Pool of Lies

by J. M. Zambrano

  Chapter 49

  Rae heaped her entire Bayfield audit file on Veronica's desk the next morning. “Here's everything I have to date. There is no evidence of misappropriation of funds. The only screwy things are the page of checks, which we won't revisit, and the GST tax which I've estimated. If Deidre's disbursement checks went to Camacho, you'll soon know that. If she cashed the checks and gave him the cash, you're back to square one.”

  “I'm back to square one? Wait a minute. What're you doing? Quitting on me?”

  “When I pick up the bank copies of the disbursements to Deidre and examine them, my work will be finished.”

  “You've got a contract. You're finished when I say you are,” Veronica said.

  “Not when you trash my conclusions. I don't need that.” Rae turned toward the door.

  Veronica grabbed her arm. “I was needlessly rude to you yesterday. I had no right to take out my frustrations on you.”

  “That's true,” Rae said. You acted like a roaring bitch.

  “I still haven't made contact with Nate Farris.”

  “Are you worried something might've happened to him?” Rae's anger softened, replaced by her usual curiosity. If she left the case in a huff, she might miss something besides billable hours.

  Veronica shook her head. “They wouldn't be that stupid. He's checked into a Holiday Inn in Arvada. We've had surveillance on him.”

  “You think he's having second thoughts?”

  “I do.” Veronica sighed. “About those checks? You're probably right. It makes sense, but there's nothing the D.A. can use. There are too many ways they can neatly explain it away. Nate's story seemed solid. If he recants, I don't even think we can use the Demerol.”

  “Why not?” Rae asked.

  “Because the information that it might be in her purse came from Nate. With him recanting, the worst we'd have on Morgan is possession of a controlled substance. That is, if his recanting doesn't also shoot down our probable cause for seizing her purse. There's nothing on the packets or syringes that identifies where they came from. Her prints aren't even on the packets.”

  “She was wearing gloves when I met her,” offered Rae. “Like my mother used to wear when she got dressed to go to church or something. People don't dress like that for every day.”

  “None of it matters if we don't have Nate's testimony.” Veronica thumbed through the documents Rae had deposited on her desk. “I see there was a stop-payment put on the check to Kevin. The second check. And the stop is dated after Kevin's body was discovered.”

  “Yes. Sam is meticulous. I would have been surprised if he'd overlooked that.”

  “Rae, I owe you.” Veronica looked her straight in the eye. “I'm going to try to keep you in the loop from now on. Starting with Reggie's autopsy. He died of a myocardial infarction.”

  “A heart attack.”

  “I didn't order a tox screen. Why waste the taxpayers' money?”

  Rae suppressed comment on that one. “What about IAB? Have they taken any action?”

  “Too early, but I'm sure they will.”

  Veronica paused and seemed to be searching for the right words.

  To say what? Rae twitched in her chair.

  “All this talk about wires,” began Veronica.

  I knew it! Here it comes. I won't--

  Veronica cut her off in mid-thought. “I was wearing a wire when I brought Morgan into Wehr's apartment. She's been our primary focus from the beginning. Since Deidre's death.”

  Rae gaped. “What about JJ Camacho?”

  “We suspected he might have been acting on her orders.”

  “Raping her daughter? Taking her money? Give me a break!”

  “No,” Veronica's voice rose in pitch. “Of course not. That was before we knew Deidre was her daughter. But the whole bit about Sam sending Beth and Josh away without her knowledge. Claiming she thought Beth was missing. All smoke and mirrors.”

  “You never suspected Danny?”

  “I'm a realist, Rae. Danny had the least to gain from Deidre's death, and nothing to gain from Kevin's. My idea was to get Morgan away from her lawyer. She wasn't officially a suspect, so we could do that. I had no idea what was on the tape. Just that it was bound to be emotional. Then when I saw it, I hoped that when she saw it, she would crack and admit to killing Kevin.”

  “I guess she didn't.”

