Violent Crimes

by Phillip Margolin

  Mike smiled and shook his head. “No, I will not go ballistic, but I will apologize for the other day. If I was stupid enough to shack up with a defense attorney, I deserve everything I get.”

  Amanda grinned. “Is living with me that bad?”

  “It is trying at times, but worth it. I should have known better than to keep dating you, but I’m stuck with you now so I’ve decided to make the best of it.”

  Amanda walked around the table and sat on Mike’s lap. Then she gave him a big kiss.

  “I don’t deserve you,” she said.

  “Too true,” he replied. “Now eat your food before it gets cold.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Two days after discovering Tom Beatty’s campsite and the two dead men, Billie Brewster had driven to Salem for her brother’s parole hearing. She was still furious with Amanda Jaffe for protecting Beatty. Alan had told Billie that he was going to talk to the DA about dragging Jaffe into a grand jury, and she was anxious to learn what had happened at the meeting.

  Billie was sad during the drive back to Portland. The parole board had denied Sherman’s bid for parole as expected, and he had accepted the decision, having known what it would be before he went in. Sherman had shrugged off the loss of freedom as “no big thing,” and Billie wondered if he had become one of the institutionalized who welcomed their arrests because it meant a return to an environment where they had no responsibilities except following the rules, and where food and shelter were supplied free of charge. It was this fear that made Billie so sad.

  When Billie returned to police headquarters, she looked for Hotchkiss, but he wasn’t around. Billie needed a distraction that would help her forget about the depressing events in Salem, so she decided to grab the file in the Christine Larson murder in order to bring herself up to speed on that case. She was reading the transcript of the hearing on Amanda’s motion to suppress in the Larson case when she came across Greg Nowicki’s testimony. After reading it she walked over to Drugs and Vice and found Nowicki in his cubicle, typing away on his computer.

  “Hey, Greg,” she said.

  Nowicki swiveled his chair toward her and smiled. “What’s up, Billie?”

  “Al and I ran across an old friend of yours in one of our investigations—Reginald Kiner.”

  Nowicki stopped smiling. “Kiner was never a friend.”

  “Oh?”

  “Al told you he was shady, right?”

  Billie nodded. “He said he left PPB under a cloud.”

  “A big, dark storm cloud. We could never prove anything, but everyone was relieved when Kiner left the force and went private. So, why are you interested in him?”

  “I was reading your testimony in the Beatty motion to suppress, and you said Carol White started informing for you about ten years ago.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Was Kiner your partner then?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Did he know White?”

  Nowicki’s brow furrowed. “He might have. Yeah, he did, because she gave us some information we used to bust a dealer we’d been after for a while. Why do you want to know?”

  “Just curiosity. The coincidence of Kiner being your partner.” She shook her head. “I can’t really tell you why, but I wanted to know.”

  “How is Kiner involved in your investigation?”

  “We found two dead men in a car trunk. They were ex-military and RENCO Oil employed them as security. Kiner’s the head of security for RENCO.”

  “I heard that, and I’m not surprised. Reggie would be right at home running mercs in third world countries.”

  Billie couldn’t think of anything else to ask Nowicki, so she left. Amanda Jaffe had argued that Tom Beatty had been framed for Christine Larson’s murder, and there was evidence to support that theory. If Beatty had been set up, the first step in the setup occurred when Carol White contacted Nowicki. Kiner knew White was an informant Nowicki trusted. He could have paid her to tell Nowicki that Beatty had drugs in his house.

  Billie frowned. She was reaching. Other than some very tenuous connections to the Larson case, there was nothing to suggest that Kiner was involved in it.

  Billie was getting ready to settle down with the rest of the Larson file when Holly Reed called from the crime lab.

  “Want to hear a weird coincidence?” the lab tech asked.

  “Sure.”

  “You know the two dead guys from Forest Park?”

  “Yeah. What about them?”

  “The prints came back to a Norman McDonald and a Jeffrey Cook, both ex-military, just like the dead men in the car trunk. On a hunch, I did some checking with the State Department. Both men have traveled back and forth to Nigeria and the Middle East for RENCO Oil.”

