“I don’t know anything about killing anybody. I swear.” For the first time, there was something earnest about her denial. “I’ve never known Ricardo to do anything violent. When I told him about that L.A. Times article, he said he couldn’t believe Waverly was killing his clients.”
“You’re lyin’,” Dre said, growing frustrated.
“I’m telling you all I know is that he helped a lot of people get insurance. Then he hired some doctor to fake their medical records and sent them to Waverly to sell their policies. Whatever money they got from selling the policy, Ricardo took half. You should probably let me call him. He’s going to think something’s up if I don’t.”
“So let him,” Waverly said bitterly. He paced back and forth across the living room.
“What do you know about this guy named Rico?” Dre asked.
“He’s so gullible,” Britney said. “There ain’t no Rico.”
Waverly stopped pacing. “What do you mean?”
“Ricardo made all those calls.”
Waverly’s face cracked with embarrassment. “What does Ricardo look like?” he asked.
“Dark hair, kinda cute. I only date cute guys.”
“What else?” Angela asked.
“Give me some soda and I’ll show you a picture of him.”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Waverly said. “You have a picture of him? Where is it? Is it in your phone?”
“I’m not telling you where it is until you give me something to drink.”
“Let’s check.” Waverly grabbed Britney’s cell phone and started pushing buttons.
“It’s not in my phone,” she said calmly. “It’s on the Internet. I’m dying of thirst. Give me some soda and I’ll show it to you.”
Angela gave Britney a can of Coke and she took several sips.
“Okay,” Dre said, “now show us the picture.”
“It’s on my Facebook page,” she said.
Dre’s laptop was sitting on the coffee table. He brought up the Facebook home page. “What’s your email address and password?”
“BootyliciousBritney at yahoo dot com. My password is TooHot.”
“I’m not goin’ to say a word.” Dre pulled up the page and turned the computer around so she could see the screen. Britney had 732 Facebook friends. “Which one is he?”
“It’s the third picture down. The one of the two of us together on the beach. He’s in the orange swim trunks.”
Dre handed the laptop to Waverly. “Do you recognize him?”
“Son of a bitch!” Waverly exclaimed.
“You know him?” Dre asked.
“Yeah, I know him.” Waverly plopped onto the couch. “That’s the guy who got me into the viatical business. That’s Vincent.”
CHAPTER 86
Zack had been sitting in his office sulking for most of the morning. He’d only come into work to clean out his desk and say his good-byes. Literally seconds after he got everything all packed up, he received a curt call from the Justice Department Personnel Office in D.C. His media liaison job was over before it started. Erickson was out and so was he.
When he started ranting about who was going to refund his deposit on the Georgetown apartment and pay to ship his furniture back to L.A., the guy hung up on him. The same thing happened when he tried to back out of the deal with the woman who was subletting his apartment. At least Barnes let him rescind his resignation.
His cell phone rang and he grudgingly answered.
“Zack, this is Angela. I need your help.”
He sprang forward in his chair. “Have you lost your mind? Where are you? You know your career is shot, right?”
He opened one of the boxes he had just taped shut and pulled out a legal pad. He wished he had a tape recorder so he could record the conversation. The story of a federal prosecutor on the run with her drug dealer-lover following the murder of a judge was the perfect plot for a blockbuster. Maybe he would get his big story after all.
“At the moment,” Angela said, “I’m more worried about staying alive than where I’ll be working next week. I really thought long and hard before calling you, Zack. But I need somebody I can trust. I hope I don’t regret making this call.”
Was Angela about to confess to something? “Of course you can trust me,” he said, trying to contain his excitement. “What’s going on?”
“I’m close to closing in on Jon’s killer. I think his death is definitely linked to Live Now.”
Zack jotted down Angela’s words as fast as she was speaking them. He was about to be part of the takedown of a murder ring that preyed on the dying. This might not get him his own TV show, but it could mean a six-figure book deal. He was almost hyperventilating, but managed to keep writing.
“I have some extremely confidential information that I need you to check out,” Angela said, “but Salina’s the only person I want you to discuss this with. She’s a whiz on the Internet. But with everything going on with me, I figured she’d be too afraid of losing her job if I asked her to do the research for me. Can you ask her to do it without saying it’s for me?”
Maybe. “Tell me what’s going on first.”
“I need you to run a sheet on a Vincent Rivera and a Ricardo Montoya. Also try Ricardo Rivera and Vincent Montoya. Try the first name Rico, too. Then I need to find out if a company called Goldman Investments, Inc., has any connection to Live Now, The Tustin Group or any of its affiliated companies.”
“What’s Goldman Investments?”
“A company Waverly Sloan was laundering drug money through.”
“Whoaaa! How’d you find that out?”
“He’s here with me right now, spilling his guts. If I can confirm a link between the companies, then I think we can prove that Live Now and its executives are connected to the deaths of Waverly’s clients.”
“Holy cow!” Zack said.
“What about Lawrence Erickson’s wife. Did they kill her too?”
“We’re still working on that. So can you do it?”
Zack sidestepped the question. “Where are you?”
