by Joel Goldman
“I’ll bet you did. So, he left you the hotel?”
Bongiovanni laughed. “I was a nephew, not a son. But he did leave me the permanent use of this suite. Those bastards at Galaxy offered me a mint to give it up, but I told them to pound sand. We had to sell the casino and the hotel to pay the taxes on Ed’s estate. After everything that happened with Ed, buyers weren’t exactly lining up. Galaxy practically stole it, but we didn’t have a choice. It eats their ass not to have this suite, though, and I love it.”
Mason began to understand why Carol and her lawyer refused to settle. The lawsuit, whatever its merits, was about getting even.
“What happened to Carol’s face?”
“I called her after you told me about Johnny Keegan. She was crying, hysterical. Mark had been out drinking-came home and beat the crap out of her. I picked her up and brought her over here.”
“Did Mark give you any trouble?”
“I didn’t see him. He left after he beat Carol up.”
“Did she file a complaint with the police?”
“For what? To get a restraining order? I haven’t seen one yet that will stop an asshole drunk like her husband from knocking his wife around.”
“He can’t hit her if he’s in jail.”
“He can’t hit me if he’s dead either,” Carol Hill said.
FORTY-TWO
Carol had changed into jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. Her auburn hair was brushed and pulled back behind her ears. She’d applied a thin layer of makeup that dulled but didn’t hide her black eye. Lipstick softened her swollen lip. She had large breasts and full hips. Mason guessed she had been a high school knockout. Twenty years later, she was spreading out. Her shoulders were round and sloped like someone was riding her back. She was shaken and sad but angry enough to threaten to kill the man who’d beaten her and may have also killed her lover.
“If anyone kills Mark, it isn’t going to be you,” Bongiovanni told her. “He’s a moron who will piss the wrong person off sooner or later and your problem will get solved in a hurry. In the meantime, he’s not worth throwing your life away.”
Carol sat on the sofa next to Bongiovanni. “Vince says you think Mark killed Rockley and Johnny.”
“Your husband was jealous of Keegan and mad at Rockley. Men have killed with less reason.”
“How’d you know about Johnny and me?”
It was a question Mason had anticipated since he’d warned Bongiovanni about Mark Hill. He had no believable explanation besides the truth and he needed Carol to trust him if she was going to tell him anything. The trick was to tell her enough without telling her and Bongiovanni too much.
“Your husband told me. I represent a man named Avery Fish. Charles Rockley’s body was found in the trunk of my client’s car. I did some checking on Rockley and found out about your case against him and Galaxy. Since you were represented by an attorney, I couldn’t talk to you without your lawyer’s permission and lawyers usually don’t let their clients say much to other lawyers. I thought I’d have better luck with your husband and I found him at a bar in Fairfax Friday evening.”
“That dump called Easy’s?”
“That’s right.”
“He was all beat up when he came home Friday night. Did you do that?”
Mason shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”
“I wish it was you. At least I could thank you. Do you know who did it so I can thank them?”
“Sorry. I can’t help you,” Mason said, the image of Hill taking a shot to the chin flashing in his mind. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
She looked at Bongiovanni, who nodded at her. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“When did you start seeing Johnny Keegan?”
She blushed, fidgeted with her sleeve, and answered in a quiet voice. “Not long after he started work there. For almost a year. We were always on the same shift. He bought me a drink one night when I was on break. We got to talking, kept talking, and that’s what happened. He was real nice to me. I didn’t care that he was younger than me. It was only a few years, and what difference does it make anyway if people are nice to each other?”
“Did Keegan and Rockley know each other?”
She looked at Bongiovanni again.
“It’s okay, Carol. If he asks you something I don’t want you to answer, I’ll tell you.”
“I saw them talking to each other all the time, but that doesn’t mean they were friends. Johnny was nothing like Rockley. Johnny was sweet and good. He made me laugh. Rockley was dirt. He came on to me because he knew about me and Johnny. He said if I was giving it to Johnny, there wasn’t any reason I shouldn’t give it to him too. So he took it.”
“Did you tell Johnny about Rockley?”
“Sure I did. Johnny was royally pissed. He said he’d take care of Rockley.”
“Is that when you told your cousin Vince about Rockley?”
“Yeah.”
“But you didn’t tell him about Johnny, did you?”
She shook her head. “I knew Mark would go crazy and I didn’t want to get Johnny in any trouble.”
Carol had made the same mistake Fish had made when he decided not to tell Mason there was a body in the trunk of his car. She told her lawyer what she wanted him to know and hoped that what she didn’t want him to know wouldn’t matter. She was too naive to realize that the first thing Charles Rockley would tell Lari Prillman was that Carol was having an affair with another Galaxy employee. Lari was smart enough to keep that card in her back pocket, waiting to play it until it would do the most damage. Her strategy may have worked too well. It may have cost Charles Rockley and Johnny Keegan their lives. Even as he considered the possibility, he still couldn’t come up with a reason for Mark Hill to hide Rockley’s body in Fish’s car.
“Did your husband ever mention Avery Fish’s name?”
“I don’t think so. Not that I remember, anyway.”
