Corruption of Power

by Brenda English

  They sat there for a few minutes, Taylor said, he in shock, and Lloyd calling the woman every name he could think of for dying on them. Then Lloyd wrapped her up in a sheet, and the two men went into the living room and wiped down every surface either of them could remember touching.

  It was a Sunday night and quiet in the small apartment complex where Ann Kane lived on the ground floor. At Lloyd’s direction, Taylor went out and moved the car up to the door and opened the trunk. With Taylor making certain no one was around, Lloyd put her body in it.

  “He went back in and came out with her purse,” Taylor told Lansing. “He said the police would think it was a burglar.”

  They drove down to Mason Neck and dumped Ann’s body in the trees off a small dirt road. Afterward, Lloyd drove Taylor home, handed him the purse, and told him to destroy it.

  “But I didn’t,” Taylor said, starting to cry again. “It was late, and I put it in a closet, thinking I’d get rid of it later. But Janet found it.”

  “Did she go through it, realize whose it was?” It was Lansing again, keeping Taylor moving in the direction he wanted him to go.

  “Yes,” Taylor went on, “that’s when she called the office. She was hysterical and not making any sense, so I went home. I went up to the bedroom, and she was holding the purse. She threw it at me when I came in, and then she started screaming at me, calling me names, telling me I was shit like Ed. She came over to me in the wheelchair and was pulling herself half out of the chair, trying to beat at me with her fists. I… was scared. I was afraid she would want a divorce, maybe tell what she knew. I just wanted her to be quiet so I could think, but she wouldn’t stop screaming at me. So I hit her. But I guess I hit her too hard. She went over sideways in the chair and hit her head—hard—on the slate hearth in front of the fireplace.”

  “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Lansing asked.

  “I thought she was dead,” Taylor told him. “I couldn’t find a pulse, nothing. And then I panicked. I went downstairs for a while and went to pieces. I was afraid. Afraid it would all come out. When I finally looked at the time, it was one-thirty, and I knew I had to have an alibi. So I went back to the county building and the board meeting.”

  “What happened to the purse?” Lansing asked.

  “I put it in the trunk of my car. I told Ed afterward that I finally had gotten rid of it, but I hadn’t. It’s still there.”

  Lansing looked down at his hands for a second. His body language told me he had just said a silent thank you.

  “So you went back to your meeting,” he said to Taylor, looking back up.

  “I knew I had to be seen there,” Taylor explained, “and then I had to go back home and pretend to find her.”

  It was when he returned home, Taylor said, that he put the scarf around Janet’s neck.

  “There was no blood from where she hit her head,” he explained, “so I thought I could make it look like she was strangled from behind by someone who came in and surprised her.”

  Finally, he said, he went to the phone and called Mannie Sims and 911.

  Taylor stopped talking. He slumped in his chair, a picture of misery and shame and fear. Lansing and Sam Ross each sat back in their chairs as if digesting all that they had just heard. The people around me in the observation room punctuated the air with soft curses and exclamations, and then Lansing began speaking again, and they stopped talking to hear what he would say next.

  “All right, Mr. Taylor,” he said, “here’s what I want from you. We’re going to prepare a statement based on everything you’ve told us, and I want you to sign it. I also want your permission to search your car right now so I don’t have to wait for a warrant. In return, I will talk with the commonwealth attorney and try to have you charged with involuntary manslaughter in your wife’s death instead of murder. You help us put Ed Lloyd in prison, and I’ll also do what I can to get reduced charges in Ann Kane’s death as well. If you don’t, you’re going to take the fall for all of it.”

  Sam Ross had recovered from his shock enough to calculate the pros and cons of what Lansing was offering. He whispered briefly in Taylor’s ear.

  “I agree,” Taylor said. “You can search my car. I’ll testify against him. Whatever you want.”

  At that, Lansing and his associates left the room, telling Taylor and Ross to hang tight for a while. I knew the first thing Lansing would do would be to send an evidence team after the purse. I wondered how long he would wait to make his move against Lloyd. Not, as it turned out, very long.

