Flight ik-8

by Jan Burke

  Today the building would be officially dedicated, and tomorrow — according to the county’s plans — Judge Lewis Kerr would preside over the first case to be heard there.

  At this moment, Kerr would be in his new office on the seventh floor. Haycroft focused his attention on the window of that office and pictured Kerr as clearly as if he had telescopic vision. Kerr on the phone, Kerr rehearsing his speech, Kerr using the final hours of his life to deal with trivialities. His staff busy with last-minute details before the event. He had studied Kerr’s behavior over the years and knew that Kerr would be one of the last people out of the building before the ceremonies.

  Kerr, he thought with a smirk, was a theatrical man. He belonged in costume, not judge’s robes. He loved nothing so much as an entrance. Every time Haycroft had observed him in public — at every political dinner, every civic function — Kerr had swept in as the last of the polite arrivals — never precisely late, never taking too much advantage of his host’s or hostess’s tolerance, but always looked for, always anticipated.

  Haycroft knew Kerr’s habits and timing as well as if they were doing a trapeze act together. Thirty minutes or so before the beginning of the event, when the organizers would have been gratified and relieved to see the judge, Kerr would send his minions ahead to assure everyone that His Honor was on his way. Kerr would next send Maggie, his clerk, last of all. And with less than five minutes to spare, when the audience was already accustomed to the presence of all the other dignitaries, Kerr would come shining into their midst. He would allow enough time to be shown to his place on the dais and little more. Just in time to cause a little stir.

  Yes, Kerr would stay in his office, far above it all, judging nothing so well as his moment.

  Haycroft knew exactly where Kerr’s desk was positioned. Perhaps even now Kerr was looking down on the plaza from behind his mirrored window. Or slightly beyond the plaza, to a man sitting on a bench, looking up at him.

  Sadly, at this distance Haycroft could not see the reflection of his own face in Kerr’s window. Although he had no difficulty imagining Kerr and his office, he could never imagine his own likeness. That had to be seen for itself.

  “Dr. Haycroft?”

  He gave a small start and turned to see one of the guards from the old courthouse.

  “Hello, Denise,” he said, smiling. He didn’t bother correcting the “doctor.” He had a master’s degree and much more experience than Dr. Larson. If this kind woman wanted to confer a doctorate on him, so be it. She had seen him many times in the older court building. He always made a point of getting to know such persons in any setting. After all, a janitor usually had more keys to city hall than the mayor.

  “Whatcha doing out here all by yourself so early? The big to-do won’t start until noon.”

  “I’ll be gone then, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, now that’s a shame. They work you too hard in that lab.”

  “Actually, I’m on leave and about to go out of town.” He added the lie he’d told Larson. “There’s been a death in my family — an aunt of mine.”

  “I’m so sorry!”

  Her look of genuine sympathy touched him. “Thank you. It’s made life rather chaotic, I’m afraid. Are you on your morning break?”

  “Yes, just on my way to that coffee place across the way. I’m gonna get me a real cup of coffee. You ever drink the awful stuff they serve in the courthouse?”

  “No,” he said, horrified.

  She laughed.

  “Will you be watching the ceremony, Denise?”

  “No, you and me, we’ll be the only ones to miss it. I’ll be working.”

  “Where?” he asked sharply.

  She laughed. “Where? Where do I always work? Somebody has to guard the entrance to the old building — even on a day like today.”

  He relaxed and smiled. “Maybe that won’t be such a bad place to be after all.”

  She shaded her eyes and looked up at the cloudless sky. “Yes, you may be right. Maybe I’ll make that an iced coffee. You take care, Dr. Haycroft.”

  He watched her enter the coffee shop, then stood up and, making sure he did not touch any part of the bag that had touched the bench, threw the bag away. He felt uneasy. He would have preferred not to have been seen here by anyone he knew, but there was no reason to panic. Still, he should be more careful.

