The Puppet Master

by Ronald S. Barak

  He was in an impossible position. He was being extorted to compromise Cliff Norman’s defense. To back off asserting a defense of justifiable homicide. Or to use the same concept to push the reasonable doubt argument. Even if Leah would listen to him, and he couldn’t imagine that she would, he would not, could not, go there. Not once had he ever compromised a client’s interests. To give in to something like that now, or ever, was unacceptable to him. Not an option.

  But Abrams couldn’t bring himself to face the alternative, either. It would mean that Julie would be exposed and ruined. Another Monica Lewinsky. He simply could not bear to see that happen. Not on my watch. Not on my conscience.

  Slowly at first, Abrams had started thinking about another possibility. Given his health, the time he had left was limited. He didn’t want any more time if it meant watching Julie be destroyed. No matter how complicit she was, he would be the one who caused her downfall. If instead he passed on before all of this could play out, Thomas—and whoever was behind him—would lose their leverage. They could no longer use or expect to use Abrams to accomplish their evil objective. Hopefully, there would then be no reason for them to take Julie down. Perhaps they still would out of spite, but at least Abrams would have done all he possibly could to prevent that.

  He had lived a good life. He could go out in peace. He didn’t want to be remembered as someone who was a quitter, but his medical circumstances were such that the truth might not be suspected.

  Abrams decided he had a few days to sleep on it. But with the trial less than a week away, Thomas and his cronies would be insisting on his answer very soon.

  CHAPTER 61

  Tuesday, July 21, 4:00 p.m.

  LOTELLO WAS ON HIS way to Ayres’s office. He had decided that he couldn’t just come out and tell Ayres that he had somehow managed to get his hands on a copy of the calendar. Or that he suspected Ayres might even have been the anonymous source that made it available to him. If he did that and Ayres wasn’t the source, Lotello could end up in trouble. His next job might be as a private security guard on the night shift at some office building. He wasn’t ready for that. Easy, Frank. Play it cool. Just like you mapped it out. If Ayres isn’t the one who gave up the calendar to you, he won’t know what’s going on or what to do. If he was the one, he’ll know. But then it won’t matter.

  * * *

  “HEY, DETECTIVE, LONG TIME no see. What brings you around?”

  “You know me. Always chasing down some loose ends.”

  Ayres didn’t like the sound of that. Is this about the calendar? Lotello can suspect all he wants, but there’s no way he could know I was the one who gave it to him.

  Casually, Lotello added, “Ever run across a guy by the name of Blaine Hollister?”

  Oh, shit! Maybe he does think it was me. “Name’s familiar. Is he that wealthy oilman who also occasionally dabbles in politics?” Ayres could see the wheels turning in Lotello’s head. He is wondering if I’m the source.

  “Right, that’s the guy. Do you know if the senator ever had any dealings with him?”

  Stay calm. “Now that you mention it, I think they did have a couple of meetings a while back. Why do you ask?”

  Ayres sensed that Lotello wasn’t done turning the screws. “I received an anonymous call to look into Hollister,” Lotello said. “That he might somehow be involved in all of this. I did a little digging. I think he could be involved.”

  Shit, shit, shit! An anonymous call my ass! “I do seem to recall that the senator grew uncomfortable with Hollister. Cut her ties with him.”

  Looking straight at Ayres, Lotello paused, almost causing Ayres to lose it. Lotello continued: “Only my instincts, but I think Hollister could be involved in Wells’s death. Maybe DiMarco’s and Johnson’s, too. He may have decided that an increasing number of our public servants are putting their own interests ahead of their public trust. That someone needed to do something about it.

  “But we’ve got a problem. I need to corroborate my suspicions. I need someone who can come forward and tie Hollister together with the senator. My anonymous source won’t come forward. So that doesn’t work. If we had been allowed to obtain the senator’s calendar, and found any references to Hollister, that would have gotten us there. As you know, that avenue’s been blocked. I was hoping that you might be able to provide me with an explanation as to why I’m pursuing Hollister. If you could do that, I’ll be able to take it from there.”