  Bill and I followed the rest of the observers out into the hall. Lansing was there in the middle of a crowd of officers, giving several of them directions. Finally, he saw us and came over.

  “What’s next?” I asked.

  “We bring in Ed Lloyd and lay it all out for him,” he said grimly. “I’m sending a detective out there right now to tell him to be in here at eight tomorrow morning, with his attorney, no arguments. And I’m sending two marked units along to sit at his gate and make certain he doesn’t go anyplace that we don’t know about.”

  At least he won’t be able to come after me, I thought.

  “That was quite a performance you staged in there and at Taylor’s house before,” I told Lansing. “I would have confessed to anything you said.”

  “Thanks, but I didn’t take any pleasure in it.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “You took her to Taylor’s house with you?” Bill asked. He was approaching astonishment.

  “Yeah, as an observer… and as a payback.”

  “For what?”

  “It’s a long story, Bill,” Lansing told him. “Some other time.”

  Bill gave me another one of his looks. I knew I would have to spill my guts to him eventually.

  “Look, McPhee,” Lansing said, “the rest of it around here tonight is bureaucratic, redtape bullshit. We’ll be getting Taylor’s statement transcribed and booking him. I’m going to have him taken to the detention center and held in an isolation cell. I don’t want anyone there giving the game away. So why don’t you go home and get some sleep? Come back bright and early for the next set of fireworks.”

  “I will, but is it okay if Ken comes, too?”

  “Yeah, just keep it between the two of you.”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” I assured him. No way was the competition finding out about this from me. “Thanks, Detective.”

  “You, too, McPhee,” he said tiredly, but the smile was back.

  “And I’ve got to call Chief Fielding and let him know what’s happening,” Bill said as I waved to the two of them. “He’s going to have a coronary.”

  * * * *

  Ken, when I called him later from home, was overjoyed to hear about Hub Taylor.

  “Oh, I’ll be there, all right,” he said, when I told him Lansing had invited us back to watch him take on Ed Lloyd. “This is amazing, amazing!”

  “At least that,” I agreed, my own adrenaline stores finally running out as I could hear Ken’s shifting into high gear in excitement over my news.

  “But are you sure, Sutton, that no one else is onto Taylor being picked up by the police?”

  “No one knew when I left the station, and Lansing has done everything he can to keep it under wraps until at least tomorrow morning. Not for me, of course. He was adamant that no one had better tip Lloyd’s hand to what was going on.”

  “Let’s hope he’s got it under control, then,” Ken said. “Rob would have our heads on platters if he woke up to this tomorrow in the Post and we didn’t have it!”

  “Some things are too frightening to even think about, Ken.”

  “You’re right. So I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “Yeah, meet me there by seven-thirty. Lloyd is supposed to show up by eight.”

  We hung up, and I went to bed, to several hours of nightmares of Ed Lloyd trying to kill me and of every news outlet in the region having the Hub Taylor story tomorrow morning ex
cept the News. I couldn’t decide which was scarier.

  Wednesday

  Thirty

  At 7:25,1 pulled into the Great Falls police-station parking lot, already having scanned the local news shows and the Post with relief. No one knew about Taylor yet.

  Ken was already there, waiting for me in the parking lot, and we walked in together. Jimmy called back to find Lansing for us, and then went back to the telephone call he had put on hold, grinning at me all the while.

  Lansing came to meet us and took us directly back to the observation room.

  “I would just as soon Lloyd not see either of you wandering around when he shows up,” he explained.

  After Lloyd’s threats to me the day before, I had to say I agreed with Lansing for a change.

  “Thanks for letting us be here,” Ken told him. “We owe you one.”

  “No,” Lansing said, looking at me. “This is Sutton’s payback for giving us Maggie Padgett. Without Maggie’s statement, we’d have a much harder time tying all this to Lloyd.”

