JO01 - Guilty or Else (19 page)

“Yes, I know this part, poly-sci, had a boyfriend at UCLA.” I wanted to speed this along. “Did she talk about him?”

“Yes, but she wasn’t very serious about the guy. She set her sights higher. Wanted someone who was going places. That’s what she said. But then when the guy dumped her, she became terribly upset. I saw a new side of her, a darker side.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“She said, ‘he’ll never get away with it. I’ll get even,’ that sort of thing. I just thought it was the pressure of living in L.A. But finally, she put the guy behind her. Then later, she somehow got involved with a married man. She was working for Senator Welch by that time, and her new boyfriend supposedly had a promising career. The only trouble was he had a wife. She didn’t tell me it was Welch; she promised him she’d keep it a secret. But friends know.”

“Did he make promises to her, leave his wife—you know what I mean?”

“He’s running for re-election, told her after the election he’d get a divorce and marry her. She helped him with his campaign.” Bonnie glanced at Jack. He nodded. “Gloria was naïve. She actually thought he’d leave his wife, and to make it worse, she fell deeply in love with him.”

“We tried to talk her out of it,” Jack added. “I spoke with her a few times myself, gave her the man’s point of view.”

“Gloria wanted a touch of the high life. That was the expression she’d used.” Bonnie looked at Jack. He just shook his head slowly.

“A touch of the high life,” Bonnie repeated, looking at the rug. She twisted her wedding ring as she spoke. “Gloria could’ve been a big success. If she stayed, Mr. Ferguson would’ve hired her at the bank. But she had that scholarship.”

“Bonnie,” Jack said. “Gloria was on a collision course with ruin from the moment she left Manhattan. Her life was out of control in L.A.”

“Not in the beginning. It was Welch who got her on that track—the lies, the deceit, and all that money.”

“What money?” I asked. “The police report said she had less than $300 in the bank when she died.”

“About six months ago, she started sending us money,” Jack said. “We were supposed to hide it for her. Said if anything happened to her, we should just keep it. I told her not to talk nonsense.” He set his pipe down and left the room.

Bonnie kept talking. “She told us that she had some kind of problem with the IRS, and until she could solve it, she needed to hide her savings. She was my best friend. What could I do? It started small, but then the amounts got bigger. Once or twice, I asked her about it. She was reluctant to discuss the matter. I didn’t want to pry, but we had to know what was going on.”

Oh, my God
! I realized what Bonnie was telling me.

Gloria had stolen money from Welch and Karadimos and because of that, she’d been murdered. I leaned forward and sat on the edge of the davenport. “What did she say after you confronted her?”

“She always had some tall tale. Finally, I got upset and told her not to insult my intelligence any longer. Then the truth started to come out. She learned that her boyfriend was not only unfaithful to his wife, but he also cheated on her.”

“That’s not all she found out.” Jack returned with an aluminum briefcase.

“I was getting to that, Jack,” Bonnie said. “Anyway, she must’ve found out Welch was a crook and involved with some very vile people. She seemed frightened.”

Jack put the case on the coffee table. “She was scared because she was stealing his money.” He shook his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Bonnie’s face grew stormy. “We don’t know she stole it. Here’s what she’d said: ‘The bastard owes me.’ Please excuse my language, but that’s what she’d said.”

“Either she stole it or this was her share of the loot.” Jack opened the case and stepped aside.

I took a deep breath. It was full of currency. I stared at the hard cash arranged neatly in rows. “Did you count it?”

“Sixty-seven thousand and change,” Jack said.

Bonnie stood and paced the room. She stopped and looked at me, her eyes pleading. “You’re a lawyer, Mr.

O’Brien. Are we in trouble? Are we going to jail? What should we do?”

“
Oh, Christ
,” I blurted out. Then I realized that in this household, taking the Lord’s name in vain was not acceptable. “I’m sorry. Well anyway, I’m not licensed in Kansas. I can’t give you legal advice.”

“We’re not asking you as an attorney, just as a person. We don’t normally trust lawyers, but we trust you, defending that poor guy,” Jack said. “We don’t know what to do, or who to turn to. Please, Mr. O’Brien.”

“I have to know more. What else can you tell me?”

