Wearing the Spider (A Suspense Novel) (Legal Thriller) (Thriller)

by Schaab, Susan

  “God, I hope so. If she is, she’s the last person alive who’s named as a player in this Gerais Chevas deal and who’s resisting its closure. I’ve got to find her.”

  “The FBI has a task force dedicated to her recovery. They don’t like being impersonated and they don’t like losing a witness, so they’re pissed.”

  “If Senator Arbeson was murdered because of what he knew about Project Neon or what he threatened to do with that knowledge, Evie could suffer the same fate. Since we began putting the pieces together, I’ve been afraid that Levenger might decide he needed to—”

  “Don’t make yourself crazy. Senator Arbeson has many more enemies than just Levenger,” said Michael.

  “Another way Levenger could get Evie out of his way would be to frame her for murder. She’d be a natural suspect. He’s already set her up as the Senator’s mistress in the media.”

  “There could be any number of suspects—Levenger and his henchmen, ideological enemies, someone connected to Romez Nuevo, somebody who didn’t want to pay up on a bribe, a political assassin, one of Arbeson’s wives or lovers, their angry spouses. Everyone knows he had a hard time keeping his marriages on solid ground.”

  “I don’t like the odds that there’s anyone on that list who might have their sights on Evie.”

  Michael began re-dialing Agent Weber, but looked up to see the agent standing at the door of his office. The man was breathing hard and beads of perspiration were apparent on his forehead. He quickly glanced around the room, nodded at Joe and announced, “We’ve found Evie.”

  ~~

  In the intensive care unit of New York’s Saint Andrew Hospital, Evie was lying inert in a coma, her chart identifying her as “Jane Doe #2.” She had responded to physical stimuli, but her movements had been essentially reflexive. In the last few hours, the nurses had reported increased responsiveness, but her eyes remained closed.

  The doctor turned to a nurse standing next to him. “Keep her on oxygen and fluids. Continue the physostigmine salicylate. Contact me if there’s any respiratory difficulty or change in heart rate.”

  The doctor was joined by two uniformed New York Police Officers who quietly approached the foot of the bed and waited for the doctor’s attention. When the doctor turned and walked toward the officers, one of them stopped him and mumbled something in his ear. He smiled, reached for the chart at the foot of her bed, crossed out “Jane Doe #2” with his pen and wrote “Evelyn Sullivan.”

  As the policemen left the room to set up a post outside the door, Evie stirred. The doctor nodded to the departing men and walked back to her bedside.

  “Look at me, my dear,” he said.

  Evie slowly opened her eyes and blinked away a blur. A giddiness and fog permeated her brain, but she was able to focus on a man in a white coat standing over her. After a few minutes had passed, she could see him clearly. He was balding and wrinkled; he wore wire-frame glasses over kind eyes. A doctor, but not one she remembered ever seeing before.

  “I’m … confused. Where am I?” she said.

  “That’s understandable. You’re in the hospital. Saint Andrew. You had a serious encounter with some narcotic analgesics. And an allergic reaction on top of that.”

  “What? I feel dizzy … like I’m floating.”

  “Just relax. Your body is purging itself of the poisons. You’re going to be fine.”

  “Doctor …” Evie began.

  “Hechman.”

  “Doctor Hechman, how did I get here?”

  “I believe you passed out on Leonard Street in Soho. Someone called an ambulance for you.”

  ~~

  “I’m coming in,” said Ariel.

  “She’s at Saint Andrew. We’re headed there now,” said Joe into his cell phone. “Meet us in the intensive care ward.”

  “Have they arrested Alan?”

  “He’s being questioned as we speak, flanked by some sleazy defense attorney.” He looked over at Michael beside him in the taxi and smiled.

  Michael nodded a look of resignation at the characterization of his profession.

  “This is so unreal,” said Ariel into the phone. “Did Alan orchestrate this?”

  “That’s the theory. I’m going to kill him.” He glanced over at Michael who was now closing his eyes and holding his hands over his ears.

  ~~

  “Good morning, Evelyn,” said the doctor. It was good to address the patient by name. After coming out of a coma in the early morning hours of Wednesday, the 15th of September, Evie had slept a healing sleep and was now wide awake.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said before, Doctor. Narcot … what drug did you say was in my system?”

  “Morphine laced with atropine and some additional substance we haven’t identified yet. We do know that in the preceding days, you had inhaled methyl trichloride.”

  “When I was abducted, you mean.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Is that chloroform?”

  “Yes.” He walked over to a chair by the bed and laid the chart he was holding on the seat. He held an ophthalmoscope and leaned over her, examining her eyes. He told her to relax and with his thumb, gently lifted her eyelid while he looked into each eye. He finished and smiled at her. “Evelyn, your body didn’t react in the predictable way, which was advantageous in some ways. You had an allergic reaction. The allergic reaction to the drug mixture caused your body to expel as much of the poisons as possible as quickly as it could.”

  “You can call me Evie, doctor. But, okay … what were the disadvantages?”

