Missing Justice (38 page)

I had found my connection.

Susan Kerr’s Mercedes was parked in her driveway. I had risked a complete waste of time by driving up without calling ahead, but I knew from experience that surprise confrontations were my best chance of getting information from the uncooperative. Susan was the link. She was Clarissa’s best friend. She was connected to Carl Matthews and the MTK Group through her husband. And she had been helping Townsend raise money for the hospital wing. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She had to know more than she was telling. But, once again, she was protecting her friends and maybe even herself.

I circled the block to steel my resolve. I wasn’t going to accept any lame stories about shielding Townsend in his grief or defending Clarissa’s memory. It was time for someone involved in whatever this scheme was to flip, and the someone was going to be Susan. If I had to haul her into a grand jury tomorrow, I’d find a way to do it, Duncan be damned.

I’d gotten myself good and pumped up and was ready to home in for the kill when I registered a faint buzzing sound. It stopped, then started again. My cell phone. I must have forgotten to turn the ringer on after I had silenced it during court.

It was Chuck.

“Hey, sweetie. Can’t talk right now. I’m in the zone.”

“The zone for what? Ignoring everyone close to you?”

I looked at my watch. How did it get so late? “I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time.”

“I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. I think I scared the be jesus out of your father. I called him freaking out about where you were, but I guess you’d just left there before I talked to him. You all right?”

I looked at the tiny screen on the face of my cell phone and, sure enough, saw a little envelope indicating unchecked messages.

“I’m fine. The day’s just been a little crazy.”

“More than a little crazy, babe. I was running around all day on a rape out in Rockwood, but when I got back the guys were in a tizzy about something that happened at the Jackson prelim.”

“Really, it’s fine. Roger got pissed about something that happened, Duncan took me off the case “

“What? No one told me that. You’re not fighting it?”

“No. Look, Chuck. I promise I’ll explain everything to you later. Tonight, even, if you’re willing to come over.” I realized as I was extending the invitation how nice it would be to curl up with him and finally relax tonight. “I’ll call as soon as I’m out of here. I promise.”

“And where exactly is here?”

“Nothing important. Just an interview, something I’ve been meaning to take care of.” I didn’t have time for the riot act he’d surely read me if he knew my errand related to the Jackson case. I could tell him the full story after I saved the day.

“Fine,” he conceded. “It’ll give me time to call your father and apologize for getting so freaked out.”

“One quick flip of a witness, and I’ll be done in time for Mexican take out and margaritas?”

“Ooh, now that sounds good.”

“It’s a plan. I’ll call you in probably thirty minutes.”

I flipped the phone shut, turned the corner, and parked next to Susan’s Mercedes, still in the zone.

I rang the doorbell, and Susan peeked out through a small window at the top of the door before opening up.

“Samantha,” she said, looking at her watch, “what a nice surprise. Come on in.” She stepped aside so I could enter.

I started to turn right toward the sitting area where we’d met last time, but once the door was shut she led me in the other direction, through the kitchen at the back of the house. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward the padded stools surrounding a generous island at the center of the room. “Can I get you something? I’m terrific with takeout leftovers.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You sure? Tuna nicoise salad from the Pasta Company. It’s my favorite, and there’s still half a salad left.”

“No, I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself,” she said. “So what happened in court today? I tried talking to Townsend a few hours ago, but he wasn’t saying much, and quite frankly what he had to say wasn’t making much sense. The defense is arguing that Clarissa took a bribe?”

“More than just an argument. The Attorney General’s Office is going to look into the possibility.”

Her dismay appeared genuine. “Townsend didn’t say anything like that. He said something about a continuance on Jackson’s case because of what happened today in court, but nothing about an Attorney General investigation.”

“Did Clarissa ever mention Larry Gunderson or Gunderson Development to you?”

She shook her head.

“It looks like Clarissa had some kind of arrangement with Gunderson on an appeal he had before her.”

“I can’t believe Townsend didn’t tell me this. He probably knew I’d go ballistic at the mere suggestion of such a thing.”

“I think you might know more about this than you’ve been willing to admit, Susan.”

