Nothing but the Truth (49 page)
Hardy opened his own door and got out, but let the car remain between him and the others. He felt for his gun, riding in the small of his back, hidden under his jacket.
“Hey.” Valens held his hands out in front of him. The fog had finally lifted somewhat, and the voices seemed to carry like the ping of crystal. “I’m coming over to see who you are, okay? Two guys, dark car, middle of the night, get it?”
Glitsky was advancing toward the man. “We get it. Are you Al Valens? Is that Damon Kerry’s car?”
Valens nodded. “Yeah. And he’s in it, trying to sleep. He’s the governor of California in about two days, okay?”
“Sure,” Glitsky responded. “But right now today I’m Lieutenant Abe Glitsky and I’m the head of homicide. I’d like to have a few words with Mr. Kerry.”
“Not possible.” Valens shook his head emphatically. “The man has been running all day. He’s got twenty appearances tomorrow. He’s not available.”
Glitsky allowed himself a tight smile. He spoke in a conversational tone. “I’m not asking.” He started for the limo.
But Valens wasn’t giving up that easily. He sidestepped into the lieutenant’s path. “You got a warrant? I want to see a warrant.”
Hardy was amazed. He had never seen Glitsky this patient, taking the time to politely answer someone who refused to get out of his way. “I don’t need a warrant to talk to him on the street, which is what I’m hoping to do.” Glitsky stopped, tried another tack. “Mr. Valens, are you trying to tell me that Mr. Kerry doesn’t want to cooperate with a police investigation into the murder of one of his consultants? You might want to ask him about that.”
Valens thrust out his chin. “Hey, don’t pull that crap on me. We have already cooperated with you guys every time somebody came around to ask. We’ve answered questions till we’re blue in the face. Now it’s late at night and this is pure straight-up harassment. I want to know what Republican money is behind you on this.”
“Please move to one side,” Glitsky said.
Valens pointed a finger. “This is a mistake, Lieutenant, I’m telling you. In two days, Damon gets elected and I get your badge, you hear me?”
Glitsky stopped walking, glanced around to Hardy, came back to the campaign manager. “Here are Kerry’s options. He can talk to me or refuse to.” Glitsky paused. “Listen to me, Valens, the reason I’m here in the middle of the night is to save him embarrassment. Nobody knows. I don’t want to make it public. But I will if I need to. Do you understand me?”
This, finally, broke some of Valens’s bluster. “So does he need a lawyer present? What’s this about really?”
Glitsky brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes. “He’s always welcome to have a lawyer, but he’s not under arrest at this time. If he decides to call his lawyer, we’ll wait. If he doesn’t want to talk to us at all, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to read about it in the paper tomorrow, but that of course would be his decision.”
“You son of a bitch. Who is behind this?”
Glitsky moved up a step closer. “That’s a very ill-advised choice of words and I wouldn’t continue in that vein if I were you. Now, as to who is behind this,
I’m
doing it alone. It’s police work. There is no political motive. I’m investigating a murder.”
I’m
doing it alone. It’s police work. There is no political motive. I’m investigating a murder.”
“That murder is almost a month old. What’s the hurry tonight?”
“The hurry tonight is that there was another murder last night. A policeman.”
Valens narrowed his eyes. “Connected to Bree?”
“That’s one of the things I’d like to find out. You have to understand, Mr. Valens, that when police officers get killed, other cops get a little testy. And I’m there now, so don’t push me. I really am trying to maintain a low profile around this. If that weren’t the case, I could have pulled together a pretty good crowd by now, don’t you think?”
Glitsky let the simple truth of that sink in for a moment. “Now, is Mr. Kerry going to consent to an interview or not?”
Valens hesitated for a number of seconds. Then, with a last furious glare, he turned and walked back to the limo.
There was another lengthy outburst after they got inside the house when Valens recognized Hardy. He wasn’t a policeman, so what the hell was he doing here? This was a man who had broken into Valens’s hotel room that morning, had threatened him with a gun.
“Did you file a report with the hotel? With the police? Do you now want to press charges?” Glitsky asked the questions mildly, but they put an end to that.
“I’ll be recording this conversation, by the way.” Glitsky said it as casually as possible, allowing no opportunity for debate. He was positioning his portable recorder on the table and holding up a hand, forestalling any and all of Valens’s continuing objections.
He gave the standard introduction, identified those present, had Kerry acknowledge that he was speaking of his own free will, that he was not under arrest, and that he did not want to have a lawyer with him.
“But why is this man here?” Valens asked, indicating Hardy, not wanting to let that issue go.
“He’ll facilitate the discussion,” Glitsky responded. “And Mr. Valens,
you
are here as a courtesy. Don’t interrupt again.” Valens had a legitimate gripe—there was no legal reason for Hardy to be there, but the campaign manager held no cards. What was he going to do? Notify the media and let the public know that his candidate was a murder suspect? No, he and Kerry had to cooperate, and as long as Glitsky allowed it, they had no choice but to tolerate Hardy’s presence.
you
are here as a courtesy. Don’t interrupt again.” Valens had a legitimate gripe—there was no legal reason for Hardy to be there, but the campaign manager held no cards. What was he going to do? Notify the media and let the public know that his candidate was a murder suspect? No, he and Kerry had to cooperate, and as long as Glitsky allowed it, they had no choice but to tolerate Hardy’s presence.
