Ties That Bind (19 page)

“I’ve been better. The Parole Board passed on my brother this morning.”

“Did you go down there for the hearing?”

“No. I get too bummed out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Billie had been forced to raise her younger brother from the time she was sixteen, the year her father deserted the family and her mother started to work two jobs just to get by. Billie blamed herself for her brother’s failings. He was locked up at the Oregon State penitentiary for committing an armed robbery.

“When does he come up again?” Kate asked.

“It doesn’t matter. This is his third fall and he’s not getting out soon.” Billie took a sip of her coffee. “Maybe it’s for the best. Every time he’s on the outside he messes up.”

Billie shook her head. “Enough of this negative shit. What’s behind the mysterious phone call?”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more specific. I’m really just fishing around.”

“Fish all you want, girl, as long as you’re paying for my pie and coffee.”

“You know Amanda is representing Jon Dupre?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Do you know what happened at the bail hearing?”

Billie threw her head back and laughed. “I sure do. That girl’s got balls. Self-defense!”

“I’m glad we’re able to bring some joy to your life.”

Billie laughed again. “You aren’t serious about this, are you Kate? You’re the brain who went to CalTech. Don’t tell me you went on a football scholarship?”

Kate said nothing. Billie stared for a moment. “You are serious.”

“I know it’s far-fetched but we have some evidence to back up Dupre’s claim.”

“That I’d like to see.”

“When we’re ready. But enough of your questions.” Kate pointed at Billie’s pie and coffee. “I’m paying this exorbitant bribe to pump you for information.”

“Go for it.”

“Have you ever heard that Wendell Hayes was dirty?”

Billie savored a piece of pie while she thought.

“If you’re asking whether we have an investigation going, as far as I know, we don’t. Of course, there are always suspicions when a lawyer represents drug dealers, and Wendell represented Pedro Aragon’s people. You must have heard rumbles while you were working Narcotics.”

“I wasn’t in long enough,” Kate answered, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. The Portland Police Bureau had recruited her out of CalTech, where she’d majored in computer science, to investigate computer crime, but Kate had gotten bored and asked for a transfer to Vice and Narcotics. While working undercover, she had been involved in a shootout at a mall that had left civilians and a key informant dead. Kate had been the department’s scapegoat and had been driven off the force.

“The only other thing I can think of falls under the heading of an urban legend.”

“Spill.”

“Have you ever heard of The Vaughn Street Glee Club?”

“No.”

“About seven years ago, while I was still in uniform, I was the first officer on the scene when Michael Israel, a prominent banker, committed suicide. It was classic. He shot himself in the head in his study and he left a note confessing to the murder of Pamela Hutchinson, a young woman he said he’d gotten pregnant.”

“Was there a murder that matched up?”

“Yeah. Eight years earlier. Hutchinson worked as a teller at Israel’s bank and she was pregnant. After Israel’s suicide we ran a ballistics check on the gun that Israel used on himself. It was the same weapon that was used to kill Hutchinson

“Was Israel ever a suspect in Hutchinson’s death?”

“Never. He was questioned at the time, but it was routine. We talked to everyone at the bank. Besides, there was no reason to suspect Israel. He was married, a member of a prominent Portland family. Hutchinson was found in a parking lot miles from the bank. She’d been beaten and shot. Her purse was missing. Everyone thought that she was killed during a robbery.”

“How was Hayes involved?”

“Don’t be impatient,” Billie said as she took another mouthful of pie. “The year I made detective, the DEA arrested Sammy Cortez, a Mexican national who worked for Pedro Aragon. The feds had Cortez cold for a major drug conspiracy rap that carried a life sentence without parole. Cortez was talking a blue streak in hopes of cutting a deal, and one of the things he claimed he could clear up was the murder of a banker in Portland a few years before.”

“Israel?”

Billie nodded. “He said that there was a conspiracy of well-connected, wealthy men who had ordered Israel’s death and wanted it to look like a suicide. Cortez said that these men and Aragon went way back.”

“Did he say that Hayes was involved?”

“He never mentioned any names, wouldn’t say anything else without a deal, except for one thing. He said these men had been together so long that they even had a nickname for the group—The Vaughn Street Glee Club.”

Kate looked skeptical. “What did Aragon ever have to do with a glee club?”

“Beats me, and Cortez couldn’t explain the name either. He said it was an inside joke. Anyway, DEA thought Cortez was full of shit about the glee club thing but they notified us anyway. I went over to the federal lockup to talk to him because I knew about the Israel case. When I got there I learned that a lawyer had just spent half an hour with Cortez. When they brought Cortez into the visiting room he looked scared to death and he wouldn’t say another word about anything. Want to guess who the lawyer was?”

“Wendell Hayes?”

Brewster nodded. “Now, I knew a little about Cortez from another case. He was a genuine tough guy, but he was also a strong family man. On a hunch I checked on his wife and their eight-year-old daughter. The daughter hadn’t gone to school the day before Hayes visited or the day of his visit, but she went back the day after Cortez stopped cooperating. I tried to talk to the daughter, but the mother wouldn’t let me near her.”

