Fool Me Twice js-11
Page 15
“You’re going to eat that,” she said.
Jesse smiled and took a huge bite. He chewed it contentedly.
“You just going to stare at yours,” he said between bites.
She gingerly put some ketchup on her burger and took a bite. Then she took another.
“This is pretty good,” she said.
“Best turkey burger in Massachusetts.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“Are you watching the playoffs,” Jesse said.
“What playoffs?”
“The baseball playoffs.”
“Ugh.”
“You mean you don’t like baseball?”
“I don’t like sports.”
“What do you like?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you like?”
After a few moments, Courtney said, “I like to read.”
“Read as in books?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“What do I like to read?”
“Yes.”
“I like Margaret Mead.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I like Coming of Age in Samoa. I mean, she was real young and she left home and went to live in a wild place and studied all kinds of different people. I think that’s so cool.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. She was awesome.”
They finished their lunches and pushed their plates away.
“Good,” Jesse asked.
“Really good,” Courtney said.
Afterward, they climbed back into the cruiser and headed for the station.
Jesse stopped only once to ticket an illegally parked Mercedes. Then he got back in the cruiser.
“I love to nail a Mercedes,” he said.
“Why?”
“The parking ticket is a great equalizer. Rich or poor, you gotta pay it.”
“My mom says poor people don’t drive Mercedes.”
“Not usually, no.”
“So it’s a rich person who just got the ticket?”
“More than likely, yeah. Rich people hate having to pay tickets.”
She thought about that for a while.
Jesse dropped her off at the station. She got out of the cruiser, then looked back at him through the open window.
“You gonna tell me why?”
“Why we had lunch?”
“Yes.”
“We’re going to be spending some time together over the next few months, and I thought it would benefit us both if we explored our human sides.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I’m the police chief and you’re a detainee. Technically we’re on opposite sides of the law. But if we get to know each other, we might think of ourselves more as people and less as antagonists.”
Courtney was quiet.
“Understanding each other will make both of us less defensive and more receptive to the other’s ideas and opinions.”
“You’re a funny guy, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told. See you next week.”
She watched as he drove away.
57
Rita Fiore’s silver Lexus convertible was parked in front of the footbridge. Jesse got out of his cruiser and walked over to it. He found Rita sitting inside. She lowered the driver’s-side window.
“Am I intruding,” she said.
“Not at all.”
“You’re certain?”
“Completely.”
“May I come in?”
“Either that or you can stay in the car and we’ll keep talking to each other through the window.”
Rita smiled.
She got out of the Lexus, and together they crossed the bridge.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You won’t like it.”
“How could I not like it,” he asked as he opened the door and ushered her inside.
“Wait,” she said.
Jesse removed his Colt Commander from its holster and placed it on the kitchen counter.
Rita settled herself into one of his two leather chairs. She looked around.
“Nice house.”
Jesse smiled.
Mildred Memory trotted downstairs and began circling Jesse’s legs, her tail twitching in the air. He reached down and rubbed her back.
“Have you any scotch,” Rita said.
“I do.”
“With soda?”
“Coming right up.”
He prepared two drinks and brought her one.
“What won’t I like,” Jesse said as he sat down next to her.
“Rules first.”
“What rules?”
“We’re gonna play a little game called ‘privileged information.’”
“Meaning?”
“We’re going to protect the integrity of the defense counsel.”
“How do we do that?”
“This conversation never happened.”
“That bad?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. It never happened. What’s up?”
“Goodwin canceled our appointment and refused to set up another.”
“Did he offer a reason why?”
“He did not.”
“That’s strange.”
“There’s more. Tony Devlin, my A-list investigator, tells me that the executives at state Water and Power claim not to have heard from William J. Goodwin for several years.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Tony knows someone there, and he made a routine call in an effort to confirm who it was that rebuffed Goodwin’s appeals for a rate reevaluation. His contact did some sniffing around and then informed Tony there was no record of any recent meetings between their personnel and Goodwin. The contact’s research identified Goodwin as having once been actively engaged in dealings with W and P, but not for a while.”
Jesse sipped his drink.
“And that’s just for openers,” Rita said. “Tony took a drive up here in order to have a look around. He started with Goodwin’s house, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Oscar LaBrea’s residence, on the other hand, was a different story. Our Mr. LaBrea lives in a two-story town house located on Osgood’s Point, which Tony describes as a high-end neighborhood. He probed further and discovered that the town house is appraised for something north of a million dollars.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t this guy a meter reader?”
“Maybe he logged a lot of overtime.”
“Don’t kid around, Jesse. He’s living in the lap of luxury.”
