by Rayna Morgan
“Our only source for contact is his place of employment but between cruises, his boss and fellow employees may be hard to get hold of.”
“Book yourself on a cruise,” Warren suggested. “That will give you plenty of opportunity. Even if he’s not aboard, you can learn a lot about him and his recent activities.”
Lea considered his proposal. “It’s a two night voyage to Ensenada and back. You can make the trip by car. I’ll meet you in Ensenada when we dock and we’ll look up his friend, the one he stayed with when he convinced Cate to reconcile. If I decide to return early, I’ll ride home with you.”
“Good idea. Before you arrive, I’ll interview anyone on the docks who knew him.”
He licked salt from the rim of his glass. “What other names have cropped up?”
“Ron Townsend, the developer who hosted the party where Sean claims Cate recorded what may have been a fatal conversation.”
“I’ll leave him to you. I tend to be quick-tempered with any tycoon born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He will be more susceptible to your charms.”
Lea’s smile widened. “Are you suggesting Townsend falls short when it comes to an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work?”
Her father ignored her jest and continued. “Can we figure out who the politician was Cate had an affair with?”
“We know he’s married. That hardly narrows it down.”
“A congressman who spends most of his time in Washington is likely to have an affair there, both for convenience and less chance of a spouse finding out.”
“Which narrows our search to a state senator or assemblyman,” Lea said. She offered her father the last chip in the basket. “Based on the same hypothesis, a state senator spends most of his time in Sacramento.”
“That leaves us with an assemblyman,” Warren said as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “Sean told you Cate met him at one of Townsend’s parties. Social relationships are used to form mutually beneficial bonds. Let’s assume Townsend and this politician pat each other on the back. If we pinpoint Townsend’s projects, we can identify the district of a legislator in a position to be of assistance.”
“Public records will tell us who makes big political contributions as well as how local politicians fund their campaign war chests,” Lea said.
“Check them out. Hopefully, that information will tie back to Townsend.”
“I’ll ask Holly if she serviced a fundraiser at the developer’s home and the name of the guest of honor. If she’s unwilling or unable to help, I can cross reference gossip columns. The kind of bash Townsend throws ends up in society news.”
“Do the research and let me know who you come up with. I’ll be more than happy to pay the legislator a visit.”
“It sounds promising, Dad. Someone in that position would not lack motive. It would be highly embarrassing, even job threatening, if an affair was exposed.”
They ended their conversation and turned their attention to the steaming hot plates of shredded pork placed in front of them.
Chapter 11
Later that evening, Lea saw a light in her father’s study.
She stuck her head in the door. “From information I gathered on the computer, Assemblyman Allen Kirk is our man.”
He sat back and nodded, a satisfied look on his face.
She turned to go upstairs. “Good night, Dad.”
“When you talk to Ron Townsend…”
She swung around and observed the glint in his eyes. “Yes?”
“Look for an indication his relationship with Kirk extends beyond campaign contributions.”
• • •
In her room, Lea puzzled over how to get an appointment with the developer. To her surprise, a solution came from an unexpected source when she called her husband to bring him up to date on her activities.
Paul previously disapproved of Lea’s sleuthing, fearing for her safety. But when he realized the fulfillment she got by using her gift for finding the truth, he stopped complaining and vowed to be supportive.
When she expressed her concern about gaining access to Ron Townsend, he suggested a plausible reason to request an appointment using his job as a real estate consultant.
“Tell him I have a client pursuing a joint venture in San Diego. While you’re in town, I’ve asked you to lay groundwork with potential partners.”
“Brilliant, Paul. That should do the trick.” She commented on the divergence from his inflexible code of conduct. “I’m surprised a man incapable of shaving a year off his age concocted such a story.”
“As a matter of fact, I have a client interested in expanding his hotel chain. However, I doubt he’d do business with that particular developer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Townsend’s construction company was hit with building violations in the past. There are rumors of safety issues as well.”
“That’s interesting. Can you dig deeper and let me know what you find? There might be something I can use.”
“I’ll do my best. What do you expect to achieve by talking with Townsend?”
“He knew Cate through the party company he hired. Hopefully, he can shed light on what caused the altercation between Cate and Mario the night of his party. More importantly, he knows the married politician Cate had an affair with.”
“You said she ended the affair when she got involved with Mario.”
“That’s true, but her lover may have worried that news of the affair could surface causing damage to his career or marriage.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I hear your wheels churning, Paul. What are you thinking?”
“There may be another angle to the relationship of the parties involved.”
Her husband’s slow, methodical thinking made her impatient. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Can you be more specific?”
“Real estate developers are a pivotal part of political fundraising which gives rise to accusations they influence lawmakers to vote approvals on their projects.”
