The Rule of Law

by John Lescroart

  “I’m sure I will. But really, what does it cost?”

  She sighed again, came up to him and handed him the glass. “About two thousand dollars.”

  “No!”

  Delighted, she broke a small laugh. “Yes.”

  He took a sip. “Oh my God.”

  “You like it?”

  “It’s amazing.” Taking another sip, he said, “You didn’t have to go out and buy something like this, you know.”

  “Yes, I did. I wanted something special. I’m so glad you like it.”

  “You should pour yourself some.”

  “Maybe I will,” she said. “After.”

  “After what?”

  She reached up and put her hands behind her head, and in the next second her red dress fell off her shoulders and floated down to the floor.

  “After.”

  38

  RON SLEPT IN until 9:30 on Saturday morning.

  There was a covered breakfast tray—coffee, orange juice, lox, bagels—on his bedside table, with a rose and a note: Enjoy your rest. Sleep in. You’ve earned it. I love you. Kate.

  Pouring himself a perfect cup of coffee from the thermos, he plumped up his pillow and leaned back against it. For a moment, unbidden, he flashed on the events of the night before.

  First the incredible and unexpected time with Andrea.

  Then somehow, as he’d promised Kate he would, he’d made it home in time for dinner, with a bourbon cocktail as soon as he came in the door to cover the Pappy Van Winkle’s. Heading upstairs right away to shower and change. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quick. But sometimes the people I’ve got to deal with in this job just make me feel dirty.”

  Kate understood. The duck breast dinner had been fantastic, the wine a delicious Oregon Pinot Noir from their cellar. No heavy conversation, thank God. A lot of Janey talking about her teenage life. Afterward, Janey had a date and he and Kate had snuggled together watching their old favorite, Blue Bloods, in the family room.

  Both of them sleeping by 11:00.

  He knew he’d been lucky. He also realized that he had better put some priority on giving Kate some real quality time soon or things with his domestic situation might fall apart. He was pushing things to the limit, he knew, and maybe already even beyond it, but the simple fact was that the time he spent at home with Kate and Janey couldn’t hold a candle to the pure rush and excitement of his life at the office.

  And it wasn’t just Andrea, as satisfying as that was turning out to be.

  He also had the tireless and loyal Chet Greene at his beck and call. And through Chet—because he was a former homicide inspector with great credibility—Ron felt that he had the confidence of the entire staff of the DA’s Bureau of Investigations. The mayor and the chief of police were also turning out to be surprising allies as he worked to get his administration established. It turned out that his predecessor, Wes Farrell, hadn’t been the most tough-on-crime district attorney in the city’s history, and he hadn’t endeared himself to the police department or the mayor’s office. So Ron had a definite advantage there.

  In short, he was finally living the self-actualized life that he’d always known that he deserved. He was important. He wielded real power. When he talked, people listened. And when he gave a speech, they cheered.

  This was who he was always meant to be.

  But he could not let himself forget about Kate. Really, no matter what else he thought about her, there was no escaping that she had to be part of whatever it was that he was becoming. She knew and kept his biggest secret, as he did hers, and that connection bound them as nothing else ever could.

  He could not allow himself to think that he was getting bored with her, with their life together. That could become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and he could not let himself go there. Kate was, after all—as he was—capable of murder. They were equals. Best not to forget that, even for an instant. She was a force of nature in her own right, his partner and protector. She was a lioness, ever vigilant in guarding her pride, her nest, her mate.

  It would not be prudent to neglect Kate.

  He had to give her some attention. It was only smart.

  • • •

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE you managed not to mention this FBI issue last night,” Kate said.

  “It wasn’t easy, actually. It took all my willpower not to bring it up, but after the week I’ve had, I didn’t want to have another heavy conversation at home about the job, especially with Janey there. I figure she’s heard enough about that to last her for a few months. I didn’t want to put her—or you, for that matter—through the worry.”

  “I think that was a really nice decision.”

  “Thank you. That’s because I’m really a nice guy, underneath it all.”

  “Not so underneath.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you to say so.”

  He squeezed her hand. They were strolling toward the Golden Gate Bridge on the paved walking path that ran along the bay at Crissy Field. The sun had broken through a half hour before and now the temperature was flirting with the 70s.

  “So,” she came back to their topic. “Are you worried?”

  “About the FBI? Not really. The bureau has no chance of putting the whole thing together. Thanks to the brilliance of someone I know,” he said, “there are no new facts to hang any charge on.”

  “So why did this special agent come around to your office?”

  “Half of it, hassle value. The other half or more, Beth Tully, may she rest in peace.”

  “May she rest in peace? You’re not saying she’s . . . ?”

  “Dead? No. Sadly. I meant may she rest in peace in her new employment, whatever that may turn out to be.”

  “God,” Kate said. “For a minute there, I thought something had happened to her.”

  “Well, she did get relieved from Homicide. Which may be the next best thing.”

  “And you think she’s the one who got the FBI involved?”

  “Absolutely. She’s always glommed onto that gun question.”

