Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  * * *

  FOSTER, TOO, HAD SEEN the article. Damn lucky I never came up with a way to access the guy. Here I had been kicking myself for not figuring out how to reach him. Thank my sorry ass I didn’t!

  * * *

  NOR DID ABRAM’S DEATH go unnoticed by Blaine Hollister. Great timing, Mr. Abrams. This is bound to bring a lot more attention to Norman’s case.

  * * *

  AT LEAST ONE PERSON reading the newspapers that morning had a different take on things. Lotello was very sorry to learn of Abrams’s passing. He couldn’t suppress his instincts. That’s some coincidence, Abrams dying like this right on the eve of the Norman trial. The newspaper says it appeared to be from natural causes. That can’t be verified until the tox screen is available. Could Hollister have had anything to do with this? Could he have thought a weaker defense team would increase the likelihood of a Norman conviction? Perhaps making things safer for him? If Ayres makes any connection like that, will this drive him underground and cost me my cover for going after Hollister? Is it possible I could have pushed Hollister’s buttons in some way the other day? Could I have had anything to do with this?

  CHAPTER 69

  Sunday, July 26, 11:30 a.m.

  IRONICALLY, IN HIS DEATH, Abrams would prove to have a far greater impact on events than if he had lived. He would have been pleased.

  * * *

  AYRES HAD BEEN VACILLATING about whether to cover for Lotello. To make it possible for Lotello to explain his investigation of Hollister. It was one thing for Ayres to have anonymously provided Lotello with a copy of the senator’s calendar in the hope that Lotello could move forward by himself. It was quite another for Ayres to become visibly involved. And possibly unravel his own complicity in surfacing Wells’s calendar.

  Ayres had all but made up his mind to remain strictly in the shadows and leave Lotello to his own devices when he read the morning papers reporting the death of Abrams. Ayres was worried that the absence of Abrams might somehow mess up the Norman trial. That tipped the scales. I have to do this. Lotello may suspect me as the source of the calendar. I’ll just have to trust him to keep his suspicions to himself. Actually, I do trust him. I think.

  * * *

  LOTELLO ANSWERED HIS CELL. “Lotello.”

  “This is James Ayres, Detective.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Ayres. What’s up? Got an answer for me?”

  “I’ve been going round and round over this. I really don’t want to get involved. But I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t. We’ve got to find out if Hollister had anything to do with those murders. I’ll do it. I’m willing to admit I’m the reason for your investigation of Hollister.” Ayres quickly added, “Um, what I mean is I’m willing to say I told you of the senator’s concerns about Hollister.”

  Well, I’ll be. Look how Ayres felt the need to quickly clarify that he was not saying he had given me the calendar. Only that he would say he repeated to me what Senator Wells had supposedly said to him. Ayres is the one who gave me the calendar after all! But there’s no reason why I have to show I know that. Not even between the two of us. This is now the second time this guy seems like he’s trying to do the right thing. First giving me the calendar. And now risking his career to cover for me and back my move against Hollister. Wonder if that’s all there is behind Ayres’s generosity? “That’s great. I understand completely. I appreciate what you’ve done. Uh, what you’ve agreed to do.”

  “Okay, Detective. Please, no more surprises.”

  “Understood. Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Please don’t make me regret it.”

  * * *

  SPEAKING OF REGRETS, LOTELLO felt driven to try to find out more about Abrams’s death.

  He picked up the phone. But paused. Could calling her be unwise? Could she use it in the Norman case? Say I was trying to manipulate her defense? I don’t believe she’d do anything like that. I’ll take my chances. He dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Klein?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Frank Lotello. Detective Frank Lotello. We met a while back on the Norman case. I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday. But I figured with the trial starting tomorrow you’d be working anyway.”

  “No problem, Detective. What can I do for you?”

  “Well first, please let me extend my sympathies to you concerning Mr. Abrams. I’m sure it must have come as quite a shock. I’m very sorry for your loss. I know how highly Mr. Abrams was regarded.”