  When Alan Hotchkiss returned thirty-five minutes later, he didn’t look happy.

  “What happened with the DA?” Billie asked.

  “He’s not going to put Jaffe in front of a grand jury. He said, and I quote, ‘She and her father are too well connected to harass without a hell of a good reason.’”

  “Don’t look so down in the dumps. I’ve got something that should cheer you up. I can’t prove anything, but I’m beginning to think that Reggie Kiner is more involved in Christine Larson’s murder than we thought.”

  “What have you found?”

  “I read the file in Christine Larson’s murder case, and I keep on bouncing back and forth between thinking that Tom Beatty is guilty because he killed the men in the car trunk and Forest Park and thinking that he may have been framed for Larson’s murder even if he killed the men in the trunk and the park. If he was set up, Carol White is the key. Without her affidavit there’s no warrant, and without the search warrant you wouldn’t have found the body in Beatty’s bedroom.

  “If White lied in her affidavit, the person who told her to lie would have a powerful motive to murder her. Greg Nowicki told me that Reggie Kiner knew White and knew Greg had used her as an informant.”

  “Why would Kiner set up Beatty?” Hotchkiss asked.

  “To make it look like Beatty killed Larson.”

  “Yeah, but why would Kiner kill Larson? There’s no proof he even knew her.”

  “But he did know Dale Masterson and Mark Hamilton. And I just learned that the dead men in the park also had a connection to RENCO. So we know that men who worked for Kiner at one time were in Beatty’s house and at Beatty’s campsite. What if Kiner sent them there to kill Beatty?”

  “Why would Kiner do that? I still don’t see the connection.”

  “It’s the books. If Masterson and Hamilton cooked them to get Global Mining as a client and Larson threatened to tell Global, the lawyers would have a powerful motive to kill her and anyone she told about the fraud. Now, I’m making a big leap of logic here, but Kiner was a bad cop who was suspected of killing witnesses. What if Masterson and/or Hamilton knew Kiner could have Larson killed for a price and paid him to take care of their problem?”

  “That’s not a leap of logic, Billie—that’s a fucking rocket trip to another planet.”

  “Yeah, Alan, but what if . . . Think about it. There are direct connections to Kiner and four dead mercs. Why were mercs in Beatty’s house and camp? They weren’t there to sell Girl Scout cookies.”

  Billie waited patiently while her partner mulled over what he’d just heard. After a while, Hotchkiss looked at her.

  “Let’s say you’re right. How do we prove it? If we question Kiner, he’ll just laugh at us.”

  “I agree with you. But Mark Hamilton might crack if we apply enough pressure.”

  CHAPTER 41

  “What happened to your face?” Billie asked as soon as she and Hotchkiss were seated in Mark Hamilton’s law office.

  “I was in a car accident,” Hamilton said.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “It looks worse than it is.”

  “Weird accident, huh?” Hotchkiss said.

  “What do you mean?” the lawyer asked nervousl
y.

  Hotchkiss shrugged. “The injuries are odd, is all. I mean I can see breaking your nose and cutting your cheek, but how did the tip of your ear get cut off?”

  “I . . . I blacked out. I don’t have any memory about how it happened so I don’t know how I lost part of my ear.”

  “You reported the accident, right?” Hotchkiss asked. “You have to do that for the insurance.”

  “Not yet but I’m going to. So, why are you here? I’m pretty busy and I’d appreciate it if you got to the point.”

  “Yeah, the point,” Hotchkiss said. “I don’t think you got those injuries in a car accident. I think someone beat you up to make sure you didn’t talk to us about (A) your plan to get Global Mining as a client by cooking your law firm’s books, (B) the plot to murder Christine Larson when she threatened to go to Global, and (C) the plot to frame Tom Beatty for the killing.”

  Billie was thrilled to see the color drain from Mark Hamilton’s face.

  “This meeting is over,” the lawyer said.