  “As a matter of fact, she did crack. But not in the way I'd expected. Her face just crumpled up and she kept repeating 'My baby, my baby.' She rocked back and forth till I thought she was going to have a seizure. But she never shed a tear, and she never said a word that might implicate her in either murder.”

  Rae nodded, remembering Morgan's behavior the day before. “Everybody has a breaking point. Yesterday may be the closest Morgan's come to hers.” She got up from the chair, preparing to leave Veronica's office.

  “Any other questions?”

  “Why did you keep Wheat Ridge out of the loop?”

  “Are you forgetting the Wheat Ridge/Stan Eisley connection?” Veronica said.

  “Oh, right. The fathers and their frat brother sons.”

  “Anything else?”

  There was one more nibbling at Rae's brain. A biggie. She already knew the answer Veronica would give. “When you and Morgan left Wehr's…was Reggie…”

  “I didn't even see Reggie. I told you, it was the next day, when I went in with the Wheat Ridge guys--”

  “Oh, right, I forgot,” Rae lied.

  *****

  Sam Garvin met Rae at the door of Bayfield Enterprises. His craggy face looked like parchment drawn over bones. Rae felt her heart lurch, trying to imagine how he felt.

  As she followed Sam past the picture of the groundbreaking, she took another look at young Sam. Doing the math from the date on the picture, she realized that he was younger than he appeared, even on good days. More likely early sixties rather than seventies. Not that much older than Morgan. They'd just had really shitty timing.

  “I have the check copies laid out in the conference room, the one you used before,” he said.

  No niceties this morning, thought Rae as she followed him down the hall. She wanted to ask how Morgan was holding up. And it wasn't just curiosity. Somehow the face of crime wasn't coming through in black or white. It was weird how something in her was now rooting for the geese. That's how she'd come to think of Sam and Morgan.

  How could this be when they had probably killed at least one person and maybe planned to do in Nasty Nate? She guessed it fell into the class of emotion that let your heart bleed for a trapped coyote when you knew it would bite your hand off if you tried to help it.

  In the conference room, Sam stood at an appropriate distance while Rae examined the checks drawn on Deidre's trust. The first two appeared to have been cashed by Deidre. The next three, each for $50,000.00, were endorsed by Deidre to the order of James Joseph Camacho. Under Deidre's writing, Camacho had endorsed the checks and apparently received the cash.

  “A hundred and fifty thou is hardly enough to retire on,” Rae said.

  “My count exactly,” replied Sam, apparently ignoring the gist of her comment.

  “I mean, this looks like just a start.”

  “As soon as I found out what was going on, I called the police. We didn't know Dee was turning her monthly disbursements over to him until she tried to double up on January's. That's when she first called me.” The muscles in his jaw began to quiver.

  “You did the right thing,” Rae said. The sight of pain in his usually stoic face sent tears brimming. She blinked them back.

  “I did the right thing, and it got her killed.” There was a catch in his voice. “Do you think these checks will make any difference? Now do you think the police will finally go after this scumbag?”

  “I think they've been looking for him all along.”

  “We know he was an informant. The police and the DEA considered him more important than my daughter.”

  So, he'd fi
nally said the words. My daughter. Rae saw the blood rush into his face from the effort. Or the pain. Or the pride that might have been, had things been different.

  Then she realized Sam had spoken of Camacho in the past tense. Did he just mean that Camacho was no longer an informant?

  “Morgan Bayfield is not a murderer,” said Sam.

  So, he's leaving off the Farris.

  “I'm in the process of preparing the supplemental Form 706 to pay the GST tax,” he continued. “That was my error in judgment, and I'll pay for it. There's been no other crime on our part.”

  Our? “I'm sure you had no idea Kevin was dead when you voided that first check to him.” Rae ventured out on the thin ice of her theory, but this time Veronica knew where she was and had a man stationed across the street in front of the porno shop.

  She'd never seen Sam caught off guard. This time, he blinked.

  “Of course we didn't know he was dead. What check are you talking about?”

  “The first one on the page with Fredricka's check and the other check to Kevin.”