  He could go back to the van for a time, listen to the radio — any moment now he should be able to hear the reports of the death of Detective Frank Harriman of the Las Piernas Police Department. He looked at his watch and released a breath he did not even realize he had been holding. He had time.

  He had a little moment of mistrust in himself. Had he done everything properly? Did he follow Wendell Leroy Wallace’s instructions as he should have?

  Of course he had! Was anyone more conscientious than he was? No. The device would go off at the appointed hour. There was nothing to worry about. The great day was here. Kerr, that most unjust of judges, would be gone, as would his monument to his own ego!

  Although he was eager to hear about the results of his work at Harriman’s home, he wasn’t sure he could pull himself away from looking at the new courthouse annex. After all, Harriman was undoubtedly already dead. Haycroft could stay here and watch the destruction of the courthouse — see the grand results for himself — all the while knowing that Kerr would be entombed in its rubble.

  He debated over this for some time, but decided he would make one last trip to the van now, so that he could satisfy his curiosity about the outcry that would be attached to Harriman’s death. If he waited much longer to do so, he might not ever hear about Harriman, because that rather minor news item would be bumped right off the air by the courthouse debacle.

  He must hurry. The first of the little events he had planned for the courthouse was not far away.

  47

  Friday, July 14, 10:50 A.M.

  Las Piernas County Courthouse

  “Ms. Kelly and Mr. Lefebvre,” the guard said, smiling at Seth as they passed through the metal detectors. She handed Irene’s purse back to her as it came through the X-ray machine, then gave them each a visitor’s tag. “If you’ll have a seat right over there, Judge Kerr’s clerk will be down in just a moment to escort you up to his office.”

  “Thank you,” Seth said.

  As they took their seats, Irene thought Seth seemed restless.

  “Would you like me to call Jack?” she asked. “You don’t have to be here with me, you know.”

  “No, I have to see the judge.”

  She raised her brows. “You do?”

  “Yes. About a please bargain.”

  “A please bargain?” she asked in a strained voice.

  “You know, you ask, ‘Pretty please, Judge, will you let me go?’ and you do something nice for him, and it’s a bargain.”

  She looked away for just a moment, then said, “Do you think maybe you mean a plea bargain?”

  He shrugged.

  “Is this about your mom?”

  “Yes. I don’t want her to go to jail.”

  Irene put an arm around his shoulders. “You know, Seth, she may not be in any trouble at all. And she has a good lawyer — he’s a friend of mine. He’s kept me out of jail a couple of times.”

  His eyes widened. “You were arrested?”

  “No, thanks to my lawyer. Your mom isn’t under arrest, either. But this is one of those times when you just have to let other people help her.”

  He thought about this for a moment, then said, “May I please call her?”

  It was not the first time today that he had checked on Elena, and Irene saw this as a sign that he had been more frightened by recent events than he was letting on. “Sure.” She handed him her phone.

  He turned it on, pressed the redial button, but it beeped twice without making the call.

  “It’s not working,” he said, then read the screen. “It says ‘No Signal.’”

  “We’ll try again whe
n we’re outside. Sometimes my phone doesn’t work so well inside buildings.”

  Maggie Koopman, the judge’s clerk, arrived and took them up in the new elevator, fawning over Seth in much the same way he had been fawned over all morning but talking to him as if he were a not-too-bright two-year-old. The irritation Irene felt over this distracted her from the mild claustrophobia she felt in any elevator. But when Maggie stepped out of the elevator ahead of them to lead the way, she was allowed some comic relief — Seth turned to her, rolled his eyes, and pantomimed “gag me.” She wondered what Maggie would say if she told her that only Tory Randolph had previously earned this rating.

  “Irene, welcome!” Judge Kerr said as they entered the office. “The rest of my staff is already downstairs, but Maggie here stayed behind so that I could take a few minutes to show you around before the ceremonies.” He offered a hand to Seth. “And you must be Seth Lefebvre. I’m Judge Kerr, and I’m glad you were able to come to the party today.”

