A Deadly Development (3 page)

They agreed upon a coffee shop in the
Crossroads district. Tom took a quick shower, got dressed and
hurried out the door. As he left his apartment he grabbed the local
paper that was at his apartment door.
MAYOR’S AIDE
MURDERED
was the huge headline. "John Vithous found shot
in the Mayor's office" was the sub headline. He took great glee in
that –they already had the key elements of the murder wrong. Burke
- briefly considered - reading the entire article, but then thought
better. He knew the real details better than anyone, and at the
moment, those details didn't add up to much. He threw the paper
inside his apartment and shut the door.

It was only a ten minute drive to the coffee
shop. Burke parked right in front; there wasn't much business on a
weekend.

Bobby Sullivan was already sitting in the
corner booth sipping on his coffee, reading the Kansas City
Star
while he was waiting. Like his cousin, he had thick
dark brown hair that was beginning to gray at the temples. He was
wearing a sweater and jeans, which for him constituted a casual
outfit.

Tom slid into the booth, and ordered coffee
for himself. Bobby Sullivan was not only Tom's Burke's cousin, he
was his best friend. They were only five months apart in age, and
had grown up and done everything together. Family events, holidays,
all the same schools from kindergarten through high school, the two
were inseparable. Countless late night bull shit sessions, keg
parties, and god knows how many girls and finally each other's best
man at their respective weddings. It seemed odd that they were now
in their 40s and much of the carefree times seemed only a distant
memory.

They had drifted apart very briefly when
Bobby had left Kansas City to attend Northwestern Law School. But
much to Tom's surprise, Bobby actually came back to town after
graduation. Most never left, but when they did, even fewer actually
came back. Burke had spent his whole childhood dreaming of leaving,
but yet here he still was, dealing with the lowest scum of the
city. The fact was, however, Tom loved Kansas City. Once Bobby came
back, they fell back into their old routines, although the partying
aspects died off pretty quickly.

Robert James Sullivan passed the bar and
began work doing development law for Thomas, Wilford, L.L.P. As he
rose up through the ranks, he got more involved in public policy
and Kansas City politics. He had made partner by thirty, and now
was living comfortably in a big home off - Ward Parkway.

"Well, there goes my theory of only the good
die young, shot literally to hell,” Bobby said with a smile. They
both laughed at that, although Burke felt a small twinge of guilt
for doing it.

“They got that shit wrong already, he was
bludgeoned not shot,” Tom corrected him. "The guy was no Boy Scout
I assume" He took a large gulp of coffee and promptly burned his
tongue.

"The guy was a total prick, but I guess even
a prick doesn’t deserve to be shot,” Bobby retorted.

“About the mistake in the paper, that happens
all the time,” Tom replied, “I don’t really care about that though,
what I want to know is why he was killed.”

"He was a believer in the 'scorched earth
policy,” Bobby began, "he didn't believe in doing anything half
way. Once he started in on someone, he did everything within his
power to destroy them. He lied, deceived, spread rumors, innuendo,
you name it."

"Sounds like a real humanitarian."

“You don't know the half of it, " Bobby
explained. "Remember Don Murray? The rising star in the City
Council? Ever wonder why he didn't run for mayor against our
esteemed mayor? Vithous got wind he was seriously thinking of it;
Murray had even put together an exploratory committee to look into
it. All of the sudden Vithous is spreading rumors that Murray has a
love child with some woman who works in the Parks Department. Next
thing you know, Murray pulls the plug on the committee, and we
haven't heard from him since."

"Was it true?" Tom probed, "Was he screwing
around on his wife and got somebody knocked up?"

"Does it matter? All that mattered was there
was a rumor. Even if it is later proved to be totally untrue, the
guy’s life is ruined and his wife probably never talks to him
again. Vithous was smart, too. He never would say
he
heard
the rumors, he'd always say he heard it from someone else, who he
never identified."

Tom Burke thought about it for a minute.
Would that make someone kill Vithous? If it had been him, he
probably would have at least wanted to beat the crap out of
him.

