“Yes, you’re right. That’s good. We have Fernando Lopez, he’s perfect. No one likes a pimp and a drug dealer. We add blackmail and—”
“I’m afraid I am going to have to ask for your resignation.”
“What?”
The governor’s voice changed. “You have served me well for quite some time, Stanley, but I think the political pressure may have become too great. I just wish I had seen it coming sooner.”
Bryce could see the governor working out the sound bite for a press conference before his very eyes. It was like listening to his own funeral service, reading his own epitaph. Spin. It’s what politicians did, and the governor was good at it. Hell, it’s what Bryce was paid to do, and he was great at it. He shouldn’t have been so shocked. Still, Bryce felt sick to his stomach.
“Robert, what are you saying?”
“You have always been a bright boy. I think you know.”
“What about us?”
The governor sneered. “Us? What we did—what I let you do was a careless mistake, and you know it. There is no us. There never could be. It was morally wrong.”
Bryce could see the revulsion in the governor’s eyes. His stomach tightened into a knot. He knew then that the governor didn’t feel as he did. The governor had used him and now he was using him again. Perhaps that was his destiny—to be used and then thrown away.
“I’ll have my resignation on your desk in the morning.”
“Perhaps you should email it to Allison. Goodbye, Stanley.”
The cold finality of those words was an avalanche that buried Bryce somewhere deep inside. He left without saying another word. He didn’t remember walking out past Allison, the governor’s smiling secretary, or getting into his blue Nissan Maxima and driving home. He was in a psychotic break.
Chapter Forty-one: All Roads Lead To Rome
When Raja picked up the phone, it was Detective Rafferty. “The district attorney has requested all my files on Fernando, and the Hope and Gowan cases. I was hoping to get some of the information you and Vinny have uncovered. But, now that Fernando is dead, I don’t see what else they can do.”
“I do,” said Raja. “Come on over, and I’ll show you.”
Rafferty arrived at the Studio City building and rode the elevator to the loft. “Must be nice,” he said, more to himself than anything else, as he stepped into the spacious loft. The skylights that covered half of the arching twenty-foot ceilings, and a tiered waterfall on one wall gave the sense of still being outdoors.
“Welcome, Tommy,” said Vinny, who appeared from behind a huge Jackson Pollock painting that hung suspended in mid air. She was dressed in her usual baggy T-shirt and jeans that tried but failed to hide her model’s figure. There was still a red mark on her cheek from her ordeal with Fernando, but she was all smiles.
“Hey, there,” said Rafferty, always a bit uncomfortable around beautiful women.
“Have we got the goods to show you. Come on.” Vinny took him into the area where she had her futuristic-looking computer setup. You couldn’t call it a room as there were no walls, just a brick column and random sculptures that defined the space.
“I’d like you to meet Bulldog,” said Raja. He was standing next to the large glass computer screen displaying a picture of Stanley Bryce wearing a cut-off T-shirt that read Bulldog. “We thought it was a school mascot, but it turns out it was Bryce’s nickname.” The picture changed to one of Bryce from his youth. He was wearing a spiked dog collar. “Bryce had met Judge Griggsby in the man-boy love circles when he was a teenager.” Another picture showed the Judge and the teenage Bryce.
“Jennifer Gowan’s phone number showed up on Bryce’s phone records right up until her death. But it appeared several years back as well. It is likely he knew her, and arranged for the governor to meet her. Of course, we have the video to connect her to the governor himself.
“We knew that Randall Hope was sleeping with the judge’s wife, but now we know Bryce had met with Hope to offer him a job, possibly to find out what he knew or to secure his silence. And, of course, Clarice Hope was a donor to the governor’s campaign, all done through Bryce. In fact, all the campaign finance went through Bryce. It is how he made so many important connections.
“He also controlled several PACs, although carefully hidden through intermediaries. There is a lot of Silicon Valley money flowing through those coffers, including from John Smiley, the CEO of Solex who was killed in the Starbucks bombing. Heavy Hollywood donations showed up as well.”
