''Poor Lionel,'' Sarah mused.
''Yeah,'' Louise pulled her knees to her chest. Her chest pushed up almost to her chin but she managed to rest her chin on her knees. Her palazzo pants were purple, her peasant blouse white eyelet. She looked fetching. ''I feel bad that I've been after money when that's what did him in. I feel just like one of those slime balls.''
Michael turned his head and looked at Louise. As often as he saw her he never quite got enough of her. Louise was a piece of art, a work in progress. He looked back to his paperwork.
''I know where I've seen him. I know now.'' Kathleen had paled. Michael watched her carefully. She handed him the photo.
''Jules Porter. I have to laugh when I think about him telling me that things fall through the cracks like it was just business as usual. He was the one making the cracks. I can't wait to find out who's been forging my signature to approve these.'' Michael held up recent invoices that had been initialed with an MC that looked close to his actual signature. ''I hope they made a heck of a lot of money 'cause the gravy train is coming to a halt.''
''No, I didn't see him at Tysco. I saw him at Gerry's.''
''Gerry's? You mean the office?'' Louise rocked back, raising her eyebrows.
''No, his house. The night he had his accident. This man was across the street, getting in a car.''
They fell silent. Everyone knew what that meant. Gerry had been helped along with that slip in the tub.
''Oh Lord,'' Sarah breathed. ''Oh, Kathleen, I'm sorry.''
The lump in Kathleen's throat came up fast but she fought with that thought. She wasn't going to think the worst now. If she did she would fall apart. Instead, she lifted Michael's legs off her lap and poked through the hundreds of pictures Louise and Sarah had taken during their seemingly ridiculous surveillance. She picked out two, three and finally five pictures of Jules Porter.
''He was at the funeral, too.'' She laid her fingers across the top half of one picture. ''I recognize the suit. It was hard to miss. And that ring. He was in Richard's car at the funeral.''
''Hah!'' Louise scampered up, as best she could with the yards of fabric that swathed her legs. She went through the photos like a whirlwind until she found what she wanted. ''Wait 'till you see this!''
Kathleen looked and when she saw the photo in Louise's hands, everything went out of her head. Nothing but a flash of white-hot light remained. That and the full complete and painful realization that she had been stupid and ignorant and unworthy of Gerry at the moment she put Richard Jacobsen above him. When she focused again, she was able to look at that photo with clear eyes and she saw Richard and Jules Porter. Richard's arm was around the man's shoulder, like a father telling secrets to a son. They were two men with a great deal between them. At the very least they were guilty of misusing her and Gerry, Michael and their positions as powerful men; at the worst their sins included fraud, duplicity, possibly murder. And for what? To elect a man senator?
''What, Michael? What did they want from all this?''
''I don't know, Kathleen. I don't think like them, I can't conceive of what drives them.'' He moved closer and took the photo from her hand then wove his fingers into hers. She put her head on his shoulder. Sarah watched silently. Even Louise didn't disturb the moment. It hadn't just been Lionel who had died because of these man, but Gerry too, more than likely. A part of Kathleen went the same way, now that she knew.
''What do we do now?'' she asked of them all.
''What do you want to do?'' Michael asked.
''Get them,'' she answered without hesitation. Sarah nodded. Louise did too. The women moved closer together. ''What do we need so that we can get them?''
''Billing records from any one of the suppliers. We need to talk to Marlene and ask her to reassess the autopsy with the idea that Gerry didn't fall. We need to go to the police and get the investigator's report the night Gerry died,'' Michael said.
''I'll call Marlene tomorrow afternoon. I'll subpoena Richard's phone records to see if he called Greischmidt at home. It will take time, so what else until then. Sarah?'' The young woman sat up straighter. ''Will you sign a request to have Lionel's body exhumed?''
''Yes.''
''Michael. Will you come with me to the police?''
''You didn't even have to ask.''