“Did your husband buy a time-share for a vacation in Florida?” Mason asked, searching for any possible connection between Mark Hill and Fish.
“That’s real likely. The only vacation he ever took was on a bar stool.”
“What about Keegan? Did he ever talk about getting away, taking a vacation with you to Florida?”
Carol’s eyes grew wet and she wiped them with her sleeve. “He said he wanted me to leave Mark and that he would take me away. He said he was working on something big and he’d have the money so we could start over somewhere else. It was going to be more than a vacation. It was going to be a new life.”
“Did he tell you what his big deal was?”
She sniffled and shook her head. “No. He just said it was okay if I lost my case because he’d have enough money for both of us. He said he was going away. I thought he would take me with him.”
Mason leaned forward. “Carol, this is very important. Did Johnny act like he knew you were going to lose your case?”
Bongiovanni sat up as well, taking a keener interest in Mason’s questions. Carol hesitated, looking at Bongiovanni, then at Mason.
“I don’t know. All he said was it didn’t matter. I thought I was going to lose anyway after everything came out about Johnny and me. I’m sorry,” she said to Bongiovanni. “I know how bad you wanted to get Galaxy and I should have told you about Johnny. I’m sorry.”
Bongiovanni put his arm around her, drawing him to her and comforting her. “That’s okay, honey. The judge hasn’t ruled yet. If we lose, we’ll just get ’em next time.”
Mason said, “One last thing, Carol. Did Johnny ever say that he needed to hire a lawyer?”
Carol pulled herself up, brushing off her T-shirt. “No. Why would he?”
“Because when the police found his body, he had a piece of paper in his hand with my name and phone number on it.”
“And I’m guessing that you’d never heard of Johnny Keegan,” Bongiovanni said to Mason.
“No, but he had obviously heard of me.”
> “Sounds like somebody went to a lot of trouble to make sure the two of you never met,” Bongiovanni said.
FORTY-THREE
Mason left the suite accompanied by Bongiovanni. The elevator was empty as they rode down to the lobby. The hotel piped in Tom Jones singing “It’s Not Unusual.” It was too early in the day for lounge singers, but the lyric was on the money. Nothing in this case was usual.
“Do you really think Mark Hill flipped out and became a jealous psycho killer?” Bongiovanni asked.
“Most murders are committed close to home-not physically but psychologically. Spouses, lovers, friends, coworkers. Somebody or something gets off the tracks. That makes Hill the popular choice.”
“But this isn’t a popularity contest, is it?”
The elevator reached the lobby and they stepped into a throng of retired veterans checking in for their chance at something for nothing, many of them wearing caps with their service insignias on the bill. Mason led Bongiovanni away from the crowd.
“No,” he said. “It’s Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of the Baskervilles. It’s about finding the dog that didn’t bark. What time was it when Mark Hill came home Friday night and started smacking Carol around?”
“Carol said it was a few minutes after nine. She was watching some reality show that had just started.”
“Keegan got off work at eight. The cops showed me a picture of his body they took at ten. That’s not much time, but it’s enough for Mark to have popped Keegan before he went home to work on Carol. He’ll need an alibi once the cops connect him to Rockley and Keegan. That should take until about lunchtime today.”
“But you don’t buy it, do you?”
“I don’t have a better idea, but there are a couple of things that don’t add up. First, Rockley’s killer cut off his head and hands and dumped the body in the trunk of my client’s car. I haven’t found anything to connect Rockley to my client and I don’t believe in bad luck. Second, Keegan’s body was left in a parking lot a mile from the casino still wearing his head and holding on to a piece of paper with my name and phone number on it. There’s no pattern to the murders and I don’t know any reason Keegan would have my name. It would help if I could find out more about those two guys.”
“I’ve got Rockley’s employment records from the arbitration. You’re welcome to them.”
“Thanks. Lari Prillman let me look at hers Saturday night. There’s nothing in either one of them. I even called Rockley’s previous employers. All five of them gave him great references-said he was a great guy, great employee, sorry to lose him.”
Bongiovanni studied Mason, his mouth curling at the corners again. It was a look that said gotcha.
“Mason. I’ve been handling personal injury and employment cases for fifteen years. I talk to employers all the time. They’re scared to death of lawyers and lawsuits. I’m lucky if they’ll confirm someone actually worked for them. No employer says a word about what kind of employee the person was. You got five employers to give you a goddamn reference over the phone. That sounds like a barking dog to me.”
“Yeah, but the dog is barking up the wrong tree. Each company was in a different city and there’s no connection between them. How do you make that work? Besides, I have very good telephone manners.”
“You ought to get a nine hundred number and start charging people. And another thing, you saw Prillman’s files Saturday night and you called me bright and early this morning to see Carol. What did you do, call Rockley’s former employers at home on Sunday?”
Mason realized his mistake. He didn’t answer, waiting to see how far Bongiovanni would push with his next question
“Okay. You don’t want to tell me. Fine. Here’s the way it looks to me. I got a phone call about Rockley around seven o’clock Friday night. First anonymous tip in my career. Very exciting. You called me after midnight, told me about Keegan, and warned me that Mark may go after Carol. This morning, you told Carol that you talked to Mark Friday evening and he told you that she and Keegan were having an affair. Am I right so far?”
