"Were you frightened?" someone shouted.
"Did Dupre admit that he murdered Senator Travis?"
Amanda waited patiently until the reporters quieted down.
"Those of you who know me know that I believe that the proper place to resolve a matter of this seriousness is in a courtroom and not in the press. So, I won't be discussing the case with you and I certainly will not reveal any attorney-client communications."
Several reporters continued to ask questions. Amanda waited patiently for the shouting to subside.
"I'm not going to comment on this case in the press," Amanda repeated. "I'm sorry, but that's my position. Let's go, Kate."
Amanda and her investigator walked away from the reporters and through the main doors of the Justice Center just as Tim Kerrigan jogged up the stairs from the street. The prosecutor stared for a second as if trying to place her, then smiled when he did.
"Hey, Amanda, it's been a while."
"Two years, the Harrison case."
"In which you were a graceful winner, if I remember correctly."
"You know my investigator, Kate Ross? She used to be PPB."
"Sure. You were involved in the Daniel Ames case."
"That was me," Kate answered.
The reporters and cameramen had been walking away when they spotted Kerrigan talking to Amanda. They surged toward them like a pack of ravenous wolves.
"What's with the reporters?"
Amanda looked over her shoulder and grimaced. "I'm handling Jon Dupre's case."
"Then we've got something in common. I'm prosecuting. Maybe I'll get to even our record."
"We'll see," Amanda answered without much confidence.
"Mr. Kerrigan," someone shouted.
"I'll leave you to your public," Amanda said.
"Gee, thanks," Kerrigan answered.
As the reporters closed in on her adversary, Amanda and Kate raced down the stairs and started to put some distance between themselves and the press.
"He's the jock, right?" Kate asked.
"Not just any jock. He won a Heisman about ten years ago."
Kate whistled. "How is he in court?" she asked.
"Good. He's smart and he works very hard." Then she sighed. "But the way this case is shaping up, he won't have to break a sweat."
Chapter Seventeen.
Oscar Baron's office was on the eighteenth floor of a modern glass-and-steel office tower. The waiting area was tastefully furnished and gave the impression that Baron was doing well, but Amanda knew that he was renting space from a firm and had nothing to do with selecting, or paying for, the reception-area furnishings.
The receptionist buzzed Baron and told him that Amanda was waiting for him. After five minutes, she started thumbing through a copy of TIME . Fifteen minutes later, Baron hurried into the waiting room.
"Sorry," he said as he extended a hand. "I was talking with a lawyer in New York about a case we're cocounseling."
Amanda pretended to be impressed that Baron was working with a New York lawyer as he led her down a long hall and into a moderate-sized office with a view of the river.
"So, Robard stuck you with Dupre," Baron said when they were seated.
"I took the case as a favor because no one else would touch it. I'm surprised you aren't representing Dupre. You'd have gotten a lot of media exposure."
"Yeah. I can see it now." Baron held up his hands as if he was a director framing a shot. "oscar baron's client gets the chair." He laughed. "Or maybe, mad pimp claims second lawyer victim. Just the kind of publicity I need. Besides, he couldn't afford my fee." Baron leaned forward and dropped his voice a notch. "And between us, I'm glad. Poor Wendell." He looked at Amanda wide-eyed. "There but for the grace of God, huh? I'm telling you, I've had nightmares about that little bastard. It could have been me in that room at the jail."
"You think Dupre might have tried to kill you?"
"Who knows what that lunatic is capable of."
"Did he threaten you while you were representing him?"
"Well, no, not directly. But the guy is scary. I always felt he was ready to explode. I guess I just got lucky. So, how are you two getting along?"
"We're at the feeling-out stage. You know how that is."
"Oh, sure. That's when they don't trust you and lie to you. Then you pass that stage and they trust you and lie to you."
Baron barked out a laugh and Amanda forced a smile.
"How long have you been representing Jon?" she asked.
"It was just this one case, but I represented a few of his girls when they got in trouble."
"The women who worked in his escort service?"
Baron nodded.
"Tell me about the escort-service case."
"I can't reveal any confidences without Jon's okay."
"Of course, but I'm interested in public knowledge. Information that's in the police reports. I'll need copies from you, anyway. I thought you could give me an abridged version now."
"Why do you need the police reports from the escort case?"
"The penalty phase. I understand that Dupre was rough with some of the women. The DA will try to introduce those incidents as evidence of his propensity to be dangerous in the future."
"Right, of course." Baron paused. "You know, that's a big file. It's going to cost a lot to make the copies."
"We'll pay for the costs, Oscar."
Baron looked relieved.
"Now about the escort service, how does that work?"