She looked at me as if I were kidding. Then, in case I missed the look, she said, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. No more kidding, Susan, and no more protecting Townsend and Clarissa or even yourself. I know what’s been going on, and it’s time for people to start owning up. If you were involved somehow, we’ll work something out. I can help you. But you’ll be a lot better off telling me what you know before someone else beats you to the punch.”

“Samantha, honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I do. I know, for example, that a woman named Jane Wessler was helping developers get special-use permits for projects in the Railroad District. And I know that when Wessler left and Gunderson found himself without a permit, Clarissa made sure he got one. And I know that in exchange for all this help, developers were contributing to Townsend’s hospital wing, the project you were helping him with.”

“If Townsend convinced Clarissa to do something like that, he certainly didn’t tell me about it.”

“Come off it, Susan. I know how much you’ve helped him with the fund-raising. You told me you’d never heard of Larry Gunderson, but who’s Diane Curtin? And what’s the MTK Group?”

She clearly wasn’t used to being confronted this way. I was reminded of days back in law school, when students would come under fire by a probing professor. But like any good student, Susan regained her composure and presented a rational, coherent response.

“That’s what this is about? The MTK Group? That’s a company run by some of Herbie’s old business buddies. And, yes, I did hit them up on Townsend’s behalf, and, yes, they responded generously. I’m good at fund-raising. That is, after all, why I was helping Townsend.”

“And what about Diane Curtin? And what about the MTK Group’s Railroad District projects?”

She laughed. “If you think I have any idea what Herbie’s friends actually do to earn the money I help them spend, you are terribly mistaken. As for Diana Curtin “

“Diane,” I corrected.

“Whatever. It sounds familiar, but you’re going to have to give me more information.”

“You told me you hadn’t heard of Gunderson “

“And I hadn’t until just now, that is,” she said.

“Diane Curtin’s his daughter, and she and her husband, Thomas, are also among your generous contributors.”

“Well, that explains where I’ve heard of her, then.”

“So why don’t you tell me why Gunderson’s daughter just happens to write a fifty-thousand-dollar check to Townsend days before Clarissa rules in his favor?”

She looked at me incredulously. “I like you, Samantha, I really do. But you are seriously pissing me off right now.”

I shook my head and had to laugh. It was hard not to like her back. “Not a nice feeling, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” she said, laughing as well. “I don’t know what you think I know, but you’re totally off base. And you’re lucky I’m not easily offended.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not either. There are too many coincidences here. I think you knew Gunderson through Herbie and his friends, and that you might have thrown Clarissa and Townsend his way when Gunderson didn’t get the license he needed. If we get this squared away, it doesn’t need to be messy. But if it drags out, you can bet that Jackson’s defense attorney will do everything he can to haul each and every one of you into court.”

She looked at me, mulling over what I’d said. “There might be something, but it’s not what you’re suggesting, at least not my part of it. In fact, I didn’t even realize the possibility of it until just now when you were talking about MTK.”

“So explain it to me.”

“What about Townsend? He’ll lose everything. His hospital appointment, his reputation. He could even lose his license.”

“And all that’s still going to happen if this comes out at Jackson’s trial. But if we take that road, Jackson might go free.”

She swallowed before she spoke next. “Gunderson,” she said. “You say there’s some connection between him and MTK?”

I nodded.

“About a year ago, Carl Matthews he’s the president of MTK “

I nodded again.

“You have done your research,” she said. “Carl Matthews and Herbie were friends from way back, and when Carl and his wife had a party about a year ago, I took Townsend and Clarissa so Townsend and I could talk up the new hospital wing to Carl. There were a ton of guests there. Maybe Gunderson was one of them. Townsend could have met him then.”

I pulled the photograph of Gunderson from my briefcase.

“Maybe he looks familiar,” she said. “It was quite a while ago, and I really wasn’t paying attention, but he might have been there.”

So much for a conclusive ID. “Was your husband involved in MTK?” I asked, tucking the photo away.

“Sure,” she said, seeming to assume that I’d already known. “He was the K. Matthews, Tykeson, and Kerr. The boys made lots of money back in the day. Tykeson’s retired, and Herbie s gone, of course, but the letters live on through Carl.”