''Okay. Then there's only one thing left that I need to do.'' The three people around the coffee table strewn with pictures and pizza looked at the tall blond with the very, very serious expression. She looked at each in turn. They were a funny collection, yet they were closer than any family could be, tied together by a man Kathleen had never met. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. ''Since we have to prove that the Tysco billings aren't just clerical errors, and we need to prove that there was a conspiracy that could implicate men in high places, and we need to make a case that these fine, upstanding citizens were fearful enough of detection to kill a Tysco auditor who was asking too many question,'' Kathleen paused, a tiny, cold shiver gripping her. It didn't last long. There was no other decision she could make. ''Since we need to do all that, I'm going to have to get the Tysco billing from Shay, Sylvester & Harrington. I better do it soon, because I don't think I'm long for that place.''
They all had their jobs. Michael was going to take on Jules Porter. Sarah and Louise were off to city hall to ask the mayor a few questions during the afternoon city counsel meeting and Kathleen was headed into the office to see her new best friend in accounting. God knew how she was going to wangle the Tysco billing, but have it she would by the end of the day, even if she had to steal it.
''Morning, Kathleen.''
She stepped into the elevator and smiled at Doreen. Rude though it was, she turned her back and watched the numbers slide by as the elevator took them to the office. Kathleen didn't have an ounce of small talk left in her. When the doors open, she stepped out, thought twice about her silence and realized later it could be construed as odd behavior. She waved at Doreen.
''Have a good one.'' Kathleen managed a smile that she hoped looked somewhat normal. But nothing was normal, nothing felt right. She had dressed as usual and put on her face as usual and it all seemed like a poor disguise. Kathleen wished she could throw it off and run to the Marina. She'd make Michael take the boat out. She'd throw her head back and let the sun bake her. She would be renewed, reborn and she would choose every step she took after that with such great care that she would build the life she wanted, not live the one she thought she wanted.
But that would be later. Now, she had chosen to do this thing. It was right and just and Gerry would have done it himself had he been there. So she smiled at the receptionist as she went by. The woman smiled back then did a double take.
''Oh, wait, Ms. Cotter. Come back.''
Kathleen hesitated. She didn't want to be out in the open or noticed. She just wanted to be in her office, biding her time until she could make her move. But two other associates were headed her way and she was blocking the door that led to the offices. She had no choice but to retrace her steps.
''What is it?'' She asked, resisting the urge to bolt for the elevators and run.
''Here. Mr. Blanco left this for you. He said you weren't even to have a cup of coffee, but to meet him there as soon as possible. I really thought you'd be in earlier so make sure you tell him that I gave you this as soon as I saw you.''
''Sure. No problem.''
Kathleen ambled away, hitching her briefcase and opening the note with one hand. Harry Blanco was second seat on the suit the government had brought against her client. Harry Blanco was a good guy, but he sure had lousy timing. The request for on-site investigation had finally come through and she was on call to follow up.
Kathleen looked toward the door knowing she had no choice. To refuse would be suicide. There would be questions, perhaps asked before she had time to get the back-up she needed. Checking her watch, she saw that it was already inching toward nine-thirty. San Pedro was forty-five minutes away. Two hours with
the guy max and she'd be back by mid-afternoon. Maybe it was better. Everyone was focused in the afternoon. There wouldn't be many people roaming around looking for coffee or poking their noses into her business. Kathleen went to the phone in the reception area and dialed Michael.
''I won't be able to finish that business until this afternoon,'' she said, hoping she sounded as if she were just filling in a client.
''No problem. I got stonewalled when I called Jules this morning. I'm going to do some housekeeping around here and head in a little late.''
''At least we're on the same timetable. I'll see you as soon as I'm done. I love you,'' she said without giving a second thought to the fact she'd never said it before.
''I love you too,'' he answered without one whit of hesitation.
That she noticed. It made everything all right.
The minute Kathleen was in the elevator, the receptionist picked up the phone.
''She's gone, Mr. Jacobsen.''
''Excellent.'' He answered, and then made another call. ''Meet me,'' was all he said.
