there with Melvin Jackson's new prosecutor.
I had hoped to be out of the building before Russ made it up to the
eighth floor, but he managed to catch me while I was still getting my
things together. One more reason not to keep such a messy office.
"Don't worry about the call to Prescott," he said. "I won't make you
look like a jerk."
"I think Duncan already took care of that," I said, throwing my pumps
in my gym bag. One of them didn't quite make it in and hit Frist in
the leg.
"Easy now. For what it's worth, it would've been a lot worse if Duncan
didn't actually like you."
"If you didn't notice, I just got kicked off my first murder trial," I
said, pulling the pictures of Vinnie and my family from my cork board
and tucking them safely away in my briefcase, just in case.
"Yes, but you walked out with your job and the case on track, and with
very minimal ass-kissing. I know you'd rather hang on to it, but I
won't bungle it."
"Better not," I said, laughing, while I pulled my rain slicker on.
"You're obviously going somewhere, but before you leave, why don't you
let me in on the parts you edited out for Duncan."
I did my best to look confused.
"Cut the shit, Samantha. I can tell you're leaving something out. If
you need me to go into cross-examination mode, I'll point out that you
told Duncan there were some details you left out. As in plural. And
you clearly had more to say to me before we got pulled into Duncan's,
but I don't think it was the secret immunity deal, because you
obviously didn't realize it was going to be so explosive. So spill it:
What were you saving up for last?"
What the hell. He'd stuck by me so far.
"Earlier, I thought it was a big deal, but now that you've convinced me
I had my head up my ass" he laughed too "anyway, it's probably nothing,
but the safe deposit box that had the videotape and the Gunderson
file?"
He nodded.
"Well, the one other item in the box was a password-protected floppy
disc containing the budget information for Townsend's new hospital
wing."
"And how does that fit in with everything we just talked about
downstairs?"
"It doesn't. If you're right, it just so happens that Clarissa stored
a backup of her husband's data in the same place as the other things.
But, earlier, it made me wonder if maybe Townsend had something to do
with it. Maybe Gunderson coughs up money for the hospital in exchange
for Clarissa's help, something like that."
"And he lets her sleep with Caffrey so she can deliver his vote for
Gunderson? I don't see it."
Me neither. On the other hand, according to everyone who knew him, the
pathetic guy we'd been talking to the past week wasn't the same man
Clarissa Easterbrook had married.
We talked it through but kept going around in circles.
When I finally retrieved my gym bag from under the desk, Russ handed me
my briefcase. "So where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?"
I wasn't ready to answer that question yet. "Sounded like Duncan was
going to steer the meeting toward a holding pattern. Let the news sink
in and the personalities calm down."
"I know," he said. "I was there, remember?"
"It may have been a mistake to drag Gunderson into the murder case, but
now he knows we're looking at him on the bribery. Not the best
situation for the preservation of inculpatory evidence."
"You mean Slip's mistake," he said.
"Right."
"Well, you heard the boss: Nothing's happening until decisions get made
at the highest level," he said, like we were still shooting the
breeze.
"But maybe someone could poke around a little on the side. Just to see
what falls loose," I said.
"You mind if I take the rest of the day as personal time?"
"Not if you need it," he said. "Just tell me what you find out."
9R9
Fourteen.
By the time I got to Metro Council headquarters, Terrence Caffrey's
office was already locked down. Metro was probably only a part-time
legislative gig.
I took a chance and drove past the address I had copied from the
mailing envelope Slip had found in Clarissa's safe deposit box. T. J.
Caffrey and his family lived in a brick colonial just a couple of
houses south of Reed College. A woman probably Caffrey's wife was
planting bulbs along the front walk. A mini-van and a Toyota Avalon
were parked in the driveway.
Two cars hopefully meant two drivers.
I wanted to talk to Caffrey alone, but I was willing to do it the hard
way if necessary. I parked my Jetta around the corner on Woodstock
Boulevard, confident that it blended in among the students' cars across
from the library.
I looked at my watch. I'd give it an hour before I knocked on the
front door.
Fifty-five minutes later, the front yard was empty, my stomach was in
knots, and my self-imposed boldness deadline was preparing to bend.
