Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  “But we’ve got a problem. I need to corroborate my suspicions. I need someone who can come forward and tie Hollister together with the senator. My anonymous source won’t come forward. So that doesn’t work. If we had been allowed to obtain the senator’s calendar, and found any references to Hollister, that would have gotten us there. As you know, that avenue’s been blocked. I was hoping that you might be able to provide me with an explanation as to why I’m pursuing Hollister. If you could do that, I’ll be able to take it from there.”

  So he does think I’m the one who gave him the calendar. But he’s not out to blow my cover. Or his own. I need some time to think this through. “Okay, Detective, I think I get your drift. I need some time to think this through. To figure out what’s right. Whether I can do anything to help you. Give me a little space, a couple of days. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Okay. But don’t take too long. The trial starts next week.”

  * * *

  LOTELLO FORGOT TO BREATHE. Until he was in the elevator outside Ayres’s office. What a game of cat and mouse. I don’t know for sure what he did or didn’t do with Wells’s little black book. Or what he knows. Unless he’s the one who gave me the calendar, he doesn’t know for sure what I know—or think—or that I have the calendar. All that matters, though, is whether he’s going to help me. Seems like I’ll know in a day or two. Hope so. We’re getting awfully close to the trial.

  CHAPTER 62

  Thursday, July 23, 2:00 p.m.

  “JUDGE, BERNIE ABRAMS CALLING on line one. Do you want to take it?”

  Brooks couldn’t help but wonder why Abrams would be calling him only days before the Norman trial was due to start. “I’ll take it,” Brooks said to his administrative clerk. “Hi, Bernie, how are things? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “I’m fine, Judge. Thanks for asking. I just finished a session with Leah. Had her bring me up-to-date on the Norman case. I was originally planning to sit through the trial but, truth is, I haven’t been feeling all that hot lately. However, I’m satisfied that Leah is ready to go. She doesn’t need me there; I’d just be unnecessary baggage. I know we can’t discuss the case without Vince being present, but I just wanted to see if there is anything I might do to help with the lines of communication between you and Leah before the trial gets underway.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Bernie. As always. Leah’s been no problem. Maybe a little anxious. I’d rather have you handling this. But Leah will do well. Norman’s lucky to have her. So am I, for that matter.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’d like to be trying this case more than you could possibly imagine. Unfortunately, however, it’s not in the cards. Again, I just wanted to make sure everything with Leah seemed okay.”

  “We’re fine, Bernie. I’ll holler loud and clear if I’m having any problems with Ms. Klein during the trial.”

  “Uh, right, Judge, of course. Please do. Thanks for everything, Your Honor. You take care.”

  “You too, Bernie. Thanks for calling.”

  That was a strange call. Why would Bernie be calling about Leah? She’s solid. He knows that. Besides, he’s just a phone call away. Was he fishing for something? If so, guess I missed it.

  * * *

  ABRAMS HUNG UP THE phone, staring off into space. He had done all he could think of to find out if Leah was barking up any wrong trees or if she needed any last-minute help from him. From here, she’s going to have to handle this one on her own. More than she realizes. The judge is right. She’ll do fine. She’ll have to.

  CHAPTER 63

  Saturday, July 25, 8:30 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie. It’s Leah. I’m sorry to call you at home so early on a Saturday morning. I need to kick around some issues on Norman with you that occurred to me last night. I’ve got a long weekend ahead of me before we start the trial on Monday. Please call me back as soon as you can. I’m not sure if I’ll be at home or in the office. Just call me on my cell. Thanks.” She added her cell phone number so Abrams wouldn’t have to hunt around for it.

  CHAPTER 64

  Saturday, July 25, 9:45 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie, it’s Leah again. I’m really getting short on time. I’ll try your cell next. Call me back on mine. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 65

  Saturday, July 25, 9:48 a.m.

  “BERNIE HERE. YOU’VE REACHED my cell phone. Leave a message.”