“So are you part of the company then?”

“Oh, God, no. The estate handled all that stuff, but Carl essentially bought Herbie’s interest in the company after he died.”

“Did you know that MTK had a judgment against Gunderson’s old company ‘back in the day,” as you say?”

That seemed to take her by surprise. “Like I said, I’ve never heard of Gunderson. But I can see why you said there were so many coincidences here. Maybe I was wrong about that dinner party, then. I can’t imagine Gunderson would pal around with someone who sued him, right?”

“Not unless they’ve put the bad blood behind them. The judgment was taken right before Gunderson filed bankruptcy. I guess he’s worked his way up since then.”

“Well, that makes a little more sense. I mean, if a guy’s going to file bankruptcy, it doesn’t hurt if his partners are at the front of the line.”

I hadn’t thought about it from that perspective before. If someone knew he was about to go under, high-dollar civil judgments against him would help soften the blow for his business buddies by helping them recover at least some of the money through the bankruptcy court.

“I can give you Carl Matthews’s phone number,” Susan offered. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind talking to you about Gunderson.”

“Susan, I just got done telling you Matthews might also be part of this.”

“Or maybe he’s not,” she said. “You won’t know until you ask him, will you?”

No longer on the defensive, Susan Kerr was back to taking care of everybody. She was jotting down a phone number from the Rolodex on her kitchen counter. “I can also print out a list of all of the donors I know about for the hospital project.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve got one already, but yours might be more up-to-date.”

“And I’ve got a bunch of Herbie’s old files and books and things downstairs if you’ve got any interest in them. Who knows, maybe he’s got something on Gunderson, right?”

She started toward the basement, and as I trailed behind her down the stairs, I wondered when the tide had shifted. Talking to Chuck, I had been convinced that I would be leaving this house with a cooperating witness, armed with the substantiated facts I’d need to build a case against Gunderson and whoever else was involved. Now, I was tiptoeing through Susan’s basement, trying not to lose one of my fancy new shoes in the construction chaos, on my way to leaving with nothing but yet another pile of documents. How did that happen?

I checked out the basement while Susan began dredging through some old file cabinets in the corner, pulling out piles of paper and stacking them next to her. From what I could tell, she was completely refinishing the place into a home gym and a walk-in wine cellar.

“Wow,” I said, peeking in. “There must be room in here for a thousand bottles.”

“Twelve hundred actually. Go ahead. Check it out.”

I stepped into the room, stroking the smooth mahogany cubbies. “This is amazing,” I said.

“Ridiculously over indulgent she said, looking back at me. “But Herbie and I had always talked about it, and since I was redoing the basement anyway, I figured it was time to go nuts. Cute shoes, by the way.”

I looked down at the pointy-toed mules Grace had convinced me to buy the other night. They weren’t exactly practical, and I was still figuring out how to walk in them, but they were definitely cute.

“Thanks. Nordstrom anniversary sale,” I said, still proud of my little purchase.

“Best sale of the year.” She was stacking more and more documents next to her, and I was wondering how I’d ever carry them out, let alone read them. “Clarissa and I always went on the very first day. Annual tradition.”

“So what happened this year?” I said, running my fingers up and down the mahogany stemware shelves.

“Nothing. We splurged just like always.”

“Well, you must not have gotten enough, if you went back again last Saturday.”

“Right,” she said, after a second. “But we did that half the time anyway. You know, you exercise a little bit of willpower, but three days later you’ve just got to go back and buy everything you left behind.”

It all sounded good, but I’d registered that telling pause. Susan was lying.

I quickly changed the subject. “So do these things really help keep the wine fresh, or is it just for show?”

“A little bit of both.” I half listened to her explanation about air seals, ventilation systems, and temperature controls, but I was still trying to figure out why her pregnant pause about the Saturday afternoon trip to Nordstrom seemed so meaningful. Still playing with the smooth shelves, I realized what I’d been missing all along. I had assumed a lecture from Duncan was the worst thing that could happen to me by confronting Susan Kerr, but I’d been wrong. I needed to get out of here. Immediately.