The pictures in the file didn't do justice to the Ardol refinery and manufacturing plant. On film, the place looked imposing enough, but in reality it seemed to be some alien village transported intact to this scruffy place just off the San Diego Freeway in one of the less attractive parts of San Pedro. From afar she could see low slung buildings that no one had bothered to prettify like Tysco. Huge tanks ballooned here and there, sitting like Sumo wrestlers resting on their haunches on acres of untended land. Some were connected by arteries of bulbous pipes and veins of spidery ladders and catwalks. Some stood stoically alone. The place appeared to be deserted.
Kathleen looked at her notes and turned left when she hit Anaheim Road, almost passing the small east gate where she was supposed to turn in. She flipped the wheel, the tires screeched and she drove a quarter mile to a security gate only to find there was no security. But there were two cars in the parking lot. The place wasn't quite deserted. Slowly she accelerated and parked next to the green sedan, squinting toward a small building off to the south that seemed to be a place where she should check in.
She left her briefcase but took her tape recorder and camera. Just as she was locking her fantastic new Shay, Sylvester & Harrington company car, she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. A man in a hard hat left the small building and disappeared around the corner. Kathleen thought of calling after him but the day was already warm and she didn't have the energy or the inclination to hurry. Her mind was elsewhere, which, when she thought about it, didn't come as much of a surprise.
She fiddled with the tape recorder then put it back into her purse along with the camera as she took the three steps up to the office. Opening the screen door, she walked into a big, very empty room. Kathleen spent all of two minutes checking it out then went back outside to stand on the little porch. For a second she shaded her eyes, looking for the man in the hard-hat. Unable to see him, she followed in his footsteps and walked into the bowels of the refinery.
''Damn. Damn.'' Michael kicked the back wheel of the BMW then he kicked the front wheel. ''Damn!''
Traffic slowed to look at him, hateful rubber-neckers on the North 405. Above him a traffic helicopter was no doubt issuing a Sigalert and thousands of early lunch commuters would be cursing him for pulling over to the side and causing a distraction. God knew what was wrong with this thing and only God knew why he was the only one in the world who didn't have a car phone. With one final kick to the tire, Michael started to walk. The next freeway emergency phone was a half mile away. That would give him time to cool off. He didn't want to be crazed when he saw Jules Porter - he wanted to be fully in control when he ripped out that idiot's eyes.
Louise popped a breath mint and offered Sarah one. Sarah shook her head. Her hair was back to normal, parted in the middle, hanging over her eyes.
''You okay?'' Louise asked.
''Sure. Yeah.''
''Hey, don't you worry about anything anymore. We're going to have you home in no time. Tell you what, after all this is over, when they finally figure out about Lionel and Kathleen gets me that money from All Life, I'll buy you a present to cheer you up. New rabbits. How's that sound?''
Sarah swiveled her head, that shy little smile on her lips.
''That's a nice thought,'' she said quietly, but Louise wasn't listening.
''Oh my God, look who's coming. Looky, looky. Can you believe it? The man himself. Guess we won't be going to city hall today. That jerk. That idiot. Come on, Sarah,'' Louise said, reeling the seat belt over her substantial breasts, ''let's go on a little road trip. Whaddaya say?''
Louise didn't need to ask twice. Rambo was back. Sarah turned the key and bided her time. When he drove out of the parking lot, she was on his tail like a pro.
''Hello! Mr. Nola? It's Kathleen Cotter. Mr. Nola?''
Kathleen stopped walking and did a half turn. She had no idea where she was or where she would even begin to look for the man she was supposed to meet. Three more minutes and she was out of there. She'd just have to tell Mr. Blanco that she never connected with engineer Nola. She'd make another appointment. Of course, once she had the Tysco files, she wouldn't be keeping anymore appointments. She'd probably never work in this town again and that thought alone was enough to give her a giggle. Cherie was right. Working in this town wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
''Mr. Nola!'' She tried one more time finishing her turn just in time to see some movement. Her heart leapt to her throat then settled down. The man was coming from between two cylindrical storage tanks. The odd shadows made his approach seem slow and sinister. Kathleen started forward. ''Hi, I was worried we were going to miss each other.''