  “Bernie, it’s Leah. Where are you? Call me on my cell as soon as you get this. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Saturday, July 25, 10:15 a.m.

  “THIS IS BERNIE ABRAMS. I can’t take your call right now. Leave me what I need to know, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Bernie here. You’ve reached my cell phone. Leave a message.”

  I asked Bernie on Friday if he’d be around over the weekend. In case I needed him. He said yes. There’s no way he wouldn’t return my calls with the trial starting Monday. He always has his cell phone with him. This is not good.

  Klein grabbed her purse and keys and was out the door. She pulled up in front of Bernie’s home twenty minutes later. She knocked. No answer. She rang. Again no answer. She knocked louder. Much louder. Still no answer.

  Door’s not locked. I always lock my door. Of course I live in a lower-rent district. Turning the doorknob, she called out loudly, “Anyone home? Bernie? It’s me, Leah. Are you here?” Silence. All Klein heard was the faint humming of a motor. Somewhere.

  Her heart was racing. She moved cautiously. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the front part of the house. “Bernie? Are you here?” She made her way down the hallway to his home office. No one there. She continued back to the bedroom.

  There he was. Lying in his bed. “Bernie, are you okay?” Abrams didn’t answer. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. But he was too still.

  “Bernie, can you hear me?” Nothing. No response. No pulse, either. “Oh, my God, Bernie. What happened?” Leah grabbed the phone beside the bed and dialed 911. As calmly as she could, she forced out the words: her name, at the home of Bernard Abrams, address, just found Mr. Abrams, he’s not breathing. The voice said the paramedics were on the way. She hung up and retreated from the bedroom. She didn’t want to leave him but felt like she had to do something more.

  Klein vaguely knew Abrams had some medical issues but didn’t think they were serious. He never complained. He was always around. She went into the bathroom, found some pill bottles, and copied down the doctor’s name. Dr. Murray Winston. She went into Abrams’s home office and saw what she was looking for, Bernie’s cell phone sitting on his desk. She tapped on the contacts icon and then selected “W” for “Winston.” She found his name and several numbers. She called the one that said it was his home number. She didn’t want to talk to an answering service if she didn’t have to.

  “Hello.”

  “Doctor Winston?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “My name’s Leah Klein. I work with Bernard Abrams. I came to his house this morning concerning a matter we are working on together. I found him in bed. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. I called 911. They’re on the way. I thought I should do something more. I found your name on some pill bottles. Your number was in the contacts on Mr. Abrams’s cell phone.”

  “Ms. Klein, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ms. Klein, I’m both Mr. Abrams’s doctor and a longtime friend. You’ve done everything you need to do. I’m nearby and on the way, but 911 will probably get there first. Thank you for calling me. Because of an unattended death, they might or might not let me in.”

  Klein went back into the bedroom, hoping against hope that something would be different, that maybe she was wrong, that there would be so
me signs of life—something, anything. But there was no change. She sat down on a chair opposite the bed and just stared at … nothing. She didn’t know what else to do. Suddenly, her body shuddered uncontrollably. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  After what seemed longer than it probably was, several paramedics came rushing into the bedroom. They brought with them a number of metal boxes and other equipment. By the time Dr. Winston entered the room just a few minutes later, the paramedics had already confirmed the obvious. Dr. Winston introduced himself and said some things to the paramedics that Klein could not hear. They allowed him to remain and examine the body under their watchful eye.

  Dr. Winston finished whatever he was doing. He then came over to Klein and gently led her out of the room. “Ms. Klein, I’m sorry you had to be a party to this. I don’t see any signs of foul play. Unfortunately, Mr. Abrams had been in declining health. The good news is that he appeared to go quietly in his sleep. In collaboration with 911, I can take care of what needs to be done from here, including contacting family and friends. Mr. Abrams’ wife, son, and daughter-in-law are all deceased. Apart from one granddaughter there are no other children or grandchildren.

