When Kate walked into the Taco Bell, Billie Brewster was working on a burrito in a back booth. Kate bought a cup of black coffee and slid in across from her.
"What, no password? I thought this was a top-secret meeting."
Kate smiled. "I'm here to talk about Kaidanov's murder."
"And I thought you wanted some fashion tips." Billie took a bite of her burrito. "I assume there's going to be a little quid pro quo here."
Kate nodded.
"A neighbor who lives near that ravine heard the shots and looked out her window. She saw someone run out of the woods a little before you and Daniel came out, but it was too dark for her to give any kind of ID. She also saw a car drive off without lights, but can't tell us the make or color. That's all we've got."
"I think you should take a hard look at Aaron Flynn and Burt Randall, Flynn's investigator."
"This on the up-and-up?"
Kate nodded.
"Aaron Flynn has lots of important friends," Billie said.
Kate leaned across the table. Her voice and her stare were intense.
"Kaidanov phoned Daniel's apartment to set up the meeting at the graveyard. Daniel didn't tell anyone except me that he was meeting Kaidanov there at ten, but the killer knew. The day before the call, Daniel saw Burt Randall leaving his building. I had Dan's apartment swept for bugs and my technician found these."
Kate placed the evidence bags containing the bugs on the table. Billie whistled softly.
"Randall must have planted them and whoever listened to Daniel's calls knew that Kaidanov would be at Rest of Angels at ten o'clock."
The detective picked up evidence bags and studied the listening devices.
"Okay, you've got me thinking about Randall," she said. "Why Flynn?"
Kate told Billie everything she had learned in Arizona about the Alvarez and Arnold kidnappings.
"I'm certain that Gene Arnold was killed because Flynn was afraid that he would expose his connection to the Arizona kidnappings."
"Was Flynn ever a suspect in the Alvarez or Arnold murders?"
"Not that I know. But I called your friend at the Benson Hotel. He went over Arnold's phone records. Gene Arnold called Aaron Flynn's office from his room."
"Why would a hotshot lawyer like Aaron Flynn be killing people and setting monkeys on fire?" Brewster asked.
Kate told the homicide detective how much money Flynn would make if he won the Insufort litigation and how much it would cost him if he lost it.
"You think Flynn or Randall killed Arthur Briggs?" Billie asked.
"I'm certain of it. Kaidanov was going to tell Briggs that the study was a hoax. The study was all Flynn had going for him. He had to kill Kaidanov and anyone he talked to."
Billie took a bite of her burrito and mulled over all she'd just learned.
"I think I'll pay a visit to Mr. Flynn," she said.
Chapter Forty.
Zeke Forbus was at his desk in the Justice Center writing a report when his intercom buzzed.
"I've got a caller on line two for a detective who's working on the Ames investigation," the receptionist said.
"Though he works from sun to sun, a detective's work is never done." Forbus sighed. The receptionist laughed. "I'll take it, Millie."
"Detectives," Forbus said as soon as he punched line two.
"Ask Arthur Briggs's secretary what Daniel Ames said when he called her the afternoon her boss was murdered," a muffled voice said. Then the line went dead.
Zeke Forbus flashed his badge and told the receptionist at Reed, Briggs that he wanted to talk to Renee Gilchrist. Then he took a seat and leafed through a magazine while he waited for Renee to appear. As soon as she walked into the reception area, Forbus remembered her. She was tall and sleek and easily distracted him from the article he had been reading.
"Ms. Gilchrist?" Forbus said.
When she nodded Forbus showed Renee his identification. Renee looked nervous.
"I'm one of the detectives investigating the murder of Arthur Briggs. We spoke right after your boss was killed."
"Oh, yes. I remember."
"Is there someplace quiet where we can talk now?"
"There's a room down the hall that's not being used."
"That'll do."
"What's this about?"
Forbus smiled. "Why don't we get settled first."
