by Webb Hubbell
Clovis had been able to get the guest list for each of the rooms on the floor for the night of the murder and one week before and after, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him. He said every day more and more of the staff were opening up to him. It was a phenomenon I was relying on. Regulars at a restaurant, bar, or even a hotel become part of the family, and often a confidence slips out. So far Clovis hadn’t discovered anything to contradict the story in the papers of what had happened that night. He’d had no luck obtaining any surveillance tapes.
I gave Clovis the files Novak had sent. He and Micki had decided to send Paul to Nadia’s residence. Stella would search the public records, and at some point Clovis would visit the doctor. He told me Micki had been pretty adamant that she should take the lead, and I didn’t disagree. We did have a lively discussion about Nadia. He was amazed that a regular at the Mayflower bar wouldn’t have been recognized when her face appeared all over The Post as the victim. Maybe Novak’s source had gotten it wrong.
“You know, Jack, we were lucky before, but Novak isn’t the most reliable of sources.”
“I agree, but if the fingerprints match and the dead woman is Nadia, it is one hell of a break.”
“That it would be, and that’s why Paul needs to check out her apartment before someone else stumbles on her ID. Micki is supposed to get the autopsy results this afternoon,” he answered.
We had fun imagining Micki’s meeting with the sports agent—was he in for a surprise. I told him what little I’d learned about Logan and what we needed to learn from the four men who’d been at the banquet, along with the girl who had been the agent’s date.
I was a jealous wreck to hear that Clovis and Stella had gone to last night’s ball game where Bryce Harper had hit a grand slam in the ninth to win the game. I wasn’t so excited about their plan to have Beth work with Paul. On the other hand, Beth had proven her worth during the Cole case and would be in the way if she didn’t have something to do. This way Beth wouldn’t go anywhere without Paul being by her side.
I’d first met Paul during the Cole case. With his slight frame and owlish glasses, Paul didn’t fit one’s image of an investigator or bodyguard, but looks can be deceiving. He’d been a champion welterweight wrestler in college and is an expert in martial arts. Clovis had told me in the Cole case, “If I had a child, I’d rather have Paul protecting her than anyone else I know.” His opinion had proven to be accurate.
Over a second beer, I told Clovis how I thought the puzzle pieces might come together. I was convinced the key to the case was hidden somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee.
“And I think you’re crazy,” was his deadpan response.
We both laughed, but I stuck to my guns, and so did he. This type of give and take sharpened my thinking. I missed the input and perspective Micki and Maggie also provided.
Clovis concluded our long debate with a reality check.
“Jack, you’re off worrying why Billy’s family abandoned him and trying to figure out why a defense contractor wanted to sponsor a table at a football banquet. We have absolutely nothing that links Billy’s past to the murder of a prostitute. Furthermore, the few clues you’ve uncovered about the deceased do nothing to negate the fact that she was found with Billy in his locked bedroom, her blood and his semen everywhere, his fingerprints on the murder weapon. To top it off, he isn’t sure he didn’t do it.
“Any criminal lawyer worth his salt would be trying to develop a temporary insanity defense to negotiate a sentence of less than life without parole, and your mind is wandering in the Tennessee Mountains. Maybe you should chase after Carol Madison and let Micki do what she does best?” Strong words from someone I employed and trusted.
Well, I appreciate your confidence. Nothing you’ve said explains why someone wants me off this case. Why did a sniper fire a bullet inches from my head? Why did two men tried to kidnap Carol. No one seems to care a fig that Micki is representing Billy, not bothered in the least. I have to believe that somehow I learned something that concerns someone enough to make sure I’m not part of Billy’s defense. Think about that.”
“Jack, if I didn’t have confidence in you, I wouldn’t be here. But if someone wanted you off the case that badly, why didn’t the sniper shoot you outright?”
“I’ve thought about that, believe you me. I think it’s because if he’d taken me out in the hot tub, every authority from the locals to the Feds would feel the need to know why someone wanted to murder Billy Hopper’s lawyer. It might force them to rethink what happened in the hotel room that night. They want to see Billy go to prison, and they want this investigation over. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’m getting closer.
“I need your honest assessment on another matter first. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, okay.”
“Never have, at least not yet,” he smiled.
“I know you haven’t. That’s why I can ask.” I paused because I worried how to phrase the question and what Clovis might say.
“On occasion I’ve shown very bad judgment when it comes to the women I’ve found attractive. I cannot rule out Red and Lucy as potential suspects, but I’d like to think Carol has nothing to do with any of this. Yet she did come on to me at Red’s, Red and Logan are both clients of hers, and she did know I was going to be alone with her at the Eastern Shore. Am I once again being played for a fool? Give it to me straight, tell me whether I’m being stupid again.”
I’d laid my self-doubts out on the table, face up. He hesitated.
“My first reaction would be to tell you to never rule out anything. You can’t ignore your concerns. But I’ve met her. Martin told me how hard she fought her kidnappers, and I’ve seen her injuries—she could easily have been killed. She wasn’t worried about herself—she was worried about you, how you would react, what you would do. She was right to leave. We may both be wrong, we’ve both been wrong before. But I think if she’s involved, she’s being manipulated.