Chuck had been paging me, and I hadn't called him back out of fear that
he'd convince me to take the night off and abandon my stakeout. Then I
got lucky.
The gardener walked out the front door holding a toddler and a Meier &
Frank shopping bag, yelling back to someone inside. A little boy
probably four years old followed her. She strapped them both into the
minivan, threw the bags in front, and drove off.
I didn't know how many kids Caffrey had, but most folks stop at two
nowadays. Then it dawned on me he might not even be there. What woman
in her right mind takes her children on a mall run when she could leave
them at home with their dad?
There was only one way to find out. I mustered my courage, got out of
the car, marched to the front door, and panicked.
Just when I was about to bail, Caffrey opened the door. "I thought I
saw someone. Can I help? Oh, Ms. Kincaid. It's you."
He looked down the street, no doubt to make sure the missus had left.
"I'm not trying to cause you any problems."
"As I know you're aware, my lawyer quashed that subpoena."
"Well, that's just it. The subpoena was served by the defense to
require you to testify under oath at the preliminary hearing. I just
want to talk to you, but I need to know if you're still represented."
"Ronald Fish is my lawyer. I'm sure you remember the very
uncomfortable meeting we had Friday morning."
Of course I did, but that wasn't what I was getting at.
"I guess what I'm asking you, Mr. Caffrey, is whether you hired an
attorney specifically because of the subpoena, or are you telling me
that you've retained counsel to defend you in all matters involving
Clarissa Easterbrook?"
Caffrey was savvy enough to know that, as I had worded it, the latter
sounded bad. It sounded well, guilty. By now, he may even have heard
the news about witnesses taking the Fifth at the prelim. In the news,
they always make that sound like a confession.
I was taking advantage of a loophole in the
rule against contacting a
represented party, but I was squarely on legal ground. And I had no
respect for a guy who was more worried about his own political future
than the murder of a woman he'd been sleeping with.
"No," he said, without hesitation. "I thought I should have a lawyer
for the courtroom proceedings, but I've got no problem speaking to you
informally. Within limits, that is. I've only got about ten
minutes."
He was giving me a warning signal. I needed to be gone before the wife
came home. Press too far, and I'd be out of here. With the rules of
the game defined, he asked me in.
"Since time is short, I'm not going to waste it pushing you to answer a
question I think we both know is pointless." As I spoke, he folded his
hands in his lap and looked down at them. At least he seemed to have
some shame about his cowardice. "I think Clarissa got herself in
trouble on one of her cases at work, something to do with Gunderson
Development. And I also think she talked to the City Attorney about
it."
"Gunderson Development had a case in front of Clarissa?"
I told him about the file, including the note about Clarissa's
conversation with DC. The skin on his hands creased as he tightened
the resistance in his fingers. I was on to something, and he was
surprised by it.
I went for broke. "Clarissa also had a videotape of the two of you
leaving the Village Motor Inn, and it was in an envelope addressed to
this house. She was blackmailing you, wasn't she?
Was it so you'd leave your wife, or was she trying to pressure your
vote for Gunderson?"
He was no longer surprised. He was downright flabbergasted. He was
looking at me like I had just invited him to a fund-raiser for Satan.
"No?" I sounded pitiful.
He shook his head, then said what his expression had already made
obvious. "Clarissa was not blackmailing me."
"But you do know something that might be related to her death." I
could state the obvious too.
When a few moments passed and he realized that I wasn't going to
interrupt the silence, he finally spoke up. "Clarissa wasn't perfect.
No one is."
"Is that why you haven't said anything? With all due respect, making
sure we get the guy who killed Clarissa is a hell of a lot more
important than preserving her reputation."
"I've been tearing myself apart. When she first disappeared, I didn't
know what to do. But then it sounded like the evidence against Jackson
was so strong, I felt I'd be dragging Clarissa through the dirt for no
reason."
The fact that he got to keep his own name clean may have factored in as
well.
"Look, the case against Jackson is strong, but the defense is arguing
that someone set him up. I started to believe it myself, but it looks
like whatever Clarissa had going with Gunderson wasn't involved in her
death. But I think it did have something to do with your upcoming vote
on the urban growth boundary."
"If it's not related to her death, why does it even matter at this
point?"