As soon as they were inside, Forbus shut the door and motioned Renee into a seat. The room was small and the air close. Forbus moved slowly to the table and took his seat, staring at Renee the whole time and not saying a word. The detective enjoyed using his size to advantage in a situation like this and he felt a surge of pleasure when Renee lowered her eyes. He had intentionally scooted his chair close to her so their knees were almost touching.
"After we talked the first time I wrote a report."
Forbus pulled three folded sheets of paper out of his inside jacket pocket and pushed them across the table. Renee looked at the report nervously but did not reach for it.
"Read it," Forbus ordered.
Renee hesitated, then started turning the pages. When she finished she looked at the detective expectantly.
"Anything missing?" he asked.
"Missing?"
"Yeah. Is there anything that you should have told me that's not in there?"
Renee looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"I got a call from someone who thinks you're concealing information in this investigation."
Renee's shoulders hunched a little and she looked down at the table.
"Ms. Gilchrist, how did you and Daniel Ames get along?"
"Okay. Fine."
"Care to elaborate."
"He . . . We worked together."
"Do you like him?"
The question seemed to startle Renee. "Like him?" she repeated. "Well, I mean, he's a nice guy, sure."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Ms. Gilchrist. You two ever date?"
"No! He did a lot of work with Mr. Briggs. I just saw him in the office."
"So you'd have no reason to cover for him, to conceal evidence that would prove he killed your boss?"
"Certainly not," she answered, but there was a tremor in her voice.
Forbus smiled. He leaned back and studied Renee. She shifted on her chair.
"Then I suppose you have a good reason for not telling me about the phone call you got from Ames on the day your boss was killed?"
Renee hesitated.
"Did he call you, Renee?" Forbus demanded, putting emphasis on the secretary's first name. "Do you understand that it's a felony to obstruct a police investigation?"
Renee's eyes dropped and she fidgeted in her seat.
"I'm gonna ask you once more: Did you get a call from Daniel Ames on the day Arthur Briggs was killed?"
"Yes," Renee answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good, Renee. You just took the first step toward staying out of jail. Step two is to tell me what Ames said."
Chapter Forty-One.
When Billie Brewster entered Aaron Flynn's suite of offices, she was as impressed by the lobby as Daniel had been, but Brewster had no trouble separating her admiration for the things someone owned from her opinion of the person who owned them. Flynn's office was as impressive as the lobby. It was paneled in mahogany and decorated with fine art and tributes to Flynn's courtroom triumphs. When Flynn's secretary brought the detective to meet him, he rounded his polished oak desk and crossed the Persian rug that covered his hardwood floors.
"Sit down, Detective Brewster," he said, flashing a warm smile and giving Billie's hand a firm shake. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"I'm okay, thanks," Billie answered as she settled onto a comfortable couch that sat against one wall. Flynn sat opposite her, completely at ease.
"How can I help you?" he asked.
"Have you heard about the shooting at Rest of Angels Cemetery last night?"
The lawyer's smile disappeared. "It was in the morni
ng paper." Flynn shook his head sadly. "Dr. Kaidanov's death was a tragic loss."
"You knew him?"
"No, but I was hoping that he would be the key witness for several clients of mine who have given birth to babies with defects we believe were caused by Insufort, a Geller Pharmaceutical product. Dr. Kaidanov authored a study that showed that the product was harmful. He disappeared before I could question him about his work."
"Did you try to find Dr. Kaidanov?"
"I've had my investigators trying to locate him since I learned about the study."
"Is Burt Randall one of the people you were using?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Did you instruct Mr. Randall to put a tap on Daniel Ames's phone?"
"A tap! Of course not."
"Mr. Flynn, I've received information that your investigator did exactly that, which we both know is quite illegal."
"Of course I know that. That's why I would never do such a thing." Flynn paused. "Ames. Isn't he the young man charged with killing Arthur Briggs?"
Billie nodded.
"I'm completely lost, Detective. What makes you think that Burt would do something like that? If you're going to make serious accusations against one of my employees, I have a right to know the basis for them."
