by Marie Force
“Sanborn is the kingpin,” Sam said. “McBride identified him as her attacker. I believe the DNA will also show him to be responsible for the murders of Regina Argueta de Castro and Maria Espanosa. I want to use Daniels and Bartholomew to set up Sanborn. Immunity for both of them on the call girl ring, but if the DNA on Selina Rameriz’s clothes matches Bartholomew’s, I’ll charge him with aggravated sexual assault. Selina worked with Jackson on a composite sketch that’s a perfect match for Bartholomew. I can also get her employer to testify that she was out of work for several days after the attack and that she’d never missed a day of work before then. I can get her coworkers to testify to the bruises on her face and arms.”
“We’ve also got several people who attended the gala at the Reagan Building who will testify that they saw Bartholomew with Selina that night,” Freddie said. “And we’ve got videotape showing them there together.”
Faith nodded. “With the DNA, that’s enough to charge him.”
“The lab is rushing the results through,” Farnsworth said.
“Glad something can get them to rush,” Sam muttered.
“What’ve you got on Daniels?” Faith asked.
“Involvement in the call girl ring as well as solicitation and prostitution. If I can offer him immunity, I might be able to get him to tell me what he knows. From what I know about him, losing his political career will be significant punishment.”
Faith nodded in agreement. “Do it.” She zeroed in on Sam. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Cramps,” Sam whispered so the men wouldn’t hear.
“Ouch.”
Gesturing to Freddie, Sam headed toward the interrogation rooms. “Let’s talk to Daniels first.” On the way, she stopped to remove several photos from her murder board.
When they entered the room, the speaker of the House of Representatives leaped to his feet. “I don’t know why I’m here. What did I do?”
“Mr. Speaker, I need to remind you that you have the right to remain silent.” Sam reviewed the Miranda warning and received his permission to record the interview. Freddie remained by the door. “Do you understand your rights in this matter?”
“I haven’t done anything! I don’t know what ‘matter’ you’re referring to!”
“If you didn’t do anything, why’d you bolt when you saw us coming earlier?” Sam asked.
“Because Sanborn did. I didn’t know what was going on.”
“Pardon me if I find that hard to believe.” Sam put Selina Rameriz’s photo down on the table.
Daniels, who was short and stocky with dark hair and the starting of jowls, went perfectly still as he stared at the picture.
“Know her, Mr. Speaker?”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“Would you be willing to take a polygraph to confirm that?”
Daniels tore his eyes off the photo and began to pace. “You don’t understand…”
Sam pulled a chair out from the table and lowered herself gingerly. “What don’t I understand?”
“It was one time.”
Sam laughed. “Sure it was. If I ask Ms. Rameriz, will she corroborate your story?
“Maybe it was twice, but the point is, it wasn’t any big deal.”
“It’s against the law,” Sam reminded him. “Especially when you start killing the women to keep them quiet.”
Daniels stopped pacing and turned to her. “Killing? I’ve never killed anyone! Give me a polygraph on that.”
Sam shrugged. “Funny, that’s not what Sanborn said. He claims the whole thing was your idea.”
Daniel’s complexion got very red. “That son of a bitch. He’s lying! If anyone was pulling the strings, it was him!”
Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I want to know what you know about the call girl ring, and I want it now. If the information you give me is credible, I may speak to the AUSA about immunity for you.”
“I’d have to testify against the others?”
“Yes.” Sam watched him absorb the fact that his political career was probably over.
His face twisted into an ugly snarl. “How can you do this to people in your future husband’s own party?”
Sam laughed. “You think I care about that? You think he cares about that? We both want justice for the two women who were murdered by one of you. That’s what we care about.”
“He won’t have much of a career if he doesn’t learn how to manage his woman,” Daniels said.
Sam treated him to her most intimidating cop stare. “Keep up that crap and the deal’s off the table.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got one minute. Do we have a deal?”
“I want to talk to my lawyer.”
Ignoring the cramps seizing her midsection, Sam stood. “Then no deal. I need the information, and I need it now. Your choice.”
As he stood with his hands on his hips pondering his limited options, Sam watched the starch go out of his spine. “It was all Sanborn’s idea.”
“What was?”
“A service…For us, by us. Our jobs are stressful, and we needed a way to let off steam and relax. We figured if we had control then we could determine who was allowed to patronize it and keep it secret. We could choose the women…”
“Immigrants who wouldn’t recognize most of you.”
Daniels sighed and dropped into a chair. “Yes.”
“How long has the organization been in business?”
“Twelve years.”
Sam couldn’t believe they’d never caught wind of it in all that time. “So why did Regina and Maria have to die?”
“I honestly don’t know. I had nothing to do with that. I swear to God.”
“But you know who did.”
“I have my suspicions.”
“Is that what you were arguing with Sanborn about?”
“I wanted him to tell me what he knew about it and why there were cops sniffing around the Hill. I also wanted to know what he knew about the police officer who was kidnapped.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me it was none of my business and that I needed to keep my mouth shut and stay out of it.”
