Wild Justice (17 page)

43 The view from Carleton Swindell s office had not changed, but Dr. Swindell s blond hair was thinning, and Sean McCarthy suspected that a facelift had been performed on the hospital administrator of St. Francis Medical Center during the past four years. Detective, Swindell said as he rose from behind his desk to extend a hand. The administrator s grip was still strong, and the detective noticed several new rowing plaques and medals had been added to the trophies that graced Swindell s credenza. I assume you re here about Justine Castle. McCarthy nodded as he handed Swindell a subpoena for the doctor s records. Swindell examined it briefly. He looked as though he hadn t been sleeping well. After that business with Vincent Cardoni I thought I d seen everything. But this . . . He shook his head in dismay. Frankly, Detective, I find it hard to believe that Justine could do the things I read about in the paper. She was arrested at the scene of the murders, and we have other evidence connecting her to them. Even so. Swindell hesitated. Then he leaned forward. I followed Cardoni s case. Of course, I only had access to the media accounts, but these new murders, aren t they similar to the murders Cardoni was supposed to have committed? The newspaper even commented on it. I m afraid I can t discuss the evidence. Oh, of course. I didn t mean to pry. It s just that, well, when Cardoni was arrested, no one was shocked. But Justine . . . We ve never had any reason to suspect that she would be capable of anything like this. Her record is spotless. Swindell shifted uncomfortably. I know this isn t my area of expertise, but with such bizarre circumstances, wouldn t you suspect that the person who committed one set of murders also committed the others? That s a possibility that we re investigating, along with several others. The administrator flushed. Yes, I should have guessed that. Dr. Swindell, the last time we spoke, you mentioned a connection between Dr. Castle and Clifford Grant. He was her attending, her supervisor during her residency. So they would have been close? Professionally, yes. Four years ago, would Dr. Castle have had the skills to harvest a human heart for use in a heart transplant? If you know. I trained as a surgeon before I decided to become a hospital administrator, so I m well aware of the technique, Swindell said with some pride. Justine is a highly skilled surgeon. I believe she would have been able to perform the operation. McCarthy considered Swindell s answer for a moment. Then he stood. Thank you, Doctor. Feel free to call on me for help anytime. We appreciated the way you sped things along the last time I asked for your help. If you could do the same with this subpoena . . . Swindell held up his hand. Say no more. I ll get on it immediately.

44 The reservation at the Fish Hatchery was for eight, but Amanda was intentionally late. When she spotted Tony in the upscale crowd in the lounge at eight-twenty she was pleased to see him casting anxious glances toward the door. He was wearing a dark sports jacket without a tie, a white shirt and gray slacks, and he was every bit as handsome as she remembered. Amanda worked her way through the crush at the bar. Tony saw her and flashed a wide smile. Amanda extended her hand but Tony ignored it, pulling her into a quick bear hug. You look great, Tony said enthusiastically. He pushed her back. God, look at you. Amanda felt herself flush. Our table won t be ready for a few minutes. Do you want a drink? Sure. Amanda ordered a margarita. The bar was packed, and she and Tony were pushed hip to hip. The contact felt good. When did you get back to Portland? she asked while they waited for the drinks. I ve been at St. Francis for almost a year. Oh, Amanda answered coldly, stung by the fact that he d taken so long to call her. I guess you ve been busy. You ve got every right to be mad. It s just that . . . Well, I guess I was embarrassed because of what happened the night you showed up at my house. I didn t know if you d want to hear from me. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Amanda said, keeping her tone neutral. I certainly had no right to assume that you would be alone. You needed someone to comfort you, and you came to me. When I found out what you d gone through in the mountains I felt like a complete shit. There wasn t any reason for you to feel that way, Amanda said, answering more sharply than she had intended. Tony looked upset. He took a deep breath. We were friends, Amanda. You don t have to sleep with someone to care for them. The hostess chose that moment to tell them that their table was ready. Amanda was grateful for the interruption and followed her in embarrassed silence. The hostess gave them menus and a wine list. As soon as she left, Tony put down his menu. Let me clear the air, okay? Otherwise we re both going to be blushing and mumbling all evening. I m going to start with Justine. I d seen her around the hospital, but I never spent much time with her until Cardoni attacked Mary Sandowski. I happened to be passing by when Justine confronted him. I was afraid that he might hit her, so I asked if there was a problem, just to let Cardoni know that Justine wasn t alone. After we calmed down Mary, Justine and I talked. One thing led to another. When I ran into you at the Y, we were already sleeping together. Tony paused and looked down at the table. I don t want you to take this the wrong way. I m not someone who flits from woman to woman. But Justine and I . . . Well, I don t know any other way to put this. Our sex was recreational. She was going through a hard time, and I was a distraction. I liked her and I think she liked me, but it didn t mean anything. Tony . . . Let me finish. You did mean something to me. I ve always liked you, even when we were kids. But it was more like a big-brother-little-sister thing then. When I saw you at the Y it was confusing. You weren t a kid anymore. You were a woman. I didn t know how to treat you. After we spent those two evenings together I couldn t stop thinking about you, and I wanted to see you again. So what stopped you? I was accepted into one of the best residency programs in the country, and it was in New York. A long-distance romance didn t make any sense. And I had no idea how you felt about me. We d only dated a few times. You were starting a career. Tony shrugged. Then you saw me with Justine. The only thing I want to know is how badly I hurt you, because I always hoped that you didn t care enough for me for my leaving to matter. A welter of emotions confused Amanda. She was thrilled that Tony felt strongly enough about her to bare his soul, but his frontal assault was coming so fast that it didn t give her time to think. I don t know how I felt when you left, Tony. It s been years, and a lot has happened in between. Maybe that s best, he said. Maybe we should just start over and see what happens. Would that be okay? Could you do that? Amanda smiled. I m here, aren t I? I guess that s right. You didn t shoot me down. And I didn t shoot you, either. She smiled. Not yet, anyway. The waiter arrived, and Tony seemed grateful for the interruption. Amanda opted for a safe topic of conversation as soon as the waiter left with their orders. What are you doing at St. Francis? I ve finished my residency and I m an attending plastic surgeon. I just gave a paper in New Orleans, last Friday, at the annual meeting of the American Society of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgeons, Tony said proudly. What was it about? The long-term aesthetic effects of immediate versus delayed breast reconstruction using the pedicled TRAM flap. In English, please, for the scientifically impaired. Tony laughed. Sorry. It s not that complicated, really. You can do breast reconstruction after a mastectomy in a number of ways. The pedicled TRAM flap involves taking abdominal tissue to use in the reconstruction. You don t have to do the reconstruction at the same time as the mastectomy. You could do it a year later, if you wanted to. But I ve concluded that immediate reconstruction looks better, and I talked about the basis for my conclusion. Impressed? Tony asked, sipping his margarita. Not bad for a college dropout, Amanda answered with a smile. Now that you know all about pedicled TRAM flaps, fill me in on what you ve been up to. It said in the paper that you just won a death penalty case. Are you specializing in criminal law like your father? Yup. I think I m genetically programmed for it. Do you like representing criminals? I don t know if like is the right word. Criminal law is exciting, and I think the work is important. With a case like Justine s I feel I can do some real good. How is she holding up? She s a strong woman. But no one really does that well under these circumstances. She s worried about her career and her future. Jail is a lousy place to be even if you re guilty. It s hell if you re innocent. So you don t think she s guilty? No, I don t. Why? Amanda was not certain how much she should reveal about the case to someone who was not involved in Justine s representation. But Tony was very bright, and it would be interesting to see how