“I didn’t think Bryce had that kind of power,” said Rafferty.
“Apparently, he does. Needless to say, we have found a lot of commonality with Governor Black, Stanley Bryce and the victims in our case. Of course campaign donations alone do not a murderer make.
“The most damning evidence is the links to the computer found in the apartment where Fernando was holding Vinny. It is pretty clear Bryce knew Fernando Lopez and played a role in the kidnapping.”
Rafferty’s phone rang. “Yes ... Yes, sir. On my way, sir.”
“That was the captain. Seems he just got a call from the mayor who got a personal call from the governor. It’s about Stanley Bryce. I’ve got to go.”
“Do you want the files?” asked Vinny. “We have a lot more data.”
“Yes, yes. Hang on to it all. I’m sure we will need it later. Right now the governor says jump, so we jump. See ya.”
Chapter Forty-two: Top of the World
Stanley Bryce wasn’t a particularly brave man. He didn’t command respect the way a leader like the governor could. That didn’t bother him. He reveled in his role as a subordinate, a man Friday. He accepted his place in the scheme of things. He wasn’t a bad man, really. But he made one terrible miscalculation. He fell in love. He let that love blind him to reality, as many had done before him. And in that blindness he did terrible things.
Now he knew that it had all been a lie. A horrible joke played on him for no reason. Stanley Bryce slowly undressed as he contemplated the acts he had committed in pursuit of an imaginary relationship with the governor. He couldn’t remember specifics, but he knew there were many. He folded each garment and laid it neatly on the bed. When he was completely naked, he walked into the bathroom and drew a bath, testing the temperature until it was just right. He added bubble bath and then walked calmly through his bedroom into the kitchen. After carefully examining several knives, he chose a large chef’s knife and calmly stuck just the tip of it into the palm of his left hand. He watched curiously as the blood trickled down his arm. Again he poked himself gently, this time on his left thigh. Nothing deep, just a nick. He cut himself several more times until he felt satisfied. Eventually, he walked slowly into the bathroom, carrying the knife by his side.
The bathtub was now half full, and bubbles foamed up nearly to the top. Bryce set the knife down on the edge of the tub. After sliding gently into the water, he washed the blood off his arms and legs and wet his hair, slicking it back.
A smile appeared on his face as he dared to dream of a future he could not have. He stood in front of the press, holding hands with the governor and answering questions as his significant other. “Yes, we are happy,” he said. “Yes, Robert and I have been together many years.” He remembered a favorite old black and white movie he had seen. “I made it, Ma. Top of the world.”
First Bryce heard a single snicker from somewhere out in the crowd. Then a laugh. He strained to see who it was but couldn’t because the media camera lights were in his eyes. The laughter spread and grew louder until it roared unbearably inside his head. That’s when he grabbed the knife and with one fast motion, drew it across his throat.
Chapter Forty-three: Cut and Print It
When the police found Stanley Bryce he had been dead for a day and a half. For two days the shredders at the governor’s home and office had run until they overheated in the effort to make sure the governor could distance himself from Bryce.
Now Governor Black stood o
n the capitol steps in Sacramento surrounded by reporters and cameras. His wife stood next to him. Both wore black. He was ready for the inevitable questions about his knowledge or involvement in the recent killings. Wisely ignoring specific questions, he made a prepared statement.
“If what I’m being told is correct, Stanley Bryce must have been overwhelmed with guilt,” said the governor. “Some people aren’t built to withstand the pressures of politics. The things he did were obviously the work of a tortured and broken mind. Even now, I don’t have all the details. I only wish we had seen it coming sooner.” The camera focused on the sad look on the governor’s face.
“Can you say crocodile?” said Vinny, as she and Raja watched the press conference unfold on the wide screen in the loft.
“You doubt his sincerity?”
“I need another shower. I’m betting the governor had Bryce killed, just like the rest.”