"This guy has been pulling that kind of shit
for over twenty years," Bobby continued, "Just this spring he
sprung his talents on the Regan family."

Tom knew the Regan's well. The Regan family
had gone through school with Bobby and him. There were a total of
eight of them; Jimmy Regan had been in Tom and Bobby's class. Their
father owned a construction business, in the parlance of the
Brookside area of Kansas City, the Regans were rich.

"Old man Regan wanted to move his
headquarters out of Kansas City over to Overland Park. Vithous
started with enticing them to stay. Told them he could get them a
sweetheart of tax abatement deal," Bobby explained.

Tom nodded. He had read some of that in an
expose newspaper series on the subject.

"Anyway you know how the old man is, he just
got pissed that Vithous was sticking his nose in where he didn't
need to. Regan apparently threw him out of his office. So Vithous
turns his tactics -starts telling folks not to work with Regan, how
they're not reputable and the city won't use them on any of their
contracts."

"That doesn't seem like a very smart tact,"
Tom stated as he got up, walked to a self-service counter and
poured a refill into his cup. He walked back to their table and sat
down.

Regan Construction was a 125 year old
business in Kansas City. They were involved in almost every large
construction project in town. "Who the fuck would be dumb enough to
believe that?"

"That's what I'm getting at", Bobby
explained, "Vithous doesn't- I mean didn't-- give a shit. He just
stared spreading rumors and hoped just some of them stuck. All he
cared that the word was out and maybe others on the mayor's team,”
Sullivan made the quote signals with his hands," get the message.
Don't do business with Regan Construction...."

"If you want to do business with us,” Tom
finished the sentence. That made sense. You couldn't possibly stop
Regan Construction from getting work, but you could put a dent in
their operation and use them as leverage to keep your minions in
line.

"Vithous was big on litmus tests -- were you
really loyal to Mayor Hughes? And if so
how
loyal? He was
always poking at people, prodding at people, he was
relentless."

“Where did he come from?” Tom asked. “And
why did she hire him?”

“He had worked on campaigns and done
consulting for years,” Bobby replied. “Last year, during her
re-election campaign, do you remember the big shake up after the
primary?”

Tom shook his head. He didn’t pay much
attention to politics.

“Hughes got worried when she barely beat
Ralph Turgeon in the primary.”

“The used-car salesman?” Tom vaguely
remembered that Turgeon had run for mayor. In his head, he was
envisioning the obnoxious TV commercials from his childhood. Ralph
Turgeon, resplendent in a red polyester suit and a cowboy hat,
shrieking from his used-car lot about the great deals he had.

“Yep,” that’s the guy. Hughes won the
primary, but not by much. They had done some polling; found out a
lot people felt she was only concerned about ribbon cuttings.
People voted for Turgeon just to send a message that they didn’t
like the Mayor’s priorities. Hughes was furious; she fired a lot of
her staff, including her chief of staff, Jack Houlihan. Vithous
took over. He ended up running both her re-election campaign and
acting chief of staff. Once she got re-elected, he continued to be
her chief of staff. At some point, they dropped the “acting” part
of the title.”

Bobby slid back in the booth and started
playing mindlessly with the sugar packets that were sitting in a
small bin at the end of the table. He seemed to be mulling
something over.

"You mentioned on the phone that you were
among his enemies," Tom inquired.

Bobby smiled, "Am I a suspect, Sergeant?"

Tom smiled and began to reply but Bobby
interrupted him

"My cardinal sin was to support Jim Simmons
for mayor over Jane Hughes the first time she ran. Vithous called
me one night, drunk as hell, yelling at me for supporting Simmons
-- told me I was a piece of shit and if I wanted to do any more
development law within Kansas City, I better -- how did he put it?
-- Oh yeah, “change my fucking tune.” I didn't and so that was it,
I was
persona non grata
at City Hall. No invites to their
parties, no calls asking for suggestions on whom to appoint to
various boards and commissions, no nothing. The prick even called
up my clients directly to let them know how displeased they were
that I was supporting their opponent."

"They?" Tom probed.

"Jane Hughes and John Vithous."

