by Robert Crais
“That’s the idea.”
When Eddie was gone, I called Tracy Mannos, who put me in touch with Lyle Stodge at twenty minutes after ten. Lyle and Marcy anchored the eleven P.M. newscast as well as the five. Lyle was only too happy to talk to me, and only too happy to accept my offer of an interview. He said, “We’ve been hoping to get you for a comment on all of this! Can you make the eleven o’clock?”
“Nope.”
“How about tomorrow at five?”
“I’ll be there.” The five o’clock newscast had the larger audience.
I phoned every person who had interviewed me in print or on radio or television, or who had wanted to interview me. I spent most of the night and part of the next morning on the phone, and everybody was happy to talk to me. I called both Peter Alan Nelsen and Jodi Taylor, and asked if they could put me in touch with any of the major network and cable news people, and of course they could. Even Daily Variety wanted an interview. Everybody wanted to know if I had been duped by Theodore Martin, and everybody wanted to know what had happened in the maintenance shed, and everyone still considered me the hero of the defense effort, just the way Jonathan had hoped when he had staged the news conferences with his hand on my shoulder. I told them that I would be happy to tell them exactly what happened, especially if we were on the air live.
By three the following afternoon, I had completed eleven interviews and had provided each interviewer with a copy of Green’s amended retainer agreement with Theodore Martin. Seven other interviews were scheduled, and more would be forthcoming. I had copies for them, too.
At twelve minutes after three, I parked in a red zone outside Jonathan Green’s Sunset Boulevard building and went inside. I shoved past the receptionist and ran up the stairs and barged past the army of clerks and assistants and minions. There was a noticeable absence of blue-blazered security guards, but I guess those few who hadn’t been killed in Baldwin Hills had been fired. All the better for Green to separate himself from Kerris.
The Inside News videographer and his sound technician were talking to a slim woman by the coffee machine when I went past. The videographer’s eyes went wide when he saw me, and the sound tech dropped her coffee. The videographer said, “What are you doing here?”
I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along. “Do you have tape in that thing?”
“Sure.”
“You’re going to love this.”
The sound tech scrambled after us.
Jonathan Green’s office occupied the entire east end of the fourth floor. An efficient-looking woman in her early forties tried to tell me that I couldn’t go in, but I ducked around her and hit the door, only the door wouldn’t open. The woman said, “You stop that! You stop that before I call the police!”
The sound tech said, “You have to buzz it open.”
I said, “Where?”
The sound tech hurried to the woman’s desk and pressed the buzzer. The sound tech was grinning.
I kicked open the door and stormed in and found Jonathan Green on the phone. The two lesser attorneys were with him, along with a younger man with a notepad. Somebody’s secretary. The smaller of the lesser attorneys fell over a chair trying to get out of my way. Green said, “I’m calling the police!”
I pulled the phone out of his hands and tossed it aside. I said, “Here’s the bad news, Jonathan: You’ve become my hobby. I know what Truly knew, and I am telling it to anyone who will listen.”
Green maneuvered to keep his desk between us. His face had grown white. “The police are on their way! I’m warning you!”
I threw a copy of the retainer agreement at him. “I’m also passing out copies of this. The Examiner is going to print it in this evening’s edition.”
Green looked at it without touching it and shook his head. “This means nothing. For all anyone knows you wrote it yourself. It isn’t admissible.”
“Not in a court of law, Jonathan. But we’re going to try you in the court of public opinion.” I shoved his desk, and Jonathan jumped backwards. “I will hound you, and I will not stop. I will tell everyone that it was you who falsified the evidence, and you who ordered James Lester killed, and you who attempted to take the life of Louise Earle.” I started around the end of the desk, and Jonathan scrambled in the opposite direction.
“You can’t do that! I’ll get a restraining order!”
“What’s that to a tough guy like me?”
“No one will believe you!”
“Sure they will, Jonathan. I am the World’s Greatest Detective, remember? Above reproach. Trustworthy.”
Jonathan glared at the lesser attorneys and yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
The larger lesser attorney ran out the door.