  Like Maggie, Judge Kerr was all smiles, but he seemed to have a better sense of the dignity due a boy of nine. If Kerr wasn’t thrilled about having a kid hanging around at a time like this, he was too smart to show it. He undoubtedly wanted her to write a flattering article about the building and the ceremony — and himself — and probably would have let her bring just about anything short of a wild boar along with her if she had asked.

  Seth had immediately gone to the big window. Irene quickly joined him there — she needed to counteract the effects of the elevator. Seth began asking Kerr about the arrangements for the ceremony and the new building. She hoped that the impish streak she had noticed in Seth would not resurface over the next few minutes. They were doing fine until Seth — perhaps building up to his “please bargain” — decided to pay Kerr a compliment.

  “That’s a nice dress you have on,” he said.

  To her relief, Kerr laughed and thanked him.

  Maggie knocked softly on the open door. “Excuse me, Judge Kerr, but the telephones just went dead! Shall I go downstairs to see what the problem is?”

  “Of all the confounded nuisances!” the judge said. “Yes, thank you, Maggie.”

  “Perhaps we should all go downstairs,” Irene said. “We can always get the tour later.”

  “Oh, no,” Maggie said. “You two just got here. Relax — I’ll be right back.”

  48

  Friday, July 14, 11:00 A.M.

  Las Piernas County Courthouse

  “You are certain we will be able to reach his offices from this building?” Dane asked.

  “Yes, sir. The older building and the new one are connected by a stairwell.”

  “And why did you choose this route?”

  “Because we have influence over persons in this building, sir. We haven’t yet made arrangements with anyone in the new annex.”

  “Perhaps we should have anticipated that need?” Dane suggested.

  “I urged Derrick to do so, sir.”

  Dane smiled to himself but said nothing.

  In that silence, they heard the first sound, a muffled bang.

  “Gunfire?” Dane asked.

  “No, sir, at least I don’t think so. It didn’t quite have that sound.”

  “Do you have your weapons handy?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s another reason why we must take the stairs.”

  “Because our friends who are guards don’t work near the damned elevators. Yes, I understand. Lead on, Myles.”

  49

  Friday, July 14, 11:00 A.M.

  Paul Haycroft’s Residence

  Frank looked through the opening made by the ax. Except for the mess caused by the removal of the vent, the room before him was clean and orderly. File cabinets lined one wall. A workbench was along another. There was nothing on it.

  He put on gloves, then stepped inside. Pete came up the ladder after him.

  “So far, nothing downstairs — place hardly looks lived in,” Pete said. “To the point of being strange. And two other things — mirrors in every room, and it smells weird — like bathroom spray.” He stepped through the opening in the attic wall. “Will you look at this? I kept thinking all that spray meant there was a body rotting up here for sure. And it’s nothing but an office. All I smell now is a lawsuit.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure it’s only an office,” Frank said. “Not with that alarm system and steel access door.” He moved closer to the file cabinets. “The dates go back twelve years.”

  “That’s about when his son died,” Pete said.

  “Got your lock picks?”

  “I’m better at it than he is,” Pete told the SWAT officer. “My first wife proposed to me after she saw me pick a lock.”

  “On what, her chastity belt?” he asked.

  But Pete was focusing on his work. Within seconds, he popped the lock on the first cabinet. He opened a drawer — it was filled with carefully labeled folders filed by date.

  Frank pulled a few of them out. “Court cases. Transcripts. A few newspaper clippings.” He quickly looked through four of them. The charges varied in each case, from drug dealing to assault, from kidnapping to murder. They all had two things in common — the defense prevailed and Judge Lewis Kerr presided. All the budding confidence of a few moments ago left him, replaced by a sense of dread.

  You’ve only looked at a few. Don’t jump to conclusions.

  He absently reached to rub his forehead, felt the surface of the glove, and stopped.