a nonlawyer saw the case after hearing the facts. You have to promise to keep what I tell you to yourself. Of course. Doctors have confidentiality restrictions, too. Amanda laid out what she knew. Tony tensed when she described the similarities between the Milton County and Multnomah County crime scenes, and his brow furrowed when she explained that an anonymous caller had summoned the police to the farmhouse. It looks like a setup, Tony concluded when Amanda was done. I can t believe that the cops don t see it. A setup doesn t fit into their scenario. It complicates matters, and the cops like their cases to have simple solutions. What about the anonymous call that sent the cops to the farmhouse? How do they explain that? The DA says he doesn t have to explain it, that it s my job to construct a defense for Justine. That s bullshit. It s obviously a frame. And you know what I think? It s got to be someone with access to the hospital. Think about it. The scrubs, the cap, the scalpel all that stuff came from St. Francis, and they aren t something a casual visitor could pick up. You d have to know when Justine was going to be in surgery, you d have to have access to the room where Justine discarded her cap and scrubs. That means Justine has an enemy at St. Francis, Amanda said. Do you know anyone who hates her so much he would do something like this? Tony thought for a moment, then shook his head. The only person I can think of . . . No, it s not possible. You re thinking about Vincent Cardoni. Yeah, but he s dead. We don t know that for sure, Amanda said. His body was never recovered. You think Cardoni is working at St. Francis? I think it s possible. He d have to have had plastic surgery and he couldn t be working as a doctor. He doesn t have a hand. Actually . . . , Tony started, then stopped, lost in thought. What? Tony looked up. He leaned toward Amanda. A hand transplant, he said excitedly. It s possible to transplant a hand. They tried it for the first time in Ecuador in 1964. The operation failed because the tissue was rejected, but there are new antirejection drugs and advanced surgical techniques that have resulted in several successful hand transplants. Of course, Amanda answered, echoing Tony s excitement. I remember reading about them. She sobered suddenly. A transplant would be so spectacular that everyone would know about it. The one I remember was front-page news. If Cardoni had a hand transplant in the past four years, we d have heard. Not if it was done clandestinely. Didn t Justine believe that Cardoni had money stashed away in offshore accounts? Yes. With enough money, Cardoni could find a doctor who would change his appearance and try a hand transplant. And he doesn t have to be working as a doctor. Maybe he has a prosthesis and is working at some other job. Tony thought for a moment. Do you know when the farmhouse was purchased? About two years ago, I think. Tony leaned forward. He looked intense. That s it, then. I ll get someone in personnel at St. Francis to give me a printout of every male employee who was hired in the past two years. Cardoni could change his appearance and his weight. He could also change his height, but I m betting he didn t. I ll look for white men about six-two who are roughly Cardoni s age. Tony reached across the table and covered Amanda s hand with his. If Cardoni is at St. Francis, I ll track him down. We ll catch him, Amanda. The waiter arrived with their wine and the first course, and Amanda had a chance to calm down. She ate her salad in silence while she thought about getting Tony involved in Justine s case. Maybe I should have our investigator get the personnel records. Why? If Cardoni is our killer, you d be putting yourself in danger by looking for him. Your investigator wouldn t have the expertise to spot a really good facial reconstruction. I d recognize one in an instant. And believe me, I m not going to take any chances. If I find Cardoni, we ll go straight to the police. Amanda hesitated. Amanda, I like Justine. I don t want to see an innocent person suffer. But I like me, too, and I m too young to die. I appreciate how dangerous this can be. I m not going to put myself at risk. Promise? Promise. You know what? Tony asked. What? I think we should stop talking shop for the rest of our meal. Amanda smiled. I agree. What shall we talk about? I just had an idea. Have you seen the new Jackie Chan flick? I haven t seen a movie in ages. It s showing at the Broadway Metroplex at ten-thirty. Are you in the mood for some mindless violence? You bet. Tony smiled. You re a girl after my own heart.