She stopped the minute she heard his voice.
''Don't worry your attractive little head, Kathleen. I wouldn't miss this for the world.''
Richard Jacobsen emerged from the shadows. Impeccably dressed he looked as oddly out of place here as she did in her high heels and fine make-up.
''I didn't know this was such an important meeting that the general partner would show up,'' Kathleen said cautiously.
''Oh, this is a very important meeting. In fact, Kathleen, you have become one of the most important people in my life.'' Kathleen blanched. Her eyes darted side to side, snapping back toward Richard as another man materialized. This one discarded a hard-hat as he came forward. Richard smiled at him and made the introduction. ''I believe you know Jules Porter - if not formally, perhaps by reputation.''
Kathleen nodded. Jules did not. Instead he came close behind Richard, touched his shoulder and let his hand run across his back as he positioned himself to the side and slightly in front of the smaller man. He was so close Kathleen could smell his after shave and see that his eyes were glassy. His hands shook ever so slightly and the intimate pose of the two men made her more than uncomfortable - it made her afraid.
''I wouldn't suggest you try anything,'' she said, knowing her warning fell on deaf ears. ''There are others who know exactly what you've been up to. They know why Lionel Booker was killed. Even if you hurt me, they'll still go to the police and tell them everything.''
''And what exactly is it you know, Kathleen Cotter from Banning, California? Do you know why Lionel Booker had to die?''
For a minute Kathleen was speechless. He hadn't denied it. Good Lord, she felt sick. Thinking of Sarah, knowing how afraid she had been and how courageous, Kathleen willed herself to the same bravado. If she didn't do something she would die of fright.
''I know that you've been manipulating city billing.'' She spoke slowly, looking for any sign that she was off base with her theories. There were none. Richard was so very, very confident. She couldn't look at Jules Porter, he was too frightening. Kathleen licked her lips and went on. ''So has Tysco. I don't know why, but I know it is happening. I've seen the paperwork at Tysco.''
''Crawford,'' Jules muttered.
''Just so,'' Richard answered back.
&n
bsp; ''What I don't understand, Richard, is why? Why on earth would you do such a thing? You have everything.'' Kathleen took a step, the first effort in a still as yet unformed plan to escape. Her heart sank when neither man looked concerned.
''No one has everything. There's always more to gain. The more you gain, the greater your stature. The world isn't as limited as you would imagine, Kathleen. The reason you will always remain a little girl from a little place is because you have no imagination.''
''I was willing to learn.''
''You were. But you were too much your uncle's niece. You would never be willing to play.''
Reaching for straws, Kathleen bluffed. ''Try me.''
Richard looked at Jules. He looked concerned, even worried about the younger man, but Kathleen was asking him to prove his superiority. He couldn't resist.
''It was simply a beautiful plan. We have a marvelous network of men in positions of varying degrees of power, all of whom would like to be more powerful or be held in greater esteem. We siphoned off city costs to other clients where we knew the additional charges would be buried in piles of paper work. The Pentagon does it all the time.''
''To what end?''
''To get Carl Walsh elected.''
''Is he really that special? Will he be such a fabulous leader if he is elected fraudulently?'' Kathleen felt light headed. He was right. She wasn't cut out for this. None of it made sense.
''Carl won't be anything in and of himself,'' Richard answered. ''And that's why I say your vision is limited. All we want is a friendly body where it counts. We've done well by the city; the business is prestigious and lucrative. We helped Carl's bottom line look good; he made us look good to our shareholders and board of directors by giving us city business. If Carl was in a position to funnel federal money to Shay, Sylvester & Harrington, Tysco and a few others, our billings would be incredible, our status in the business world beyond compare. Our influence would be worldwide. It was just business. Bottom line stuff. We wanted Carl Walsh in Washington and he needed a track record no one could take exception to. Money always talks.''
Character Witness Page 30