  “What was the name of the shooter at the bank?” Frank asked.

  “What bank?” Pete was concentrating on the other file cabinets. But now he looked up and said, “Oh, you mean the one Lisa got involved with?”

  “Right,” Frank said, feeling his hands dampen inside the gloves. “Christ, it’s hot in here.”

  The SWAT officer and Pete exchanged a look.

  “Carl Sudas,” Pete said. “Prime asshole.” He finished the file cabinet locks and moved on to the desk, which took even less time. “Empty,” he said. “Except for a book. Winging It.”

  “By Bray and Killeen,” Frank said. “Look on page ninety-eight. You’ll find Dinterman’s Stunt Flyer.”

  “That’s your plane, all right. You can even see where he traced the lines on the plans.”

  “Not much by itself, but maybe it will help. Take it as evidence.”

  “Paper airplanes?” the SWAT officer asked. “The guy builds a damned fortress for files and a paper airplane factory?”

  Frank studied the access door. Haycroft’s ceiling had larger than usual joists — two-by-twelves. There was a gap of about eleven inches between the floor of the attic and the ceiling below it. “Maybe he’s swept it all under the rug. Let’s start over by that workbench.”

  Frank lifted a corner of the carpet. “Not tacked down.”

  “Bingo,” Pete said as Frank slid a long section of the plywood beneath it away.

  Tucked in the spaces between joists were numerous small containers.

  Frank gently lifted one. “Look at this. He’s sorted all the nuts and bolts by size, marked the containers.”

  “Those are spools of fuse material,” the SWAT officer said, pointing to another section.

  “Better let those bomb squad folks take a look at this stuff. They might be able to match up some of the hardware to the devices they defused last night.”

  The SWAT officer used his radio to put in a request for a bomb tech.

  Frank forced himself to go back to the files. He pulled a few more out and found that these, too, were defense wins in Kerr’s court. He moved to the end cabinet. More of the same.

  “Jesus,” Frank said, feeling his stomach knot. “Kerr was the one who cut Sudas loose, right?”

  “Yeah, but Hitch blew that case and everyone in Detectives knew it. The department doesn’t like to paint it that way, but that’s the truth.”

  But Frank was thinking of Irene, at the courthouse with Seth, visiting the man who was so clearly the object of Haycrof
t’s obsession — Haycroft loose, nowhere to be found.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “What?”

  “Call Kerr — tell him he’s Haycroft’s next target.”

  “Hoo, baby,” Pete said. “Hold on a minute. A judge? You’re going to tell Judge Curse we’ve got a nut from the lab on a twelve-year-old revenge trip — a guy who’s also been fucking with evidence all that time? Think twice about that one. Besides, I thought Carlson was supposed to handle all the release of information to media and other agencies.”

  “Haycroft’s obviously focusing on Kerr. The man’s life might be in danger — and Seth and my wife are with him.”

  “What?”

  “Irene is interviewing him today. She’s got Seth with her. Never mind — I’ll call.”

  “Look, there are guards and metal detectors at the new courthouse, and twice as much law enforcement there today as on any other. Besides, Irene will be watching for him,” Pete said. “If I were you, I’d take a minute to run it past Hale.”

  Frank decided that might not be a bad idea — but not because he was seeking Hale’s permission. Hale could mobilize all kinds of personnel. Frank walked to the opening in the wall, where the signal was stronger. But when he made the call, the chief’s secretary said, “He’s not in, Detective Harriman. Shall I take a message?”

  “Page him. Tell him it’s extremely urgent — an emergency involving a judge’s life.”

  He disconnected and called Irene. To hell with the department. He got her voice mail. “Irene, if you can get out of this appointment with Kerr, please do so. If you’re already with him, warn him — I think Haycroft’s going to try to kill him today — maybe at the ceremony.”

  He had no sooner disconnected than the phone rang.

  “They found his van,” Reed said. “We’re closing in on the bastard!”