  Kate’s voice took on an edge. “Let’s not forget to mention that she’s right about that, Ron. It’s the only flaw and she thinks if she picks at it enough, it’s all going to come undone. In a way, I feel a little sorry for her.”

  “Well, I don’t, I promise you. She could have just left all of this alone.”

  “No. Being her, she couldn’t. And now look what’s happened to her.”

  “Well, you’ll pardon me if I’m a little more concerned with our lives than with Beth Tully’s. All of this should be so over. It ought to be clear, even with the FBI looking at it, that nothing new is coming out. Why does she care so much?”

  “Because she thinks I betrayed her. I mean personally. And we were friends. Now we’re not and never will be again. I hurt her.”

  “Okay. That’s one I understand. Losing your friendship. I don’t know how anybody could live if they were your friend and then weren’t anymore.” He squeezed her hand again. “I’m including present company.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes pools of relief.

  “Really,” he said.

  After a few more steps, she asked him, “Do you mean that?”

  “Completely. Could you ever doubt it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ron stopped and turned to look into her eyes. “Kate. Really, truly, seriously. If you weren’t in my life, if you weren’t the most important thing in my life, I have no idea what I’d do. Maybe just shrivel up and die. I mean it. You are my whole world.”

  She moved into his embrace.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded against him. “It’s just that, especially since the election . . . I mean, we don’t get anything like the time together that we used to. I thought that might be how it was always going to be from now on. That was the way you wanted it.”

  “No. I’ve just been swamped. I know things kind of got away from me, and I’m so sorry. I’ve got to dial it b
ack. Figure out how to do it better. Better for us, I mean. The last thing I want is less time with you.” He pulled away slightly, lifted her chin with his index finger, and kissed her. “I love you,” he said. “That’s the whole story.”

  • • •

  KATE PULLED THE sheets up around her. “Don’t be upset,” she said.

  “Easy for you to say.” He sat on the side of the bed, his feet on the floor.

  “No, it isn’t, really. I think we’re just out of practice.”

  “It’s not like we used to have to practice to stay good at it.”

  “No, I know. That’s not what I meant. Maybe it’s that you’ve got so many other things on your mind, making love isn’t the main one right now.” She patted the bed. “Hey, come here, lie back down. At least we can hug.”

  “I’m just so afraid I’m letting you down.”

  “You never let me down. This stuff happens, that’s all.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Well, then your memory isn’t working so well, either.” She patted the bed again. “That was kind of a joke. Come over here.”

  He sighed.

  “Please,” she said.

  He turned to look at her. “It’s not going to work, Kate.”

  “We’re in bed together, Ron. That’s working enough right there, don’t you think? And we’ve had such a good day so far. Let’s not let this ruin it.”

  “It’s not ruined,” he said. “It’s just . . .”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing.”

  39

  IT WAS NOT Hardy’s favorite thing that on the first warm and beautiful Saturday afternoon of the calendar year, he was indoors sitting at the big round table in the Solarium. It was also not a personal highlight moment to acknowledge that in his haste to sidetrack Ron Jameson and his meddling in the Dockside Massacre case, he had probably caused Beth Tully to lose her job.

  When he’d heard from her, hungover, a few hours earlier, he decided to invite her down to neutral ground to find out exactly what had happened. He’d then called Abe to give him the news and invite him, and Abe had put in a call to Bill Schuyler.

  And now, here they all were.

  “The guy moves fast,” Schuyler said. “I’ll give him that.”

  Hardy nodded soberly. “I should have seen that coming, with how he pushed things along on Devin Juhle. I am so sorry, Beth. I feel like this is all my fault.”

  “How could it be?”

  “Well, it was more or less my idea to move things into the fast lane. I don’t know what I was thinking—maybe that Jameson would panic and do something stupid. That we’d have some leverage we’ve been missing to take him down. Like no record of him ever turning in his guns.”

  “That wasn’t a bad idea,” Schuyler said. “I already went down and checked out the log-in book for every gun turned in all around the relevant months—in fact, the whole year. It’s true: nothing. Unfortunately, though I believe in my heart that he’s lying, we need more if we want to get anywhere close to proving it. The good news, if you want to call it that, is that he’s got me motivated, and I intend to keep looking.”

  “What are you going to do?” Abe asked.

  “I like the idea of keeping him aware that there’s an active FBI investigation going on and he’s in the middle of it. That’s got to get his full attention. He’s already shown that he’s the kind of guy who can’t just sit back and let events unfold. He gets pressured, my guess he’s going to do something.”

  “Ha.” Beth laughed without humor. “Tell me about it. So meanwhile, while we’re waiting, what are we supposed to do?”

  “Who are ‘we’?”

  “Well, me, for one example. You’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit around and wait until he does something else?”

  Schuyler and Glitsky exchanged a glance.

  “The short answer is: Absolutely,” Schuyler said. “In fact, if anything, you just back off and lie low. He’s already made his move against you.”

  “That’s my point. He’s going to think I’m sitting at home, licking my wounds. How about if I just keep the pressure on, as you say, Bill? Get up in his face somehow? Instead of just rolling over like the passive little woman he expects me to be?”