  “There are two ways you can play this, Mark,” Hotchkiss said. “You can stonewall us. Do that and we’ll get subpoenas for your books and you’ll have forensic accountants crawling up your ass for months. When they figure out the scam, there will be grand jury appearances, indictments, and years of attorneys’ fees.

  “In scenario number two, you cooperate with our investigation. We’re pretty certain we know the identity of the man who helped you kill Christine Larson. You can save yourself by helping us nail him.”

  “I’m not saying another word. Now get out.”

  Billie stood up to go. “I think you should talk to a really good criminal lawyer before you decide how to play this, because you are in way over your head and we’re the only people who can throw you a life preserver.”

  The detectives didn’t say another word until they were alone in the elevator.

  “How do you think that went?” Billie asked.

  “He’s scared to death.”

  “I agree, and I think this case will turn on whether he’s more scared of us or the person who carved him up.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Kate Ross had majored in computer science at Cal Tech and had been recruited into the Computer Crimes Unit of the Portland Police Bureau right out of college because she was a gifted hacker. She had transferred to Drugs and Vice when she got bored with sitting in an office all day and began to crave more action. The last assignment Kate Ross was given before she left the Portland Police Bureau was to pick up an enforcer for a major drug dealer who was going to testify against his boss in exchange for witness protection. The enforcer insisted on turning himself in at a shopping mall. Kate had warned the DA that it was too dangerous to take custody in the mall, but the DA refused to listen. The dealer sent an assassin to murder the witness and there was a shoot-out. Kate killed the assassin, but there were casualties and the powers-that-be decided that Kate would be the scapegoat.

  Even though Kate left the force under a cloud, she still had friends, like Billie Brewster, who knew the truth about what the press had termed “the Holiday Massacre.” Kate had called a friend who had been with the bureau far longer than anyone else she knew and got the name of the detective in Internal Affairs who had investigated Reginald Kiner.

  Neil Denton was living in an assisted living facility in Clackamas County. Denton’s caregiver had placed his wheelchair in a sunny corner of a spacious lounge next to a picture window that looked out on a rolling river. A stroke had left the retired detective partially paralyzed, but the doctor she’d spoken to at the facility had assured her that Denton’s mind was still razor-sharp.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Detective,” Kate said as she sat in a comfortable chair across from Denton.

  “Thanks for providing me with a little excitement. When they told me you wanted to talk to me about an old case, it made my day. I usually spend my time watching television or playing checkers.”

  “Jack Nunez sends his regards. He wanted me to tell you that he still expects you to pay him the ten bucks you owe him and he plans to come out soon to collect.”

  Denton laughed. “Did he tell you why he thinks I owe him the money?”

  Kate smiled. “No, he said it wasn’t something fit for the ears of a member of my delicate sex.”

  Denton laughed again. “He’s got that right. So, why are you visiting an old crippled retiree?”

  “When you did a stint in Internal Affairs, you investigated a detective in Drugs and Vice named Reginald Kiner.”

  Denton stopped smiling.

  “If you’re willing to talk about his case, I’d like to know everything I can about him.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you read about the murders of two of the partners at the Masterson, Hamilton law firm?”

  “I thought Masterson’s son confessed to killing his father and a crazy veteran murdered the woman.”

  “Amanda Jaffe is representing both defendants. I’m her investigator. We think both of our clients are innocent, and we have reason to believe that Kiner is involved in the murders.”

  “What makes you think that?” Denton asked.

  Kate explained that there were certain aspects of the case she couldn’t talk about. Then she filled in the retired detective on the links between RENCO, Masterson, Hamilton, and the murders of Dale Masterson and Christine Larson. After Kate finished, Denton stared out at the river. A motorboat was cruising by and a man in a shell was straining against the current. Kate let Denton think.

  After a while, Denton turned his eyes back to Kate. “Kiner is scum, someone who should never have been allowed to become a cop. I could never prove it, but I’m sure he was paid by a Mexican cartel to kill a dealer who was going to cut a deal with the DA and I’m pretty certain he made a key witness in another case disappear, and those were just the most serious of his felonies.”