  “Thank you, Detective. Mr. Abrams was a great servant of the law and a great mentor to me. He will be missed. I miss him. Unfortunately, this is a tough time because, as you say, I still have to get ready for the trial. I appreciate your thoughtfulness in calling. I do have to get back to work.”

  “Wait, please, Ms. Klein. There’s also a second reason for my call.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering if Mr. Abrams had been ill lately. The newspaper spoke of natural causes for his death.”

  “Detective, I was only one of about forty deputy PDs that reported to Mr. Abrams. I didn’t see Mr. Abrams on any kind of a daily basis. I was not privy to his health matters. Although he seemed okay to me, he was getting on in years. What is it you’re saying?”

  “Nothing specific, Ms. Klein—I was just wondering, that’s all. Professional habits, I guess; it’s what I do.”

  “Well, if you really want to know anything more about Mr. Abrams, perhaps you should speak with his personal assistant, Melinda Raines. She worked for him for years. She saw him virtually every day and would know more than I do about his health.”

  “Hmm, that’s a good idea. I should have thought of that myself.” Oh, please, how obvious can you be? Do you think she doesn’t know that’s why you were calling, to find out how to reach Abrams’s assistant? “Do you perhaps have a home number where I could reach Ms. Raines today?”

  “I guess that would be okay. I do have a PD telephone directory here with home numbers. Give me a minute. Yes, here it is.” She gave him Raines’s home number.

  “Thank you, Ms. Klein. I’ll let you get back to your work. Good luck with the trial. Again, please accept my condolences.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  * * *

  KLEIN BRIEFLY THOUGHT ABOUT the call before returning to her work. She remembered meeting with Lotello—he seemed nice, but a little sad—when she was trying to collect background information on the Norman case. He’s still nice, even if the only reason he was calling was to get Raines’s name and home number. Did he really think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out?

  * * *

  LOTELLO QUICKLY TRIED RAINE’S home number. “You’ve reached Melinda Raines. I’m not available to take your call right now. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a nice day.”

  “Ms. Raines, my name is Detective Frank Lotello, Metropolitan D.C. police. Leah Klein gave me your home number. If it’s not an imposition, I was hoping to speak to you for a few minutes today.” He left his cell number because he was on the way out to lunch and the movies with the kids.

  “Hey, guys, if you still want to go, we’re off.”

  Maddie was the first to answer, in her best tone of mock exasperation. “I’m ready, Daddy, just waiting for you … like always.”

  Charlie answered, sort of, with little more than a grunt, but at least it was affirmative.

  They were just closing the door when Lotello’s cell rang. “Lotello.”

  “This is Melinda Raines, Mr. Lotello. I’m returning your call. I was here when you called; I just didn’t quite get to the phone in time. Have we spoken before? I’m not sure why you would be calling me.”

  “Thank you for calling me back, Ms. Raines. I’m just about to get into my car. Can I call you back from there in just a couple of minutes?”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” He hung up.

  “Se
e, guys, I told you we’re going to the movies. I can talk on the Bluetooth hands-free system I installed in the car and drive at the same time.”

  “That’s very good, Daddy,” Maddie replied, “because the movies don’t wait for anyone. Not even you.” Charlie didn’t say anything.

  “MR. LOTELLO?”

  “Yes, Ms. Raines, this is Detective Lotello. Calling you back.”

  “Okay, Mr. Lotello. But I’m still wondering why you’re calling me.”

  “I understand, Ms. Raines. I was hoping to speak to you about Mr. Abrams. First, though, please let me offer my sympathies.”

  “Thank you. It’s a very sad time. Why is it you want to talk to me about Mr. Abrams? You’re not saying he did something wrong, are you? If you are—”

  “No, no, Ms. Raines. Not at all. It’s just my job. As a matter of routine, to review his recent activities. I thought you would be the best means for me to do that.”

  “Well, I guess I’m willing to cooperate.”