“You’re suggesting a mutually profitable friendship between Cate’s politician and Ron Townsend. But where would Cate fit in?”
“I have no idea, Sherlock. That’s for you to figure out.” Paul changed the subject. “Speaking of detectives, how is your father responding to being pulled out of retirement?”
“Better than I expected. He thrives on returning to the chase. Administrative tasks during his last years as chief stifled his love of solving crime. His creative juices are flowing now that he’s back in the role of detective.”
“I’m sure he challenges your reasoning skills.”
“He certainly does. It makes me realize how often Maddy and I go off half-cocked, based on little more than my intuition.”
Paul laughed. “I’m glad you and your father enjoy working together. Jon and I can hardly wait to see you both this weekend.”
Lea rang off, eager to rehearse what she would say to Ron Townsend the following day.
Chapter 12
The previous luck with her phobia ran out on Lea’s second visit to Townsend Towers. The anxiety she suffered in close spaces was acute in elevators but she could hardly walk forty flights of stairs to interview Ron Townsend. She squeezed her eyes shut as the elevator doors closed and silently counted floors during the ascent.
After composing herself at the door of the penthouse suite, she presented herself to the receptionist. Although she was on time for her appointment, she expected to be kept waiting by a person she assumed would have an inflated opinion of self-worth. To her surprise, she was ushered into the inner sanctum without delay.
Before she revised her prejudgment, the opulence of the room assured her she was dealing with a man with a large ego.
His corner office had floor to ceiling windows with a magnificent view of the city. Maddy would have drooled over the custom furniture and the imported rug which covered hardwood floors. The room featured hand carved cabinetry and glass cases filled with ornamental car
vings. Subtle lighting illuminated the wall paintings.
A commanding figure rose as she approached. The gray of his hair and mustache matched the color of his eyes and the threads woven through his tailored suit.
After introductions were made, he waved toward a circular table in the middle of the room. “Have a seat.”
Hitting the intercom, he said, “Andrea, please bring coffee.”
When he joined her at the table, Lea complimented him on the plush office.
“I can’t take credit,” he replied. “It’s all handled by professionals.”
“My sister is an interior decorator,” she informed him.
Seeming unimpressed, he cut to the chase. “You told my secretary your husband has a client interested in joint venture developments. Why didn’t your husband contact me himself?”
She was no less adept at getting to the point. “I’m in town for several days. It provided a convenient time to call on my husband’s behalf.”
He maintained a pleasant, slightly bored facade. “Are you vacationing?”
“I’m in town for Cate Palmer’s funeral,” she said bluntly.
His face registered a distinct change in level of interest.
“As a matter of fact, your name came up at the memorial service,” she added.
His last signs of boredom disappeared. “In what regard. I barely knew Miss Palmer.”
“You know one of her acquaintances.”
His unrelenting once-over made her squirm but she needed to confirm the identity of Cate's politician. She forced herself to continue.
“In that regard, you might help with a matter related to Cate’s funeral.”
If her statement surprised him, he didn’t let it show. Without consenting, he waited for her request.
“The family received sympathy flowers from the assemblyman. Cate's mother wants to send a thank you but is unsure whether to address the note to his home or to his office.”
A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth as if the idea amused him. “The proper address to use for Assemblyman Kirk would be his office.”
Lea mentally patted herself on the back. “I'll let her know.”
Satisfied with the results of her first query, it was time to shed some light on his relationship with the politician.
“If you don’t mind, there’s an issue my husband needs cleared up before his client proceeds.”
The coldness of his eyes belied the warmth of his smile. “Fire away.”
“Real estate developers with projects up for review tend to donate heavily to local officials believing political contributions will buy them zoning exemptions and land-use decisions. Elected officials, in turn, rely on developer money for re-election and to pay for office expenses and trips. Your name has come up in connection with questionable quid pro quo involvement.”
“Rubbish. That’s pure speculation. There has never been proof of my collusion with public officials. Most of the contributions I’m credited with making can’t even be traced to me.”
“I’m sure you find ways. In politics, money gets where it wants to go. Slam a door and it finds two windows.”
“What are you implying?”
“Perhaps your wife makes contributions. What about friends or golf partners? How many contributions are made on your behalf without you signing the check?”
His face turned an ugly shade of crimson. “I will pretend you didn’t say that.”
“A handful of lawmakers are calling for a ban on developers to counter the perception that money drives planning decisions. The proposal would direct city officials to draft a law prohibiting donations during review of building projects.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Assemblyman Kirk has opposed the ban, saying it unjustly targets developers. Might his position reflect your excessive contributions to his past elections?”
He maintained a casual pose of indifference. “I contribute to many political campaigns. It’s a cost of doing business.”
