as they were leaving the courthouse, after claiming Fifth Amendment rights. The next-biggest headline was KITTY K’S LOVER BACK FOR SECOND DAY; in smaller bold print, over Vincent Martucci’s picture, was the question “Martucci Key to Keeler Kids’ Killing?”

On May 26, 1975, the Queens grand jury returned two indictments against Kitty, charging her with first-degree murder of both of her sons. The News headlined KITTY K. INDICTED! WHO HELPED KILL KIDS? The Post put it this way: MRS. KEELER INDICTED IN DOUBLE MURDER.

Vito Geraldi, Sam Catalano and I arrived at the Madison Avenue hotel at a prearranged time to serve the arrest warrants. George Keeler, his face the color of damp cement, stood to one side of Kitty; Jay T. Williams stood to the other side. Jeff Weinstein stood behind them, towering over all three. We all rode down the four floors in the same elevator. When we hit the lobby, there was a casual, subtle rearrangement. Williams and Weinstein eased George back slightly; Kitty came alongside me. When George reached for Kitty’s arm, she turned and said firmly, “George, you ride in Jaytee’s car. Go ahead; you’ll be right behind me all the way.” Then, with a sharp unyielding demand, “George, we’re going to do this the way Jaytee said.” She studied his face for a moment, as though debating which was the best approach. Her hand rested lightly on his arm; she whispered something to him, so quietly I couldn’t make out the words. Then she turned from him abruptly and walked beside me without breaking pace, without looking up until she was settled next to me in the back seat of the unmarked squad car.

We booked Kitty at the 107th Precinct in Fresh Meadows. Everything was low-key and routine; at least it was for us. Kitty’s face was ashen and from time to time she touched the corner of her eye where a nerve began to twitch. When the desk sergeant asked her to empty out her pocketbook, George tried to move in. Kitty whirled around and pushed him back.

“Goddamn it, George.” She said to Jaytee, “Get him out of here. Make him sit down somewhere.”

Jeff Weinstein took George away; Jay T. Williams stood next to Kitty radiating good will and reassurance.

“We’re going to go upstairs now, Kitty,” I told her. “We’re going to take your fingerprints.” For some reason, even to me, it sounded like an apology. When I took her arm, she yanked away from me. “It’s all right,” I told her.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” Kitty said, head up, chin jutting, eyes blazing.

For the rest of the booking and arraignment procedures, Kitty was under very tight, angry control. During the ride from Queens into Manhattan, where she was

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