by D. J. Herda
“Then, it’s a damned lie!” he snapped.
“As for those charges, I got that info directly from the district attorney’s office. They’re working out the details now. One charge for each of four different complainants.”
“What complainants? Whose complaints?”
“That I can’t tell you. I just don’t know. Only that there are four people for whom ICD did work and didn’t finish their jobs.”
“If we haven’t finished their jobs, it’s because the clients backed out of our contracts by refusing to pay us our draws. When they refuse to authorize their banks to issue us our money, we can’t very well do any more work. I have payrolls to meet. With all the thefts we’ve had lately, I need to keep the funding rolling if I’m going to stay in business. And as far as the four complainants go, I can pretty much guess. The Potashes and three others who stopped their jobs when Trey Salidor got hold of them and told them I was getting ready to grab the balance of their funds and skip town. Hell, even their own bankers know we’re legit. They advised our clients to continue issuing draws as long as we’re under contract and continuing with our work. Fucking Salidor.”
“I’m sorry, Darryl, I really am. I didn’t realize any of that. I just didn’t know. I don’t think you’re a crook. I don’t think you ever planned on skipping town. But it’s not my job to make that call. My editor sent me out to get a story, and I did. I don’t have the luxury of second-guessing the truth. That’s what the press is for ... to present the reality of the situation, all the different sides, to the public so they can make up their own mind.”
If she’d been there in his office—as she had many times in the past, interviewing the boy wonder and sending out glowing reports on this miracle savior of a construction firm that dropped down out of nowhere, shaking up the apple cart, bringing honesty and integrity to the small Illinois town. If she’d been there, he would have strangled her until the last ounce of blood coursed from her eyes. And then he would have picked up the phone and called her editor to send someone by to gather up the body.
“I don’t know how I can make it up to you,” she said. “I can run another story, do an interview, get your side out there, if you think that would help. I just automatically assumed that you’d deny all the accusations, and the D.A. has such a strong case against you.”
“Forget it. The damage is done. But if you want to help, there’s one thing you can do for me.”
“What? What can I do? Anything. Just name it.”
“Get me in to see the D.A. I want to find out what this evidence is that he supposedly has. I called Peeps, I called Glenn Davids’ office, I called the police department. No one has gotten back to me. It’s like I’m persona non gratis. But if you set up an appointment with Peeps or Davids, I could just sort of tag along. At least that way I’ll get to meet with them and hear first-hand what’s going on. They’ll be on their best behavior with a member of the Fourth Estate there alongside me.”
“If that’s all you want, I can save us both the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard a copy of the taped confession you gave to Peeps. Apparently, at a party that the Potashes threw a few weeks back. You must have been pretty hammered, because you confessed to everything.”
“What?”
“Hang on a sec.”
Darryl took the phone down from his ear and stared at it for several moments, as if it had made an error in transcribing what Tammy had just said. When he put it back against his ear, she was back on the line.
“I can tell you exactly what you said.”
“You have a copy of that tape? The one Peeps made?”
“No, but I have the next best thing. I have the notes I took when Willie played the tape for me. Let me read you a couple things.” She paused, the sound of rustling papers in the background. “Here. Peeps: Did you knowingly and willfully submit a check to Lincoln Servicesmaster in Lincoln, Illinois, even though you realized there were insufficient funds to cover it? Hightower: Yes, I did.”
She hesitated, more rustling, before continuing. “Here’s another. Peeps: Did you file false charges against a heating contractor in your employ, alleging that he stole twelve thousand dollars’ worth of materials from the Illinois Arms Hotel when you actually removed said supplies yourself? Hightower: Yes, I took them.”
“Wait a minute. What the ... where did you ...”
“Here’s an oldie but a goodie. Peeps: Did you report a theft of twenty-two thousand dollars’ worth of materials allegedly delivered by Trinidale Builders Supply to a remote jobsite when, in fact, you had ordered that material yourself and had been anticipating its delivery? Hightower: From Kelli Powell. Peeps: Who was working at the time for Trinidale Builders Supply? Hightower: Yes.”
Hightower felt a sudden rush of emptiness sweep over him. “Tammy, something is wrong here. Are you sure you took those notes accurately?”
“Verbatim,” she said. “I take shorthand, so I get everything down exactly as it’s said.”
He paused. “Look, I’ve got to go.”
“What’s going on, Darryl? I know you. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that. But the tapes don’t lie. What’s the truth, here?”
“I’ll tell you,” he said, “as soon as I get to the bottom of it. I’ll tell you everything,” he repeated.
“Promise?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
“Thanks. And I just want to say again that I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You didn’t let me down, Tammy,” he said. “You let yourself down. Next time, pound the pavement first and hit the keyboard second instead of the other way around. Okay?”
It must have been okay because she said she’d do whatever she could as soon as he gave her something more to go on. If all went right, he’d have a lot more to share with her, and soon.