  He smiled at her reaction and inquiry. She was engaged. A sign of recovery.

  “You were in a coma, but very briefly. Then you came around for a bit, yelled at the nurse and went back to sleep.” He smiled. “It looks good so far. I don’t think you’re going to have any long-term side effects, but we’ll watch you closely for a few days. Then we’ll have to do some periodic checking for after effects.”

  “Oh. Please apologize to that nurse for me.”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you, doctor. Everything hurts, and I feel absolutely exhausted.”

  “We had to stitch up a gash in your forehead and treat some cuts. You have some minor bruises, but they’ll heal.”

  She reached up with her hand and touched the dressing on her head.

  “We’ll see what we can do for the pain, but I want your system to cleanse itself a bit more first. Just rest. See if you can sleep some more.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.”

  “I’ve been sleeping for two days?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would I want to sleep some more?”

  He smiled … attitude … another good sign. “Evie, you should just relax. Do you feel like trying to eat something?”

  “Yes, something like … can I have soup? No, chowder?”

  “Okay. We’ll see what we can do.”

  After a bowl of clam chowder, she drifted back to sleep again. When she awoke, she felt much more clear-headed and alert. On doctor’s orders, she was now breathing on her own. The nurse helped her wash, brush her teeth and pull her hair into a low bun. It was a glorious feeling to be awake, aware and cleaned up a bit. At her request, they turned on the television for her, but she used the remote to switch it off after less than an hour.

  She was staring into space when Doctor Hechman re-entered the room, “Would you like a visitor?”

  “Who?”

  “There’s been quite a collection out there, but there’s one gentleman who has been most persistent.”

  37

  The doctor continued, “An FBI agent wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Send him in.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want some more time?”

  “No. Thank you. Really, thank you for everything. Could I have some water?”

  The nurse disappeared and returned with a pitcher of ice water and a stack of Styrofoam cups. She poured Evie
some water in one, announced that lunch would arrive soon and returned to the nurses’ station. Doctor Hechman stood and watched her for a few seconds and left.

  After several minutes, the hospital door opened again and a man who looked familiar walked in. He was speaking into a cell phone as he walked. “… taking a picture of the crime scene.” The end of his sentence hung in the air. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint his identity.

  “You’re FBI, right?” she asked.

  “Good. You’re awake,” he said. “I’m glad to see that you’re going to be okay. Agent Weber. Do you remember me?”

  “Yes, uuhhh, oh, Weber, Agent Weber.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I was watching the news. Is it true that Senator Arbeson’s been murdered?”

  “Yes, unfortunately it is.”

  “Are you here to arrest me?”

  He chuckled. “No, interview you.” His grin broadened into a sympathetic smile.

  The door opened again and Michael Scott entered.

  “Michael,” she said when she looked up. “Hi.”

  “Hello. God, you look great. You’ve got color in your cheeks. How’s your head?”

  “It’s a little sore,” she said. “But, I do like the drugs I’m getting here much better.”

  Michael smiled. “I’m so glad you’re okay. It was so frustrating knowing you were somewhere in the city and we couldn’t find you.”

  “Michael, where’s Joe? Is he okay?” Is he here?”

  “He’s going to be fine. He’ll be here soon.”

  “What do you mean? Did something happen to him?”

  “He’s having an x-ray. The doctor thinks he has a few broken ribs and they want to make sure there are no internal injuries.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “I’ll let him tell you.”

  Michael glanced over at Agent Weber and back to Evie. “Are you sure you feel up to talking for a few minutes?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  Michael walked over and sat down on the other side of Evie’s bed facing the agent.

  “We were looking for you with every resource we could muster,” said Agent Weber. “We found the apartment yesterday.”

  “What apartment?”

  “The one where you were being held.”

  “Oh, yes. Whose was it?”

  “Senator Winston Arbeson’s, but we don’t think he had anything to do with your abduction. At least, not directly.”

  “Alan.”

  “We’re working on several theories.”

  “Why would those men go to the trouble to kidnap me and then allow me to walk right out of that apartment?”

  “One theory is that whoever took you wanted to perpetuate the idea that you were having an affair with the Senator. Depositing you in his apartment was their way of planting your DNA in a place where it could support that allegation.”

  “Oh.” She became lost in thought for a few moments. Then she asked, “Where’s Alan? Is he one of your suspects? Has he been arrested?”

  “Well, there was an initial interview. And, he’s retained an attorney.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Well, we don’t exactly know.”

  “You don’t know?’

  “He, uhh. He disappeared. His attorney says he’s trying to locate him.”

  “Isn’t he under arrest?”

  “No charges have been filed yet, but I imagine they’ll be forthcoming.”

  “Do you have enough to indict?”

  “There was reluctance to move forward with what we had until we saw the evidence that Michael gave us and the tie-in with some evidence we’ve retrieved from the Senator’s apartment. There was enough for a limited warrant so we’ve started a search of his office and computer hard drives so we’ll see what that yields. I think there will be enthusiasm for moving forward.”

