Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  First had been the formal meetings with Metropolitan Police hierarchy. He had managed to survive that. Barely. But it had proved almost as painful and unpleasant as the gunshot wound itself. He’d been chastised every way imaginable for all the corners he had cut and the rules he had broken. And that was only the ones they knew about!

  The meeting with Reyes was different. That was a meeting Lotello had wanted. And had to be on his best game to pull off.

  Reyes hadn’t wanted to meet, offering up every excuse in the book: too busy, not appropriate, so on and so forth. It took a little help from Bobby Harrelson to pull it off.

  Lotello just “happened” to be at the Congressional Country Club having lunch with his good buddy Harrelson one day when Reyes arrived to host a foursome. Making it difficult for Reyes to say he was too busy for a brief exchange before his tee time.

  Applying his most ominous conspiratorial tones, Lotello told Reyes “they” knew the president and Reyes had turned Thomas loose on Bernie Abrams. Even if they couldn’t prove it. Yet. Lotello was obviously still quite prone to exaggeration whenever it served his purpose.

  Of course, Lotello didn’t disclose who “they” were. He didn’t think that was his prerogative. It also seemed advisable not to allow Reyes to think he could make his problem go away by making Lotello go away. Lotello’s approach must have been effective, because Reyes didn’t offer much in response. Harrelson later told Lotello that Reyes had not shot his handicap that day.

  As Lotello’s mind continued to review what had recently kept him so occupied, he saw her walk into the dimly lit hotel bar. Tall, thin, and blond, she appeared anxious, harder than the online pictures of her he had studied. He glanced at his watch. She was right on time. He stood and gestured to her.

  * * *

  “I’M FRANK LOTELLO, MRS. Ayres. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  They shook hands. Tentatively. As if testing one another. He motioned to one of the seats. She accepted it. He chose to sit opposite rather than next to her. Less threatening than pinning her in. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. As for meeting, I didn’t see how I could avoid it. I figured it was just a matter of time. But I am surprised that you’re alone. And that we’re meeting in a restaurant bar. By the way, I’ve decided to start using my maiden name again. Bradley. Linda Bradley.

  “How did you figure out that my deceased husband was the killer, Detective?”

  “It was a combination of nose to the grindstone and luck.

  “While he playacted that he felt sorry for Norman, Mr. Ayres was nonetheless unfaltering in initially pointing the finger at him. Only when public support for Norman grew so strong, did he begin pointing me toward Hollister.

  “Not content just to tell me what he learned about Hollister from Wells’s calendar, he also went out of his way to make sure I had a copy of the calendar to strengthen his finger-pointing. He couldn’t just give me the calendar, because certain members of Congress were afraid that they might be embarrassed by calendar entries about them and Wells. They insisted that congressional privilege prevented him from giving me the calendar. He didn’t want to offend them.

  “So he conjured up an intricate arrangement to anonymously deliver to me a secret copy of the calendar that he had made before delivering the original to congressional lawyers. From some slips he inadvertently made, it became clear to me that he was the source of the copy. This made me suspicious as to why he would go to such painstaking efforts to get the calendar into my hands. It seemed as if he was somehow more invested in all of this than just championing justice or his victimized former boss.

  “This caused me to circle back to the notes I had been compiling over the course of my investigation. It became much clearer when I looked at them all at once. In one sitting. This was sometime around the first week of August. During the Norman trial. This was the first time I recall becoming seriously interested in Ayres as a possible suspect in the killings.

  “At the time of Wells’s murder, there had been two inexplicable breaches of the lobby entrance security system of the townhouse complex where she lived. First one, then another. Fifteen minutes apart. Not only was the security guard required to leave the lobby each time to investigate the problem, but the lobby door lock and surveillance cameras had also mysteriously been deactivated each time.

  “This was a strong indication that Senator Wells’s killer had entered and left the complex through the lobby. And didn’t want to be caught on the security camera because his or her face was not the familiar face of an owner or an occupant at the complex and would have stood out.

  “This also suggested that the killer was very tech savvy. From my research, I learned that Mr. Ayres was an engineer before he moved into the political sphere. So, indeed he could have been the person who created this elaborate scheme to penetrate the lobby undetected.

  “A review of my notes also revealed two interesting things about Hollister. In response to my specific inquiry, my eyewitness said that Hollister did not appear to be wearing gloves when my eyewitness saw him walking away from Wells’s townhouse. The absence of any gloves would be inconsistent with the pristine crime scene.

  “My eyewitness also said that when Hollister left Wells’s townhouse, he took a path that went deeper into the interior of the complex. Opposite the path that moved in the direction of the lobby. Thus Hollister could not have exited the lobby during the fifteen minutes the security system was on the fritz.

  “Further, when I interviewed Hollister at his lawyer’s office, the lawyer mentioned in passing that Hollister happened to own a townhouse in the complex. If he was the killer, he didn’t have to leave the complex and he didn’t have to worry about being recognized coming or going through the lobby.

  “Seeing this in my notes, I checked with the management of the townhouse complex and verified that Hollister did own a townhouse there. And that it was located down the path from Wells’s townhouse. The path my eyewitness saw Hollister take when he walked away from Wells’s townhouse, rather than toward the lobby.

