Flashpoint

by Ed Gorman

  The one thing his publicist hadn’t been able to do was disarm him. Because of his connection to the other side and its connection with judges all over the country, Ruskin was always armed with a Glock, insisting that ‘they’ (meaning us) were out to get him. Any time he got hassled by law enforcement he just made a call, and whoever he talked to made a call and Ruskin went back to spending his time wooing fabulous babes – another one of his problems.

  ‘Is he staying in the hotel?’

  ‘Four thirty-eight.’

  ‘How many times did you see them together?’

  ‘I work four to midnight. The last week I’d say I saw them together every night around dinner time. And a couple of times in the bar.’

  Howie Ruskin. I was going to meet the bastard.

  ‘You see her with anybody else?’

  ‘Hey, seems you’re getting a lot of talk for nothing. I’m a working man.’

  I eased my wallet out of my back pocket and laid a fifty across his open palm.

  ‘I’ve seen her with about a couple dozen guys since she was here who tried to pick her up.’ The grin gave him a satanic look. ‘She’s probably the most beautiful woman who’s ever been in this town, if you want to put it that way.’

  ‘Any of them succeed?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She got rid of them pretty fast. She wasn’t much of a flirt. She’d shut them down fast. She wasn’t mean or anything; she just wasn’t interested.’

  This was the woman who’d come on to Robert so openly and seductively. But that had been her job. Robert’s mind had gotten caught in his zipper and he hadn’t figured it out until it was too late, despite my warning.

  ‘Did you ever see the senator in the hotel?’

  The grin again. ‘Talk about somebody whose ass is in a sling, huh?’

  ‘So did you ever see him here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was she ever involved in any kind of incident?’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Any kind of trouble or anything. Did she just have a nice, quiet stay?’

  ‘Quiet except for everybody who wanted to sniff her panties.’

  ‘How about her room? Have the police been up there yet?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Could you get me in if they haven’t?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘That’d get me fired for sure.’ He was working both sides of the street. He was genuinely worried about losing his job while setting me up for a big raise in pay. ‘You’d really have to pay me.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Three hundred.’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Two seventy-five.’

  ‘Two-fifty.’

  ‘Hell, I guess I might as well take it.’

  After I paid him all I had was a five and two ones in my wallet.

  ‘How about putting my suitcase in my room after?’ I was still lugging it along.

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Right.’

  He took it and surprised me by not asking for more money.

  Except for a maid in a light-blue uniform pushing her cart down the hall, this end of the fourth floor was quiet. I could see from here that the room had not been sealed, though likely it would be very soon. In the elevator Earl Leonard – he’d finally told me his name and it hadn’t cost me a cent – had begun breathing in tight little spurts. There was the gleam of sweat on his wolf face. He really was worried.

  ‘I’m going to make this easy for you, Earl,’ I said now. ‘You let me in and then you take off. If I get nailed I’ll say that I was able to open the lock.’

  ‘You know how?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I was good but not great.

  ‘I’d appreciate it. And you won’t mention me?’

  ‘Not to anybody.’

  So now we stood at the door. He looked both ways, advertising that we shouldn’t be doing what we were doing. When he got it open he pushed it in and said, ‘It’s all yours, man.’

  Then he was double-timing it to the elevator. What he hadn’t remembered and what I hadn’t wanted to bring up was that the hall was undoubtedly on security cameras. But I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. There’d be no reason for anybody to check the tape. I expected to stay no longer than a few minutes in her room.

  The room was done in contrasting blues. Twin beds, an open closet area packed solid with clothes and at least a dozen pairs of shoes below. Cosmetics and perfumes clouded the air with intoxicating aromas and dresses and blouses were strewn across one of the beds.

  The phone rang once and scared the hell out of me. It was as loud as a shriek in the hotel room.

  I needed thirty seconds to relax and then I went back to work, conscious of needing to get the hell out of there.

  I quickly went through both the desk drawers and the closet and didn’t find anything useful. The small blue carry-on piece of luggage shoved under the same bed as the clothes was another matter.

  I counted fourteen articles from various Internet sources about Senator Robert Logan. Long articles that went into his entire life; one article was an interview with some friends of his from high school. Then there were overviews of his time as a wealthy businessman and finally his decision to enter politics and how this led all the way to the United States Senate. She had taken her masters in the subject of Senator Logan.

  In the manila envelope I found a dozen photos of her and the senator. All but one of them was staged at his rallies. Each of them gave the unmistakable impression that she and the senator were more than what you might call mere acquaintances. She made sure of that by looking as though she was about to go down on him. She knew what she was doing. And he stood there looking smitten like a horny tenth-grader.

  In another drawer I found a white number-ten envelope with photographs of Tracy Cabot at various ages. The photos spanned maybe twenty years from her teens – fourteen or fifteen – to the present. She’d always been a heartbreaker.

  Male voices in the hall. They startled me even more than the phone had. If the cops were going to search the room they’d come up in a team of some kind.

  I stood absolutely still. Listening as they got nearer, louder, until they started laughing and passed on down the hall. Flop sweat in my armpits and on my back. I took a deep, deep breath and went back to work.