“I’m in hiding. I can’t tell you any more than that. You saw the news. Somebody is trying to kill Waverly, and maybe me, too. Will you help me?”
“Sure,” he said.
“And remember, this is just between us. Don’t tell Salina the information is for me and don’t bring anybody else in on this.”
He wasn’t stupid. “Of course.”
“I also have some telephone numbers I need you to look up.” She gave him four numbers retrieved from Britney’s cell. “I need to know as much as possible about the people connected to the numbers.”
“Whose numbers are these?” Zack asked.
“That’s what I want you to tell me.”
“It may not be easy to keep all of this under the radar.”
“I’m sure you can do it, Zack.”
Angela’s next words absolutely made his day. “When this is all said and done, it’s going to be a huge story. I might not have a job, but I will definitely have a book deal and maybe even a screenplay to sell. If you want to be part of it, I really need your help.”
Zack could almost see the hotel shootout scene on the big screen. The studio would probably want big-name actors. Brad Pitt would play him and that black guy from The Unit would make a decent Waverly character. Maybe Beyoncé or Jennifer Hudson could play Angela.
“I’m with you,” Zack said excitedly. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll let you know what I find out.”
CHAPTER 87
Erickson had just finished showering and changed into his gardening clothes when he heard a knock at the door. As he approached, the pounding grew louder.
“I’m coming!” he yelled. He wondered who it could be.
Mandy had just left to get a change of clothes. He felt lucky to have her. She was the only positive thing in his life right now. Later tonight, he planned to ask her to move in.
Erickson reached for the doorknob, but something made him
peer through the peephole first. He saw two police officers and at least three men with TV cameras propped on their shoulders. A police cruiser was parked in the driveway and two more were double parked in front of the house.
Erickson’s fists reflexively clenched. This can’t be happening. Are they actually going to arrest me? This was such a travesty. He could only imagine what the neighbors were thinking.
He jerked the door open. “What do you want?”
“Mr. Erickson, we have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Claire Erickson.”
Before he could react, a uniformed officer stepped forward, pulled him outside, hurled him around and cuffed him.
“This is outrageous!” Erickson screamed. “What are you doing? I didn’t kill my wife. I’m going to sue every last one of you!”
The officer pressed Erickson’s face against the hard brick wall of his porch.
“Do you know who I am?” Erickson yelled. “You can’t treat me like this!”
The officer swung him around and the photographers rushed forward, zeroing in with their cameras.
A flash of fear raced down his spine. He needed to call Becker. No! What was he thinking? Becker had probably set up this disgraceful scene. Erickson needed his attorney, Nolan Flanagan.
He tried to calm himself. Resisting arrest would not do him any good. “Who’s in charge here?” Erickson asked.
“I am.” Detective Davis stepped forward and introduced himself.
“You don’t have to do this,” he appealed to the detective. “I would’ve come down to the station voluntarily. Why don’t you let me call my lawyer?”
“So it’s special treatment you want. Is that it?” the detective replied.
Actually, yes. I do want special treatment. I was the Attorney General of the United States, for Christ’s sake. “I just need someone to call my lawyer, Nolan Flanagan. Can one of you guys please do that for me?”
Detective Davis gave him a skeptical look. “Sorry, but you’ll have to wait until you get down to the station.”
Erickson looked over his shoulder and saw Becker approaching. Had he come to help or cause more harm? Maybe Becker could at least talk them into taking the handcuffs off. “That’s my law partner coming up the driveway,” he said to the detective. “Please let him through.”
As Becker weaved his way toward him, Erickson could see his neighbors rubbernecking in clumps along the street.
“Becker,” Erickson called out in desperation. “Please make them stop this madness. Tell them I didn’t kill Claire! Tell them how Ashley set me up!”
Becker had almost reached him when an officer tried to block his path. Detective Davis ordered the officer to step aside and let Becker through.
“Could you give me a few minutes alone with him?” Becker asked. “I’m his law partner. I need to talk to him away from the cameras.”
Detective Davis hesitated, then instructed two officers to escort Becker and Erickson inside the house.
“The cuffs stay on and we’re going to be just a few feet away,” the detective said, entering the spacious foyer and closing the door behind him. “You have five minutes.”
“That’s fine,” Becker said. “I won’t need that long.”
The officers moved a few feet away to give them privacy.
Becker walked up to Erickson, his face less than an inch away. “You deserve to rot in prison,” he whispered angrily. “I can’t believe that I made you Kaylee’s godfather. You goddamn pervert!”
Oh no! He knows! “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Erickson stuttered.
“I just had a long conversation with Sophia,” Becker continued. “I finally understand why Ashley hates you so much.”
Erickson started to quiver. “You can’t believe Ashley’s lies. She’s trying to destroy me.”
“You’re the liar!” Becker nailed Erickson with a solid punch to his left cheek that sent him crashing into the wall. The two officers rushed over and pulled Becker away.
“You sick fuck!” Becker yelled.
Erickson hung his head. His horrible secret was out. But that did not mean he had killed his wife. Nolan Flanagan would get him off.
“Becker,” Erickson sobbed, “you must tell them the truth. Please!”