“Right enough.”
“You couldn’t have called Rockley’s former employers between Saturday night and this morning. You had to have done that last week. Which means that you knew about Rockley long before I did. The article in Saturday’s newspaper made it look like the cops didn’t even know Rockley was the corpse in your client’s car until that reporter told them. Sounds like you have better sources than my anonymous tipster. Maybe your client told you. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. I just want to know one thing. How did you make the connection to Mark Hill?”
Mason didn’t answer because he didn’t want to tell Bongiovanni the truth and he didn’t have a lie that was good enough to fly under Bongiovanni’s bullshit radar.
“Better not to tell me than lie to me, huh, Mason? I can respect that. Let me answer for you. You had no reason to connect your client to my client until you knew that Rockley was the corpse in your client’s car. But that wasn’t enough to get you to Mark Hill. To make that jump, you had to know about Carol’s lawsuit against Galaxy. You didn’t get that from me, so you had to get it from Galaxy. Now that’s one big goddamn barking dog. So what the fuck is going on?”
Mason always reminded his clients that it wasn’t their job to straighten out the opposing lawyer if he got the facts wrong or jumped to the wrong conclusion. Let him wander around in the wilderness until he figures things out or gives up, Mason told them.
“Woof, woof.”
Bongiovanni stepped close to Mason, clipping his words. “Listen to me, Mason. Carol isn’t just my client; she’s family, which counts for a lot where I come from. I appreciate that you warned me about Mark, but don’t hold out on me if there’s something else I should know.”
“You said that you found a lot of interesting things when you searched Ed Fiori’s office after he was killed. Did you keep any souvenirs?”
Bongiovanni threw his hands into the air. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“The gate swings both ways. We may be able to help each other. You let me have a look at everything you took from your uncle’s office, and I’ll tell you what I know about Rockley.”
Bongiovanni chewed his lip. “That’s a pretty broad request. If you were asking me to produce documents for a lawsuit, I’d say you were on a fishing expedition.”
“Maybe I am. What do you care so long as I’ve got Rockley and Keegan for bait?”
“That stuff is more than just interesting reading. You have any idea what you’re looking for?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“All right. Just remember this. Some of that stuff, if I let you see it, I’ll have to kill you. You don’t mind, do you?” Bongiovanni asked with a wry grin.
“I’ve got the same problem. I guess we’ll have to trust each other.”
“How’s that going to work? We’re both lawyers.”
“What’s the matter? Did you already forget about the Jew and the Italian?”
Bongiovanni laughed. “You are bent, Mason. I’ll give you that. Look. I’ve got a deposition this afternoon. You come by my office tomorrow morning. We’ll play another hand of liar’s poker.”
FORTY-FOUR
Mason called Lari Prillman as soon as he got back to his SUV.
“You still have Johnny Keegan’s personnel file handy?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’d like you to do me a favor. Call his former employers and ask for a reference.”
“Who needs a reference for a dead man?”
“I do. Write down everything they tell you and call me back.”
A moment later his cell phone rang. It was one of the homicide detectives, Kevin Griswold.
“Hey, Mason, your week off to a flying start?”
“A-plus.”
“Glad to hear that. I’d appreciate it if you’d drop by. We’ve got a few things we’d like to go over with you.”
“Sure. I can do that.
Middle of the week be soon enough?”
“Make me wait that long and I’ll have to send someone to get you. My partner, Detective Cates, he misses you. Says he’d like it a lot if you got your ass down here right now.”
“I can do that too.”
Police headquarters was a monument to Missouri limestone and the public works projects of the Depression. It was on the east side of the downtown, one corner of a triangle that included City Hall and the Jackson County Courthouse. Homicide was on the second floor. An outer ring of cramped offices surrounded the detective’s bullpen, a collection of wooden and metal desks older than a lot of the department’s cold cases that had been shoved together to make sure no one had a private conversation about anything. There were three witness rooms down one hallway that ended with a lineup room on one side and a holding cage on the other.
Detectives on different shifts shared the same desks and offices, each one adding their own personal touches. Pictures of spouses and kids competed for space with those of boyfriends and girlfriends. The mismatched images fit in perfectly with homicide, where relationships often didn’t made sense but usually explained everything.
Griswold and Cates were sitting at their desks when Mason arrived. Griswold, who was on the phone, waved Mason toward them. Cates swung his feet from the desk to the floor and brushed past Mason on his way to the interrogation rooms, not apologizing for stepping on Mason’s foot. Cates was a little smaller than Mason, but he was looking for trouble. Mason knew better than to tease the bear on the bear’s home court. Griswold hung up the phone, smiling and shaking his head at the same time.
“I told you Detective Cates missed you. Follow me.” Griswold led him down the hall, past the witness rooms. Cates was waiting at the door to the lineup room. “Do me a favor before we get started. We’re one short for a lineup. Usually, we get one of the rookies to fill in, but everyone’s out. Only take a minute.”