"Exotic Escorts is a pretty simple operation. Jon recruits the girls . . . ."
"How does he do that?"
"You've met him. He's a stud, and he's smooth. He'll go to the clubs where young girls hang out. He likes college girls. He'll pick up a freshman who's away from home for the first time. He'll fuck her silly, give her a little coke, and let her hang out in his hot tub. She falls hard for him. That's when he tells her about his business problem. How he runs this escort service and has this very good client who's in town for the evening, but the girl who was supposed to go out with this guy is sick. He tells her it's just like going out on a blind date, then he'll show his pigeon the jewelry and designer clothes she'll wear--all knockoffs, of course."
"Do they realize that they'll have to have sex with the customer?"
"Jon will be all embarrassed when he tells them about that part. He'll admit that the guy will probably ask for sex, but he says that it's up to her. That's when he mentions how much extra money she can make by doing this little extra favor for him."
"And this always works?"
"Of course not. But it worked often enough for Jon to build quite a stable. He hooks the girls on the easy money or the coke. He's clever about not using a girl too often, unless they're really into it."
"Don't the women catch on? Don't they see he's using them?"
"Some do."
"What happens then?"
"He lets them walk away, unless they're going to cause trouble. Jon can be pretty rough on girls who get out of line."
"Is the DA going to put on a parade of women who'll testify that Dupre beat them?"
Baron shrugged.
"How bad does it get?"
"It's in the reports. Besides, they're all whores. I would have clobbered them on cross."
"How does Dupre get clients?"
"The usual way. Some of the concierges at the better hotels are in his pocket. He doesn't pay them up front, except maybe with a free sample of the goodies." Baron flashed Amanda a knowing smile, and she wondered how often he'd sampled the goodies. "The real money is in the cut they make on every customer they refer. He has the same deal with the bartenders at the strip clubs.
"Of course, the best advertising is word of mouth, but Jon also runs ads in the singles magazines. You know, 'Spend a night with your fantasy girl.' He runs this disclaimer, 'Legal inquiries only,' but there's a nude or two in the ads in a sexy pose that's worth a thousand words. Most of the time, the customers want to date the girls
in the ad. Of course, they're models, a come-on. Dupre has a girl named Ally Bennett working the phones. She diverts them. She's really special. Just listening to her is like getting laid."
"Is she a business partner?"
"Jon doesn't have a partner. And, if he did, it wouldn't be a woman. He has no use for women. He despises them. I'm surprised that he's willing to have a woman represent him."
Amanda smiled but said nothing.
"So what's his relationship with Ally Bennett?"
"She's his go-between. She fields the calls, sends out the girls, and collects the money."
"He must trust her."
Baron shrugged. "As much as he trusts anyone. Ally also handles some of Jon's heavy hitters."
"Like?"
"Now there we're getting into attorney-client confidences. Jon will tell you if he wants to. You'd be surprised at some of the names."
"What's this costing the customer?"
"There's a three-hundred dollar call-out fee just to get the girl to the room. Jon made it high to cut out the penny-ante trade. Once the girl arrives, there's a fee schedule for lap dances or artistic posing. When that's done, the girl will ask about a tip. That's a cue for the customer to spell out what he really wants. That brings another fee schedule into play."
"It sounds like it can get pretty steep."
"It is. I told you, Jon's operation is strictly high-end. There's more money that way and less trouble. The cops are going to think twice before hassling a state senator or a circuit court judge, which means that there's less chance of feeling heat. And, if some crusader does make a bust, what have the cops got? Jon has Ally record all of the incoming calls, and there she is, telling Mr. Judge that Exotic Escort girls don't do the nasty for money."
"What about the girls? They can testify."
"Sure, but they don't. If they're busted, Jon pays the girl's legal fees, and the penalties for prostitution aren't stiff enough so the girls will turn."
"So how did the DA make a case against Dupre?"
"Lori Andrews. She was a single mother and the cops threatened to take her kid away."
"She was murdered, right?"
"Yeah, that was tragic," Baron said without real emotion. "When she didn't show for Jon's trial, the state had to dismiss. Of course, after what happened with Wendell, Kerrigan probably won't need much testimony to get a death sentence in this case. Then again, you might get a jury composed of people who hate lawyers. My suggestion: Tell a lot of lawyer jokes during jury selection and choose the folks who laugh the loudest."
Chapter Eighteen.
Tim Kerrigan heard shoes tapping rapidly on the marble floor of the Multnomah County Courthouse, and someone called his name. He turned and saw J. D. Hunter, the FBI agent he'd met at Senator Travis's cabin, walking toward him.
"Your office said you'd be here," Hunter said. "I'm glad I caught you."