  “I don’t think that’s exactly how he thinks of you,” Hardy said.

  Schuyler grimaced and said, “I appreciate the offer, and I know where you’re coming from, but you can’t do that. You start hassling him or his wife, he could lock you up. Meanwhile, I’m bringing in a couple of my colleagues to talk to some of the witnesses from back then, plus one of our tech guys for phone and computer stuff. When Jameson knows we’re turning up the heat, my hope is that he’s going to suddenly remember some tracks he forgot to cover, and then he’s going to fix everything, because that’s who he is.”

  Beth, sitting slumped in her chair, her hands folded in front of her mouth, didn’t like this solution. “So I just hang?”

  Glitsky said, “You don’t have a badge, Beth. What do you think you could do?”

  She took a moment to consider. “How about I go talk to Kate?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying you shouldn’t do. You shouldn’t even think about any of that. You’re not a cop anymore—at least, not for the time being. You’re a private citizen.”

  “That’s my point. I wouldn’t be impersonating an officer. I’d just be a—”

  But Schuyler was shaking his head. “Abe’s right. You get threatening around his family, he’s not going to make that distinction. He’ll get you pulled in on any number of charges.”

  “You don’t want to be in custody under his watch,” Hardy said. “Really. Bad things can happen. Ask my secretary about it.”

  Beth looked around the room. “You guys are a big help.”

  Schuyler said, “I know how you feel. I don’t blame you. But I think we’ve got him moving now, maybe even running scared. We’re going to tie up the knot. I can feel it.”

  “Somebody’s got to talk to his wife,” Beth said. “She’s the one who killed Geoff Cooke.”

  Schuyler nodded. “That’s our plan. Plus, we interrogate again anybody else you want to recommend. You wouldn’t be completely out of the loop. We’d definitely want your input.”

  Beth gave the FBI agent a flat glare. “It’s bad luck to bullshit a bullshitter,” she said.

  40

  JANEY WAS GOING through a religious phase and so she, Ron, and Kate all went to Mass together at St. Dominic’s on Sunday morning. The weather had become downright unseasonable, and when they came out of the church, it was still and warm.

  After Mass, the three of them repaired to the Balboa Cafe, where they all had the justly famous burger on a baguette with fries. Ron and Kate had a couple of mimosas each, clinking glasses “to us” like newlyweds. Several of the other diners recognized Ron, but only two people came over to say hello and interrupt their lunch, and both of them had voted for him and let him know it. They also wanted him to know that they were still with him.

  After lunch—by now it was early afternoon—Ron drove the family back to drop them off at their house, where Kate picked up the other car to drive herself and her daughter to Janey’s cello recital at Mercy. Ron would have loved to attend with them—he’d only found out about the recital that morning—but unfortunately he’d already made plans and now needed to get a jump on his workload for the following week. Janey should give him more warning when this kind of stuff was coming up; he would have put it on his calendar if he had known about it. He hated to miss it.

  • • •

  PARKED ACROSS THE street and a couple of houses down from the Jameson home, Bina watched Ron’s black Audi park in the open space at the curb in front of their house.

  Damn it! she thought. All three of them are together.

  Although it wasn’t part of her original plan, she wouldn’t mind so much if she had to include Ron in her business today, even if he really hadn’t playe
d a role in Geoff’s death.

  But whatever she had to do with Ron and Kate, she knew she could never shoot Janey.

  Nevertheless, she had a good view as she watched them get out, laughing and joking with one another. They walked up the path to their front door and all of them went inside.

  She had all the windows down against the heat.

  And whether it was the heat or her nerves, or both, she was sweating like crazy under the wig. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

  In fact, she only now was starting to realize, the whole camouflage outfit she wore was wrong for such an unexpectedly balmy afternoon. Wrong for today.

  And then the family all being together—she hadn’t planned for that. She hadn’t planned enough, she was starting to realize.

  A Sunday was a bad idea, too, she now knew. Tomorrow, Kate would almost undoubtedly be home alone.

  She had the loaded Tariq hidden between the folds of the Chronicle on the seat next to her. She quickly scanned the street in both directions, then flipped the newspaper open to check that the gun was still there.

  Of course it was. Where could it have gone, after all?

  Closing the paper over it once again, she looked across at the house. Sucking in a heavy breath, she blew it out and wiped the sweat along the edge of the wig.

  A second black Audi was suddenly backing out down the driveway, getting to the street, turning in her direction. Kate was driving, with Janey in the passenger seat. Talking to one another, neither of them even glanced at Bina as she sat there in her nondescript silver Jetta.

  The sight of Kate, happy and engaged, almost made her physically sick with a blast of rage.

  Waiting until they got to the corner and made the turn, she sighed deeply once again, dug the keys out of her pocket, and turned on the ignition.

  This was the wrong day, she realized. Everything about it was wrong—the weather, the timing, her clothing.

  Everything.

  And now she’d been sitting here, wearing a red wig, for the better part of an hour. Somebody might have noticed her already, she realized, lying in wait all this time on the street.