“You think she was snatched to shut him up about this club?”

“Maybe, or maybe the talk about the club was bullshit. Cortez could have told the feds a lot about Aragon’s organization. They had plenty of motivation to shut him up.”

“Is Cortez still in prison?”

“Cortez is in hell. He was knifed in the yard soon after he started serving his term.”

Most of the windows in Grant’s mansion were dark, but the house was often alive with light and sound. The judge was famous for his large parties and intimate get-togethers. An invitation to one of Judge Grant’s soirees was eagerly sought and cherished because it signified that you were one of Portland’s elite.

Tim parked in front of a recessed portico where Harvey Grant was waiting.

“Come into the study,” the judge said solicitously. “You look like you can use a strong drink.”

“I’ve done something incredibly stupid,” Kerrigan said as they walked down a side hall to a wood-paneled den.

“Wait until you’ve calmed down,” Grant said as he sat Tim in an armchair near a fireplace with a carved cherrywood mantel, in which a fire had been laid. Tim leaned his head back and soaked up the warmth. As soon as he closed his eyes he felt bone-weary.

“Here,” Grant said. Kerrigan jerked awake. He had not realized how much the meeting with Ally Bennett had taken out of him. The judge pressed a cold glass into Kerrigan’s hand and took a sip from a glass he’d filled for himself.

“Thanks,” Kerrigan said as he gulped down half the glass.

Grant smiled warmly. Kerrigan had always been amazed by his mentor’s steadiness. Even in the most contentious courtroom situation, Harvey Grant floated above the fray, counseling the combatants with the calm, reassuring voice of reason.

“Feeling a little better?” Grant asked.

“No, Judge. It’s going to take a lot more than a glass of scotch to fix my problem.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Kerrigan could not look Harvey Grant in the eye as he told him about his sordid evening with Ally after his speech at the trial lawyers’ convention, and its aftermath. The judge took an occasional sip but his expression did not change as he listened. Kerrigan felt lighter after unburdening himself. He knew he was taking a risk going to an officer of the court, but he was certain that Grant would protect his confidence and he hoped that the judge would find a solution to his dilemma.

“Is this the only time that you’ve done this sort of thing?” Grant asked.

“No.” Kerrigan hung his head. “But I’ve always been so careful. With Ally . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. I was drunk, I was depressed . . . .”

Kerrigan stopped. His excuses sounded weak and unconvincing.

“Cindy is a good person, Tim.”

When Kerrigan looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

“I know that. I hate myself for lying to her. It makes me sick.”

“And there’s Megan to think about,” Grant reminded him.

Kerrigan fought back a sob. Everything was tumbling down around him. Grant sat silently and let Kerrigan grieve.

“Have you talked to your father about Miss Bennett?” Grant asked when Tim stopped crying.

“God, no. I couldn’t. You know how it is between us.”

“So, you came straight here?”

Tim nodded.

“Is it your impression that Miss Bennett has kept what she knows to herself?”

“I don’t know, but she’d lose her advantage over me if our relationship became public knowledge.”

“What do you think would happen if she went to the press and you denied her allegations?”

“Do you mean can she prove we spent the night together?”

Grant nodded. Kerrigan rubbed his forehead. He tried to remember what had happened that evening.

“I registered with false ID, but the clerk at the front desk might remember me. And I went there again tonight. I may have left prints in the room. Fingerprints last a long time. They don’t clean very thoroughly at that place.”

“Most likely, though, it would be her word against yours, no?”

Kerrigan thought of something. “Phone records. I phoned Ally from my office the night I first saw her and I used a pay phone in the hotel where I gave my speech. No one could prove I made either call, but the phone records would be powerful circumstantial evidence that she’s telling the truth.

“And what does it matter if she can prove what happened? Once that type of allegation is made it sticks with you forever, no matter what the truth is.”

“You’re right, Tim. If this got out it would be disastrous, and it would ruin your chance to be a senator.”

Grant paused and took a sip of his drink. His brow furrowed. “What do you make of this business with the cassette?”

“Dupre ran a pretty high-scale operation. We know that politicians and wealthy businessmen used it. Bennett could have been in a position to tape incriminating evidence that Dupre could use for blackmail.”

Grant nodded, then became pensive again. Kerrigan waited, exhausted, grateful for the pause. When the judge spoke, his tone was measured and thoughtful.

“You’ve acted very foolishly, Tim, and placed yourself and your family in a precarious position, but I may be able to help you. I want you to go home and let me work on this problem. If Miss Bennett contacts you, stall her. Promise her that you are going to do as she asks but you need time to figure out how best to accomplish her purpose. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Grant got up and Tim rose with him. Standing was like climbing a mountain. His body seemed to be as heavy as stone and he felt a weakness of spirit that was close to a wish for death.

“Thank you, Judge. You don’t know how much just talking to you means to me.”

Grant placed his hand on Kerrigan’s shoulder. “You can’t see it, Tim, but you have everything that most men wish for. I’m going to help you hold on to it.”