by David Wind
“You know who I am, you lying bastard. I told you from the start, I would find out everything that had happened to Scotty Granger. I also told you not to lie to me. You should have listened.”
“Are you out of your mind? I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about Jeremy Thornton and Brian Vandegroten, or should I say Jeremy Thornton’s nephew, Brian V. Conklin, the Senator from Pennsylvania?”
Whatever he tried to say wouldn’t come out. His eyes widened, and he back-stepped until he shriveled into his chair. His mouth formed a pale gash beneath the manicured mustache. “How did you…. You… you mustn’t let anyone know.”
“I mustn’t let anyone know?” I leaned close to him. “The whole damned world is going to know. What the hell are you hiding?”
“I can’t…”
His sickly sweet after-shave turned sour with fear and sweat. “What are you hiding?”
“Please,” he whispered, his chest heaving in an effort to breathe.
I backed off a little, but not much. “I’m waiting.”
He took several more breaths. “I…I wasn’t quite truthful with you before, when I told you Jeremy and I became friends because he’d been a long-standing client. We had known each other for years before I did business with him. Our families owned homes in East Hampton, where we spent every summer. We were next-door neighbors—our families were close. But it wasn’t until after I finished college and started working on Wall Street that we became closer. Jeremy helped me when I started my firm, and I owed him my success.”
As the first brick crumpled, I took another step back. “Which explains nothing.”
He rubbed the side of his nose with a forefinger. “Yes, it does. There was very little I didn’t know about Jeremy. He was morally old fashioned. He believed in family values and personal ethics: he loathed scandal and rumor.”
“And his nephew created both, because he was a deviant,” I said, jumping ahead to where Albright was leading.
Albright’s hand rose toward his nose, but stopped in mid-flight. He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
With my patience at its end, I leaned toward him, but he started speaking before I moved more than an inch. “Jeremy’s younger sister, Regina, was badly depressed after the death of her mother, when she was nine. At sixteen, Regina looked like a twenty-year-old movie star. She rarely talked to anyone except Jeremy and attended social functions only when forced to by the family. Jeremy was extremely protective of her.”
Listening to him, my anger waned at the realization that Albright was working hard to get the words out.
“When Jeremy left for college, Regina became reclusive. Two years later, Regina suffered a breakdown and entered a sanitarium. That summer, Jeremy turned as reclusive as Regina had been—he wouldn’t see any of his friends or go out. Sometime during the next winter, I learned Regina had left the sanitarium and had married Albert Vandegroten and had given birth to a son. My parents thought it was a forced marriage. They believed Regina had not had a breakdown; rather, she’d been indiscreet and had gotten into trouble and her father had arranged the marriage.”
I replayed his words over a couple of times while allowing Albright to regain some of his composure. Snippets of various conversations from the last ten days jumped into the mix to expand the envelope of possibilities. I decided to stop filling in the blanks because they were becoming obvious and ugly. When Albright’s silence continued, I pushed him, “You said Thornton was very protective of his sister. Was it more than that?”
Albright’s head snapped up fast. He stared at me with an agonized expression. “No, it wasn’t Jeremy.”
My stomach twisted with disgust. “Their father?”
Albright gave another half nod. “It devastated Jeremy. It took him years to be able to react normally when it came to his family and then only after his father had died. Jeremy refused to have children. He was… he was afraid his father may have passed on his deviation—his first wife left him because of this.”
This new picture of Jeremy Thornton was vastly different from anything I’d considered before. It explained too, why he had committed suicide. He had broken his own personal code and he could not live with the shame. While I doubted anyone would ever know what the cause had been, I believed it had to do with Brian Conklin.
“Tell me about the money he was sending to Conklin.”
With obvious effort, Albright straightened himself in the chair. Some color had returned to his face. “It was at Conklin’s first congressional bid. He needed money to run and wasn’t getting enough. He came to Jeremy for a contribution. Jeremy refused. Brian was angry but there was nothing he could do.”
“A few weeks later, Jeremy came to me and told me he needed a half million dollar contribution for Brian Conklin’s campaign. When I debated the wisdom of this with Jeremy, he told me he had no choice and he needed me to figure out the best way to do it. It was a time when political contributions from corporations were not difficult to work out.
“What caused this change of mind?”
“I told you Jeremy was protective of his sister. Jeremy lived with guilt because when he left for college, he left his sister at the mercy of their father.”
“What else could he have done?”
“Nothing,” Albright agreed. “But Jeremy never accepted that and his guilt was what Brian worked on. Jeremy told me Brian sent someone to him who threatened to tell the papers Brian’s mother was made pregnant by her father.”
A bolt of gut wrenching disgust shot through my bowels at the twisted mind of the person who had come up with this. “A news story would have destroyed Conklin’s bid.”
“No, Brian knew Jeremy would never allow it to get that far. I told you Jeremy’s values were old fashioned and above all, his guilt at not having protected his sister and his fear of failing to protect her again would have destroyed him. Brian knew his uncle would give in.”