The phone rang and Raja answered. “Hey, Tommy ... Yeah, we are watching it now ... Sure. We can be there in a half hour.”
“Okay, Vinny. We are going to find out soon enough. Rafferty wants us to meet him at the coroner’s office. Sharon has completed her autopsy on Stanley Bryce.”
At the governor’s request, the attorney general announced that the case including the autopsy would be handled by the LAPD, despite local law enforcement protest. He cited the ties to an ongoing investigation of murders there as well as the superior forensics division. The governor’s press secretary announced that the governor wanted to ensure there be no favoritism on behalf of himself during the investigation, and full transparency. What he didn’t say was that getting the case moved to Los Angeles put more distance between Bryce and the governor, something the governor desperately needed. Thus it was that body, evidence and all had arrived in LA two days earlier.
Rafferty, with the shortest drive from Parker Center to Mission Road, was the first one to arrive at the coroner’s office. When he walked in, Sharon was talking to her assistant.
“Joey—”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could you—”
“Take these samples to the chem lab? Yes sir, right away.”
Sharon winced, and handed the package to Joey, who hurried out of the lab.
“He’s the eager beaver,” said Rafferty.
“A little too propitiative for my taste,” said Sharon. “He’s been that way since the Randall Hope fiasco, trying to make up for what wasn’t even his fault. In fact, we put a whole new set of evidence handling protocols into the office, beginning with no longer using outside couriers for sample transport. Eventually we will have all the science under one roof. But enough of my world. You probably want to hear about the autopsy.”
Rafferty considered any extra time he got to spend with Sharon as a bonus. However, he said, “Of course, the autopsy.”
Just then, Raja and Vinny walked into the outer lab area.
“Perfect timing,” said Sharon. “Glad you could make it. Tommy said it was only right that you be here. I agree. Will the reporter be attending?”
“Sue Storm? Doubtful. I’m not sure the finality of this mess has quite sunk in for her.”
“Finality, my ass,” said a female voice in the hallway. In walked Sue Storm, still blond but groomed to look good on camera, like any self-respecting TV reporter. “I’m hoping to make hay with this story for the rest of the year, at least. I’m thinking Pulitzer.”
The others laughed.
“Sue Storm, I presume,” said Sharon. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Pleasant,” said Sue, smiling. “Yes, it is pleasant to be out in public as myself. What did I miss?”
“We are just getting started,” said Sharon. “I completed my preliminary examination of the body yesterday, and then had the lab complete the tests I needed to confirm my initial conclusions. This morning I did a complete reexamination, looking for any latent signs of foul play. We have been over every inch of Stanley Bryce’s body with every possible instrument. Short of finding an invisible alien growing inside of him, I can safely say the cause of death was exsanguination precipitated by one self-inflicted laceration to his neck, severing the left carotid artery.”
“Suicide?” said Vinny, unconvinced.
“Are you sure?” said Raja.
“If the doc says it’s suicide, then it is,” said Rafferty, coming to Sharon’s defense.
“It’s okay, Tommy. They have a right to ask. There have already been three murders rigged to look otherwise on this case. And I already made one wrong call.”
“We aren’t doubting your skill,” said Raja. “You know that. We just have to be sure.”
“Yes. I’m hoping I didn’t come out of hiding too soon,” said Sue.
“Granted, it is important. That’s why I wouldn’t make the call lightly. Without getting too technical, let’s just say there are certain markers that would make suicide probable. I found all of them in this case.”
“I hear probable, not definite,” said Vinny, still holding out for her theory.
“Yes, from my examination alone, that is the best I can do. Suicide is one of the hardest determinations to make. It often requires corroborating evidence. And, there is just such evidence in this case.” Sharon cued up a video on the computer screen on the wall of the lab.
