Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  “I just received fabulous news from LA,” Vanessa said, fighting to keep a tremor out of her voice. “Fox is crazy about doing a made-for-TV movie about Daniel Morelli and the whole problem of Little League parents, and they are very hot about you consulting for us. They’re also considering-very seriously, I might add-the possibility of a role for you, and I don’t mean a cameo.”

  Ganett brightened. “That is exciting.”

  “Here’s the thing, though. When you do these movies based on real events you have to move fast so the events are still fresh in the viewer’s mind when the movie airs.”

  Ganett nodded knowingly.

  “Bob Spizer-he’s my boss-Bob wants me to start location scouting right away.” Vanessa fished a digital camera out of her large purse. “I’ve already taken pictures of the hospital, but I need a few of the secure ward to send to LA. It’s for the screenwriter.” Vanessa leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Nick Battaglia is on board. We were so lucky to get him. Usually he’s impossible to tie down, but he’s between projects.”

  Ganett nodded again, even though he’d never heard of Nick Battaglia-which was not surprising, since Vanessa had made up the name.

  “Nick visualizes the scenes before he writes them. He’s like that, a real artist. Tough to work with sometimes, but his finished product is always first-rate. Anyway, I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you could take me up to the ward where they’re holding Morelli.”

  “I couldn’t take you into his room,” Ganett said.

  “Of course not.” Vanessa paused as if she’d just gotten an idea. “Are there any empty rooms on the ward that look like his?”

  “Yes. I could let you see one of them.”

  “Terrif. I’ll have a contract for you in a day or so. You may want to have a lawyer look it over. I can’t tell you how much they’re going to offer for the consulting fee, but I put in a good word for you.”

  On the way up to the ward Vanessa asked question after question to keep Ganett occupied and to give herself time to review the plan that had come to her after Ami told her how easy it had been to get in to see Carl.

  When the elevator stopped, Vanessa let Ganett lead the way. She felt light-headed and she hoped that the doctor would not notice that she was perspiring.

  “Hey, James,” Ganett said to the slender black man who was manning the desk.

  “Evening, Dr. Ganett.”

  “This is Sheryl Neidig. She’s with a production company in Hollywood. They’re going to make a movie about the Little League thing.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Dr. Ganett is going to be our technical consultant,” Vanessa said, flashing James her brightest smile.

  “Let us in, will you?” Ganett asked. “Sheryl has to take a few photos of the ward for the screenwriter.”

  Vanessa wondered if the guard would want to search her purse. She was certain that she could get to her gun before he could react.

  “Sure thing,” James said. He grinned at Vanessa. “If you need an extra, I’m available.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered as James talked into his radio. A moment later, another orderly-this one tall and blond with a weight lifter’s physique-opened the door from the inside.

  “What’s the routine for getting out?” Vanessa asked with a laugh. “I’d hate to be stuck in here.”

  “Mack’s got the keys to the kingdom-right, Mack?” Dr. Ganett said.

  “Don’t worry,” Mack answered with a grin, “we’ll probably let you out.”

  Vanessa laughed and asked Ganett another question. Ganett answered it, then gave a running commentary about the type of patient who was treated on the ward as Mack led them down the hall toward Carl Rice’s room.

  “How do you open these doors?” Vanessa asked when they had almost reached the policeman who was guarding Carl’s door. It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

  The orderly pulled out a ring of keys. “Like the doc said, I’ve got the keys to the kingdom.”

  “Do those keys open all the rooms?”

  “There’s a master key,” Mack answered as he showed it to her.

  They arrived at Carl’s room and Ganett introduced “Sheryl” to the officer and told him why she was in the ward. The officer seemed impressed.

  “Can I look in the room?” Vanessa asked the policeman.

  “Sure.”

  Vanessa looked through a small window that was inserted a third of the way up the door. Carl was lying in bed staring back at her but he gave no sign that he recognized her. She stepped back from the door.

  “Could I see inside one of the empty rooms?” Vanessa asked. Mack looked at Gannet. He nodded. The orderly opened the thick metal door of the room next door. It was identical to Carl’s except for the bed, which had only a bare mattress. As they walked inside, Vanessa asked Ganett and the orderly a few questions. Then she paused as if she’d just been struck by an interesting idea.

  “Officer,” she called to the policeman, “could you step in here for a moment so I can get a shot for the screenwriter? He’ll want to be able to describe Morelli’s guard for the costume department.”

  “Sure,” the policeman answered. He was ripe for anything that broke up the monotony of guarding a locked hospital room.

  Vanessa’s breathing was so rapid that she was certain the policeman would hear it as he walked by her. As soon as the three men were in the room Vanessa closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure, but she was still shaking like a leaf when she took her gun out of her purse.

  The men stared uncomprehendingly. Then the officer started for his weapon.

  “I’ll kill you if you touch that gun,” Vanessa said, surprising herself by how calm she sounded. “If you cooperate, no one will be hurt.”

  Time stopped as the three men decided what to do. Vanessa prayed that they wouldn’t attack her, because she wasn’t sure that she could pull the trigger.

  The officer froze, but Mack looked as if he was tensed to spring.