  “This information is admittedly only circumstantial. In the aggregate, however, it’s pretty compelling that Senator Wells’s killer was not Hollister. And more likely was Ayres.

  “I should mention that I haven’t shared any of this information with my superiors. After all, Ayres is dead. It’s not like he’s on the run. Nor have they pressed me. Yet. Probably because I’ve been on medical leave. I also have not decided how much of this I ever intend to reveal.

  “As for your observation that you find it strange that we are meeting one on one today in a restaurant bar, my superiors would not be pleased. Nevertheless, I wanted to first meet with you unofficially. Our next meeting—if there is to be one—will no doubt be in a more formal setting. With others in attendance.”

  “I understand, Detective. I’m sorry for what you’ve had to go through. By the way, I no longer consider the man you’ve been discussing with me to be my husband. Not just because he’s dead. But because the man who apparently did all this is a complete stranger to me. And has been for years.”

  “I appreciate that. Do you mind if I ask when you first learned about this Mr. Ayres? The one you don’t know. You don’t have to answer. And you may want to consult a lawyer before you decide.”

  “I have already hired a lawyer to advise me about any criminal exposure I may have. As well as whether I’m legally entitled to collect the proceeds of certain life insurance policies on James’s life that name me as the beneficiary.

  “To answer your question, Mr. Lotello, you came to suspect James before I did. I discovered the James I never knew only one week after he was shot and killed. When I received a diary he had been maintaining from a lawyer who had been holding it for him in confidence. With instructions to turn it over to me one week after his death other than from natural causes.

  “If he died of natural causes, then the diary was to be destroyed by the lawyer
without anyone reading it. Including him. The lawyer said he had no idea about the contents of the diary until my lawyer contacted him after the diary had been furnished to me.

  “The two lawyers have carefully documented that I was unaware of the diary or its contents until I received it. The problem is how I demonstrate that I didn’t otherwise know what James had been doing. There is only my word for that.

  “Given that there can no longer be any continuing criminal activity on James’s part, my lawyer has advised me that if I had no knowledge of what he was doing, I am under no legal or moral obligation to voluntarily come forward with anything I’ve learned. But that I should—and will—cooperate fully with any inquiries I might receive from the authorities.

  “Apart from the news media, I have not been contacted by anyone other than you. I want to maintain my privacy as much as possible. I have consistently said ‘no comment’ to the media. They seem to have given up.”

  “I’m sure, Ms. Bradley, that the authorities are waiting on my return to official duty to determine what I know.

  “You’ve had quite an experience, Ms. Bradley. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s hard for me to describe my loss, Detective. It’s certainly not the death of my husband. I can only describe that as the discovery that the man I knew as my husband has been dead for several years.”

  “Would you be willing to tell me what you’ve learned from reading the diary? And whether I can take possession of it? Or a copy of it?”

  “Any request for the diary or a copy of it should be directed to my lawyer.” She handed Lotello her lawyer’s business card. “I’m sure he’ll make the diary or a copy available to you. Or at least to the proper authorities.”

  Ms. Bradley did then summarize what she’d learned from reading the diary.

  It seemed that James was furious that Wells had beaten him out of her Senate seat. As the original Senator Wells’s chief of staff, he expected he would be next in line. The first step in his pursuit of the office of the presidency. He was outraged that his future was snatched right out from under him at the last minute. By the corrupt political machinery in Kansas, his home state, primarily due to the fact that Wells had apparently slept her way to Washington.

  When the new Senator Wells invited James to continue as her chief of staff, he turned the other cheek—outwardly—and continued in that position. He figured it would only be a matter of time until she self-destructed, and the Wells Senate seat would finally be his. However, when the corrupt Washington political scene only seemed to entrench the second Senator Wells, and when James learned of Norman’s tragic circumstances, he saw the opportunity. And struck. Taking matters into his own hands.

  He murdered Wells to vacate her Senate seat. To cover up what was actually going on, he then randomly murdered two more politicians to make Norman out as … a vigilante serial killer. James was out to dispose of all “corrupt” politicians who he believed had cost him his true calling. And to finally have his day in the sun.

  Ayres thought things were proceeding perfectly. Until the public began rallying around Norman. He hadn’t anticipated that. He became fearful that Norman might get off. And a resulting deeper investigation might ensue. And somehow find its way to him. He decided he needed a backup suspect.

  Enter Blaine Hollister. Ayres knew that Hollister had been trying to enlist Wells’s help in an unlawful program to enhance his influence over Washington politics. Wells ultimately balked. And shared her concerns with Ayres. He also had seen entries in Wells’s calendar that would likely incriminate Hollister.

  “That’s where you came in, Detective.”

  “Believe me, I get it. Your ex, however you wish to refer to him, set me up royally. Feeding me the clandestine copy of Wells’s calendar. Even telling me where to find the incriminating Hollister entries. Playing me for the sucker I was in order to point the finger at Hollister as a backup in case Norman was acquitted.”

