Death Roe (28 page)

56

Wednesday, December 8, 2004

HOUGHTON, HOUGHTON COUNTY

Denninger called before 6 a.m. Service was stretched out on a couch in Gus Turnage's den and fumbled with his cell phone. “What?”

“Where are you?”

“Houghton. My . . .” He couldn't think of the right term, and said, “My daughter-in-law had some problems having her baby.”

Long pause on the phone. “You're a grandfather?”

“Scary, huh?”

Denninger laughed. “I don't know who to be most sorry for—you or the kid.”

“I'll be here for a few days,” he said, “to make sure everything's all right. You okay?”

“I'm back at the resort. Back home I had a call from Captain Black who wanted to know if you and I have been sleeping together.”

Asshole,
Service thought. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him first, we report to the U.S. Attorney's office, and second, and more important, it's none of his damn business who I sleep with.”

“He probably didn't like that.”

“He called me a cunt.”

Service sat up. “He
what
?”

“Called me a cheap, spoiled cunt and said my career's going into the crapper with yours.”

“You're sure he said that?”

“You want to hear? Since I started with you, I automatically record everything.”

She turned on the recorder and Service listened to what Black had said.

“What should I do?” she asked.

“Put that tape in a safe place and don't worry about it.”

“I'm afraid,” she said.

“Don't be.” Black had gone over the line this time. “Have you seen Leukonovich?”

“She had to go to Detroit. Supposed to be back tomorrow. You want her number?”

“You have her itinerary
and
her phone number?”

“She gave it to me. For a long time I was your ‘girl'—now she's making nice. I don't get it.”

“Don't try,” Service said, writing down the number. Leukonovich was inscrutable.

“Girl or boy?” Denninger asked.

“Girl. Her name's Maridly.”

“That is
so
cool!” Denninger said, her voice breaking.

Service made coffee and found a note from Gus, who was on patrol in the Lake Linden area east of Hancock. He poured a cup and punched in Leukonovich's number.

She answered on the second ring and sounded half-asleep. “Yes?”

“It's Grady. Someone gave me information that I think is supposed to link to Fagan. Costa Rica. Does that ring any bells?”

“Zhenya call you back when her mind is clearer,” she said, hanging up.

An hour later they were on the phone again and he told her about the meeting with Krapahkin and the cigarette pack with “Costa Rica” written on it, and she said nothing until he had finished.

“Krapahkin's morality aside, he is a man to be admired for his organizational skills. His seeking you out is significant, as is the questioning about the dead woman. I believe he is telling you something to make amends for the woman's death,” said Leukonovich.

“But what?”

“Zhenya will find out,” the woman said. “Perhaps Fagan has hidden accounts there. Whatever it is, I will find it. Where are you?”

He told her about the baby, the crazed race to get back, everything.

She said, “I offer my congratulations and thank fate for making Zhenya incapable of procreating. She thinks there is too much emotion over such a pedestrian thing.”

“If it was your granddaughter you'd be feeling differently,” he said.

“Zhenya will not argue with you, and she will be in touch.”

The next call went to Chief O'Driscoll, and when he finished telling Denninger's story the chief asked, “She has this on tape?”

“Yessir. I heard it.”

“Black was pushing the audit of your affairs and I told him to stop. He was not happy. I think this was his attempt to press his career forward in another way.”

“It's a shitty thing, Chief.”

“It's my responsibility to take care of it.”

“Denninger and I have not slept together,” Service said.

“I didn't ask if you had. What happened in New York?”

Service told him, and O'Driscoll said, “You should heed the warning.”

“Krapahkin doesn't want a piece of me, Captain. He met with me to help me get Fagan.”

“The Ukrainians are known as much for their duplicity as for their brutality.”

“I can't worry about that now, Captain.”

“Langford Horn has announced that he's leaving state government to take a position with Bozian in New York.”

“When?”

“Today. It's not public yet, but I expect it might make the late news cycle.”

“Any reason given?”

“He finds it—and I quote from his letter—‘uncomfortable to work in a disorganized, fiscally incompetent, liberal democratic administration that puts ideology ahead of its citizens.' End quote.”

“What about the audit of WRPU undercover programs?”

“Up to his successor, I would think.”

“Endicott's not going to take any of this to the grand jury here, but the New York U.S. Attorney in Syracuse is chomping at the bit to push it.”

“You have a problem with this?”

“It's
our
case, Chief.”

“Try thinking in terms of justice being done, not the hand administering it.”

“What about our rats?”

“I think your threats have driven them out.”

“Meaning they get to retire with their reputations intact?”

“Few solutions are perfect,” O'Driscoll said.

57

Sunday, December 12, 2004

SARANAC, IONIA COUNTY

Service had been back at the resort for less than six hours. He had made a stopover to see McCants, who was elated about the baby and not so elated about seeing him. Newf and Cat seemed to side with her.

Leukonovich was with him when Beaker Salant called.

“I talked to Teeny in Key West. He says he's going to sue for defamation of character.”

“You can't sue for what you never had.”

“What do you think about Langford Horn?”

“Good riddance.”

“I mean the reason why.”

“No idea.”

“How about one of his direct reports refused to do an audit he ordered and announced she was going to the governor to recommend Horn's records be audited? You getting close to filing charges?”