“There’s not much else to tell,” Bonnie said.

“You said Gloria told you Welch was involved with some bad people. Did she mention any names?”

Bonnie’s eyes started to fill. “No, I don’t know if she even knew—”

Jack jumped in. “I think she knew and I think she was in cahoots with them.”

Bonnie sat down and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear this, Jack. I’ll admit, Gloria wasn’t an angel, but she wasn’t an evil person.”

“Oh, Bonnie.” Jack put his arm softly around her shoulders. He looked up at me. His face reflected his wife’s deep sadness. “That’s all we know, Mr. O’Brien.”

“The day she died, that afternoon, she made a long distance call to Kansas,” I said.

Bonnie slowly raised her head. She remained silent for a few seconds. Then her eyes opened wide. “Yes, of course. I remember now. It was suppertime. I was setting the table, had the phone in one hand and the dishes in the other. I wasn’t paying close attention.”

“What did she say?”

“She was angry, ranting about her married boyfriend. He went out of town to some big to-do with his wife. He’d sent her a Dear John letter, dumped her. She’d gotten it in the mail just before she phoned here. Gloria had said she was going to call him and have it out. She was going to put the screws to him. That’s how she phrased it, put the screws to him.”

She pulled a Kleenex from the box on the end table and wiped her eyes. “I’d heard all about her troubles with her boyfriends before. I wasn’t really listening too closely. Wait a minute. She seemed worried about something else. I don’t remember exactly what she said; something like she thought the Greek might be on to her.”

The Greek! It had to be Karadimos.

“Does that mean something, this Greek guy?”Jack asked. “Do you know who or what she was talking about?”

“God almighty, this could break the case wide open.” I thought for a second. It might be a problem getting Bonnie’s statement admitted—hearsay—but now was not the time to think about the evidence code. “Is there anything in writing? Letters, a note about the money, anything like that?”

They both shook their heads.

“Do you think we should talk to the authorities?” Jack asked.

I grabbed him by his shoulders. “Please, by all means, don’t talk about this to a soul. And I mean not anyone! We have to keep this top secret for a while. You could be charged with receiving stolen money. And listen, Jack: Gloria had been involved with some very bad people. If they knew about this, it could be bad for you. I won’t get into that, but please keep quiet about this.”

“I understand. We’ll keep our traps shut. Won’t we, Bonnie?”

“What are we going to do?” Bonnie asked.

“I won’t lie to you. This whole thing, the money, all of it, may come out. This is a murder case, after all. Let me think a moment.”

I now believed that Gloria had been involved in criminal activity, and Bonnie and Jack had accepted money from her. That meant they would most likely be charged as co-conspirators.

I strongly felt that they were innocent, decent people just doing a favor for a wayward friend. But the law wouldn’t make that distinction. And what about Karadimos?

He’d have them whacked as soon as he realized they knew about Gloria, the money, and the fact that the Greek was on to her. But I also knew they would be of no help at the Rodriguez trial. Whatever they told me would not be allowed. It was all hearsay and no court in the land would allow their testimony to be admitted.

My eyes scanned the room and settled on the couple, on the sadness and guilt written on their faces as they huddled close to each other. I felt compassion for them, felt it in the depths of my soul.

“Look, Bonnie, you won’t have to come to California to testify. But with what you told me, there’s a good chance I’ll be able to prove my client’s innocence without even going to trial.”

“What about the money?” Jack asked.

“Hide it. Don’t put it in the bank. Don’t let anyone know you have it. It’s probably untraceable, anyway. Bury it for a few years. Then after this is over, spend it a little at a time.” I stopped and looked at their worried faces. “Listen, I’m not telling you this as a lawyer, you understand. But by admitting you took the money, you could be in serious trouble. Don’t tip your hand.
Please
, please, listen to me.”

Bonnie made a tent with her hands and placed them in front of her mouth, then shook her head. “We don’t want the money. It’s corrupt. Gloria probably died because of it. I’ll burn it. I’ll burn it all up.” She wept openly; tears ran down her face. The hurt came from deep within. “The Bible says money is the root of all evil.”