  “You handled yourself very well here, Ms. Klein. Knowing Mr. Abrams as I do, I’m sure he would feel very badly for putting you through this. But he would be grateful to you for your kind assistance to him today. Are you okay to drive? I know what a shock this must be for you. I can call a cab if you would prefer.”

  Klein took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I wish there was something more I could do here. But honestly I don’t know what. Mr. Abrams was helping me on a case that begins trial in two days. Frankly, right now, I feel lousy, worse than lousy, but I have a lot to do and not much time. I don’t really have any choice. I think I’ll be okay to drive. I can’t afford not to be. Thank you for coming, Doctor. And for overseeing everything.” Klein walked slowly out of the house, started up her car, hesitated for a moment, and drove off slowly.

  * * *

  DR. WINSTON SAT DOWN opposite Abrams’s bed. Bernie, Bernie, what did you do, Bernie? What would possess you to do this? You had plenty of time left. You knew that. I told you that. Why now? No note. I guess you didn’t want anyone to know what you were doing. Or why. You must have had your reasons. I wish you would have talked with me about it first. Well, the least I can do for you, old friend, is try to make sure you leave with your dignity intact. That the official cause of death will be routine cardiac arrest. No one will ever know otherwise. Dr. Winston walked into Abrams’s office and picked up the phone. He had some calls to make to help his dear friend with his final journey.

  CHAPTER 67

  Saturday, July 25, 1:45 p.m.

  SOMEHOW, KLEIN MANAGED TO get home. In a daze. For a while, she just stared at the walls. Unable to think or do anything. Slowly, the cobwebs began to clear. She had to get a grip. Unless she was going to seek a delay in the trial, which wouldn’t be fair to Norman, she had to get back to work. But first she had to let Judge Brooks know. And she had to call Melinda Raines in case Dr. Winston didn’t know to do that. Melinda worked with Bernie forever. She’s going to be devastated.

  Leah found Raines’s home number in the office directory. Reaching her was easy. Breaking the news was not. Raines was stoic. Like they both knew Abrams would have wanted her to be. Klein also knew that was just on the outside. Raines asked what had happened. Klein explained everything, emphasizing that Dr. Winston said Abrams had passed away quietly and peacefully in his sleep from natural causes. Klein didn’t know this for sure. But she couldn’t see what good it would do not to give Raines whatever solace she could.

  Raines asked who was taking care of things. Klein explained that Dr. Winston said he would take care of what needed to be done. Raines said she would get in touch with Julie.

  * * *

  REACHING BROOKS PROVED TO be more difficult. It was Saturday. Judges don’t give out or list their home telephone numbers. Klein was able to prevail on building security at the courthouse to place a call to Brooks. Brooks called her back immediately. “Ms. Klein, what would possess you to try to speak to me outside of court hours? I presume this has something to do with the Norman trial. It better be good.”

  “Judge, I’m sorry to disturb you. Bernie Abrams passed away last night. I thought you would want to know.”

  After an awkward silence, Brooks said in a softer tone, not at all like him, “I’m so terribly sorry, Ms. Klein. Are you alright?”

  “I’m okay, Judge. Thank you for asking. I’m just honestly a bit confused about the proper protocol here and what to do. I thought I better try to reach you.”

  “You did the right thing. When did you say this happened?”

  “I believe sometime last night.”

  “Was there any sign of foul play?”

  “I don’t think so, Your Honor. I was the one who found Mr. Abrams this morning. I was trying to reach him about some matters relating to the case. I became concerned when he didn’t return any of my calls, so I went over to his place. He was in bed and looked like he had died in his sleep. That’s what his doctor said.”

  “I see. Would you like a short continuance of the Norman case, Ms. Klein? As you know, we are confronted with constitutional requirements of a speedy trial. However, under the circumstances, I can certainly give you a few days if you’d like.”