“So he gave Conklin the campaign money. That doesn’t explain the other quarter million he gave him every year.”
“In my opinion, Brian forced the money from Jeremy because it gave him a feeling of power over his uncle. Conklin never again came himself. He sent someone else. A man named,” Albright paused in thought. “Heinemann, I think. It was this man who instructed us as to how the money was to be dispersed.”
“Heinlein?”
“Yes, that’s it. Heinlein instructed us to make every transfer under the ten thousand dollar reporting limit. When they needed more, Jeremy would transfer money to me, and I would then transfer it to the accounts Heinlein set up.”
Having confirmed everything Malcolm and I had surmised didn’t make me feel any better. What had happened to Scotty, and to his sister before him, was still the most important thing to me. I wondered if pedophilia was a gene that was handed down to each succeeding generation. I hoped it wasn’t the case.
“Did Thornton know his…his nephew had a hobby of abducting young girls?”
Albright closed his eyes and nodded. “Eleven years ago, he learned his sister was dying. Before she passed, Jeremy went to see her. She was plagued by guilt: guilt at how Jeremy blamed himself for what had happened to her; and, guilt at the aberration she had produced. She told Jeremy that Brian was worse than their father.”
I accepted Albright’s story, yet one thing still didn’t fit. “If Thornton was everything you say he was; why would he confide the worst parts of his life to you.”
Albright rubbed his hands together, and then interlaced his fingers. “I was his friend. He knew he could trust me, and I had been his financial advisor for years. He needed my help with the financial arrangements. If I were a business associate, or a simple acquaintance, he would have not confided in me, but we had been friends for a good portion of our lives. After Regina’s death, he decided to cut off Brian’s funding. He had explained why Heinlein wouldn’t follow through with his always constant threat of exposure.�
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“He didn’t need to protect his sister any longer.”
“Yes. There was no one to protect. Divorced, with his sister gone, and no other blood family remaining, he could stop funding that, that….” Albright couldn’t finish the words.
While he struggled with his memories, I understood Thomas Albright was not the self-important, pompous Wall Street financier he worked so hard to project. The revelation of loyalty and love allowed me to understand why he had covered up his friend’s past. Here, at last, I found some aspect of his persona I could respect.
He looked me in the eyes for the first time since I’d met him and said, “Now you know why I couldn’t say anything.”
“Yes, and I think you understand why I have to go after Brian Conklin. But there are a couple of other things I need to know.”
“Such as?”
“Before Thornton’s death, he was being investigated by the banking commission. What do you know?”
He studied me for a moment, rubbed his forefinger against his nose, and said, “It had nothing to do with Brian Conklin.”
He hesitated for a second. “I told you Jeremy was an ethical man, much more so than most in the business world. There was a bank account showing irregularities. When he investigated it, he discovered the account was being used to launder money, and all indications showed it to be drug money. The company who owned the account was a front and all their records had been falsified. I don’t know how he found out, but after tracing the overseas transfers—most to South America, he learned the people receiving the money were involved in drug trafficking.”
His hand went to his nose, rubbed it subconsciously. “I’m not sure what or even how he did it, but he fired the account manager who’d set up the account, then managed to change all the records, return whatever money was in the account and create a different account validating all prior activity. He put his own money in to cover the discrepancies and to hide the trail of illegal transfers.”
“That was a dangerous move.”
“He wouldn’t let his company fall into scandal. After his death, and without him to testify, the commission accepted the reconstructed records and dropped the investigation.”
I tossed the explanation around and found it plausible enough, given the way Albright described Thornton’s way of life. “His death closed the paper trail. It was his code of ethics that drove him to suicide wasn’t it?”
Albright nodded. “One last question—How much does Lia Thornton know about this?”
He spoke without hesitation. “Lia knows nothing. Jeremy had cut off all contact with his nephew before he married Lia.”
His statement jived with what I’d learned and was consistent with the records Arnie Steeplechase had unearthed; yet, there’s always room for doubt. “How could he keep the facts of his family secret from Lia?”
“What was there to tell? He had one sister who had died several years before, and both his parents were long dead. Jeremy had no mementos of his father, and there were no pictures of Regina other than some childhood photographs. He never mentioned Brian or discussed Regina’s second marriage to Conklin. And since there was never any publicity, there’s no reason to believe she knows otherwise.”
He leaned forward. “May I ask you something?” When I nodded he said, “What does this have to do with Scotty Granger?”
“Everything,” I said. “I’ll explain it to you at the right time.”
“Would you do me one other favor?”
“If I can.”
“The next time you decide to come and see me without an appointment, have the courtesy to act with decorum in my reception area.”
I gave him one of my nicer smiles. “I can do that.”
<><><>
A half second after I knocked on the door, it opened to reveal Lia, not her housekeeper. “You have news for me?” she asked, stepping back to let me in.