He looked at his watch. “I’m out of time. If your husband has an investor, which I doubt, have him contact me directly. Good day, Ms. Austin.”
He returned to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Our visitor is leaving, Andrea. Escort her from the office to ensure she finds her way out.”
Chapter 13
It was a sunny day near the end of Meg’s shift. She wished she were on the beach running with her dog instead of logging the day’s activities.
She sensed someone behind her and knew who it was by the sound of cracking knuckles.
“What do you want, Morris? I’m busy.”
The detective leaned over her shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“Doing paperwork. You offering to help?”
“No, thanks. I’ll leave you to it.”
He made no effort to move away.
“Something else you wanted?” she asked.
“When you see Warren Conley, give him a message for me.”
She caught her breath. “What makes you think I'll see Conley?”
“He’s been at the station recently. You two were partners at one time. I’d expect him to touch base to find out how you’re doing.”
“Not that it’s any of your business but he stopped to say hello. I haven’t talked to him since, nor do I intend to. If you have a message, give it to him yourself.”
“No need to get testy.”
She’d like to wipe the insidious grin from his face but her curiosity kicked in. “What business do you have with Conley?”
“I want to thank him for making me realize I gave up on that hit-and-run too quickly.” His expression was somewhat short of sincere. “I had another look at the file.”
“Find anything interesting?”
She knew Morris was leading her on but she wanted to hear what he had to say.
“The boyfriend, Mario Torres, is involved in drugs. A snitch told me the guy may have been stupid enough to double cross the cartel.”
He stopped cracking his knuckles and stretched his arms in front of his chest.
“My partner and me tried to talk to him. Looks as if he's done a runner but maybe he killed his girlfriend before he left.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I saw him and his girl have an argument at a party where I worked security. She must have found out he was dealing drugs or interfered in some way. At any rate, Conley succeeded in drawing our attention to Mario as a person of interest in a possible murder.”
“Sounds fascinating, Mike,” she said, turning back to her computer. “But I’ve got my own cases to work on.”
“Tell your old partner we’ll take it from here. The chief should enjoy his retirement.”
As soon as he left, she went to the ladies’ room.
Checking to make sure the stalls were empty, she called Warren’s number.
Chapter 14
Assemblyman Kirk had agreed to meet based on Warren’s former position as police chief. Warren had not given a specific reason nor did he believe Kirk would guess the purpose for the meeting.
Before the appointed time at a coffee shop near the politician’s office, Warren entered the eatery.
The morning crowd had dispersed. The single remaining customer sat at the counter, hunched over a newspaper and a cup of coffee.
Another dinosaur, Warren thought.
He took a seat at a table and stared out the window, debating whether to use a cordial or an aggressive approach.
The chirping sound of his phone interrupted his thoughts. The call was from his former partner.
“Hey, Chief,” Meg said. “I’m afraid Morris is on to us.”
She relayed her conversation with the detective.
“I think you’re right,” Warren said. “He’s warning me off the case.”
“If I know Morris, he’s trying to work his way back to Homicide.”
“If he cracks this case, it would go a long way toward achieving that g
oal.”
“I doubt that will happen,” she said. “The only thing he’s good at cracking is his knuckles.”
“I hope he won’t give you grief for helping me.”
“Don’t worry, Chief. I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubts about that. All the same, watch your back.”
He ended the call as Kirk walked through the door, displaying a politician's ever-present smile.
Warren's mood soured. He decided to use an aggressive approach with the assemblyman.
• • •
The two men exchanged greetings. After they ordered coffee, Warren began.
“I understand you and Ron Townsend know each other well.”
“Yes, Ron and I are friends. He’s a member of the Greenwood Country Club. He occasionally invites me for a round of golf even though his handicap is lower than mine.”
“Does he host fundraisers for you?”
The assemblyman nodded his head but his eyes became wary. “He’s been kind enough to do that during past elections.”
“Speaking of elections, there are rumors you’ll run for state senate when your term as assemblyman expires.”
“I’m definitely interested. My staff has put out feelers for how much support I can garner.”
“I suppose that will require more help from your friend.”
Kirk’s smile thinned.
“In terms of fund raising, I mean,” Warren added.
“Raising funds is a necessary part of politics. Certainly not the most pleasant aspect but more than offset by the reward of serving the public.”
Warren smiled in a congenial manner. “Spoken like a true politician.”
They both laughed.
“Do you reciprocate Mr. Townsend’s kindness in any way?” Warren continued.
Allen bristled, sensing a change in the underlying tone of the conversation. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your question.”
“It’s not unheard of for developers and politicians to be bedfellows. Mr. Townsend has several new projects in the works.”