  “Don’t do it, Mack,” Vanessa said, shifting the gun so it pointed at his stomach. “I don’t want to leave you dead or crippled.”

  Mack hesitated, and Vanessa knew she’d won.

  “Get down on your stomachs with your hands and feet spread wide.”

  The men did as they were told, their eyes never leaving her weapon.

  “Sheryl, what’s going on?” Ganett asked as he lowered himself to the floor.

  Vanessa ignored him. “Mack, push your keys and radio over here, and no sudden moves.”

  Mack did as she was told.

  “Officer, please slide your gun to me.”

  The officer complied.

  “Cell phones next.”

  Vanessa could see Ganett calculating the odds and she shifted her weapon toward him.

  “Leroy, I’d hate to see you die for your cell phone. I promise it will be right outside the door. I won’t even use any of your minutes.”

  The doctor slid the cell phone to her.

  “Okay, here’s the drill. I’m locking you in, but I’ll check on you before I leave. If you’ve changed position, I’ll kill you. If you don’t cause trouble you’ll be okay.”

  As soon as she locked the door, her legs almost gave way from relief. After a brief look through the window to make sure that the men hadn’t moved, she unlocked Carl’s door. He stared at his visitor.

  “Get up, Carl, we’re leaving.”

  “Who…?”

  “I’m Vanessa. Now, move it. We don’t have time to talk. I just locked your guard, an orderly, and your doctor in the room next door. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Carl struggled out of bed. He’d been walking for the past few days, but his legs were still stiff from inactivity.

  “Stay next to the wall when we get close to the front door,” Vanessa said. “The orderly on the other side is about your size. You’ll switch clothes with him once I lure him into the ward.” She pulled a second we
apon from her purse and handed it to Carl butt first. “Take this.”

  Carl checked the weapon, chambered a round, then held it at his side with the muzzle pointing down. When they were at the entrance to the ward he pressed himself against the wall so that he would not be visible to someone looking through the window in the door. Vanessa was amazed at how alive she felt now that Carl was with her. She used the master key to open the door. James looked surprised when she walked out alone.

  “Where’s the doctor?” he asked.

  Rice stepped out. James’s jaw dropped when he saw the prisoner training a gun on him. He started to get up and Rice cracked him across the temple with the gun barrel. The orderly’s legs wobbled from the blow and he almost fell. Vanessa blanched when she saw the blood, but she kept a grip on her emotions. Rice grabbed the dazed orderly by his collar, shoved him through the door, and swept his feet out from under him. James fell to the floor.

  “Strip, and do it fast,” Rice ordered. He grabbed the orderly’s pants and shirt as they came off. While Vanessa kept her gun on James, Rice put on the outfit. Then they took the orderly down the hall and locked him in the room with the other prisoners, who were still on the floor.

  “Why are you doing this?” Carl asked when they were headed down in the elevator. “Don’t you know how much trouble you’re in?”

  “I know that you’ll be dead if you stay here. If I could break you out this easily, think how easily my father’s men will be able to break in when they learn you’re alive.”

  “I wish you’d left me on my own. I told Ami Vergano that I didn’t want you involved.”

  Vanessa smiled. “When did I ever do anything anyone ordered me to do?”

  Carl smiled back. “Point taken. So, Captain, what’s the plan?”

  “My car is gassed up and we’re going to get out of town. After that, I have no idea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ami caught a night flight to San Francisco and rented a car at the airport a little after midnight. It took two hours to drive to Lost Lake, and she spent what was left of the predawn hours in a motel on the outskirts of town. When her travel alarm went off at eight o’clock that morning, she felt as if her head were filled with cotton. She felt a bit better after her shower and better still when she stepped outside into the crisp mountain air.

  Behind the motel was an arm of Lost Lake, and Ami could see a slice of blue through the pine trees. She wandered down to a dock that had been weathered gray. A few boats bobbed at anchor, and some early risers were fishing near the far shore. Ami stared across to the green hills that rose up behind the crystal-clear water. A hawk glided above her and puffy white cumulus clouds floated above the hawk. The idyllic scene made the violence that had brought her here seem all the more incongruous.

  Downtown was three parallel streets of one- and two-story buildings named Main, Elm, and Shasta. As she drove along Main, Ami spotted numerous curio shops and art galleries and three cafes that advertised caffe latte, sure signs that the town survived on tourist dollars. A one-story dull-brown concrete building at the far end of Main housed the Lost Lake sheriff’s department. Ami parked and waited to cross until a shiny tanker and a pickup with a cord of wood stacked in the back drove by.

  The reception area consisted of several chairs upholstered in scratched, faded faux leather. A low metal fence ran between the reception area and an open space filled with metal desks. Uniformed sheriff’s deputies were sitting at some of the desks. The receptionist-a large, cheerful woman dressed in a Hawaiian print muumuu-occupied the desk next to the rail. When Ami came in, the receptionist was transferring a call about a bear that was scavenging in a resident’s garbage pails. She hung up and flashed Ami a welcoming smile.

  “What can I do for you, honey?”

  “I have an appointment with the sheriff.”