"I'm sorry, but this comes from a confidential source. You understand confidentiality, being a lawyer and all," Brewster said, feigning a friendly smile.
"Well, I don't know what to say. This is very unsettling."
"Is Mr. Randall here? I'd like to speak to him."
"I don't believe he came in today."
"Can you give me his home address and phone number?"
"I'd have to ask Mr. Randall for his permission, first. Why don't I arrange to have you meet him here, tomorrow?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I need to see him today."
"Then I can't help you."
"Or won't," Brewster answered, her smile gone. "Mr. Flynn, does the name Gene Arnold mean anything to you?"
The question seemed to take Flynn by surprise. "I knew a lawyer named Gene Arnold years ago when I was practicing in Arizona."
"That's the Gene Arnold I'm interested in. He was stabbed, then set on fire at the primate lab where the Kaidanov study was conducted."
Billie watched Flynn's reaction carefully.
Flynn seemed confused. "Gene was the dead man at that lab?"
She nodded.
"My God. What was he doing there?"
"I thought you might be able to tell me."
"I have no idea. I haven't seen Gene in years."
"What was your relationship to Mr. Arnold when you did know him?"
Flynn shrugged. " `Relationship' would be too strong a word. We were acquaintances. Both of us practiced law in Desert Grove, which is a fairly small town. There weren't many attorneys in Desert Grove, so we socialized at Bar Association meetings, things of that sort. We were adversaries on occasion, legally speaking, though this was some years ago. I don't remember any specific cases offhand."
"Do you know of any connection between Mr. Arnold and the Insufort litigation?"
"None."
"So he didn't mention the lab or the Insufort case when he called you?"
"Why would he call me?"
"I don't know, but the phone records from the Benson Hotel show a call from Mr. Arnold's room to your office that lasted fifteen minutes."
"I never spoke to him. I told you, I haven't seen him or spoken to him since I left Desert Grove."
"If you didn't talk to him when he called, who did?"
Flynn spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea, Detective."
Billie told Flynn the date and time of the call.
"Were you in the office when he phoned?" she asked.
"I can't say for certain."
"Fifteen minutes is a long time, Mr. Flynn. Mr. Arnold must have been talking to somebody."
"Maybe I was on another line and he held for a while, then hung up. I frequently have phone conferences that last an hour or more. I'm involved in cases all over the country. I'm even representing some of the families from that air crash in India."
"Would your staff be able to help? Maybe they remember the call."
"I'll ask, but I'm assuming this would have been several weeks ago, right?"
"Your billing records would show what you were doing when Mr. Arnold called, wouldn't they?"
"They might."
"Will you ask your secretary to make a copy of them for me?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that. It would violate client confidentiality." Flynn smiled. "There's that word again."
Brewster studied Flynn. He seemed to be getting a second wind.
"Can you think of any reason why Gene Arnold would be in Portland?"
"No."
"You represented Paul McCann, didn't you, the man accused of killing Patty Alvarez?"
"Yes."
"And you know about the murder of Mr. Arnold's wife."
"I wasn't involved in that case," Flynn answered, shifting uneasily in his chair.
"Could Mr. Arnold's visit have had anything to do with the death of his wife and Martin Alvarez's wife?" Billie asked.
Flynn looked very uncomfortable. "I can't think of how it could."
Billie waited a moment, watching Flynn closely. "Well," she said as she stood up, "I guess that does it. Thank you for your time."
Flynn stood, too. "If there's anything I can do . . ."
Billie handed Flynn her card. "The time sheets for the day Mr. Arnold called. Why don't you think about letting me see them."
As soon as the door closed behind Billie Brewster, Aaron Flynn told his secretary to hold his calls. Then he dialed a number he knew almost as well as his own. A moment later the call went through.
"We got a serious problem," Flynn said, speaking urgently into the phone. "A very serious problem."
Chapter Forty-Two.