“I’d be glad to.” Becker turned to Detective Davis. “Our ex-Attorney General killed his wife because she threatened to expose his penchant for child porn.” Becker attempted to reach into the pocket of his jacket, but the officers restrained him.
“Don’t worry,” Becker said. “I don’t have a weapon, but I do have evidence that proves he’s a pedophile. I was about to hand you a DVD I have in my pocket.”
Erickson’s eyes widened. “How can you do this? You know I didn’t kill Claire! You’re framing me! You wanted me out of the way so you could take over the firm.”
“I thought you said your stepdaughter framed you?” Detective Davis replied. He removed the DVD from Becker’s pocket. “Now, this guy is the one who supposedly set you up? You need to get your story straight.”
“Please don’t do this to me!” Erickson cried out to Becker. “I won’t survive in prison.”
“We found traces of morphine on your gardening gloves that we picked up during the search of your house,” Detective Davis said. “I suppose somebody planted the gloves, too?”
“Gloves? That’s impossible? I’m being framed!” Erickson screamed. “I didn’t kill my wife! I swear!”
“I hope you never see daylight again,” Becker hissed. “Get him out of here.”
An officer took the sobbing Erickson by the arm and led him back outside and through the crowd of police, media and spectators.
“You’re going to make a lot of new friends in lockup,” the cop said, as he stuffed Erickson into the back of the police cruiser. “They love perverts like you.”
CHAPTER 88
Their interrogation of Britney lasted three hours and led Waverly to only one conclusion. He had no chance of the police believing his story unless he could turn over Vincent or Ricardo or Rico or whoever he was.
Waverly, Dre and Angela were huddled in Dre’s bedroom, trying to plan their next move. Britney remained tied to a chair in the living room. Dre stepped into the hallway every few minutes or so to make sure she stayed put.
Angela’s call to her colleague Zack, paid off in minutes, rather than hours. There was indeed a link between Live Now and Goldman Investments, Inc., the company Rico had instructed Waverly to purchase the policies for. After checking Ricardo’s aliases, they found four criminal convictions. Two for check fraud, one for larceny and one for assault with a deadly weapon.
“We have to smoke Rico out,” Dre said. “And the only way I know to do that is to convince him that he has a shot at you and his money.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Waverly said. “Using me as bait will probably mean I’ll get a bullet to the head.”
“That won’t happen,” Dre said. “I have some guys who can provide protection.”
Angela sat down on the edge of the bed. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Dre?”
“Based on what Britney told us, this whole thing is a scam run by Ricardo-slash-Vincent, probably with the knowledge of Live Now.”
Angela looked up at him. “What you do mean?”
“At first I was thinkin’ that this Rico dude just wanted his money back. But if there is no Rico, just Vincent, he’d have a reason to want you dead. All of this stuff leads straight back to him and he can’t afford to let that happen. But if you’re dead, it would be easy to pin everything on you.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t care about getting his money back?” Angela asked.
“No, I’m sayin’ he might let the money ride if it means he doesn’t have to take a rap for murderin’ a bunch of dying people.”
“That makes sense,” Waverly said. “It’s not really about the money. With all the policies Rico bought, he’s a long way from being in the hole.”
&nbs
p; “Yep,” Dre said, nodding. “The dude definitely wants you out of the way. I guess we’re goin’ to have to use Britney to lead him to us.”
“How?” Angela asked.
Dre paused to think. “By makin’ Rico believe he’s goin’ to get to Waverly and his money.”
“I’m not following you,” Waverly said.
“Rico doesn’t know that we know that he’s Vincent. The next time he calls you, answer the phone and propose some kind of exchange. Tell him you have somebody else, namely Britney, who’s goin’ to deliver the money.”
“He’s not going to buy that,” Angela said. “He’s going to assume Britney talked to us.”
“You may be right,” Dre said. “That’s why we’re goin’ to let him demand that Waverly show up. But you’re takin’ Britney with you.”
“Show up and do what?” Waverly asked. “Get my head shot off?”
“I got your back,” Dre said. “I’ll call in my boys.”
“No,” Angela said, standing up. “This has gotten way out of hand. If we’re going to do something like this, we need to have the police involved. Ricardo or Vincent or whoever he is probably won’t be coming alone and neither should we.”
“The L.A.P.D. will just screw everything up,” Dre said. “I know some guys we can trust.”
“No,” Angela repeated. “Everything is already a mess. We need to call in the police. First let’s figure out what we’re doing with Britney.” She turned to Waverly. “We need to convince her to play along. The next time Rico calls, you’re going to tell him you have his money. Then we’ll have Britney call him. She has to act like she’s secretly making the call. She can tell him she wasn’t able to call earlier because we’ve been watching her too closely. She has to convince him that we don’t know anything.”
“I’m sure he’s pretty pissed about not findin’ you at that address Britney gave him,” Dre said to Waverly.
“She can just tell him she made a mistake,” Angela continued. “That she didn’t notice that Dre’s name wasn’t on that utility bill.”
Sweat beads dotted Waverly’s forehead. “Don’t you think he’ll sense a setup?”
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