  “Why wasn’t he prosecuted?”

  “Funny things happened with the evidence and the witnesses.”

  “Funny how?”

  “They kept disappearing. For instance, there were disparities in the money defendants claimed Kiner confiscated in raids and the money logged into the evidence room. When we started to look at the situation, the evidence and the logs disappeared. Then there was the witness I was going to talk to who OD’d.”

  Denton shrugged. “It was like a magic act. He was always one step ahead of us. We never figured out the trick by the time he quit and went to RENCO Oil. I tried to make a case for a while after he left. I would have loved to find enough for an indictment, but I never got there.”

  “Did you ever have a theory about how he was able to avoid prosecution?”

  Denton nodded. “I’m certain he had help, someone who was working with him. He had to, because we had him under surveillance on a few occasions when he wormed out of trouble.”

  “So you have no idea who was working with him?”

  “I had ideas but never any proof, and if you’re thinking of asking me for names, don’t. I’m not going to ruin someone’s career when all I’ve got is gossip.”

  “But you had more than gossip when it came to Kiner?”

  “Kiner was dirty. I knew it in my heart. I just couldn’t prove it.”

  CHAPTER 43

  There was a crisis in Nigeria. Some members of Kiner’s security force had gotten into a fight in a bar in Lagos and there had been civilian casualties. The press was calling with questions Kiner had no intention of answering, and his bosses were bombarding him with questions he couldn’t answer yet.

  Kiner’s secure cell rang.

  “We have a problem,” the voice on the other end said.

  “I’m in the middle of something at work. Can this wait?”

  “No. We need to meet right away. There’s an abandoned construction site by the waterfront. No surveillance cameras and no night watchman. We met there when we talked about that problem.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there at eight, but it will have
to be quick. I’m in the middle of something and I’ll probably have to be in my office all night.”

  Kiner parked his car near a high-rise several blocks from the construction site. This area had been an industrial wasteland until developers got a hold of it. Suddenly condominiums started sprouting like mushrooms, until the boom busted. Kiner’s destination was a wide-open field that was supposed to have been an apartment complex but had stalled at the concept.

  Kiner walked by one apartment building before the streetlights became scarce and the area gave way to shadow. He was upset about the meet because he needed to be at the office near his phone, but there was no way he could refuse. Kiner was almost at the lot when he heard a car approaching. His hand went to the gun in the holster on his belt and he made a half turn. The car slowed, and Kiner tensed. Then he relaxed when he recognized the driver. The car stopped even with Kiner. He took a step toward the car and leaned down until he was flush with the window.

  “What’s so important?” he asked when the window lowered.

  The driver smiled reassuringly just before he shot Kiner between the eyes.

  Billie Brewster swore silently as she did a knee bend to get closer to the corpse. It was two in the morning, but the lights the lab techs had set up illuminated Reggie Kiner’s body and the blood-encrusted hole in his head.

  “You know what’s bothering me?” Billie asked Alan Hotchkiss.

  “No, but I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”

  “What’s bothering me is that the head of security for RENCO Oil is lying on a sidewalk with a bullet in his head in the middle of nowhere. Look around you. There’s not a store, a bar, or a residence for blocks. And where is his car?”

  “Obviously, Kiner was meeting someone and they didn’t want to be seen so they chose this empty lot,” Hotchkiss said.

  “You know what I find interesting?” Billie said. “A few weeks ago I’d never heard of Reginald Kiner. Then his name started to pop up all over the place. RENCO is a client of Masterson, Hamilton. Then there are the two guys in the trunk. They worked security for RENCO and at least one of them bled in Tom Beatty’s house. And there are the bodies in the park who are linked to Dale Masterson and Tom Beatty through the pokeweed berries. They also provided security services for RENCO. And Greg Nowicki tells me Kiner knew Carol White. So we have connections between Kiner and Tom Beatty, Dale Masterson, and Christine Larson, and it looks like we’ve got our killer. But now we’re back to square one.”