  A few minutes later, a tall, broad-shouldered man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and hazel eyes walked out of a corridor that led to the rear of the station. He wore the tan uniform of the Lost Lake sheriff’s department and seemed to be in his late forties.

  “Mrs. Vergano?” he asked as he held open the gate that blocked access to the rest of the building.

  “Yes,” she answered extending her hand.

  “Aaron Harney,” the sheriff said as they shook hands. “Why don’t you come on back to my office?”

  Ami followed Harney to the rear of the station house and into a wood-paneled office. The walls were covered with framed plaques, certificates, and pictures of Harney with the governor and other celebrities; dominating the view was a mounted moose head. A glass bookcase filled with law books stood against a wall. On top of the bookcase and on other level surfaces were bowling and softball trophies that the department had won. On Harney’s large scarred desk were pictures of his wife and five children.

  Harney offered Ami a seat and settled into a chair behind his desk.

  “Last night, on the phone, you said that you wanted to talk to me about Congressman Glass’s murder, but you weren’t very clear about why,” Harney said.

  “I’m involved with a case that may be related,” Ami said. “I’d like to learn more about the Glass case, maybe see the old files, if that’s possible.”

  “It might be if you can tell me why a twenty-year-old case interests you.”

  “That’s a little tricky, Sheriff. You know that the law forbids me to reveal the confidences of a client.”

  Harney nodded. “And you know that there’s no statute of limitations on prosecuting a murder suspect.”

  “Last night, I left my son with a neighbor and flew down here. I’ve got to get home today, so I don’t have time to go to court for the files. If you don’t want me to see them you’ll win.”

  Harney liked his visitor’s honesty. Most lawyers would have threatened him with the fury of the law.

  “Did you know that I was the first officer on the scene the night the congressman was murdered?” the sheriff asked.

  Ami’s surprise showed on her face.

  “I’ve been the sheriff here since Earl Basehart retired, and I was a deputy for a bunch of years before that. Counting my experiences as an MP in the military, that makes about twenty-five years of crime fighting. During those twenty plus years I’ve seen a thing or two, but that was the worst. The way Congressman Glass looked when I found him is something I can’t forget. It shook me up when it happened, and it still disturbs me. So you can see why I was real interested when you called.”

  “The case is State v. Daniel Morelli,” Ami said. “You may have heard about it on the news. My client is accused of stabbing a parent during an argument at a Little League game.”

  “I have heard of that case. It’s a hell of a thing. But what does it have to do with the murder of Congressman Glass?”

  Ami sighed. “I really wish I could tell you but I can’t. I’m bound by law to keep my client’s confidences.”

  Harney studied Ami and she held his gaze. He stood up.

  “Let’s take a drive. When we come back you can read the file.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “You can thank me by calling me when you feel you can talk about my case.”

  They took the sheriff’s cruiser on the fifteen-minute drive from the station to the Lost Lake Resort. As soon as they were under way, Ami asked Harney what he remembered about the night Eric Glass was murdered.

  “I remember the scream.” He shivered involuntarily. “I was clear across the lake, but sound carries out here at night. That scream cut through me. I felt like someone had run ice up my spine.”

  “Was it the congressman who screamed?”

  “No.” Harney looked grim. “I imagine he did a lot of screaming, from the look of his wounds, but the scream I heard was from a woman. Vanessa Wingate, the General’s daughter.”

  “What did you do after you heard the scream?”

  “I drove around the lake as fast as I could and radioed for backup. When I got to the hous
e I went around back and Miss Wingate wandered out of the woods in a daze. She scared the hell out of me. I thought she was a ghost, to be honest. She had on this long white T-shirt, and her eyes were vacant.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “Yeah, she kept on repeating over and over, ‘Carl killed him, Carl Rice.’ ”

  “So there was never any doubt that Rice was the murderer?”

  Harney hesitated.

  “Do you have some doubts, Sheriff?”

  “Not many, but we never found any physical evidence to confirm Miss Wingate’s story. It did look like someone had pulled a boat up on the shore, but when that happened and who did it we couldn’t say. People take boats out on the lake all the time. I thought I heard an outboard motor when I got out of my car, but it wasn’t necessarily the killer. It could have been anyone taking advantage of the moonlight.”

  “Did you question the people who live around the lake?”

  “Of course. No one admitted being out there, but local kids sneak onto the property all the time and they wouldn’t have come forward.”

  “Who were your other suspects?”

  “That’s obvious. Vanessa Wingate was staying at the house and she was acting very strange.”

  “But you didn’t arrest her.”

  “We didn’t have probable cause. There was no blood on her, and we never found the knife, which suggested that the killer had taken it with him. If she and the congressman were lovers she might have had a motive, but she denied it. When we searched the house it looked like she was staying in the guest room. Glass slept in a king-size bed and only one side looked like it had been slept on. We wanted to ask more questions, but General Wingate spirited Miss Wingate away before we could interrogate her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. I found Miss Wingate’s name and a California address in her purse. It took a while to track down the General, but we notified him as soon as we could. He told us he was coming to the hospital, and he was there a few hours later.”

  Harney shook his head, still awed by the memory of the General’s arrival.