  “I’ve thought about that, Your Honor. Frankly, I’m a little foggy right now. But I’m pretty much ready to go. I think it would be worse sitting around not doing anything. I also think Mr. Norman, in his own way, has been waiting for this. I don’t want to cause him any delay.”

  “Very well, then, Ms. Klein. Thank you for informing me. I’ll see you on Monday morning at nine thirty. I’m truly sorry for your loss. Good day.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  * * *

  BROOKS SAT FOR SEVERAL minutes. Aside from the loss of a longtime colleague and close friend, something here didn’t feel right. People die all the time. But Brooks couldn’t quite get his arms around things. Abrams was no spring chicken, but he wasn’t that old. Brooks didn’t have any sense that Abrams was not well. At least not beyond the routine aches and pains that come with age. Something here seemed out of kilter.

  Suddenly it hit him. Bernie, is this why you called me on Thursday? Is this what I missed? Were you trying to tell me something I wasn’t hearing? Two days later, you’re dead. Why, Bernie? Quite a coincidence. If it’s a coincidence. Brooks stared quietly off into space, thinking.

  CHAPTER 68

  Sunday, July 26, 7:30 a.m.

  AS WAS HIS RITUAL every Sunday morning, Tommy Thomas sat with his cup of coffee and the Sunday edition of The Washington Post, catching up on the events of the week. This time he didn’t get past the lead story on the first page.

  The headline instantly caught his eye:

  LONGTIME PUBLIC DEFENDER ABRAMS DEAD ON EVE OF CONTROVERSIAL NORMAN TRIAL

  Hurriedly reading through the story, Thomas’s mind raced ahead to two points.

  First, the hook was gone. Without Abrams, and with the trial about to start, there was no longer any way to influence the direction of the Norman defense. No one else in the PD’s office would know or care about Julie Abrams’s indiscretions. I have totally failed my president. I am so fucked! What do I do now?

  Second, Thomas wondered, but with less anxiety, if there was any way he might be tied to Abrams’s death. Unless this was just extraordinarily bad luck and timing, that no-good bastard just took the easy way out. Either way, I don’t see any way I could be tied to this. I disguised my appearance and used a phony ID to get through security for our meeting. Only when I got off the elevator on Abrams’s floor did I remove my disguise. I reversed the process when I left. Only Abrams knew who I was, and he sure isn’t talking. Unless he already did talk to someone. But if he did, it would still be my word against his, and he would have brought down his precious granddaughter. No, I don’t think he talked to
anyone. I think I’m okay. Except for failing my president. Deep breaths … It must be the caffeine.

  * * *

  AT ABOUT THE SAME time, in his White House office, Chief of Staff Manny Reyes shuddered as he read the same story. My God, could Thomas have had anything to do with this? How could he? Abrams is no good to us dead. With his death, our leverage to influence the direction of the Norman defense is gone. Too late now. We tried. That’s all we could do. Fuck Tuttle if he’s not satisfied. He knew I didn’t want to go here. I wonder if any of this can be traced back to us. I’m sure Thomas would never talk. But his background would be problematic if there’s any record of his dealing with Abrams. Damn, I never thought about that. I’m just going to have to tough this out by myself. I sure can’t talk with the president about any of this. And I’m sure as hell not going anywhere near Thomas right now!

  * * *

  REYES WASN’T THE ONLY one in the White House focused on the story. It had President Tuttle’s attention as well. Briefly. Could Manny have had anything to do with this? I’m sure not going anywhere near this hot potato! I’m the president of the fucking United States. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.

  * * *

  ACROSS TOWN IN HER home, House Speaker Jamison also read the story. Wow, I wonder if that jerk Foster had anything to do with this. Or if the president did. I don’t even want to think about this. Hmm, maybe I should introduce some kind of proclamation about Abrams on the floor of Congress in the morning. Yeah, that would be a nice touch. A good move on my part.