But sometimes, soon doesn’t come soon enough, and later that very afternoon, Hightower answered another knock at his front door. This time, he was prepared. The novelty had worn off. Just as it had for the cops. Except that this time, when they reached Admitting, the cop who had cuffed him and escorted him to the car stopped to read the warrant. His eyes bulged out and he whistled.
“What is it?” Darryl asked.
“Your bond. It’s set for $200,000—cash! He lowered the paper to his side and looked down. “Who did you kill?”
Hightower shook his head. “Four counts of contractor fraud. That’s what they’re calling it.”
“Contractor what?”
“Fraud, whatever that means.”
He shook his head. This is a new one on me. Two hundred thou in cash? That’s a first.”
It was a new one on Darryl, too, as well as on everyone else who checked out the warrant. As the cop who had brought him in loosened Darryl’s right hand from the cuffs, he motioned past the contractor to the girl behind the desk. “You know the routine. You get one call. I suggest you make it count.”
He did. Within an hour, Deidre had contacted her brother, who worked as an investigator for the D.A. in Chicago. He recommended a good attorney, a guy named Robert Ransom. He had successfully represented some of the highest profile criminal cases in America—“the scumbags of the Universe,” as he affectionately referred to them. She hired Ransom on the spot before heading down to the bank to free up more cash.
Four hours later, after sitting for most of that time in a small holding tank with iron bars on the door and only a solitary window and a drunk sleeping off a bender to keep him company, Darryl heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Finally, a smallish, neatly coiffured cop appeared in front of the cell and opened the door.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re free on bail.”
After Deidre spoke to Ransom, who asked her to drop half of his fifty-thousand-dollar fee in the mail the next morning (“You understand there is no guarantee, and this money is nonrefundable.”), the attorney told her that he found the discrepancy between the inter
view at the party in which Darryl had participated and the taped version Peeps had apparently provided the D.A. “intriguing.” When Deidre told him she recalled that Peeps had once worked as a disc jockey for a late-night Trinidale radio station, she thought she heard the lawyer’s eyes ignite—a crisp, electrical-like crackling sound that echoed across the line, through time and space, to Deidre’s earpiece.
“How did he tape it?” Ransom asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What did he use,” Ransom said, “a tape recorder, a videocam, a ...”
“Oh, no, no. Darryl said Peeps used his own cell phone.”
“Great! That’s terrific! How many cell carriers are there in the Trinidale area? Comcast, I know. Any others? There must be a few more ...”
“Uhh, let’s see, there’s AT&T. I know because I have them. And then there’s Verizon; I think that’s who Darryl’s with. No, no, it’s not. He’s with T-Mobile. I remember because he likes to say he’s sure they never learned what the word, mobile, means. And ... I think that’s it. Those three.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know which carrier Peeps uses.”
She felt her head shake instinctively. “No. I think maybe Verizon, but I’m not positive.”
“That’s all right. I’ll find out. Meanwhile, tell Darryl not to get too down. We’ll get him out of this thing. I think I have a plan of attack that will work. I’ll have to call in a couple favors, but that’s what friends are for. We’ll put something together in the next week or so, and I’ll give you a call.”
“A week? Not sooner?”
“These things take time,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’ll call the D.A. and the judge who’s scheduled to hear the case and get that cash bond reduced to a surety. He’s not a murderer or even a flight risk, for God’s sake. Someone really has it in for the guy, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know. And I know who.”
“How many quotes? How many did he play for you?”
“I don’t know,” Tammy said. “Quite a few. I think all of them. I put some of them in the article ... and the others ...”
“The ones that aren’t in the article. All the ones that aren’t in the article. Those are the ones I want.”
Deidre listened to the pause, long and painful, on the line. “I guess, since the article has already been published, it wouldn’t be like interfering with the independence of the press. I guess.”
“Exactly. What it would be interfering with is the planned commission of a felony and the robbing of an American citizen of his inalienable rights under the U.S. Constitution.”
Another pause, longer this time, so long that Deidre thought for a moment that the woman had hung up.
“Are you there?”
“Yes. Just looking through my files. You want me to drop them off? My notes, I mean. And the tape, although I doubt that it will do you any more good than my notes will.”
“That would be terrific.”
“And, would some other information be helpful? I have a telephone interview with Christie Potash that I didn’t use in the article. And another one with her mom, Carrie. The material I got from them just didn’t seem to fit in with the story’s flow.”
A light suddenly went off in Deidre’s head. “Wait. What is it you said about dropping off a tape?”
“Yes.”
“What tape?”
“Oh. Oh, well, ever since I got burned once on a story where the guy denied everything he’d told me after the paper ran with it, I record all my conversations. Just so that won’t happen again. I have my interview with Peeps on my iPhone.”