  So he does think I’m the one who gave him the calendar. But he’s not out to blow my cover. Or his own. I need some time to think this through. “Okay, Detective, I think I get your drift. I need some time to think this through. To figure out what’s right. Whether I can do anything to help you. Give me a little space, a couple of days. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Okay. But don’t take too long. The trial starts next week.”

  * * *

  LOTELLO FORGOT TO BREATHE. Until he was in the elevator outside Ayres’s office. What a game of cat and mouse. I don’t know for sure what he did or didn’t do with Wells’s little black book. Or what he knows. Unless he’s the one who gave me the calendar, he doesn’t know for sure what I know—or think—or that I have the calendar. All that matters, though, is whether he’s going to help me. Seems like I’ll know in a day or two. Hope so. We’re getting awfully close to the trial.

  CHAPTER 62

  Thursday, July 23, 2:00 p.m.

  “JUDGE, BERNIE ABRAMS CALLING on line one. Do you want to take it?”

  Brooks couldn’t help but wonder why Abrams would be calling him only days before the Norman trial was due to start. “I’ll take it,” Brooks said to his administrative clerk. “Hi, Bernie, how are things? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “I’m fine, Judge. Thanks for asking. I just finished a session with Leah. Had her bring me up-to-date on the Norman case. I was originally planning to sit through the trial but, truth is, I haven’t been feeling all that hot lately. However, I’m satisfied that Leah is ready to go. She doesn’t need me there; I’d just be unnecessary baggage. I know we can’t discuss the case without Vince being present, but I just wanted to see if there is anything I might do to help with the lines of communication between you and Leah before the trial gets underway.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Bernie. As always. Leah’s been no problem. Maybe a little anxious. I’d rather have you handling this. But Leah will do well. Norman’s lucky to have her. So am I, for that matter.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’d like to be trying this case more than you could possibly imagine. Unfortunately, however, it’s not in the cards. Again, I just wanted to make sure everything with Leah seemed okay.”

  “We’re fine, Bernie. I’ll holler loud and clear if I’m having any problems with Ms. Klein during the trial.”

  “Uh, right, Judge, of course. Please do. Thanks for everything, Your Honor. You take care.”

  “You too, Bernie. Thanks for calling.”

  That was a strange call. Why would Bernie be calling about Leah? She’s solid. He knows that. Besides, he’s just a phone call away. Was he fishing for something? If so, guess I missed it.

  * * *

  ABRAMS HUNG UP THE phone, staring off into space. He had done all he could think of to find out if Leah was barking up any wrong trees or if she needed any last-minute help from him. From here, she’s going to have to handle this one on her own. More than she realizes. The judge is right. She’ll do fine. She’ll have to.

  CHAPTER 63

  Saturday, July 25, 8:30 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie. It’s Leah. I’m sorry to call you at home so early on a Saturday morning. I need to kick around some issues on Norman with you that occurred to me last night. I’ve got a long weekend ahead of me before we start the trial on Monday. Please call me back as soon as you can. I’m not sure if I’ll be at home o
r in the office. Just call me on my cell. Thanks.” She added her cell phone number so Abrams wouldn’t have to hunt around for it.

  CHAPTER 64

  Saturday, July 25, 9:45 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie, it’s Leah again. I’m really getting short on time. I’ll try your cell next. Call me back on mine. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 65

  Saturday, July 25, 9:48 a.m.

  “BERNIE HERE. YOU’VE REACHED my cell phone. Leave a message.”

  “Bernie, it’s Leah. Where are you? Call me on my cell as soon as you get this. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Saturday, July 25, 10:15 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie here. You’ve reached my cell phone. Leave a message.”