"I just finished arguing a motion."
"Did you win?"
"It was a push."
"You have time for coffee? It's almost three. Coffee-break time where I come from."
"Thanks for the invite, but I'm up to my neck in work and I've got to get back to my office."
"Can I walk with you?"
"Sure. What's up?"
"Jon Dupre. The Wendell Hayes killing."
"Why are you interested in that? There's no federal crime."
"No, not directly, but Dupre may be connected to an international drug dealer who is financing terrorism. So it's peripheral, this interest in Dupre. Just loose ends."
"Who's the drug dealer, in case I run across something?"
"Mahmoud Hafnawi. He's a Palestinian living in Beirut. Let me know if Dupre mentions him."
"I will."
Hunter shook his head. "Dupre is one weird dude."
"Why do you say that?"
"The guy murdered his lawyer. Why do you think he did it?"
"That's a question we're all asking."
"Did Hayes and Dupre know each other? Was there bad blood between them?"
"Hayes knew Jon through his parents, but we haven't found any other connection. Dupre didn't even hire Hayes. The presiding judge asked him to take Dupre's case as a favor."
"I'd have thought he'd already have his own lawyer."
"He did. A guy named Oscar Baron, but Baron wouldn't represent Dupre because Dupre couldn't pay his fee."
"Any question about Dupre's guilt?"
"Of the Hayes murder? None. Wendell was killed in a contact visiting room up in the jail. They were locked in together. It's as clean a case as I've ever seen."
Hunter was quiet for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Considering the trouble he's in, it sure is odd he'd off his lawyer."
"Have you ever figured out why these people do the things they do?"
"You've got a point. Still, Hayes was one of the best, no?"
Tim nodded.
"You'd think Dupre would want a guy like Hayes running his defense, creating reasonable doubt, saving him from death row. If I was in Dupre's shoes, Wendell Hayes would be the last guy I'd kill."
"But he did. We have an eyewitness, a jail guard. He saw the whole thing. Poor guy was shaken up so badly that he's on administrative leave."
"I'm not surprised. Watching someone get sliced up like that and not being able to help. What did Dupre use?"
"A piece of jagged metal," Tim answered. "It looks like the lever they use to open and close the air vents in the jail. It had been sharpened to a point."
"Where did he get it?"
Kerrigan shrugged. "It's your typical jailhouse shiv, homemade. We're checking Dupre's cell and the rest of the housing unit to see if he made it himself, but Dupre could have bought it from someone."
They arrived at the elevators. Kerrigan pushed up and Hunter pressed down. The up arrow turned green.
"You heading back to D.C.?" Kerrigan asked as the doors opened.
"In a bit."
"Safe journey."
"Hey, I forgot," Hunter said. He handed Kerrigan one of his business cards. "In case anything comes up."
Hunter was smiling when the doors closed, like he knew some secret. Something about the agent bugged Kerrigan. He remembered feeling the same way when they'd first met at the Travis crime scene. There had been something about Hunter that had bothered him then. Suddenly he realized what it was. The cleaning people had discovered the senator's body only a few hours before Richard Curtis had called Tim and told him to go to the cabin. J. D. Hunter had told Kerrigan that he was picked to investigate Travis's case because the FBI wanted an agent from Washington involved in the murder of a senator. How had Hunter gotten to Portland so quickly? It would have taken time for Washington to learn about the senator's death. Even if Hunter flew to Portland on an FBI jet, there was no way he could have gotten to Travis's house as fast as he had.
Kerrigan was still mulling over this thought when he walked into the reception area of the district attorney's office and found Carl Rittenhouse waiting for him, unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, looking worse than the last time they saw each other. Tim's first thought was that he was taking his boss's death extremely hard.
Rittenhouse stood as soon as he spotted Kerrigan. "Tim, do you have a minute?" he asked anxiously.
"Sure, Carl."
Kerrigan motioned Rittenhouse to follow him to his office.
"Yesterday, at the house, you were talking about Dupre," Rittenhouse said as soon as Tim shut his office door. "You said he ran an escort service and some woman was killed."
"That's right." Kerrigan dropped his files on his desk and sat behind it.
"I wanted to tell you then, but I wasn't certain, so I found the article about her murder in the paper. There was a picture." Rittenhouse hung his head. "It was the same woman."
"I'm not following you, Carl."
"I'd seen the woman before, Lori Andrews. I took her to the cabin."
"The Senator's cabin?" Kerrigan leaned forward. "When was this? The night she was
killed?"
"No, a few months before. We were back in town for a round of fund-raisers. Harold asked me to meet her and drive her out. That's all. I never saw her again."
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