"Our little old lady mayor? The one that
smiles all the time and seems so happy? Can't be." Burke was mostly
giving Bobby shit, but he was somewhat serious. Every time he had
seen the mayor she had been nothing but smiles. This new
description of a woman who angered easily and fired her staff
capriciously intrigued him.

"Don't believe her carefully created facade,"
Bobby was agitated, Burke could tell by the way he tapped his spoon
into his coffee cup has he poured in more sugar. "She is a tough as
nails, and as petty and vindictive as her henchman. She just always
hides a lot better than he ever did."

Bobby Sullivan stared out the window,
watching cars move up and down Southwest Boulevard. A couple of
shoppers at the antique hardware store across the street were
jogging into the entrance, trying to evade the bitter wind as they
ducked inside.

"Your problem isn't finding someone who had a
motive to kill John Vithous,” Bobby explained. “Your problem will
be weeding out all the people who had a motive, but only finding
the one who truly did it."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks,” Tommy
joked, "whatever I do, I need to do it quick, Chief Williams has
indicated that this is priority number one for him, and therefore,
priority number one for me."

They sat there for a moment, both deep in
thought. Many people would be unnerved by such a long silence, but
since they had known each other their whole lives, they were both
very comfortable with it. Burke was thinking about Jane Hughes.
Then Hughes and Vithous. Then an image of Vithous’ body slumped
over his desk appeared. Bobby’s words played in his head
your
problem is weeding out all the people who had a motive, but only
finding the one who truly did it.
Finally, Tom Burke started to
put on his coat, a cue to his cousin that it was time to ponder
such things at a later time.

"Speaking of our esteemed Mayor, I am
actually on my way to interview her. Should I send her your
regards?" Tom grinned as he said it and placed his hand on his
cousin shoulder, squeezing it hard.

"Not if you want a pleasant experience,"
Bobby replied as he placed his scarf around his neck, and they both
stepped outside. "Good luck, Tom-- keep me in the loop, ok?" Bobby
was already walking to his car.

"Will do. I have a feeling I will need to ask
you all sorts of questions as this investigation continues. I don't
see this being an open and shut case." And with that, Sgt. Tom
Burke, turned into the wind and headed briskly down the street into
his car, which he hoped would warm quickly as he drove to Ward
Parkway Estates, and the home of Jane Hughes.

Saturday March 11 - afternoon

The drive to Mayor Jane Hughes home was a
relatively short one. Burke drove at a slower pace to be sure to go
over what questions he wanted to ask and exactly how he wanted to
approach the mayor. Bobby's description had made him a little
leery; it certainly had not unnerved him, he'd been at this job far
too long for that, but it did make him want to tread carefully. The
Mayor was as member of the Police Board, and the Police Chief
answered to that board. The last thing Tom wanted was to antagonize
someone who could potentially be a real pain in his ass.

Burke began to think how many murder cases
had he been involved in since becoming a detective ten years ago.
Kansas City averaged about 120 murders a year; he probably would be
involved in fifteen or twenty a year or so. So he was almost to 200
murders, if not already there. The number startled him as he
thought about it. Two hundred people -- how many more people were
affected by their deaths? Five hundred? One thousand? He could only
guess.

When he first started the job he tried not to
get involved in the personal stories, but he found it hard not to.
At his very first murder case -- a seventeen year old shot on his
front steps in an apparent retaliation for talking to someone
else's girlfriend - he remembered clearly standing in the small
house on the east side of town while the mother who was probably no
older than he was, sobbed and tried to give him details. Behind her
were the pictures of the boy -- as an infant; later as a toddler
and then his first kindergarten pictures through elementary school
and then finally what Burke imagined was his senior picture. And it
dawned on him how although humans were different in many ways, they
are so much alike. Alike in the simple markings of time -- a
graduation, a First Communion, the first date. And that day, this
young man -- still a child, really -- would no longer have photos
to document his achievements. He was now in a morgue and the only
way his memory was being kept alive at the moment was by Burke's
probing questions to a grieving woman who had lost her only
child.