  I asked Bernie on Friday if he’d be around over the weekend. In case I needed him. He said yes. There’s no way he wouldn’t return my calls with the trial starting Monday. He always has his cell phone with him. This is not good.

  Klein grabbed her purse and keys and was out the door. She pulled up in front of Bernie’s home twenty minutes later. She knocked. No answer. She rang. Again no answer. She knocked louder. Much louder. Still no answer.

  Door’s not locked. I always lock my door. Of course I live in a lower-rent district. Turning the doorknob, she called out loudly, “Anyone home? Bernie? It’s me, Leah. Are you here?” Silence. All Klein heard was the faint humming of a motor. Somewhere.

  Her heart was racing. She moved cautiously. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the front part of the house. “Bernie? Are you here?” She made her way down the hallway to his home office. No one there. She continued back to the bedroom.

  There he was. Lying in his bed. “Bernie, are you okay?” Abrams didn’t answer. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. But he was too still.

  “Bernie, can you hear me?” Nothing. No response. No pulse, either. “Oh, my God, Bernie. What happened?” Leah grabbed the phone beside the bed and dialed 911. As calmly as she could, she forced out the words: her name, at the home of Bernard Abrams, address, just found Mr. Abrams, he’s not breathing. The voice said the paramedics were on the way. She hung up and retreated from the bedroom. She didn’t want to leave him but felt like she had to do something more.

  Klein vaguely knew Abrams had some medical issues but didn’t think they were serious. He never complained. He was always around. She went into the bathroom, found some pill bottles, and copied down the doctor’s name. Dr. Murray Winston. She went into Abrams’s home office and saw what she was looking for, Bernie’s cell phone sitting on his desk. She tapped on the contacts icon and then selected “W” for “Winston.” She found his name and several numbers. She called the one that said it was his home number. She didn’t want to talk to an answering service if she didn’t have to.

  “Hello.”

  “Doctor Winston?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “My name’s Leah Klein. I work with Bernard Abrams. I came to his house this morning concerning a matter we are working on together. I found him in bed. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. I called 911. They’re on the way. I thought I should do something more. I found your name on some pill bottles. Your number was in the contacts on Mr. Abrams’s cell phone.”

  “Ms. Klein, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ms. Klein, I’m both Mr. Abrams’s doctor and a longtime friend. You’ve done everything you need to do. I’m nearby and on the way, but 911 will probably get there first. Thank you for calling me. Because of an unattended death, they might or might not let me in.”

  Klein went back into the bedroom, hoping against hope that something would be different, that maybe she was wrong, that there would be some signs of life—something, anything. But there was no change. She sat down on a chair opposite the bed and just stared at … nothing. She didn’t know what else to do. Suddenly, her body shuddered uncontrollably. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  After what seemed longer than it probably was, several paramedics came rushing into the bedroom. They brought with them a number of metal boxes and other equipment. By the time Dr. Winston entered the room just a few minutes later, the paramedics had already confirmed the obvious. Dr. Winston introduced himself and said some things to the paramedics that Klein could not hear. They allowed him to remain and examine the body under their watchful eye.

  Dr. Winston finished whatever he was doing. He then came over to Klein and gently led her out of the room. “Ms. Klein, I’m sorry you had to be a party to this. I don’t see any signs of foul play. Unfortunately, Mr. Abrams had been in declining health. The good news is that he appeared to go quietly in his sleep. In collaboration with 911, I can take care of what needs to be done from here, including contacting family and friends. Mr. Abrams’ wife, son, and daughter-in-law are all deceased. Apart from one granddaughter there are no other children or grandchildren.

  “You handled yourself very well here, Ms. Klein. Knowing Mr. Abrams as I do, I’m sure he would feel very badly for putting you through this. But he would be grateful to you for your kind assistance to him today. Are you okay to drive? I know what a shock this must be for you. I can call a cab if you would prefer.”