45 When Bobby Vasquez had called earlier for an appointment, Mary Ann Jager had answered her own phone. Now he knew why: The lawyer s tiny waiting room reeked of failure. There was no receptionist, and the top of the receptionist s desk was bare and covered with a light layer of dust. Vasquez knocked on the doorjamb of an open doorway. A slender woman with short brown hair looked up, startled, from the fashion magazine she was reading. Vasquez had learned a lot about Jager from the Martindale-Hubbell Law Directory listing of attorneys rmand the file of complaints against Jager that he had obtained through the Oregon state bar. She had gone to work for a midsized firm for a decent salary after graduating high in her law school class. There were no problems until shortly before her divorce, when a client complained about irregularities in her trust account and rumors of substance abuse began to circulate. Jager was suspended from the practice of law for a year and fired from her firm. When she could practice again, she opened her own office. Jager s history was very similar to that of Walter Stoops, and Vasquez wondered if Cardoni found his lawyers by studying complaints filed against members of the bar. Ms. Jager? I m Bobby Vasquez. I called earlier. The lawyer stood up quickly, walked around her desk and extended a damp hand. Vasquez noticed a slight tremor. I hope you weren t waiting outside long, Jager said nervously. My receptionist is out with that flu that s going around. Bobby smiled sympathetically, though he was certain that there was no receptionist and very little business, to judge from the empty state of Jager s in-box and her bare desktop. I m interested in contacting the owner of some land you purchased approximately two years ago for Intercontinental Properties, a corporation you formed, Vasquez said when they were seated. Jager frowned. That was a farm, right? Vasquez nodded, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that he had beaten the police to Jager and that she did not know that the land she had purchased had been turned into a slaughterhouse. I d like to help you, but I have no idea who owns the property. The owner contacted me by mail. I was paid to form Intercontinental Properties for the sole purpose of buying the land. My retainer and the money for the property were paid in cashier s checks. I forwarded the title to a post office box in California. If you could give me the owner s name, I can try to trace him. I don t have a name. There was no signature on my instructions. This all sounds very mysterious. It is, but it s completely legal. Of course. Vasquez paused, then acted like a man who has just gotten an idea. Could I see your file? Maybe there s a clue to the owner s identity in it. I don t know if I can do that. The information in the file is privileged. Vasquez leaned forward and lowered his voice, even though he and the lawyer were alone. Ms. Jager, my client is very intent on negotiating for this property. He has authorized me to compensate you for your time and for reasonable copying costs. I don t see where a problem would arise. Most of the information is public record anyway. The mention of money got Jager s attention. I charge one hundred and fifty dollars an hour. That sounds reasonable. Jager hesitated, and Vasquez knew that she was desperate for more money. He hoped that she didn t go crazy on him. Until the Jaffes hired him, he was fronting his expenses. My copying costs are rather high. I would need another fifty dollars to cover them. That s fine. Vasquez slid two hundred dollars across the desk. May I see the file? Jager rotated her chair and retrieved a manila folder from a cabinet behind her desk. Inside, Vasquez found copies of documents he d seen in the Multnomah County file. He only asked for copies of the checks. Jager was gone for a few minutes. When she returned, she handed a stack of photocopies to Vasquez. What s so important about this farm? Jager asked. You re the second person who s been interested in it. Is someone going to build a subdivision? Someone else asked about this property? Yeah, about a week ago. Vasquez put the photocopies away and dug a photograph of Cardoni out of his attachase. Was this the man? Jager studied the photograph for a moment. Then she shook her head. The man who came in was blond and looked different. More like a Russian. How tall was he? Over six feet. Did he say why he wanted to buy the property? No. He was more interested in how it was purchased. Can you tell me any more about him? No. He just showed up and asked about the farm. Did you show him the file? Yes. Vasquez was stumped. Who else would be interested in the farm? If this guy shows up again, try to get some more information about him. How will I let you know? Vasquez gave Jager his business card and another fifty. Ten minutes later Vasquez was on the phone with Amanda Jaffe. Have you had a chance to talk to your father about me? Vasquez asked anxiously. I m lead counsel on Dr. Castle s case, so it s my decision. Look, I know you re worried, but I m good and I ve already got a jump on the cops. Vasquez eagerly related what he had learned during his meeting with Mary Ann Jager. Amanda only half listened until Vasquez told her that someone else had been asking about the property. Do you think he was just interested in buying the farm? Amanda asked. I don t know. I showed Jager a photograph of Cardoni. The person who came to the office was his height, but Jager said that he looked different. If he s alive, Cardoni may have had plastic surgery. If he s alive, I ll find him. It doesn t matter what he looks like. Vasquez s determination pushed Amanda toward a decision. Frank might not trust Vasquez, but she did. He had a burning desire to get Vincent Cardoni, and you could not buy that kind of drive. Mr. Vasquez, I think you can help Dr. Castle. I want you to work for me. You won t regret this. What do you want me to do? Serial killers refine their techniques. Our murderer has used a unique MO twice. I want you to see if he s used it before. Start searching for unsolved murders involving mass graves. Maybe you ll find another property purchased in a similar way. Maybe we ll get lucky and Cardoni has made a mistake that will let us nail him.