“You asked why someone wants you out of the picture. I don’t think it’s Carol, but consider this—is it possible that while you were with her you heard or observed something you shouldn’t have? It sounds to me like you were pretty focused on her, but could you have overheard something damaging to someone else?
“You told me the weekend was about information, and that you promised Carol that you wouldn’t breathe a word about anything you overheard or observed. No one else knew about your understanding, did they? Did any of the other guests seem nervous or worried?” he asked.
“The senator from Tennessee was worried I might say something about him sleeping with his young staffer, but I assured him I had a poor memory.”
Clovis responded with disdain. “I’m not talking about who was sleeping with whom. Think about it. Anything else?”
I thought about it as I finished off my beer, and then it hit me like a lead balloon.
“Clovis, that’s why I’ve got to get out of this place. This discussion is exactly what I need. Thank you for reassuring me about Carol, for forcing me to focus on that weekend. I’ve got one more question.”
“Shoot,” he answered.
“The young woman who was with Billy’s agent that night—was her name Claudia?”
“Claudia Ellis, yes. How on earth did you know?”
“Claudia spent that weekend with Senator Boudreaux. She’s the staffer he was with that weekend.”
“Coincidence?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Do I need to ask what you want Micki to do with this information?” Clovis asked with a smile.
My immediate reaction was Micki should interview her as quickly as possible, but then I thought the better of it.
“Hold off for now. If Micki barges in asking her about the Senator, it won’t take much to realize I’m involved and our cover is in tatters. Tell Micki what I just told you, but tell her to save Claudia for last. Have Micki interview the guys first, appearing to be more interested in the ot
her three girls. Let Claudia be more of a casual throw away. Meanwhile, let’s find out as much as we can about Miss Claudia Ellis. I bet you can find a couple of her office cohorts who don’t appreciate her getting promoted.”
I was tempted to call Micki with suggestions, but I’d probably get an ear full. Clovis simply needed to give her the information and subtly pass on my suggestion. Micki would probably handle the interviews better anyway.
Clovis brought me back to reality one more time.
“We may find there is something funny going on, or Miss Claudia may just enjoy sucking up to her boss. I know how you feel about coincidences, but we’re still no closer to coming up with a defense for Billy. Locked doors, bloody knife, his semen and her blood. What do they have to do with a philandering member of Congress? We could probably dig up dirt on a hundred Congressmen, but it won’t help Billy.”
“You’re right, but my gut says there’s a connection. We have to work this puzzle one piece at a time. The prosecution has had over a month to develop its case. We’ve discovered who the victim is in less than a week, and we’re learning more about the other characters. We have to be patient and follow the clues wherever they take us.”
“Okay, boss—anything else?” he asked.
“No, you’ve got enough on your plate. I’m still fascinated that Nadia was a regular at the Mayflower bar, yet no one has come forward to identify her. Answer that my question, my friend, and we’ll have made real progress.”
“Paul will have been to her apartment this afternoon, so I should have an answer for you tomorrow, how about that?” he smiled.
He rose to leave and said, “What are you going to be doing? I know sitting in this place all day is driving you crazy.”
He was right, but I still didn’t see a better alternative.
“I think it’s time I hit the books. I need to study up on Senator Boudreaux, Logan Aerospace, and Red Shaw. I’ve also decided I need to know a lot more about our client, Billy Hopper.”
“Billy? What don’t you know about him? He’s been all over the newspapers for over a month.”
“You know, when I take on a new antitrust client, I research the company, its financials, and its corporate philosophy. I haven’t done that with Billy. I’ve relied on his press and what little Marshall has told me. I need to do my own research.”
“Billy Hopper?” Clovis asked.
“Billy Hopper.”
50
WHILE CLOVIS WAS learning more about Nadia, Paul was checking out her apartment, and Micki was meeting with Billy’s agent, I retreated to my room and pored over documents that Maggie had obtained about the Lobos, Red’s other companies, and a report on Logan Aerospace from David Dickey. Billy would be my homework for the night.
My cell phone buzzed, and I picked it up.
“Novak here.”
I was equally abrupt. For some reason all our conversations began this way.
“Thank you for the information. The girl found dead at the Mayflower is most certainly Nadia. I will be able to compare fingerprints as soon as we get the autopsy. I’m no expert, but the photographs you sent were almost identical to those in the press.”
I expected an immediate response, but he said nothing.
“Alex?” I asked.
“I was afraid that would the case. Tell me—do you still believe your client didn’t do this?”
I responded without hesitation.
“More than ever. Who is this girl, Alex? Why are you so interested?”
“Information for information? I answer your questions and you tell me who did this?”
“I don’t know who committed the murder yet, but I’m convinced it wasn’t Billy. Anything you tell me may help me find out who killed her, or maybe who ordered her killed. The actual killer may be long gone. I can’t provide you what I don’t have. But I won’t hold back on you, as long as you don’t hold back on me. Who’s the girl?”