“More or less.” Who's the direct report, he wondered. He did not mention the Friday-night incursion into Horn's office and had the feeling that when Horn found out his files had been copied, it would push him out.

“I get the exclusive, on the record.”

“That's what I promised,” Service said, knowing that the story would be out of his hands and in Syracuse or Albany, not Grand Rapids.

“I hear there's been some resignations from the DNR.”

“A certain amount of turnover is fairly normal.”

“You make it hard to work with you,” Salant said.

Leukonovich sat quietly at the table, and after he'd hung up, said, “I am hearing a state representative sold a house in Costa Rica to Fagan.”

“Confirmed?”

“I have an appointment today. Your company would be welcome.”

“On a Sunday?”

“It is informal—what I am calling a pre-audit meeting.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“For today at least.”

Denninger came downstairs. “Keep working the list,” Service said.

“A lot of people still left.”

“Just stay with it.”

“Who are we seeing?” Service asked when they started east on I-96.

“L. Bradley Angledenny.”

“You told him what this is about?”

She tilted her head. “More or less.”

“Does he have a past with the IRS?”

Leukonovich answered with a smile.

They met Angledenny at Bravura, a steak house on Washington Avenue, not far from the state office complex. He had arrived ahead of them and was perspiring heavily. Leukonovich took her time setting up her laptop, letting the anticipation build.

“I prefer not to waste your time, or mine,” she began. “If you will agree to plead guilty, I will see what I can do for you.”

Angledenny almost clutched at his heart. “Plead
guilty!
What the hell are you talking about?”

“Is old IRS joke,”she said, “no doubt in questionable taste. The special agent apologizes.”

Angledenny tried to smile but failed.

“There is a certain condominium in Costa Rica.”

“I sold it this year and took a small profit, maybe twenty-five K.”

“Sale price one-million, one twenty-five,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Purchased by whom, and at what price?” She let the question hang.

“One-point-one. Why are we talking about this? I haven't even filed the return yet. It's not due for five months.”

She ignored his question. “Sold it to whom?”

“A broker.”

“Brokers acquire real estate?”

“They invest like the rest of us, do a little speculation. Costa Rica's been pretty hot.”

“Yet you took a very small profit.”

“A cash-flow issue for me. I couldn't wait, and I don't mind paying the taxes.”

“This broker's name.”

“I'd have to look that up.”

“Please,” she said, crossing her hands in her lap.

“I'll have to call my accountant,” Angledenny said.

“Thank you,” she said.

The man stared at her and fled the room.

“What's going on?” Service asked.

“Fagan is the broker-buyer.”

“That's legal?”

“Costa Rica says the paperwork for his broker's license is in progress and therefore active. The Costa Ricans don't willingly cooperate with U.S. authorities, except under special circumstances. I would guess that Fagan fronted the money for Angledenny, and now he is buying it back. Angledenny will make twenty-five thousand for doing nothing, and the condo will now belong to the brokerage. It will be very difficult to detect Fagan's name.”

“You detected it.”

“I have gone as far as I can.”

“Fagan greased palms there?”

“It's an old and revered Latin custom.”

Angledenny came back fifteen minutes later and handed Leukonovich a slip of paper.

She read it silently, then out loud. “
Refugio Seguro
.”

“That's it,” the representative said.

“May I ask how you came to know this broker,
Refugio Seguro?
”

“Through a friend.”

“His name?”

“Langford Horn.”

“This Mr. Horn has had dealings with this broker?”

“I don't know. Said he'd heard good things about the company.”

“Of course you checked into it?”

“Called them; we talked.”

“When did you see the property?”

“Digital photos.”

“You did not visit?” she asked, raising an eyebrow to make her point.

“No need. it was a spec investment. The photos were good enough for me.”

“Your purchase was when?”

“January this year.”

“And the sale?

“Late October.”

“You held it less than a year?”

“Like I said, I had a cash-flow problem, and this was entirely legal.”

“Are there tax advantages in Costa Rica?”

“I don't know the details. My financial advisor told me it was a good deal.” Angledenny suddenly stiffened. “A pre-audit?”

“Yes.”

“To hell with you. I haven't even filed my return. It's not even due for five months. You want to audit, wait until it's filed.”

“You force me to report an uncooperative attitude.”

“Call it what you want—we're done here.”

The representative left without paying his part of the bill and Leukonovich said, “I am sure the link to Fagan is Horn, but I will investigate further. There is, however, another connection I'm sure you recognize.”

He didn't, and shook his head.

“Representative Angledenny's father wrote the bill that outlawed the practice of snagging in the state.”

“Which gave the legal egg harvest market to Fagan,” Service said.

“Zhenya would call it a monopoly. The records show that even in unusual years when Piscova did not get the contract, Fagan was the majority shareholder in the companies that did.”

“Belated payback,” Service said.

“Perhaps. I will eventually know.”

“But nothing for us to act on now.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“No.”

“
Refugio Seguro
means ‘safe haven.' ”

“But Fagan already has all sorts of real estate holdings.”

“Perhaps he needs a particular domicile in a particular location for a specific reason—perhaps in a location that does not extradite.”

Service rolled his eyes. “His own rat line. The sonuvabitch smells what's coming down.”

“Media coverage has made that abundantly clear,” she said.

Grady Service had no comeback. Had he shot himself in the foot?