  By my watch I’d been in here six minutes. Way too long. When I eventually reached the elevator, my old buddy Earl Leonard appeared from around the corner. ‘How’d it go, man?’

  ‘Pretty good.’

  ‘I won’t rat you out, man.’

  ‘No more money, Earl.’

  ‘I wasn’t asking for any more.’ He sounded hurt.

  ‘I know how bad you want to keep your job, Earl, so you won’t rat me out, because if you do I’ll say that this was your idea and then you’ll not only lose your job, you’ll be doing time in the same joint I am.’

  ‘This is pretty bad shit, huh?’

  ‘Real bad shit.’ I stepped into the elevator and faced him. ‘And you’re right in the middle of it, Earl. Just like me.’

  The doors closed. I actually liked Earl all right; I just didn’t want him confiding anything to any of his friends after he’d had a few drinks. I had to scare him a little.

  SEVEN

  I spent the next half hour in my room with my laptop. Despite the world of Senator Logan collapsing into scandal, I had to check with my various campaign runners to see how their own work was doing. They filed email reports constantly through the days. Every internal poll I saw looked decent; even the ones that had been lagging were now closing slightly. There was still time to win the election.

  Then I went to the websites of all the networks and cable news shows. As expected, the Logan story was getting the kind of play that Jack the Ripper would have gotten following those bloody long-ago nights in Whitechapel. All the sites except for Empire News showed at least some restraint. Not enough was known yet to come right out and say that Senator Logan had smashed the skull of his bimbo honey. Emp
ire News had already placed him on the gurney where he would receive the injection that would take him to the depths of hell. They went heavy on his liberal politics and quoted one of their familiar talking heads, a so-called professor at a Christian college that had a white supremacist on the staff. He said, ‘If you want to understand how liberalism corrupts all those who promote it, look at Senator Logan. He might have been a decent man at one time in his life. But if these charges are true – and I must say, things don’t look good for the man – then his decadence speaks for itself.’ This was the same man who reported sightings of Jesus even more often than a certain type of person reports seeing Big Foot eating French fries at McDonald’s.

  I had no doubt that if a polling company started questioning people the results would show that the majority would be certain that the senator was guilty. And the story was only a few hours old.

  I found the number for the police station and called it.

  ‘Police station.’

  ‘My name is Dev Conrad. I’m Senator Logan’s campaign consultant. I’d like to know if the senator is still there?’

  ‘I’m going to connect you with Detective Roberts.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A minute-long wait. ‘Detective Roberts.’

  I went through my introduction again.

  ‘What can I do for you, Mr Conrad?’

  ‘I’d like to know if Senator Logan is still there and if so when you expect him to be released.’

  ‘He’s still here but I can’t tell you anything about when he’ll be leaving. Detective Hammell is in charge of the investigation. That’ll be up to him.’

  ‘So I assume Jane Tyler is still there, too.’

  ‘She’s with Detective Hammell and Senator Logan, yes.’

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you could give her my phone number and ask her to call me.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can. I’m plenty busy myself.’

  ‘I understand.’ I gave him the number of my cell. ‘I appreciate your help, Detective.’

  ‘If you’re thinking of coming here, I’d recommend against it. The place is a zoo. We’ve never seen this many reporters.’

  ‘I appreciate the tip. And I won’t be coming. Thanks again.’

  Just as I was hanging up my room phone rang. I was sure I knew who it would be. Somebody from Washington. I wondered why they hadn’t called sooner. They were past masters at panicking and for once this was a time for it.

  ‘Our phone here might be bugged. We haven’t swept this room for two days. I just ducked in here because I don’t want anybody eavesdropping.’

  Both parties have what functions as a headquarters. Ours is a conduit for everything from gossip about an opponent to getting emergency campaign cash. The man on the line had been a congressman many years earlier but had stayed in Washington because he liked the nightlife there, as all of his wives would attest to. Some people disintegrate when they panic; he was the type who just got real pissed off when things went bad all of a sudden. The way he was clipping his words off I could tell he was pissed right now. I should also mention that we weren’t what you call fond of each other. I thought he was smug and he thought I was ungrateful. We’d never actually met and that was, I suspected, a good thing.

  ‘Did he or didn’t he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A setup?’

  ‘Yes. Howie Ruskin’s out here.’

  A pause. ‘You sure of that?’

  ‘Yes. As soon as we hang up I’m going to start looking for him.’

  ‘We’ve probably lost the seat no matter what now.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He had a nice, mellow whiskey laugh. A Jack Daniel’s black label laugh. ‘For such a cynical bastard, Dev, you’re always surprisingly optimistic.’ Then, ‘This is such a mess I can’t believe it.’ He’d controlled his rage and now had let it dissipate. ‘I’m getting calls from campaigns all over the country. They’re afraid this’ll hurt their candidates.’

  ‘Poor babies.’

  ‘It just might.’

  ‘Maybe. But since we’re still not four hours out I’d give it a little time.’

  ‘There’s supposed to be a big fundraiser tonight. This’ll put a pall on it.’