  “Ms. Raines. I’m with my children now. We’re on the way to the movies. Is there any chance we could meet in person for a few minutes early this evening?”

  “I was planning to spend a couple of hours at my office this evening. With everything that’s happened, my desk has become a bit disorganized. I wanted to get caught up before the coming week. You could stop by my office. Say around seven thirty?”

  “That would be perfect for me.”

  “You know where our offices are?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll leave your name at the security desk. They’ll direct you to me.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Raines. See you then. Again, please accept my sympathies.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Daddy, what does sympathies mean?” Maddie was always so inquisitive.

  “That’s what you say when something sad has happened to someone.”

  “What kind of sad thing happened to her?” That was Maddie. Never short of questions.

  “Well, sweetheart, a friend of the lady I was talking to just died. I was just telling her that I was sorry that she lost her friend.”

  “Like when Mommy died?”

  “That’s right, honey. Kind of the same.”

  “Oh,” Maddie said. Charlie remained silent.

  CHAPTER 70

  Sunday, July 26, 7:30 p.m.

  LOTELLO ARRIVED AT 7:30. Exactly as he and Raines had agreed. She was at her desk. Admittedly, Lotello was on a fishing expedition. In no way could he have anticipated the fish he was about to land.

  “Thank you, Ms. Raines, for agreeing to see me at this hour and on such short notice.” He handed Raines his card.

  “Thank you. How may I help you, Mr. Lotello?”

  “The newspapers reported that Mr. Abrams died of natural causes. There really wasn’t any additional information. I intend to speak with Mr. Abrams’s personal physician. But I was wondering if you could tell me whether Mr. Abrams had been under the weather of late?”

  “Not to my knowledge. I mean, none of us is getting any younger. Mr. Abrams had his share of this and that. But he wasn’t one for complaining. And he hardly ever missed a day of work.” Raines paused. “Come to think of it, however, he did call in sick on Friday.”

  “Really? Did you speak with him when he called in? What did he say?”

  “I didn’t speak with him. He left a message with the switchboard early in the morning. I called him during the day. But just got his voicemail. I … never did speak with him again.” Raines glanced away.

  “Can you tell me whether he had any loose ends or anything out of the ordinary going on in the past few weeks?”

  “Nothing that I was aware of. Mr. Abrams was pretty hands-on. It could be there was something I didn’t know about. He kept his own to-do list, but he did usually keep me informed. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of late that I recall.”

  “No loose ends?”

  “Well, now that you ask, maybe one. I was cleaning up Mr. Abrams’s office earlier this evening. You know, identifying matters that now need to be routed to other people in the office. There was one loose end, as you put it, that I couldn’t explain.”

  “What was that?”

  “A Post-it note on Mr. Abrams’s desk.”

  “Can you tell me what it said?”

  “I have it right here.” Raines handed the Post-it to Lotello.

  He looked at it briefly. It read Tom Thomas, CRP, 7/18, 2p. “Do you know who Mr. Thomas is?”

  “No, that’s what I meant when I picked up on your reference to loose ends. I’ve never heard of Mr. Thomas. I’m not aware of any business Mr. Abrams had with anyone by that name.”

  “Do you know what ‘CRP’ stands for?”

  “I don’t.”

  “And this Post-it. Is that in Mr. Abrams’s handwriting?”

  “It is.”

  “If you don’t mind, Ms. Raines, I’d like to take this Post-it note with me. You can make a copy of it if you’d like.”

  “I can’t see why you shouldn’t be able to take it if you want. After all, you are the police. But, yes, I’ll make a copy. In case I ever need to refer to it.”

  “Anything else at all you can think of?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, Ms. Raines, my number’s on my card. Please give me a call if you think of anything else. Or come across anything more in the coming days that you think might be useful. Thank you for your time this evening. And again, please accept my heartfelt condolences.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Lotello. I would offer to stamp your parking ticket, but we don’t validate parking anymore because of the budget cuts and all in this economy.”