“She was my niece,” he said heavily. “She was recruited to this country by a piece of shit who is no longer relevant. Her parents finally contacted me after they hadn’t heard from her in several years. I tracked her down, paid for her release, and sent her to a clinic to get cleaned up.”
“But she was still in the business. Did she work for you?” I asked.
Novak exploded. “Absolutely not. I would never use a relative. Her father is my baby brother. I tried to reason with her, but her, shall we say ‘work life,’ had changed her, turned her to stone. She was appreciative, but told me she was going independent. She adamantly refused to get out of the business. The only thing I could do was make sure no one hurt her. She was working in DC under my protection, but that was it.”
“Thus the surveillance photographs,” I asked.
“Yes. I can’t tell you how many times I tried to get her to quit, but she laughed in my face, calling me a hypocrite. I believe she developed a very high paying clientele. She lived very well.”
“Do you know the identity of any of her clients?”
“No. She was very private. She was willing to go to their apartments, meet them for drinks, and arrange hotel rooms, that sort of thing. But as far as I know she never allowed a client to come into her home.”
“You said she frequented the Mayflower.”
“Information from my sources. I have no personal knowledge of where she worked.”
“Anything else you can tell me?” I asked.
“Yes, and this is why I called, why I must know who is responsible. She called me the day before she was murdered to say she was about to retire. She asked where she could go that no one could follow her. It was the first time I’d spoken with her in months. I promised her I would get back to her, asked if she needed money in the interim. She laughed, saying money wasn’t the issue. She had only one more night’s work, then she would be ready to retire.”
“One more night’s work – did you ask what that meant?”
“No, I assumed she was meeting with a high roller. After you called I tried to get in touch with her but got no response. Fearing the worst, I called some associates in DC and put two and two together, she was talking about a rendezvous with Billy. Do you realize how much the tabloids would pay for such a story? I’m telling you that Nadia was a cold-hearted woman—she would have sold her soul for that kind of money.”
“Alex, the problem with that theory is that it assumes she knew Billy beforehand. Billy swears he’d never seen her before and had no idea who she was. If she were somehow counting on seducing Billy when he came into the bar, surely someone would have seen her that night. How could she even know Billy would come to the bar after the banquet? According to the papers he was drunk and left with three girls on his arm. Hardly an ideal opportunity for a first meeting.”
“You’re reasoning rings true, and what you describe is not consistent with her cocky attitude. The way she talked, she was meeting a regular.” He sounded frustrated.
“Maybe someone arranged for her to be in Billy’s room, perhaps a bodyguard?”
“Not possible. She worked alone—no pimps, no bodyguards. I am certain of that.”
“Then how in the hell did she end up in Billy’s room?” I tried to keep an even tone.
“I’m sorry to say I have no idea, unless your client’s lying. Men do lie about such things, you know.”
He was right, of course. Billy would find it difficult to admit to either me or Marshall that he knew Nadia. If he had arranged to meet her in his room after the banquet, we might as well close up shop.
“Alex, I don’t know how she ended up in his room, but I hope you won’t do anything rash. I don’t believe Billy committed this crime, and you have to give me time to establish who did.” I was suddenly worried that Novak might seek some kind of retribution before I had a chance to prove Billy didn’t do it.
“I can be a patient man; you have proven to be very successful so far. But if you discover who murdered my niece, you must tell me. Do I have your word?”
“I will let you know what I discover, you have my word. My job is to establish that Billy didn’t do this, not necessarily to discover who did.”
I continued before he could object. “Did Nadia have any friends she might have confided in, someone who knew her clients, a girlfriend possibly?
“Not that I know of. She was very much the loner. Not once in any report was there mention of a girlfriend. She told me all along that she intended to make enough money to live comfortably on an island somewhere. She wanted to go somewhere that would let her forget her years in this country. She came close, only a day away. One more reason to regret that she was murdered. Jack, I must go, but let us both remember to what we have agreed.”
It wouldn’t do any good to remind him that he was also a man who had destroyed young girls dreams. Nadia had been right when she called him a hypocrite. Anyway, the line went dead.
I sat pondering our conversation, wondering how far I could trust the man. With a start, I realized he might be thinking the same thing about me. A strange bedfellow to be sure—I remembered thinking the same thing about Red. I wondered how many… I shook off my musings as a beep alerted me to an email—Paul.
Someone had removed everything that might connect Nadia to her residence—clothes, photos, files, shoes, and make-up, anything vaguely personal. The place was nicely furnished, but every closet was empty, the refrigerator and bookshelves were empty, no photographs or pictures on the walls. The apartment had been wiped clean of fingerprints, as had her car, which was parked in the complex. The property manager said Carla kept to herself, paid her rent on time, didn’t participate in any building meetings or social events, and never complained. From his perspective she was a perfect resident. The few neighbors who agreed to talk gave the same picture of a quiet and very private person.
Stella was trying to run down the ownership records for the unit, as well as any bank accounts she might have had. I called Novak back to tell him what Paul had found, or rather what he hadn’t found.