“Okay.”
“Normally we would subpoena a suspect’s financial records. In order to get a peek at bank statements, investment accounts, stuff like that. But because Tony is so well connected, he was able to sniff out some information without a subpoena.”
“I won’t like this either, will I?”
“Mr. LaBrea is sitting on more than a million dollars’ worth of top-grade investments. All purchased within the last few years.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Odd, don’t you think,” Rita said.
“What about Goodwin?”
“Hard to say. He lives modestly in a house he’s owned for more than a decade.”
“And his finances?”
“He’s made a great many contributions to water-starved countries and water-related enterprises. The accountants are going to have a field day sorting them all out. But in contrast to Mr. Goodwin, it appears that Oscar LaBrea was raiding the cookie jar for his personal enrichment. We’re double- and triple-checking it, of course.”
“Yikes,” Jesse said.
“Exactly.”
Jesse was silent for a while.
“What are you going to do,” Rita said.
“I’ll have a look for myself.”
“I don’t like this, Jesse. You’ll want to be careful.”
58
Jesse pulled up in front of Goodwin’s modest Colonial. The small house was partially hidden behind a row of privet hedges and featured an immaculate lawn bordered by crab apple and dogwood trees, Japanese maples, hydrangeas, and a pair of stately American elm trees.
Jesse rang the bell, and after a while he heard William Goodwin’s distinctive voice.
“Who is it,” he said.
“It’s Jesse. Please open the door.”
“Go away.”
“Please let me in.”
“I’ve suffered enough.”
“If you don’t open the door, I’ll call for backup and we’ll break in.”
After a moment, the door swung open.
Goodwin stood aside and motioned for Jesse to enter.
The house was furnished simply but tastefully. The main room featured overflowing floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
“What can I offer you,” Goodwin said.
“Nothing, thank you.”
They wandered into the living room. Goodwin was silent.
“I gather you’re refusing to speak with Rita Fiore.”
Goodwin looked away.
“Why?”
“I’m fearful,” Goodwin said.
“Of?”
“The mess.”
“What mess?”
“My mess. Oscar’s mess.”
“What’s Oscar’s mess?”
Goodwin didn’t say anything.
“What’s Oscar’s mess,” Jesse said again.
“I believe that Oscar was embezzling.”
“You mean over and above what you and he had been stealing together?”
“The money that we gathered together was used for honorable purposes.”
“Meaning?”
“We didn’t enrich ourselves with it, if that’s what you’re suggesting. We used it to right a great many wrongs.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Oscar appears to have changed the game.”
“How so?”
“He stole.”
“From monies which had already been stolen.”
“Yes.”
“For his personal enrichment.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much did he steal.”
After several moments, Goodwin said, “I don’t really know. I only just discovered he had been doing it.”
“You mean you didn’t know his hand was in the till?”
“No.”
“How could you not have known?”
“I was lax in my supervision.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I was deeply involved in the larger picture. The distribution of the funds. The day-to-day I left to Oscar.”
“You mean he was in charge of the proceeds.”
“He handled the accounts.”
“Jesus.”
“That complicates things, doesn’t it,” Goodwin said.
“That’s an understatement.”
Jesse stood.
“I’ll need to present this information to the district attorney,” he said.
“He betrayed me. After all I did for him, the son of a bitch betrayed me.”
Jesse walked to the door.
Goodwin walked with him.
When he opened it, he was instantly confronted by Oscar LaBrea, who had been waiting outside.
Oscar’s nose was still bandaged, and the skin around his eyes was discolored. He was holding a Beretta automatic pistol, which he leveled at Jesse.
He pushed his way inside and closed the door behind him.
“Your gun,” LaBrea said to Jesse.
Jesse removed his Colt from its holster.
“Drop it.”
He dropped it, the pistol chipping a section of the polished hardwood floor as it landed.
Oscar kicked it away.
He approached Jesse and patted him down. He found the .38-caliber Smith & Wesson, which Jesse kept in his jacket. He tossed it aside.
“Fool me twice,” Oscar said, a crooked grin appearing on his face.
He prodded Jesse hard in the back with the Beretta.
Jesse winced.
The three men moved toward the living room.
“Why are you talking to this bastard,” LaBrea said to Goodwin.
“He knows.”
“What does he know?”
“What you did.”
“What I did?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him you stole.”
“Why would you do a dumb thing like that?”
“I told him the truth.”
“Which I suppose you thought was noble.”
“I’m not going to argue with you anymore,” Goodwin said.