  “That’s okay, Ms. Raines. Be well.”

  Lotello put the Post-it note in his wallet and walked out of the PD offices. He had no idea who Tom Thomas was, but his guess was that “CRP” stood for the Committee to Reelect the President. I’m sure gonna call on Mr. Thomas of none other than the CRP and see what he has to say about all this. But … first things first.

  CHAPTER 71

  Monday, July 27, 6:30 a.m.

  THE MAN DISCREETLY WATCHED Brooks ease into his assigned courtroom parking space. He approached the driver side of the vehicle and knocked on the window. He could see that Brooks was startled and quickly made sure the car door was locked. The man held his open wallet up to the window.

  Brooks lowered his window. All of two inches. Just enough to seize the wallet, but not to allow the man’s hand to reach into the car. The man didn’t resist Brooks’s move. Brooks looked at the exposed wallet contents. Probably wondering whether they’re authentic.

  “My God, man,” Brooks said, “who in the hell are you? And what in the hell possessed you to stalk me like this?”

  “Sorry for frightening you. We need to talk. I didn’t know how else to approach you.”

  “Any normal person would have asked my clerk for an appointment. And what makes you think you frightened me? You didn’t frighten me. Caught me unawares would be a better way of putting it.”

  “Well, then, my apologies for that. But I don’t want anyone to know about this meeting. Not even your staff. I don’t think you would want anyone to know about this either.”

  “No sir. Not gonna happen. I have a strict rule about such things. Other than in the case of vehicular accidents, medical emergencies, or preventing the ongoing commission of a crime, I don’t participate in unscheduled meetings. Especially secret ones. Period. End of discussion.”

  “What if I told you the death of Bernard Abrams might qualify for one of your exceptions?”

  “Say what?”

  “What if I told you the death of Bernard Abrams might qualify for one of your exceptions?”

  Brooks glared at the man. Long and hard. For what seemed to the man like an indeterminate amount of time. But was in fact only one or two seconds. It just seemed longer. A lot longer. If looks could kill, this might be another excep
tion to Brooks’s rule: a medical emergency, Brooks’s and/or the man’s. But the man held his ground. Brooks finally said, “Get in.” He leaned over and unlocked the passenger side of his car.

  As soon as the man was in the car, Brooks started up the engine and pulled out of his parking space and the lot. And merged into the ongoing commuter traffic. The way Brooks was driving, the man thought this might soon fall under one of Brooks’s exceptions for unscheduled meetings: a vehicular accident.

  * * *

  BOTH MEN WAITED UNTIL Brooks was safely ensconced in the sea of cars.

  “Alright, Detective. As you may or may not know, Bernard Abrams was a dear friend of mine. Your mention of his name, and the suggestion that his death may have involved the commission of a crime, is what got you in the door. Literally. This is your meeting. Come to the point. Make it quick. And make it good. As you also may or may not know, I have a trial starting in barely two hours. You have about five minutes or one mile, whichever comes first. You’d better have something useful to say. Otherwise, this meeting will be over quickly.”

  “Understood, Your Honor. As a Metro D.C. homicide detective, I’ve been officially involved in the cases of each of the three murders your defendant, Cliff Norman, is accused of committing. From even before the time of his arrest, I’ve had my doubts that Norman committed these crimes. Late last—”

  “Stop! You gained entrance to my car using Mr. Abrams’s name. Are you instead telling me the real reason you’re here is to lobby the outcome of my trial of Mr. Norman? If you are—”

  “Not at all, Judge. Just trying to provide some background.”

  “Get on with it then, Detective.”

  Lotello picked up the pace. “Late last week, I came into some fairly hard evidence that someone other than Norman might have committed these crimes. Then, just last night, I was given some information that might indicate Mr. Abrams did not, as reported, die of natural causes. And that the Norman trial might have had something to do with his death.”

  Brooks quickly looked over at Lotello. And scowled. “What the hell are you saying, Detective?”