But Glitsky did have a reason and it became apparent immediately. “Mr. Kerry,” he asked. “I’m sure you remember talking to Mr. Hardy yesterday in the lobby of the St. Francis? A rather lengthy discussion about Bree Beaumont, wasn’t it?”
“I believe it was the bar, but yes.”
The candidate had a damp washcloth on his forehead. He was nearly reclining on the couch, his stockinged feet up on the coffee table in front of him. Although it was anything but warm—either out in the night or here in the house—his skin had a sheen as though he was sweating slightly. Glitsky thought he might have a fever and, if so, that would be to the good.
“Well, the reason I brought Mr. Hardy along, and the reason that we’re here talking to you at all, frankly, has to do with that conversation.”
Kerry might be tired and feverish, but he shifted slightly, summoning some reserves of energy. “All right,” he said.
Glitsky nodded. “Do you remember telling him that you had never been to Bree Beaumont’s apartment?”
“That was me!” Valens exploded, interrupting, pointing at Hardy again. “That’s what I called this guy about last night. I already told him all about that. I forgot, that’s all. And still that’s why he broke into my hotel . . .”
“Mr. Valens, please.” Glitsky stilled him with a glare. “Mr. Kerry?”
Kerry had by now straightened up to a sitting position. He mopped his brow with the washcloth. “Yes, I said that.”
“And you stand by that now? That you’d never been inside Bree’s place?”
Kerry crossed one leg over the other, and sighed deeply. “I suppose you’ve got somebody who saw me there? Took my picture? Perhaps Mr. Hardy here?”
“Damon, hold it!” Valens again.
But Kerry seemed almost amused. A wry expression crossed his face. “It’s all right, Al. It’s all right. The lieutenant says he’ll keep this low-profile, isn’t that true, Lieutenant? So long as I didn’t kill Bree. We have your word on that, on this tape.”
“If I can,” Glitsky responded.
“Yes, I went there.”
Glitsky and Hardy exchanged glances. “Why did you tell Mr. Hardy you hadn’t?”
“What difference does that make, Lieutenant? Is that a crime? He might have been a reporter, trying to get some dirt on me and Bree. He might have been with my opponent, trying to smear me, make it look like I was having an affair with a married mother of two.” He shrugged. “He said he was Ron’s attorney and it’s my belief that Ron killed her. He was building a case. So I lied to him. The easiest thing was to lie.”
“You believe that Ron killed her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
A shrug. “She was his major source of financial support. She was going to change that arrangement. When he found out, he lost it.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told me the first two. The last I surmise.” By now, Kerry had come forward on the couch. The signs of fatigue had vanished. Hunched over slightly, his elbows on his knees, the washcloth now bunched in his right hand, he struck Hardy as a man engaged in watching the last seconds of an extremely close football game. “Frankly, I’m amazed it’s taken you—the police—this long to get to him. Judging from this interview, you’re still not there, are you?”
“He has an alibi for the time of the murder,” Glitsky replied calmly, his patented non-smile making a minor appearance. “We’re still laboring under the law of physics that you can’t be in two places at once. But while we’re on the topic, where were you on the morning she was killed?”
Kerry actually chuckled. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Yes it is, which doesn’t make it any less ridiculous. You’re implying that I am a suspect in this woman’s murder?”
But Glitsky knew how to interrogate, and the first rule is you don’t answer questions—you ask them. “I’m asking where you were when she was killed. Again, a simple question.”
“All right. Here’s the simple answer. I couldn’t even tell you exactly the
day
Bree was killed, Lieutenant. I’m in the middle of a thirty-million-dollar campaign for governor of the most populous state in the nation. I’ve had between ten and thirty appearances a day for the past six months or more.”
day
Bree was killed, Lieutenant. I’m in the middle of a thirty-million-dollar campaign for governor of the most populous state in the nation. I’ve had between ten and thirty appearances a day for the past six months or more.”
Glitsky nodded. “You’re on the record saying you were home, here, that morning. Alone. Do you remember that?”
“I said it,” Valens put in. “I told your inspectors. Hell, I’ve told them half a dozen times. Damon needs to sleep once in a while. He’d been out late the night before. We’d been shooting commercials that had to air the next week. The day she died he had to fly to San Diego at noon, so he slept in.”
“Look.” Kerry’s color had come up now. “It was a horrible tragedy that Bree was killed, and it is my most fervent wish that it hadn’t happened. Beyond that, I hope you find her killer. But I do wish that this city had a more competent police force, so that I would not have to be bothered with this grasping-at-straws stupidity on the penultimate day of my campaign.”
Valens took his cue and stood up. “That’s it. I’m calling the mayor. He’ll put a stop to this.” He faced Glitsky directly. “You won’t have to wait for the election, Lieutenant. You can lose your badge tonight.”
Hardy reached over to the tape recorder, snapped it off, and spoke before Glitsky could reply. “Good idea, Valens. You go ahead. Then I’ll call Jeff Elliot and we can see where that goes.”
“You know Jeff?” This was Kerry, all attention.
“We’re buds,” Hardy said. “He was here last night and you weren’t. How about that?”
Glitsky raised his voice. “That’s enough!” He lifted the tape recorder and turned it on again, then whispered into the resulting silence. “This is my interrogation. I will ask the questions. Mr. Kerry, I need five more minutes of your time, and then I will walk out the door with Mr. Hardy. You’ve admitted you were at Bree Beaumont’s penthouse. What were you doing there?”
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