“We need to talk.”
An unreadable flash crossed her features. “Of course.” After closing the door, she motioned me further inside. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Scotch would be good.”
We walked into the living room and as Lia went to the bar, I wandered over to the large picture window and looked out at the city. It was almost six; the sun was still an hour and a half from setting and the city sparkled under its brightness.
Turning from the postcard perfect scene, I watched Lia pour the drinks and start toward me. Her hair was pulled severely back. She wore tight white pants and a pale blue halter-top. Her breasts were outlined beneath the taut material of the top, and several inches of abdomen were exposed between the halter-top and the waistband of the pants. She was the poster picture of a sensual and confident woman. Being barefoot enhanced the image.
She handed me the drink. “What have you found?”
I’d held a debate with myself from the moment I’d left Albright’s office until I’d knocked on her penthouse door. Should I tell her, and what purpose would it serve? I decided to follow instinct rather than knowledge. But just as I’d known Albright had been hiding things from me, I was certain Lia was too.
“Tell me what you know about your husband’s family.”
Lia’s eyes tracked to the drink in her hand, her brows furrowing. “I told you he had no family.”
“He had a family—a mother and father and a sister.”
She shook her head. “They’d all died before I met him. When I married him, I was his family.”
It was instinct pushing me on, triggered by something I saw in her eyes. “I asked you, the other day, if the name Brian Vandegroten meant anything to you. Why did you say no? Brian Vandegroten is your husband’s nephew.”
“Gabriel….” She backed away, her hand shaking enough to make the ice rattle against the glass. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, I am, but I need to know.”
Tears pooled beneath her green eyes. “Why is it necessary to drag Jeremy’s name down? He’s dead. The connection between Jeremy and Brian doesn’t need to be made public.”
My feelings vacillated between wanting to calm her down and making her tell me what she knew. “No matter what you or I want, Brian’s background will come out.”
A single tear spilled from her left eye and splashed on her check. “What good will it do?”
“Tell me what you know… please.”
And just like that, the fight went out of her. “I found out accidentally. Jeremy was on the phone, in the library. He was standing, his back to me when I walked in. I caught the very end of the conversation. He was angry, telling the person on the other end that if he called again he would destroy his career by going public. I’d never heard him speak that way before.”
She wiped away the tear with the back of her index finger. “Before I could back out, he’d slammed the phone down, turned and saw me standing there. His face was so angry it scared me. The instant he saw me, his face crumpled. He… for the first time since I’d met him, he looked old.”
She stopped to take a long pull from the glass, which no longer shook. “I made him tell me the story and when he finished, he made me promise I would never tell anyone.”
She pulled in a ragged breath, drew her shoulders back. “Why was this necessary? Why did you need to know all this? What possible connection is there to Scotty?”
With the last of her rapid-fire questions, I said, “Because he’s the man who abducted Scotty’s sister. He’s the man who murdered my friend.”
Shock turned her face ugly. Her mouth twisted, but no words came out. Now it was her entire body shaking, not just her hand. “That’s not possible. Why would he....”
Taking her hand, I led her to the couch and pushed her gently down. I sat next to her. “Lia, Scotty found out. He’d spent his entire adult life looking for the man who had stolen his sister. I don’t know how he did it, I may never know, but over the years, he pieced it together, found other girls who had been taken, and traced it back to Vandegr
oten.”
She shuddered. “You will get him won’t you?”
I nodded.
“When?”
“Soon.” It was a statement of fact.
“I want to be there when you do.” Her words were cold and stark and what I saw within their green depths chilled me.
“I can’t promise that, but as soon as it’s done I’ll make sure you know.”
“I want more than that.” Her eyes seemed to take on a neon glow.
“I’m sorry Lia, but he will pay the price for what he did.”
I put my untouched drink on the table and stood. “I’ll call you when it is done.” She didn’t look at me; rather, she stared off to the side, her face angry and her eyes distant and lost.
I made my way down to the street, puzzling over her reactions. What else was there she hadn’t told me? And was what she hadn’t told me something I needed to know when I came face to face with Scotty’s killer?
Chapter 60
I walked cross-town through the swarming people going home after a day at work. I didn’t pay any attention to them, or even the streets I walked along, lost in a maelstrom of competing thoughts abusing my mind with a hallucinogenic haze.
Lia’s reactions hammered at my subconscious, but what was trying to come out, wasn’t clear. Nor could I stop rehearsing the conversation I would soon have with Brian Conklin.
I ran through every possibility: every variation of what could be said and what he would say. The need to be prepared for any contingency was strong, but more than anything, I pictured him at the business end of my Sig and wondered if I had the strength and the willpower not to pull the trigger, as I’d promised Chris.
I was so deep inside my head that when I looked up for my building I found my feet had brought me to Scotty’s building. Why?
Debating whether to go home or to go up to his apartment, I let the fact my subconscious had brought me here make my decision easy.