  Lansing left us there and was closing the door when Bill Russell reopened it and came in. He didn’t look as if he had done any better in the sleep department than I had.

  “Well,” he said tiredly, sitting down in front of the two of us, “I guess this is why they pay me the big bucks.”

  “Rough night, huh?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say the chief is glad to hear we think we’re about to solve all this, but he’s less than thrilled to hear that we’ve got a supervisor in custody and a senator coming in for questioning. Lansing and I have to call him the instant they’ve finished browbeating Lloyd so Fielding can prepare himself for the next round of angry calls from John Aldritch and assorted other bigwigs. Aldritch started calling last night after the cruisers showed up outside Lloyd’s gate.”

  I introduced Ken to Bill, and we were discussing what probably would happen to Taylor in court when the door to the interrogation room opened and Ed Lloyd walked angrily in, followed by Aldritch, Lansing, and the two other detectives from the night before. Lloyd stood stiffly by the table until Aldritch took him gingerly by the arm and told him to have a seat. The police officers placed themselves in the same spots they had taken before. Except for the fact that the detective by the door was in shirtsleeves this time, his holstered gun in full view, it looked like a rerun of Taylor’s questioning. The other difference was the addition of a television and VCR at the far end of the room. I had an idea what it was for.

  Lansing spoke first.

  “I apologize for asking you to come down at such an early hour,” he began, his voice cordial and friendly. I didn’t expect that would last long. “But we need to ask you some questions that just wouldn’t wait any longer.”

  “I must object to this entire episode!” John Aldritch told him heatedly. “My client has absolutely nothing to discuss with you, and I’ve already placed calls to Chief Fielding and to the chairman of the board of supervisors to complain about your completely unprofessional conduct! Putting policemen at the gates went totally beyond professional behavior.”

  “Well, Mr. Aldritch,” Lansing said, still smiling politely, “since this isn’t a courtroom, your objections don’t carry much weight here. And since your client is in deep shit here, of the first order, we thought it was just good judgment on our part to make certain the senator was still available this morning.”

  “Whatever you’re accusing Senator Lloyd of, it’s outrageous and completely unfounded!” Aldritch said, his voice rising. “My client is innocent of any ridiculous charges you’ve trumped up, and he has nothing to say to any of your questions! This is all just a waste of everyone’s time, and when you let us out of here, we’re going straight to police headquarters to file a formal complaint, and I’ll have my staff researching a lawsuit before the day is out!”

  “I tell you what, Senator,” Lansing said, turning to look at Lloyd, “before you and Mr. Aldritch here go back home in a huff, how about watching a little TV with us?”

  “What?” Aldritch shouted.

  “Mr. Aldritch,” Lansing said, his voice suddenly menacing and not polite at all, his eyes never leaving Lloyd’s face, “I would appreciate it greatly if you would shut up for a few minutes. This is between the senator and me.”

  Aldritch’s jaw dropped in outrage, and then he snapped his mouth shut.

  “John,” Lloyd said, speaking for the first time, a smug smile on his face, “do what the detective says.” Aldritch looked as if he had been slapped.

  “You see. Senator Lloyd,” Lansing continued smoothly, “we had a visit last night from your friend Hub Taylor. Mr. Taylor apparently has been overcome by his conscience, and he felt the need to get some things off his chest. He talked to us for a long time, and I would appreciate it, Senator, if you’d take a look at what he had to say.”

  Lloyd was shocked, I could see. But he wasn’t about to give it all away so easily. His smile disappeared, but he kept any reactive expression off his face. Aldritch, too, remained silent, but unlike his client, he clearly had no clue what he was about to see and hear.

  Lansing picked up a slim remote control from the table in front of him and started the VCR. In a few seconds the VCR’s tracking locked on and the screen showed Hub Taylor and Sam Ross sitting where Aldritch and Lloyd sat now. At the sight of his friend in the interrogation room, Lloyd slowly dropped his eyelids and then raised them, the only indication that he was steeling himself for the bad news that was coming.