  “You have access to the firm’s computer system?”

  “No, at present there are explicit restrictions on the warrant, but we can sift through what’s on Alan’s disks, stored in his computer and anything in his personal office.”

  “Is he the only one who’s after me? Are there other people involved in the Gerais Chevas deal who want me silenced as well?”

  “We will have the answers very soon. I don’t think you’re in any danger now, though.”

  “With all due respect, your colleague was supposed to be protecting me.”

  “Yes, point well taken. Our biggest problem is always the bureaucratic hurdles we have to jump through for warrants, interviews, evidence gathering. And we owe you a serious apology for letting that kidnapping succeed. Never should’ve happened.”

  “Apology accepted. Is the press still camped out in the lobby?” asked Evie. “The nurses told me.”

  “Yes, but I’ll take care of them,” interjected Michael. “There are armed NYPD officers outside your door. Just relax.”

  The hospital room door swung open again and an attendant brought in a tray. There was a second bowl of clam chowder, a chicken salad sandwich, a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea and a bowl of chopped fruit. Evie let the attendant adjust her pillows and arrange the tray on her tray table. She took a spoonful of the chowder and a sip of tea before she continued.

  “Who do you think killed the Senator?”

  “We’ve got a few different theories on that as well.”

  “He was shot? That’s what the news reports were saying.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “I wonder what will happen to all his legal files.”

  “They will become federal evidence, right?” Michael looked over at Agent Weber as he spoke.

  “They will certainly be reviewed.”

  Evie spoke again, “Can I just say for the record that I’d never before seen the interior of that apartment, I never had an affair with Senator Arbeson and I had nothing to do with his murder?” she paused. “Nor did I have anything to do with initiating, arranging, negotiating or drafting the Gerais Chevas deal.”

  “Michael has already made a very convincing case on your behalf. May I ask a few questions?”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “This expense report you’ve identified as having a false hotel receipt attached—do you still have a copy of the Colonial Court receipt and the receipt from the hotel where you did stay?”

  “It’s in my briefcase, which was in the trunk of that car …”

  “I’ve got copies,” said Michael.

  “We’ll take them,” said Agent Weber. “This handwritten note you received in the mail—the one questioning whether you’d had an affair with the Senator. Was there any subsequent contact? Or did you receive any telephone calls in that same vein?”

  “No. No other personal contact. It’s all just exploded in the media because of that photograph with that woman who looks like me. Do you guys know who that woman is?”

  “Not yet. She hasn’t been identified, but she does look a whole lot like you.”

  “So the people with Senator Arbeson that night haven’t been found?”

  “Yes, but no one recalls her name or background. No one seems to know her.”

  Evie let her gaze wander.

  “We found a man’s gold cufflink in the drawer of your bedside table,” continued the agent. “It matches a cufflink owned by Senator Arbeson. Any idea how it got in your apartment?”

  “Oh my God. I thought it was an old one leftover from my last boyfriend,” she said thinking. “I remember coming home after shopping one Saturday morning and my apartment was unlocked. I never leave it unlocked. Then, when I saw those men outside my apartment, it occurred to me that they might have been inside my apartment. They could have planted it.”

  “Did you, at any time, keep a portfolio of newspaper clippings about Senator Arbeson under your bed?”

  “No! I can’t believe … NO! But, now that you mention it. Before that note was sent to me, I found one clipping of an article about hi
s marriage in the drawer of my office desk. I thought my secretary had put it there. Just FYI, you know? It was when I was first assigned one of his matters.”

  “Probably came from the same source that put that cufflink in your drawer. There was quite a collection of articles found under your bed marked up in red ink.”

  “Red ink! There was red ink on that article I found, but I didn’t put it there.”

  “Do you still have it? The article from your desk?”

  “No. I threw it in the trash. I had no idea at that time that I was being set up for murder.”

  “There were also some notes written in red ink in the margins. Handwriting analysis will tell us more.”

  “What did the notes say?”

  “Let’s just say that they were designed to convince the reader that you were in love with the Senator.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “We think the men who entered your apartment were both employed by a ‘security’ company who does a little for-hire surveillance.”

  “How could that one guy have followed me into the offices of Bartlett, Warren and Ivy’s that day?”

  “We’ve done some inquiring and we think that man was also doing some private investigating for an estate attorney at that firm and just happened to be there that day.”

  “So, those guys were just spying on me? Who was the man who called me and threatened me over the telephone?”

  “We don’t know yet, but there were only two such calls, correct?”

  “Yes, two.”

  “We have one occurring on the day you were abducted and the other one was on Tuesday, September 7th?”

  “That sounds right. I’d have to check my notes.”

  “Is there anything else you remember about your conversation with Ms. Adelio?”

  “She just said she had information for me. I told her that I couldn’t talk to her because her company was on the opposing side of the transaction that I thought was being handled by my firm. She emphasized that the information was for me, personally. I asked her what kind of information, but she wouldn’t tell me any details over the telephone. She said if the deal closed, she would lose everything.”