  “There was only one check to Kevin.”

  “Could I see the check book again? I'll show you what I mean.”

  “Check stubs over thirty days old are shredded. Do you want to see the ledgers again? Or the bank statements?”

  Rae shook her head. Period. End of story. That's all you're going to get, Rae.

  “Can't say that I would've blamed you.”

  “Morgan and I have quite enough to blame ourselves for during Deidre's lifetime. We're taking steps to see to it that our daughter's death doesn't go unpunished.”

  Don't say it, Rae.

  Too late, Grandma. The words were already in motion. “Kevin's death was a step in that direction.”

  Sam's next words glided smoothly over Rae's comment, never acknowledging it. “Since the police have chosen to ignore Deidre's murder, we're employing other means to get the justice she deserves. Legal means.”

  “You're suing the city?” Rae blurted.

  Sam cracked a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Mrs. Esposito, I'm disappointed. You appeared to have more imagination than that.”

  Enough, Rae. “I'll just take these check copies and be on my way.” Rae placed the evidence in her briefcase. I'm not playing any more games with you, old man.

  But there was one more thing, since their paths were unlikely to cross again: “Why didn't you and Morgan just run away?”

  As he looked at her, Rae saw his eyes brim, then he blinked. “A pregnant teenager and an adult male?”

  “I mean … later. After Deidre was born.”

  “Once Morgan reached majority, Deidre's identity had been fixed. Morgan was so cowed by Jerome that she dared not take a breath on her own.”

  “And then Jerome died.”

  “And Morgan was reborn.”

  Sam stepped aside, allowing her to precede him through the door. They walked to the front entrance.

  “There's still so much control here,” Rae observed. “How did Danny ever end up as Deidre's P/R? Why didn't you or Morgan step up to the plate?”

  “Danny insisted. Since he promised to use RS&E as his legal counsel, we thought no harm, no foul. We underestimated Danny.”

  “It was after you'd agreed not to fight him on the P/R thing that you came to believe he had a connection to Camacho?”

  “Of course.”

  “And that's why Morgan threw the coffee at him at the funeral reception? I think I can understand--”

  “Morgan threw coffee at Danny? At anyone? Where did that tale come from?”

  “Where do you think?”

  Sam just shook his head. They paused beside the front door. “There's a piece of advice I'm going to give you,” said Sam. “You may not thank me for it. Not today, anyway.”

  Rae looked at him, her nod giving him permission to continue.

  “Morgan and I are fortunate in that we've been given another chance at a life together. The loss of our daughter could've been the end for both of us. Instead, it's becoming our beginning.”

  Your point? She started out the door, looking back a question at him.

  “My point is, Mrs. Esposito, don't let the loss of your husband turn you into a bitter old woman.”

  Rae dove through the open door, slamming it behind her. How dare he? The sun outside in the parking lot scalded her cheeks. Her grief, her private grief was none of his damn business. As she threw open the door to her SUV, her reflection in the driver's side car window spoke louder than Sam's words.

  The sound of her cell, the William Tell Overture, heightened her anger. The lone ranger. Yep, that was her. Goddammit, so what? The musical phrase repeated, and she grabbed the phone, remembering Veronica's scheduled call.

  “How'd it go?”

  “Peachy.”

  “What's wrong with you?” Veronica wanted to know.

  “Nothing. I've got the check copies. Camacho got a wad out of this, but not as much as I thought.”

  “Probably not as much as Nate Farris is getting.”

  “You've heard from him?”

  “Yeah,” Veronica said in a tired voice. “He's invoking his marital communication privilege. And the stuff that didn't fall under the privilege? He's recanted.”

  Chapter 50

  After Rae handed Veronica the check copies, she listened as the detective did a port-mortem on her dead case.

  “We don't know where she got the injectable Demerol,” Veronica confided. “The packet had no identifying information. We could trace the manufacturer's number on the vials and syringes, and come up with the hospital it was originally sold to, but that won't help our case if it's ruled that we had no probable cause to seize the purse. If only she'd taken the stuff out in your presence.”