  On the TV screen, the police entered the room the night before, Taylor and Ross had their little argument, and Taylor launched into his story. Ken, who had missed the original telling, was riveted by what Taylor was saying on the screen. I, on the other hand, was free to watch Lloyd.

  Lansing obviously had worked with the tape for some time after I had gone home the night before. He wasn’t giving everything away. Instead, he had what apparently were time cues jotted down on a notepad to which he would fast-forward and show Lloyd and Aldritch just enough seconds of Taylor’s most damning statements for them to realize that Taylor had sold Lloyd out completely.

  Lloyd was an amazing actor. His face was carved of marble. Not a muscle moved or twitched as he watched and listened to his protégé spill his guts. Only the eyes changed. As Taylor went through his story Lloyd’s eyes grew colder and colder. By the end, the expression in his eyes was murderous. I wondered if that was the look Peter Morris saw just before he died.

  John Aldritch was another story, however. He couldn’t, after years of representing Lloyd, have had any illusions that his client was any sort of Boy Scout. He probably saw more of the real Lloyd than most. But by the end of Taylor’s confession, the lawyer looked almost as ill as Sam Ross had looked the previous evening.

  When the tape ended, Ken was sitting next to me exclaiming to himself in low tones. In the other room, Aldritch leaned over to whisper something to Lloyd, who looked at him impassively, saying nothing. Lansing pointed the remote at the VCR and stopped the tape.

  “This is no proof of anything,” Aldritch began, as soon as the loud hiss of the tape was silenced. “This is just the word of a man who’s trying to draw attention away from his having killed his wife by slandering a U.S. senator!”

  I had to give Aldritch credit. He might be in shock, but he was still a lawyer, and he still had a powerful client to protect.

  “We’re not done,” Lansing said, once again ignoring Aldritch and speaking directly to Lloyd. “Before you rule out talking to us, Senator, you should know a few other things.”

  “Like what?” Aldritch asked.

  “Like the fact that a woman named Maggie Padgett has given us a complete statement of how you drugged her just the way you did Ann Kane,” Lansing answered, his look still directed at Lloyd and almost as hard as Lloyd’s was. “Like the fact that we have phone records to show how relentlessly you harassed her until she agreed to go to dinner with you. Like the fact that she told us the doctor you took her
to when she got sick was Peter Morris, who turned up dead in a phonied-up suicide soon after he talked to a newspaper reporter about what he knew.”

  “That’s just this Padgett woman’s word against the senator’s,” Aldritch interjected, still trying to do a job that was becoming increasingly difficult by the second.

  “Oh there’s more,” Lansing said, a grim smile now touching the corners of his mouth. “Before you decide to go through your righteous-innocence act, Senator, there are two or three other things you should know. You should know that I’ve got a lot more than just someone’s word against yours. For starters, I’ve got Ann Kane’s purse. It was right where Taylor said, in the trunk of his car. And it’s covered with fingerprints, Senator, some of which I think will turn out to be yours.”

  The picture in my mind of Ed Lloyd in prison began to get much clearer.

  “You should also know,” Lansing continued, “that sometime in the next few minutes I’ll have a warrant from a judge giving me permission to take blood and other samples from your person to match against sperm and hair samples taken from Ann Kane’s body. We’ve already taken the samples from Hub Taylor. I’d say that the results of those tests ought to just about prove Taylor’s story and make my case. I’m afraid, Senator, that your political career is in the crapper, as of now.”

  The prison door was slamming shut on my vision of Ed Lloyd. But Lansing wasn’t done.

  “Senator Lloyd,” he said, his voice now taking on an official tone, “I’m placing you under arrest in the death of Ann Kane. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you—”

  “He has an attorney!” Aldritch yelled.

  Lloyd stood abruptly, as if realizing for the first time that this was really happening, that his empire was crumbling and nothing in all his power could stop it.