  Klein took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I wish there was something more I could do here. But honestly I don’t know what. Mr. Abrams was helping me on a case that begins trial in two days. Frankly, right now, I feel lousy, worse than lousy, but I have a lot to do and not much time. I don’t really have any choice. I think I’ll be okay to drive. I can’t afford not to be. Thank you for coming, Doctor. And for overseeing everything.” Klein walked slowly out of the house, started up her car, hesitated for a moment, and drove off slowly.

  * * *

  DR. WINSTON SAT DOWN opposite Abrams’s bed. Bernie, Bernie, what did you do, Bernie? What would possess you to do this? You had plenty of time left. You knew that. I told you that. Why now? No note. I guess you didn’t want anyone to know what you were doing. Or why. You must have had your reasons. I wish you would have talked with me about it first. Well, the least I can do for you, old friend, is try to make sure you leave with your dignity intact. That the official cause of death will be routine cardiac arrest. No one will ever know otherwise. Dr. Winston walked into Abrams’s office and picked up the phone. He had some calls to make to help his dear friend with his final journey.

  CHAPTER 67

  Saturday, July 25, 1:45 p.m.

  SOMEHOW, KLEIN MANAGED TO get home. In a daze. For a while, she just stared at the walls. Unable to think or do anything. Slowly, the cobwebs began to clear. She had to get a grip. Unless she was going to seek a delay in the trial, which wouldn’t be fair to Norman, she had to get back to work. But first she had to let Judge Brooks know. And she had to call Melinda Raines in case Dr. Winston didn’t know to do that. Melinda worked with Bernie forever. She’s going to be devastated.

  Leah found Raines’s home number in the office directory. Reaching her was easy. Breaking the news was not. Raines was stoic. Like they both knew Abrams would have wanted her to be. Klein also knew that was just on the outside. Raines asked what had happened. Klein explained everything, emphasizing that Dr. Winston said Abrams had passed away quietly and peacefully in his sleep from natural causes. Klein didn’t know this for sure. But she couldn’t see what good it would do not to give Raines whatever solace she could.

  Raines asked who was taking care of things. Klein explained that Dr. Winston said he would take care of what needed to be done. Raines said she would get in touch with Julie.

  * * *

  REACHING BROOKS PROVED TO be more difficult. It was Saturday. Judges don’t give out or list their home telephone numbers. Klein was able to prevail on building security at the courthouse to place a call to Brooks. Brooks cal
led her back immediately. “Ms. Klein, what would possess you to try to speak to me outside of court hours? I presume this has something to do with the Norman trial. It better be good.”

  “Judge, I’m sorry to disturb you. Bernie Abrams passed away last night. I thought you would want to know.”

  After an awkward silence, Brooks said in a softer tone, not at all like him, “I’m so terribly sorry, Ms. Klein. Are you alright?”

  “I’m okay, Judge. Thank you for asking. I’m just honestly a bit confused about the proper protocol here and what to do. I thought I better try to reach you.”

  “You did the right thing. When did you say this happened?”

  “I believe sometime last night.”

  “Was there any sign of foul play?”

  “I don’t think so, Your Honor. I was the one who found Mr. Abrams this morning. I was trying to reach him about some matters relating to the case. I became concerned when he didn’t return any of my calls, so I went over to his place. He was in bed and looked like he had died in his sleep. That’s what his doctor said.”

  “I see. Would you like a short continuance of the Norman case, Ms. Klein? As you know, we are confronted with constitutional requirements of a speedy trial. However, under the circumstances, I can certainly give you a few days if you’d like.”

  “I’ve thought about that, Your Honor. Frankly, I’m a little foggy right now. But I’m pretty much ready to go. I think it would be worse sitting around not doing anything. I also think Mr. Norman, in his own way, has been waiting for this. I don’t want to cause him any delay.”

  “Very well, then, Ms. Klein. Thank you for informing me. I’ll see you on Monday morning at nine thirty. I’m truly sorry for your loss. Good day.”