“I will keep this alive until the DA can finally build a case or until you are driven out of business. I will haunt you like a bad dream. I will come to your house and follow you into restaurants and send videotapes of my interviews to your clients.”
He drew himself up into a vision of outrage. “We have laws against that, you idiot! That’s libel! That’s slander! You won’t get away with it!”
I looked at the videographer. “Are you getting this?”
The videographer was all smiles. “Hell, yes! What an ending!”
I jumped across the desk and punched Jonathan Green hard in the mouth one time. He floundered backwards and went over his chair and landed on his ass. The smaller lesser attorney shouted, “Oh, my God,” and then he ran, too.
Jonathan Green said, “You hit me! You actually laid hands on me!” He felt his mouth, then looked at his red fingers and started crying. “You broke my teeth!”
I walked over to Jonathan Green, looked down at him, and said, “So sue me.”
And then I walked out.
Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank Bruce J. Kelton, former Assistant United States Attorney and a managing director of the investigative firm Kroll Associates, for sharing his knowledge of the law and the criminal justice system. Additional thanks go to Det. John Petievich, whose counsel on matters relating to the Los Angeles Police Department in this novel and others has been invaluable. Any errors contained herein are solely the responsibility of the author.
Special thanks go to the world’s greatest editor, Leslie Wells.
The author would also like to thank Patricia Crais, Lauren Crais, Robert Miller, Lisa Kitei, Carol Perfumo, Samantha Miller, Brian De Fiore, Marcy Goot, Chris Murphy, Kim Dower, and Jennifer Lang for their support, superior talents, and great efforts on the author’s behalf.
About the Author
Jonathan Exley
Robert Crais is the author of many novels, including the New York Times bestsellers The Last Detective, Hostage, and L.A. Requiem.
www.robertcrais.com
Also by Robert Crais
Suspect
Taken
The Sentry
The First Rule
Chasing Darkness
The Watchman
The Two Minute Rule
The Forgotten Man
The Last Detective
Hostage
Demolition Angel
L.A. Requiem
Indigo Slam
Voodoo River
Free Fall
Lullaby Town
Stalking the Angel
The Monkey’s Raincoat
Praise for Voodoo River
“Crais tells a super-active tale, with plenty of local color, including a massive old turtle who lives in a catfish breeding pond. The larger issues are raised, rather than tidily concluded (not that they often are), but they give a resonance to this story.”
—Charles Champlin, Los Angeles Times Book Review
“Elvis Cole has never been wittier, more passionate or more violently committed to his clients. Crais makes not a misstep here.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“What a terrific book. With this fifth mystery featurin
g the private eye with the unlikely moniker of Elvis Cole, author Robert Crais has firmly established himself at the top of the mystery field. He should be mentioned in the same breath as Robert B. Parker, Tony Hillerman, Sue Grafton and James Lee Burke.”
—John B. Clutterbuck, Houston Chronicle
“With Voodoo River, Elvis and his creator have finally made it into mystery’s big time, right up there with Tony Hillerman, Robert B. Parker, Ed McBain, et al.”
—Ed Kelly, Buffalo News
“Like the thick, rich mix in a Louisiana gumbo, Elvis Cole’s latest case has enough spice and flavor to make you wish for more even before you’ve finished this helping… You’ll love this book.”
—Bruce Southworth, Bookpage
“Elvis Cole, in his fifth appearance, is in fine form. He’s tough, witty, and clever as ever, and his partner Pike exudes danger like no one in suspense fiction this side of Spenser’s Hawk.”
—Wes Lukowsky, Booklist
“Elvis Cole is the King of Smart-Aleck Detectives, and Voodoo River is another jewel in his throne. All the things you love about this genre—snappy dialogue, crisp action and vivid characters—are here in spades. Crais is clearly the undisputed leader in the field; Voodoo River is a book deserving of much attention.”
—Don Crouch, Mostly Murder
“Look for great dialogue, scary action, a twisty plot, and lots of quality time with an irresistible private eye.”
—Mary Cannon, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Robert Crais
Praise for Voodoo River
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
Copyright © 1996 by Robert Crais
Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First ebook edition: February 2014
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ISBN 978-0-316-37541-2
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