“It’s jail, isn’t it,” Oscar said to Jesse, waving the gun at him. “I’m going to be sent to jail. William’s gonna skate and I’ll get time.”
“Oscar, I think you should put the gun down and act rationally,” Goodwin said.
Oscar turned to him.
“Oh, you do, do you? Why did you tell him? So you could save your own skin?”
“You betrayed me, Oscar.”
“I betrayed you? I was getting by on a meter reader’s salary.”
“That’s what you were.”
“Nonsense. I was your partner. I did all of the heavy lifting. But I wasn’t living like you. Like this. On a commissioner’s salary.”
“That didn’t entitle you to steal.”
“It didn’t? You were stealing huge amounts. The only difference is that you were handing it out like you were some kind of pasha. It was you who set the example.”
“But not for myself.”
“Bullshit.”
Goodwin had become agitated. His voice was raised and excited.
“Bullshit?”
“You were set for life,” Oscar said. “You were raking it in hand over fist and then throwing it away. Money which could have set me for life.”
“You had no right to enrich yourself.”
“I had every right.”
“I’m through arguing with you.”
“It’s amazing how insensitive you are,” Oscar said. “Without me, none of it would have happened.”
He turned his pistol on Goodwin.
“You know what,” he said. “Fuck you, William. You and your phony piety.”
“Oh, please,” Goodwin said.
Oscar raised his pistol and fired, hitting Goodwin in the neck. Goodwin’s eyes widened. He reached for the wound, surprised to find blood spurting from it. He looked at the blood. He looked at Oscar. Then he collapsed.
As Oscar eyed Goodwin, Jesse leapt at him, hitting him in the small of his back and sending him flying.
The gun skittered away as Oscar fell forward, Jesse on top of him. He lifted Oscar’s head and slammed his face into the floor. Oscar screamed.
“Fool me twice, indeed,” Jesse said.
He grabbed a plastic restraint from his jacket and cuffed Oscar’s hands together behind him.
He then looked at Goodwin, who continued to bleed profusely from the gunshot wound in his neck.
Goodwin raised his head and looked at Jesse, opening his mouth as if to speak. But before he could say anything, he fell backward, dead before he hit the floor.
Jesse stood. He picked up Oscar’s pistol and gathered up his Colt and the Smith & Wesson.
Then he took out his cell phone and punched in the number for the station.
59
After Goodwin’s body had been removed, LaBrea apprehended, and the EMTs had left the scene, Jesse was alone in the house with Captain Healy.
“It won’t be pretty once the media gets wind of it,” Healy said.
“It won’t be,” Jesse said.
“How much did he get away with,” he said.
“LaBrea?”
“Yes.”
“Goodwin didn’t know.”
“How much did Goodwin take?”
“Also unknown.”
“But he felt justified.”
“Totally.”
“Self-righteous little bastard.”
“He was, wasn’t he?”
“Such an odd story,” Healy said.
“A sad one.”
“What about the woman, what’s her name again?”
“Ida Fearnley.”
“What’s in store for her?”
“Loneliness. Sadness. She’ll be devastated by Goodwin’s death.”
“But she was an accessory,” Healy said.
“To his crimes, yes.”
“Jail time?”
“That’ll be up to a jury.”
The two men headed for the door.
“You’d think it would have gotten someone’s attention,” Healy said.
“You’d think,” Jesse said. “But he’d been in charge for decades. He was an icon. The personification of bureaucratic autonomy. Who was going to challenge him?”
“The harder they fall,” Healy said.
“Exactly.”
“You knew him?”
“Some. He was a strange little guy. But he made his arguments with passion and conviction. He sure got himself into my head. I can’t rid myself of the image of the one and a half gallons of clean water it takes to flush away less than an ounce of piss. That’s ultimately why I reached out to Rita. I thought that even if the messenger was corrupt, the message would speak loudly enough to be heard.”
Healy didn’t say anything.
“The only message people will hear now is the one in which still yet another public official went rogue and managed to enrich himself at the expense of the taxpayers.”
“You okay,” Healy said.
“Disheartened.”
“Life’s a bitch.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jesse said.
—
Jesse called Rita Fiore.
“I heard,” she said, when she picked up the call. “Sounded awful.”
“Sad.”
“You want to tell me about it?”
Jesse swiveled his chair around so that he was facing the window.
“Goodwin rode the moral high ground to the end, which infuriated LaBrea, who assumed that because Goodwin didn’t use the money for his personal enrichment and he did, he was going to be the fall guy.”
“Meaning?”
“Goodwin would somehow be absolved and LaBrea would go to jail.”
“Why did he do it?”
“Do what?”
“Shoot Goodwin.”