  “I’m afraid so, Detective. It’s all right there in his secret diary. Exactly how he manipulated you. Baiting you with little hints about Hollister and then anonymously providing you with the copy of Wells’s calendar. I’m really sorry about that.”

  “Ironically, if Ayres had not chosen to follow Hollister the night the two of them shot each other and were killed, I might have proved more valuable to him than his own plan. Ayres didn’t know it, but Hollister had coincidentally showed up at Wells’s townhouse at the time Ayres murdered her. In the wrong place at the wrong time, you might say.

  “An eyewitness saw Hollister leaving. My investigation led me to that eyewitness. There were some holes in what the eyewitness saw, but the odds are good that Ayres would have been home free if he had just hung back in the weeds.

  “There’s still something you’ve told me today, Ms. Bradley, that really does puzzle me. Why do you think Ayres was keeping these scrupulous notes? They would certainly have taken him down if ever found.”

  “I wondered the same thing. I’m not a psychiatrist, but of course I knew the man pretty well. I think I know the answer to your question. Actually, I think there’s more than one answer.

  “To a fault, James was always very organized and meticulous. He was a creature of habit. He always kept notes to show what he was doing. And how much he was in control. As he became more and more involved in his schemes, I think he went over the edge. Somehow turned into two people at the same time. One with all of his old narcissistic habits. One with all of his delusional, sick plans. I’m not honestly sure what was going on inside his head. This is all I can come up with to possibly explain why he made and kept those notes.”

  Lotello offered Bradley another possible explanation. “It doesn’t appear you were complicit in any of Ayres’s deviant plans. Perhaps he created his elaborate record in the hopes that it would insulate you from any exposure for his criminal misdeeds.”

  “Maybe so. Either way, while I would have preferred to maintain my privacy, and my dignity, and for this story to have died with James, he clearly used you. And you almost lost your life. I feel it’s only fitting that I share with you what I have.”

  “Thanks for doing so, Ms. Bradley.”

  It would be some time before Lotello could fully process all this. He would keep it to himself until he did. Perhaps longer.

  CHAPTER 142

  Friday, September 18, 6:00 p.m.

  LOTELLO WAS ABOUT TO leave to meet Klein for dinner. They had shared several meals in the past few weeks, since his release from the hospital. Each one at a popular D.C. restaurant. This was the first dinner Klein had offered to prepare. Her idea. She had said to dress casually.

  He had offered to make the salad. He’d picked up the ingredients and a nice bottle of wine on the way home from an earlier meeting. He had been in a coat and tie for that meeting. He wanted to shower and change his clothes.

  Lotello was anxious. One of the things he had done right after getting out of the hospital was to visit Klein. To apologize again for using her in his scheme to unhinge and ferret out Hollister and Thomas. Getting her to subpoena them to the Norman trial without an established evidentiary basis to do so.

  Hollister and Thomas were not Boy Scouts. He wasn’t going to shake them up with tea and cookies. He needed those subpoenas to get their attention. He had taken advantage of Klein’s trust. When he didn’t come up with the goods before she had to rest her defense case, it damaged her standing with Brooks. Not a good thing to have done.

  While Klein’s ire seemed to be thawing, as evidenced by tonight’s invitation, Lotello was still just a little nervous about the evening. He was getting some last-minute advice from his most devoted advisor. “You’re looking pretty good, Daddy. And you smell nice, too. I like her, Daddy. She’s very nice. And very cool. Don’t forget to get her some flowers. Ladies like it when guys remember to do that. And it’s okay if you don’t make curfew.”

  “Thanks, honey bun. I know you and Charlie will hold down the fort with Elena whi
le I’m gone.” Charlie had finished his homework. Or so he said. And was playing computer games. He knew where their dad was going, too. Although he pretended he didn’t.

  As Lotello drove through the Friday evening traffic en route to Klein’s home, his mind wandered back to the reason for his coat and tie that afternoon. His meeting with Judge Brooks.

  Lotello hadn’t really expected to meet with Brooks again. It was Brooks’s doing. Of course, matters involving Brooks usually were Brooks’s doing.

  Lotello had received a call from Brooks’s clerk requesting one of those command performance meetings. This one was called for Brooks’s chambers. Lotello was prompt. In his own special way, Brooks had apologized to Lotello for getting him involved in the case in the way he had. Brooks said he had been very upset about what had happened to Bernie Abrams. He professed that it had clouded his judgment.

  This was one of the few times Lotello had disagreed with Brooks. “I appreciate what you say, Judge. But I’m not buying it for a minute. What it all comes down to is that we used each other. Without me, you might not have known where we needed to go. Without you, I couldn’t have gotten us there.” I’m honestly not so sure about that. But Brooks needs and deserves to feel less guilty about his actions. And what happened to me. I would take another bullet for this man. Well … maybe I would. If the circumstances called for it. And I was wearing a bulletproof vest. And it was a small-caliber gun.

  Brooks hadn’t really responded. He seemed momentarily lost in his own thoughts. Lotello decided to take advantage of the slightly awkward silence. He hadn’t really intended to do it. But he unloaded the whole Ayres saga on Brooks.

  Brooks just listened. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t ask any questions. “What do you think we should do with this, Judge?”