“Bonnie,” I said in a calm voice. “Money is not evil. It is not corrupt. It has no soul. It’s just money. The correct quote is, ‘
The love of money is the root of all
evil.’ You and Jack don’t love money. You love each other. Money won’t change that.”

I walked around the room and tried to persuade her as I would a jury. “Perhaps you guys could do something virtuous with the money. If nothing else, it will give some meaning to Gloria’s life. Please think this over. I know you’re upset, but don’t do anything foolish. Okay?”

Jack came over, grabbed my hand and shook it. Bonnie looked up at me and dried her eyes with the palms of her hands. It looked like a tiny smile was beginning to surface.

“Thank you, friend. Thank you very much,” Jack said.

“Don’t thank me. I want to thank you.” I glanced at my watch; it was time to leave. “Bonnie, you are without a doubt the best cook on the planet. If you ever decide to move to L.A. you could make a fortune in the restaurant business.”

She laughed at the absurdity of the remark. “As they say in L.A., no way, daddy-o.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that no one in Los Angeles has said daddy-o for over fifteen years.

I caught the shuttle flight at Riley County Airport and forty-five minutes later, arrived at Kansas City. Transferring terminals, I boarded the Hughes Air flight to LAX. Soon we were airborne, soaring through the twilight at five hundred miles per hour. I loosened my seatbelt and leaned back. The constant hum and gentle vibration of the engines was sedating and I relaxed for the first time in a week.

Closing my eyes, Bobbi’s face floated into my mind. Sol had given me her home number. I’d tucked it in my wallet. When I pulled it out and gazed at it, I felt a soft warmth flourish within me, a feeling that I hadn’t felt in years.

It was Bobbi’s number, something personal, a slight connection to her. I thought of a new movie playing in theaters, The Godfather, about gangsters. It was getting rave reviews.

I wanted to call her the minute we landed at LAX and ask her out. Convince her we didn’t have to wait for the trial to end. Anyway, with the new evidence, there would be no trial.

Maybe I’d set our date up for Saturday. We could take in the movie and have a late supper at the Regency. I hadn’t thought about my loneliness a great deal since I’d been working on the Rodriguez case, but thinking about Bobbi reminded me how disconnected I’d really been. It didn’t seem possible for someone to live among so many people and still be so alone. It seemed as if I were living in a bubble. I could interact with women but never really get close. I guess I wanted to break out and start a life again.

We bucked headwinds most of the way and landed at LAX a little behind schedule. I exited the plane and rushed to the bank of payphones lining the wall across from the check-in gate. My stomach tightened with excitement as I dialed Bobbi’s number.

“Hello.” Bobbi’s warm voice came on the line.

“Hi there,” I said.

All I heard was unnerving silence.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity. “Hey, Bobbi, it’s me, Jimmy. Are you there?”

Silence. I was about to say something else, when the line came alive.

“How’d you get this number?” Her voice was callous.

“I just got it. Is that a problem?”

“Listen, Buster, you’d better just lose it. Don’t call me again. Ever!”

“Bobbi, what’s the matter—”

The line went dead. She’d slammed the phone down, hard.

C H A P T E R 
29

Reeling from the phone call
to Bobbi, I headed to the luggage area in a daze. I was halfway down the long corridor when I spotted Sol and his driver rushing toward me, weaving through the horde of deplaned passengers.

When he got closer I could see the expression on his face. It wasn’t pretty. He grabbed my arm and hustled me aside.

“
Jesus Christ
, Sol. What’s going on? Did someone die?”

“Yeah, your case. C’mon, let’s go in here where we can talk.”

We darted into a small, dimly lit cocktail lounge just off the corridor. A curved bar ran along one side. The bartender looked bored as he wiped glasses while watching the local news on a TV mounted high in the corner. A dozen round cocktail tables were scattered inside, only a few occupied, mostly by tired-looking businessmen. Sol and I sat at one. At his urging, I handed my claim check to his driver. He left to fetch my luggage.

“I called you yesterday. You didn’t return my call,” Sol said.

“I was in Kansas.”

“In Kansas, they don’t have phones?”

“
Goddammit
, Sol, what’s up? You got me nervous, coming out here like this and telling me my case is dead.”

“You’ve been submarined, my boy.”

“What are you talking about?”