“If you taped the interview, then you also have the part of the recording that Peeps played for you, implicating Darryl in the felonies. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I imagine that would be on it, too. I never shut my recorder off.” She paused. “But I don’t see how that would do you any good. It’s the same stuff as my transcribed notes—and it’s all pretty damning against him, tape or transcript.”
“Fantastic. Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d love to get the original tape of your interview. Terrific. And I’ll take good care of it.”
“And I get first crack at the story, right? I mean, when you have something solid, if you break something new?”
Deirdre could sense the buzzards circling. “Right. I promise.”
She hesitated. “You know ...” She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure if it’s my place to say, but you know that Christie turned against Darryl because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Tammy said. “She thought she had something going with him. Young. Successful. Handsome. She thought ... well, she and her mother, I guess—both of them thought ... well, that something special was developing there. Until Carrie made a call on Darryl at his place and ran into you.”
“Yes, I know, but what does that have to do with their blaming me? He has a free will. He’s not married. He can have anyone over for dinner he likes.”
“I don’t know why, but Carrie said she was ready and willing to back Darryl to the hilt until he showed her he wasn’t that interested in her daughter as they’d been led to believe. Leading her on are the words she used. And then rubbing her nose in it. With you.”
“Did she tell you I saw her lipstick on Darryl’s collar when I showed up? Or how flustered she seemed to be—how much in a hurry she was to leave after I arrived?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. In fact, I think maybe it wasn’t her daughter’s broken heart that upset her as much as it was her own. At least, that’s the impression I got when I ran into her that night. She looked a little like a woman scorned. As if she had plans for Darryl and her, some kind of a tryst or affair or something, and then I came along and she saw her plans fly out the window ...”
“Huh! Wow. I think maybe you’re onto something. And maybe I did kind of jump the gun here with my story.”
“I think maybe so, too.”
“I mean, I never really thought he would do anything illegal. I just thought I was reporting the facts as they existed and that Darryl would be exonerated sooner or later. I never dreamed for a moment that things would turn out the way they have. I never thought they’d have him arrested. He’s too decent, too honest to have done anything like what they’re accusing him of.”
Deidre paused, considered her next remark carefully, and said, “You, too?”
Tammy started to ask what she meant when she stopped. She sighed. “John and I ... I mean, he keeps talking about plans for us to get back together. And talking and talking. I think maybe because my family has money. Then along came Darryl, like a breath of fresh air in this stinking, dirty little town, you know? He just popped into my life, and I guess maybe I had ... some thoughts ... about a future with him.”
“I thought maybe you’d felt something like that.”
“You won’t tell him! You won’t say anything!”
“No. Of course not. I’d never do that.”
She let out a soft sigh. “Same with you?”
“What ... Oh, you mean what are my feelings toward him?”
“Yes. Are you going to be another one? Just another ship passing in the night? I don’t know if he’d recognize the right woman if she came along wearing a billboard strapped to her back.”
Deidre laughed. “You may be right. But that’s going to have to be his decision. He’s going to have to decide who’s right for him and who’s not. Me? I’m willing to take a chance. Invest a little time. Besides, what’s one more heartbreak when you’ve been through as many as we have, right?”
She laughed. “Yeah. What’s one more?”
The ‘phone rang, and Deidre checked the clock. After midnight. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi,” he said. “I saw your light on in the kitchen and figured you were burning the midnight oil.”
“Yeah, I’m just going over a few things I’ve been kicking around.”
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m working on some evidence for you that I think will come in handy.”
“I thought Bob Ransom was doing that.”
“Yeah, me, too. But he’s in jogging mode, and I think this calls for a full-out sprint to the finish line.”
“Sounds like you’re really onto something.”
“I think I am.”
“You want some help? I can come over.”
“Yeah, sure. I know what your kind of help means. No, thanks. I think I’ll just keep plodding along all by my lonesome. That way, at least I know I won’t be distracted.”
He paused. “Well, okay. But if you need me ...”
“Right. You’ll be the first to know.”
She hung up, thinking about the night before last—when they were out enjoying a late dinner. A fruity Chianti. Some Italian food. A little soft music. And then, in the car after he drove her home, feeling his lips approaching hers, feeling their warmth, their tenderness as they touched.
Damn, if Tammy only knew what she’s missing!
She returned to the work laid out on her kitchen table, piecing together all the different pieces of notepaper and cross-referencing them to the statements the D.A. had made for the article. And becoming more intrigued by the moment.
And then it struck her. Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?
She picked up the phone and dialed Darryl, and he was there in minutes. She showed him the article, and he grimaced.
“What are you, some kind of sadist? I’ve seen this a million times, dreamt it a million more! It’s my one recurring nightmare. Remember?”
She told him he’d have to sit through it once more while she asked the questions this time and not Peeps.
He shrugged. “Okay, counselor. You seem to know exactly what the hell you’re doing, so what else can I say? Let’s hit it.”
Peeps cleared his throat, unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, and pushed the cuffs up nearly to his elbows. He sat back in his chair and looked out over his desk.