"I hope I don't need to explain to you, of all people, that if
Gunderson was blackmailing or bribing a public official, he should be
punished." The argument seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"And if we don't find out for ourselves what was going on between
Clarissa and Gunderson, then the defense attorney can use innuendo and
speculation to confuse the jury at trial. I don't want Jackson to
walk."
The possibility of Clarissa's murderer going unpunished seemed to be
more persuasive. "It doesn't have anything to do with my vote." He
was clearly insulted at what he perceived as the insinuation. "Clarissa
never talked to me about that. Just like I never tried to tell her
what to do on her cases. But I think she did have a connection to this
Gunderson you're talking about."
He stopped, but I did nothing to disturb the silence.
"A few weeks ago, she told me she rigged an appeal for someone. I
don't know the details of the case, but I know she ruled in his favor
when she shouldn't have. I was shocked when she told me. It was
totally unlike her."
"Did she tell you why she did it?"
"No. I think she only told me because she was worried about something
else, some newer problem. She said the arrangement was supposed to be
the one case, but it hadn't ended at that. They wanted something else,
but she wouldn't say what. I begged her to talk to me about what was
going on, but she wouldn't. She said she was going to handle it
herself."
"How was she handling it?"
"I'm not sure. I know she went to Dennis Coakley so she could clear
herself from any other cases where she might be pressured, but I don't
know if she told him the full extent of what she did. The next thing I
knew, she said she had figured out a way to get out of the position she
was in, but that there was a risk that people would learn about well,
about our friendship."
"Did she talk to anyone else about it?" I asked.
"Not that I know of. I doubt it. She was incredibly embarrassed.
Ashamed. She was trying to find a way to get herself back on the right
track without losing everything. God, in retrospect, it explained why
she'd been so damn .. . good those last couple of weeks. You know she
actually felt sorry for that monster?"
"For Gunderson?"
"No, for Melvin Jackson. Well, she never told me his name, but she did
tell me his whole sad story. She called HAP to see if zero tolerance
really meant zero tolerance. She called SCF to see if he was really
going to lose his kids. Hell, she was even talking about finding the
man a job to make sure he'd be on his feet when he was evicted. At the
time, I asked her why she didn't just rule in his favor. But that was
before I knew she'd already gone down that road before. I guess she
wasn't willing to bend the law again, even for what she thought was a
good cause."
Despite what Clarissa had done for Gunderson, I respected her even more
now that I knew what she'd gone through. She died doing everything she
could to turn her life around, looking for redemption by helping a man
like Melvin Jackson, a man who showed his gratitude by bashing her head
in with a hammer.
"How long had you been .. . close?" I asked.
"Almost seven months." It was clearly painful for him to talk about
this, and I had allowed the conversation to get off track. Just then,
my pager vibrated. Chuck again. I turned the thing off.
"When she said people might find out about your friendship, I imagine
that must have alarmed you a great deal."
"Perhaps not as much as you might think. I had very real feelings for
Clarissa. Think what you want about me, but she was truly a decent
person. She was under so much stress the guilt over what we were
doing, combined with whatever she was involved in I could tell it was
tearing her apart. Obviously,
I pressed her to tell me what our relationship had to do with her
problem, but she refused. In the end, I told her to do what she had to
do."
"When was that?"
"The Friday night before she disappeared."
I tried to think of any other information I needed from him while he
was being so cooperative. I had a newfound respect for cops. This
off-the-cuff stuff was much harder than the questioning I was used to
with a legal pad and the artificial setting of a courthouse on my
side.
"I know I gave you my assurances that I wasn't going to push on certain
topics, but there's one other thing I need to know." I explained the
ME's report of nonoxynol-9 in Clarissa's vaginal canal. "It's very
intrusive, I know, but is it possible that was due to her relationship
with you?"
He bumbled around awkwardly trying to find the right words, but he
finally got the point across. He and Clarissa had used a condom on
Friday night.
"We met well, let's be frank we met at the hotel you mentioned on the
videotape you found. Her husband was at the hospital late." I noticed
he didn't use Townsend's name. "She was in good spirits, although a
little nervous. She said that on Saturday she was finally going to
clear herself from this problem she was having. I braced myself all