“How did it work? The service?”
“We hired a woman. She works out of her home and manages the administrative aspects.”
“Who else besides yourself and Sanborn are behind the organization?”
“Bartholomew and Cook.” Sam couldn’t wait to arrest that bastard Cook. “We wouldn’t even be here right now if Cook hadn’t gotten greedy and pushed us to open the service up to anyone who called. We told him it was a mistake. The more people who knew…”
“What’s Gooding’s involvement?” she asked, referring to the vice president.
“Nothing that I know of, but he and Bartholomew are tight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows the ring exists, but I don’t think he’s ever been a patron.”
“You don’t know for sure.”
“No. The only person who knows all the who, what, when, where and how is the woman who runs the organization.”
Sam pushed a pad and pen across the table. “Her name and address.”
“She’s an innocent party—a wife and mother just trying to make a living.”
“Running a call girl ring for pampered politicians? Hardly innocent.”
Daniels put down the pen. “Tell me you’ll protect her, or I’m not giving you her name.”
“Give me her name or our deal is off.”
“I gave you what you asked for!”
“I told you the deal was only good if you were entirely forthcoming.”
Daniels glared at her.
Sam glared back.
He grabbed the pen and wrote the name and address and shoved the pad back at her.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Sam eased herself up. “Sit tight. I’ll be back.”
“When? I need to get out of here before my wife hears about this.”
“It’s probably safe t
o assume she already knows,” Sam said.
Moaning, he dropped his head to folded arms.
Malone was waiting for her and Freddie outside the interrogation room.
“Anything from the lab yet?” Sam asked.
He shook his head. “They said it would be tomorrow at the earliest.
“Goddamn it.”
“Lieutenant,” Freddie said, frowning at her language.
“It occurred to me that your suspects don’t know how long it takes to get DNA results,” Malone said. He handed her two sheets of official-looking paper.
Sam studied them and smirked. “Traffic tribunal, huh?”
“Put them in this.” He produced a manila folder. “That makes it very official. They know it’s their DNA, so why wait for the lab to confirm it when they can do it for us?”
“I like the way you think, Captain.”
“I still have a few working brain cells after riding the desk all these years.”
“This is just what I needed to nail those bastards.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Bartholomew first and then Sanborn. Depending on how it goes with Bartholomew, I might need you to have someone bring Selina over here for a lineup of fat, balding middle-aged guys. Her ID will put a bow on top of the aggravated sexual assault charge. Can you set that up if I can’t get him to roll?”
“Absolutely. Let’s wrap this up, people.”
If only she didn’t feel so shitty, Sam would be salivating in anticipation of toppling two powerful scumbags from their lofty pedestals.
“You sure you’re all right, Holland?” Malone asked.
“Girl trouble,” she said, knowing he’d drop it once he heard that.
He cleared his throat. “Um, very well then. Carry on.”
“I understand you’ve been running a call girl ring in Washington for twelve years,” Sam said without preamble. She’d witnessed Freddie reading Bartholomew his rights earlier, so she didn’t repeat the Miranda warning.
Bartholomew attempted to surge to his feet, but with his girth, the surge was more like a lumber. “Who the hell told you that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Is it true?”
“It most certainly is not. I had nothing to do with any call girls. I work for the vice president of the United States. Why would I jeopardize my position, my career, my reputation to dally with call girls?”
“That’s a very good question. Isn’t it, Detective Cruz?”
“Indeed,” Freddie said. “Personally, I think it’s all about money—and the sex, of course.”
“I’ve never had sex with a call girl,” Bartholomew huffed. “I don’t need to pay for it.”
Sam took a long measuring look at the unattractive man. “If you say so.” She produced the folder she’d kept behind her back. “You’re sure you’ve never met Selina Rameriz?”
He eyed the folder warily. “Positive.”
“Then how do you explain the fact that you were seen with her at a gala on January 18 at the Ronald Reagan Building?” She turned to Freddie. “Detective Cruz, do you have several witnesses prepared to testify that Mr. Bartholomew accompanied Ms. Rameriz to the gala?”
“I do,” Freddie said. “We’ve also obtained the security videotape from the Reagan Building where you’re seen with her at the event.”
Sam directed her gaze from Freddie back to Bartholomew. “Still certain you’ve never met her?”
“So I hired her to go to a party with me. That doesn’t make me a rapist.”
Sam withdrew one of the traffic tribunal forms. “No, but your semen on her clothes sure does.”
Watching his face drain of color was among one of the more satisfying moments in Sam’s career.
“That can’t be right,” he stammered.
“The beautiful thing about DNA is that, unlike people, it never lies.”
His round face was suddenly shiny with sweat. “Okay so maybe I had sex with her. That also doesn’t make me a rapist.”