  “Oh, great! And maybe injected me right before you came in? Thanks a bunch, Veronica.”

  “I didn't mean that.”

  “So nailing Morgan for Kevin's death may be a lost cause,” Rae said, “but what about Deidre? And JJ?”

  Veronica looked at her for such a long moment that Rae knew there was something percolating. She held her breath, hoping Veronica wouldn't decide not to tell her.

  Finally: “We're certain JJ was not involved in Kevin's death.“

  “You found JJ?”

  Another pause--not so long this time. “We found Kevin's cell phone in the Golden house. JJ had been texting Kevin up until the day his body was found.”

  “Then you do know where JJ is?”

  “We know the approximate vicinity where he was. He apparently never left the area. The calls trace to a tower in Arvada.”

  “You think his brother was hiding him and just pretending to look for him?”

  “Career suicide and a one-way ticket to Canyon City,” Veronica muttered. “But now we'll never know with Reggie dead. We'll keep looking, but…”

  “But you're running out of work for me on this case.”

  “There'll be others,” Veronica said. “There may still be tag ends. It's not over till it's over.”

  *****

  After she left Veronica, Rae decided to swing by Danny's and collect her rain check on the grand tour, and maybe glide into the subject of Danny's rift with Morgan. Could she do this without bringing Sam's contradictory version of the events into the conversation?

  It was the kind of day that made people swear they'd never leave Colorado. Other skies could never be so deep a blue. In the distance, cirrus clouds played along the tops of front range peaks.

  As she approached, Rae noticed that Danny's house now had windows, so he actually had a view of the lake. Why wouldn't he want to live there? What better place to put ghosts to rest than in this beautiful setting?

  Rae's anger at Sam had passed. Now she stewed and fretted that her protracted grief hung out there in the open for all the world to see. Her emotions still not in check, she drove past Danny's, noting roofers at work, but no sign of Danny's truck. Something was different about this ro
of. Solar panels? Rae smiled. So like Danny to do his bit for the environment. She guessed it cost maybe twice what a normal roof would cost. He'd brought her bill current and even had enough left to do all this elaborate remodeling? He must have paid Sandy, too. And RS&E, for Gil's time. How much equity was in that erstwhile ugly house?

  Rae pulled into the small parking area that preceded the Graystone Lake bridge. A single small rowboat drifted on softly rippling cerulean waters. She could see its occupant holding a fishing pole, the line moving slowly with the current.

  There are fish in there? She imagined her grandsons holding fishing poles while she guided them in the lore her dad had taught her. Rae remembered her first trout. And for no good reason, she began to cry.

  Don't be a wild goose, Rae.

  I'm trying, Grandma, I'm trying.

  Try harder.

  And she thought of her dad, big Eddie Rothe, strong as a bull, but the Big C got him, and his Rose just had to follow.

  They don't call it that anymore, Rae. Cancer. They talk about it now.

  I know that. Why is it, Grandma, when half a couple goes, the other half's not far behind? She remembered her mom, the fragile Rose. I'm nothing like her.

  You're more like her than you think, Rae.

  Rae sniffled and leaned on the memory of Grandma who didn't dry up and blow away like cottonwood leaves in autumn no matter who died.

  The Overture emanated from her cell. Rae glanced down through wet eyes, and then answered the call.

  “Stephen?”

  “Hey, Mom, I hear you've met Callie.”

  “Well, I guess you could call it that. She's your new girlfriend?” Rae swallowed the sniffles and hurried on, “She sounds really nice, Stephen. Very…friendly.” Keep it positive, Rae.

  “She's not my girlfriend, Mom.” Stephen had something different in his voice that Rae couldn't identify.

  “She sounded like a girl.”

  Stephen's laughter roared in her ear. When it quieted, he said, “She's my fiancée. Callie and I got engaged last week.”

  Ohmigod! Rae didn't know it could feel like this. She wasn't one of those clinging moms. It was just that she thought she'd have more time to prepare.

  “Mom? Say something.”