The picture showed a home video of Bryce sitting in front of his laptop naked. There was blood on both forearms and his chest. His face was expressionless. “I have been a fool. I have done terrible things that I cannot bear. I am sorry.” The numbness in his voice was palpable. When he reached forward for the camera button, the large chef’s knife showed in his hand. The screen went blank.
“The cuts you saw were fresh and had been made only minutes before his death. It’s not uncommon for suicides to prep for the final act by testing, probably to screw up their courage. I can therefore say with certainty, Stanley Bryce took his own life.”
There was an audible exhale that followed that statement, especially from Detective Rafferty. No one wanted more than he to close this mess of a case.
“That makes sense,” said Rafferty. “Bryce was desperate to cover for the governor. We found plenty of incriminating data on his personal laptop, including some of his journal entries. It looks like he had a thing for the governor.”
“Do we know the governor wasn’t involved?” asked Vinny.
“There was nothing to indicate he is anything more than a sleazeball. In fact, he was the one who alerted us to Bryce.”
“How convenient,” said Vinny.
“Not really,” said Rafferty. “He even told us about his affair with the girl Jennifer Gowan, and about the sex video.”
“I don’t know how I missed that juice,” said Sue. “I guess I was too intent chasing my story on business fraud.”
“The business fraud angle came out through another so-called victim in this tale, Judge Griggsby. He was up to his ears in bribes and insider investment data that he had gotten from a white collar defendant who traded information for a light sentence. He gave that information to Bryce who promised to help the judge satisfy his miscreant desires. Bryce then traded the man-boy connection to the judge for a promise to see that the Prop 8 appeal overturned the law. Then Bryce used that to get campaign money from the LGBT community for the governor.”
“Bryce certainly didn’t lack ambition,” said Sharon.
“Like I said, he was in love with the governor,” said Rafferty. “He wanted to help the governor eventually reach the White House. I think he thought he would be the first lady, or mate, or whatever.”
“That’s just sad,” said Vinny.
“Sad? The dude was nuts,” said Rafferty. “Like most slimeballs, Judge Griggsby and Stanley Bryce never trusted each other. Each tried to blackmail the other. Judge Griggsby may have worn his man-boy love badge proudly, but pedophilia is still a crime. Bryce had video and affidavits from a boy and his mother—plus documented proof money had changed hands, all on his computer. He
used it to squeeze the judge on rescinding anti-gay legislation. And the judge had the video compromising the governor. That is likely what was in that locker at the Hillcrest Country Club.”
“Who were the guys posing as feds at the club?” asked Raja.
“Probably goons Bryce hired. Same with the hit man from Detroit. We may never know exactly, now that Bryce is dead. It all started to unravel when the judge’s wife overheard the judge talking. Bryce must have thought the judge was betraying him and he started having people killed.”
“What about the fraud that Sue uncovered?”
“I think Bryce was using that information to garner more money for the governor to launch his national political career. He must have promised to grease the lines and help get government grants pushed through for the energy companies in exchange for campaign money. There will be more investigation in that area, don’t you think, Ms. Storm?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Sue. “With the collapse of Solyndra and other energy companies like it, and the information Vinny and I uncovered, there will be a long hard look at the whole area of government funding.”
“And Fernando Lopez?” asked Raja.
“Turns out he passed through the judge’s courtroom years back on pandering charges. Ironically, Bryce may have found Fernando through the judge, and then used him to eliminate the judge and his wife.” Detective Rafferty relished the opportunity to talk about the case now that it was closed.
Raja fed him more softball questions and let him bask in the glory. Tommy deserved it. After all, he had saved Vinny. When the questions and answers wound down, the conversation turned to Sue Storm.
“I really appreciate your persistence in pursuing your story,” said Raja. “It took a lot of guts. I don’t think we could have solved our case without your help.”
“Thanks, Raja. I’m looking forward to a couple puff pieces next, if you don’t mind.” Despite the protest, it was clear Sue felt at home in the middle of danger and controversy.
“Blond is a good look for you. Going to keep it?” asked Vinny.
The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1) Page 16