“Detective Cruz, when we talked to Ms. Rameriz, did she leave you with the impression that the sex she’d had with Mr. Bartholomew was in any way consensual?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And is the owner of the Capitol Cleaning Services company willing to testify that the only time Ms. Rameriz has ever missed work in more than two years was on the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first of January?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And will Ms. Rameriz’s coworkers testify that when she returned to work on the twenty-second, her face and arms were still bruised from what was obviously a vicious assault?”
“They will.”
Sam returned her attention to Bartholomew. “That, along with the identification Ms. Rameriz will soon make as well as her very compelling and very believable story, gives you a rather significant problem, Mr. Bartholomew.”
“I’d like to see my lawyer.”
“We can arrange for that. Once your lawyer is here, however, I won’t be able to offer you any sort of deal on the prostitution charges—money laundering, racketeering, solicitation of prostitution.” She’d let the Feds look into the money trail after she’d nailed them on the more serious counts. “When you add those charges to the aggravated sexual assault charges, you’re looking at spending the rest of your life in prison.”
“What sort of deal?”
“Plead guilty to the sexual assault charge, sparing Ms. Rameriz from having to testify against you, and tell me everything you know about Sanborn’s involvement in the call girl ring.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Immunity on all the prostitution-related charges.”
“And leniency on the assault charge?”
“No way. You’ll do the full ride on that one.”
“How long do I have to think about it?”
She glanced at her watch. “Two minutes.”
His eyes almost popped out of his fat face. “Two minutes?”
“One minute, forty-five seconds…”
Bartholomew ran a hand over his mouth and began to pace the small room.
“One minute, fifteen seconds…” Watching him, Sam tried to focus on the time and not on the cramps still rolling through her belly. Was it hot in there or was it her? “What’s it going to be, Mr. Bartholomew? Do we have a deal?”
He stopped and turned to her, his expression grim, as if it had just registered with him that life as he knew it—pampered, privileged, successful—was over. “Yes,” he said. “We have a deal.”
“Tell me something—why did Sanborn kill Regina and Maria?”
“I have no idea.”
“None at all?”
“I had nothing to do with what happened to those girls,” he said emphatically.
Hands on hips, Sam waited for him to say more.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “They were supposed to take care of birth control. They weren’t supposed to get pregnant. It was stipulated in the contract they signed.”
“At least now we know why,” Sam said on her way out.
Freddie followed Sam from the room. “That was awesome,” he said. “Totally awesome.”
“Suck up.”
“The way you got him to cop to the rape and to roll on Sanborn. I aspire to be that smooth.”
“Why thank you. Even though you’re totally sucking up, I do appreciate the sentiment behind the sucking.”
He rubbed his belly. “All this nailing of scumbags is making me hungry.”
“What doesn’t make you hungry?” she shot over her shoulder as she pushed open the door to the room where Sanborn cooled his heels.
“Finally,” he muttered. “I demand to know what this is all about. I’m a busy man with important people, including the president of the United States, depending on me.”
“You’re busy, we’re busy,” Sam said, taking note of healing scratches on his neck, “so let’s cut to the chase. Your friends Daniels and Bartholomew claim you’re the mastermind behind the prostit
ution ring.”
His mouth fell open. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“The threat of long prison sentences does funny things to people, Mr. Sanborn. Shockingly, your friends were more concerned with saving their own skins than they were with saving yours.” Sam paused to let that sink in. “Doesn’t matter, though.” She produced the file folder. “DNA links you to the rapes and murders of Regina Argueta de Castro and Maria Espanosa as well as the kidnapping and rape of Detective Jeannie McBride.”
His face set into a mulish expression, he said, “I want my lawyer.”
When Sam thought about what this man had done to Jeannie, it took every ounce of self-control she possessed to resist plowing her fist into his sanctimonious face. “Great. Just let me know who I should call for you.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “That’s it.”
“You don’t have any questions for me?”
“Nope. Bartholomew and Daniels connected all the dots for me. I’m good.”
He seemed to understand all of a sudden that she wasn’t going to deal. “But wait—I need to get out of here. We’ve got a major fundraiser tomorrow evening. I have to be there!”
This is for you, Jeannie, Sam thought, as she leaned forward, hands on the table. “Mr. Sanborn, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not going anywhere for a long, long time.”
Leaving him to ponder his fate, Sam gestured for Freddie to follow her out of the room.
“You don’t hate to be the bearer of bad news all the time,” Freddie said with a droll smile.
“Some bad news is actually good news.”
Faith Miller stepped out of the observation room. “Get a hold of his lawyer and take him to central booking. You can also book Daniels and Bartholomew.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Malone said. “I’ll make sure every I is dotted.”
“I’ll see what I can do to get Daniels arraigned and released,” Faith said. “The other two will be staying a while.”
“I’ve got two more to pick up,” Sam said.
“Go get ’em,” Malone said.
Chapter 32
“You can head home,” Sam said to Freddie as she went to retrieve her coat. “I’ll take care of sewing this up.”