  ‘I wish you could see the tears in my eyes. I’m sorry but I couldn’t give a shit about a fundraiser right now. I’ve got other things to worry about.’

  ‘You think you and I will ever like each other?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  This time the Jack-blacked throat emitted a laugh. ‘Me neither.’

  I called Lee Sullivan in Chicago. He’d been a homicide detective who’d gone private and then started doing a lot of work for me and our candidates. He had a computer-wizard son who was also excellent at opposition research. Jason had picked up two opponent scandals that a big opposition firm had missed.

  As soon as Lee came on the line, he said, ‘It’s all anybody’s talking about.’

  He didn’t have to include a subject in that sentence. ‘It’s going to get a lot worse.’

  ‘You have an opinion yet?’

  ‘I believe he’s innocent. I think he was set up by forces unknown. The woman’s been hanging around his events for a while. She was a stunner. She was also a trap that he was stupid enough to walk into.’

  ‘Pols should be eunuchs.’

  ‘I’ll pass that along.’ Then, ‘I need everything you and Jason can find on a woman called Tracy Cabot. And emphasize everything.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m sure she was tracking Senator Logan on someone else’s dime.’

  ‘We’ll start right away.’

  ‘I’ve got some interesting news for you, Lee.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Howie Ruskin’s out here.’

  ‘Wow. Now this is getting really interesting.’

  ‘She may have been working directly with him. Or maybe she was hired separately and the third party put them together.’

  ‘It figures that Ruskin would end up with a murder rap. He’s such a creepy little bastard.’

  ‘I thought about that, too, Lee. But as much as I hate Ruskin that’s a real big step. Ruskin’s never even gotten close to violence before.’

  ‘OK, maybe not murder, but there’s always a first time when the stakes are so high. By the way – and I hope this doesn’t piss you off – you sure Logan didn’t kill her?’

  ‘I asked him and he said no. I have to believe him, Lee, because if I didn’t I’d resign.’

  ‘Yeah. I can see that all right.’

  My only problem is that I still had to allow for the possibility that Robert had been lying his ass off.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ Lee said just before we hung up, ‘Jason says he’s working on something hot for you. You know how superstitious he is, though. He won’t even give me a hint till he’s sure of it. Say your prayers, Dev.’

  But I was way ahead of him on that one. Political consultants pray every waking moment.

  When I walked into the Linton campaign headquarters the bright, ambitious volunteer staff I’d been told about had been reduced to two college-age girls in jeans and red and blue sweaters respectively, sitting at a table piled high with circulars to be delivered throughout the city.

  I introduced myself and got a suspicious glance. The one who wore the Wendy name tag said, ‘You’re not another reporter, are you?’

  From the back of a room packed with faxes and computers and two different phone banks a voice said, ‘Hi, Dev.’

  Connie Taylor had been recommended to me by another client. She’d run his hometown campaign office without a hitch, he’d said, and so I’d hired her for here. She was an African-American woman of thirty-two who was finishing her dissertation on the subject of unions in American politics. She was an attractive woman with a smile that was a boon no matter what kind of mood you were in. But there was no smile tonight. She couldn’t summon it, and it wouldn’t have helped me anyway.

  She wore a russe
t-brown dress with a wide, dark brown belt and sensible heels. Running a campaign office for a senatorial election is a bitch. If you factored in sex and murder, the job got many times worse.

  She had a dry, businesslike shake and signaled with a nod for us to walk to the back. Behind us, Wendy said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know who you were.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘They’re hard workers. Or were until about four hours ago. As soon as the news came on TV all the volunteers started drifting away. I imagine a lot of them are drunk by now.’

  ‘I don’t blame them, Connie.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  There was a refreshment table with several kinds of nuts and candies and popcorn. A bubbling coffeepot and a Coke machine stood to the left of the table. She had coffee; I had a Diet Coke.

  ‘Is there anything new, Dev?’

  I’d been prepared to address as many as twenty or thirty people. Reassure them as much as I could. But I was glad I didn’t have to do it. It would have all been bullshit and they would have known by the time I’d finished my second sentence.

  ‘I’m waiting to hear from Jane Tyler. She’s with the senator at the police station.’

  ‘Jane’s a good woman. She spends a lot of time working with us on the campaign.’

  Maybe Connie knew. ‘I was at the cabin talking to a Detective Hammell when she pulled up. They have some strange kind of animosity toward each other. She tries to be civil but he can’t quite make himself be decent. You have any idea what that’s all about?’

  She had small hands. She made one into a brown fist and shook it. ‘She was married to his son for three years. A very angry and jealous guy, as it turned out. He threatened her quite a bit and twice he beat her up. To his credit, Hammell tried to help her – his son’s a cop, too, and he’s warned him that he’ll kick him off the force if he breaks the restraining order Jane got. But it’s put a strain on his relationship with Jane and sometimes he takes it out on her.’ Then, ‘I need your advice, Dev. I don’t know what to tell our volunteers. Should we be out on the street handing out information?’

  They’d be facing at best curious citizens; at worst, hostility and angry humor. ‘Just freeze everything until mid-morning tomorrow. This is too crazy right now.’