One wall of Geller Pharmaceuticals' conference room was glass and provided a view of the atrium with its indoor waterfall, but no one in the room was looking at the view. Their attention was focused on J. B. Reed, who had just entered with Brock Newbauer and Susan Webster in tow. At six five and almost three hundred pounds, Reed, Briggs's most powerful partner was used to being the center of attention.
Isaac Geller crossed the conference room and grasped Reed's hand.
"Thank you for coming, John," Geller said. "How are you holding up?"
"It's been hard, Isaac," Reed answered, shaking his head sadly. "Art and I were more than law partners."
"I know."
"We go back to high school. We founded the firm."
"We're all still in shock," Geller said.
Reed's features hardened into a look of rocklike determination.
"I'm stepping in, Isaac. That's why I'm here, to let you know that I'm making these lawsuits my number-one priority."
"And none too soon, either," interjected Byron McFall, Geller's president, as the lawyers took their seats at the conference table. "Kaidanov's murder couldn't have happened at a worse time."
McFall's callousness made Geller flinch, but no one noticed. Their eyes were on Reed.
"How is this going to affect our position?" McFall asked.
"I've been briefed about the case by Brock and Susan," Reed replied, "but I don't have enough of a handle on the facts yet to give you an intelligent answer. Susan?"
All eyes turned toward Susan Webster, the elegant associate who had taken the seat next to Reed.
"Sergey Kaidanov's murder is a public relations nightmare, Mr. McFall. I pulled up several stories on the Kaidanov killing on the Internet. It's front-page news all over the country. The press is hinting that Geller Pharmaceuticals is behind the destruction of the lab and Kaidanov's death because the company wants to cover up his study. There's pressure on the district attorney to start an investigation. Not surprisingly, Aaron Flynn is talking to every reporter he can find. If he brings this case to trial we'll
never find twelve jurors who haven't heard the rumors."
Isaac Geller closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked exhausted.
"What do you suggest we do?"
Susan looked at Reed. "Maybe I should wait for Mr. Reed to get up to speed on the case before offering any advice."
"That's okay," Reed prompted. "I want to hear where you think we are in the case."
"I'd start discussing a settlement, Mr. Geller," Susan said reluctantly. "It could be a bloodbath if we go to trial."
"Goddamn it!" Byron McFall said bitterly. "We had nothing to do with that lab or the study or Kaidanov's murder."
"That may be irrelevant if everyone believes that we did," Susan said evenly. "We should approach Mr. Flynn with a reasonable offer. There are good arguments for admissibility and exclusion of the evidence of the murders, the study, and the destruction of the lab. Right now neither side knows what Judge Norris will let in at trial. This is the best time to feel out Flynn. If Norris rules in his favor he'll want to try every case, and once he wins one of them we won't be able to hold back the flood."
Geller's in-house counsel made a comment just as Susan's cell phone rang. Newbauer, who was seated to Susan's left, watched her answer it and noted her surprise. She walked to the far end of the conference room, away from the others, and continued her conversation in a voice too low to hear. She seemed concerned when she returned to the conference table.
"Anything wrong?" Newbauer asked.
"No," Webster answered unconvincingly.
Kate Ross split her attention between The New York Times crossword puzzle and the exit to Aaron Flynn's garage. An hour after she'd seen Billie Brewster leave Flynn's building, Flynn's car appeared. Kate put down the paper and followed him across town to the Sunset Highway entrance. It was almost 6:30 and the traffic had thinned out. Kate stayed several car lengths back as Flynn headed toward the coast. After half an hour, the lawyer left the highway and took a route that wound through farm country. Ten minutes later he pulled into the dirt parking lot of the Midway Cafe, a run-down roadhouse with a neon sign that advertised beer and fried chicken. It was the type of place where truckers and farmers stopped for coffee and pie, and high-priced lawyers rarely entered.
Kate drove by the restaurant then made a U-turn and parked at the far end of the lot just as Flynn was walking inside. Moments later another car pulled into a parking space near the door and Susan Webster got out.
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