Ties That Bind aj-2

by Phillip Margolin

  "Lets get together for a beer or a movie sometime," Grace said. "No business."

  "Sounds good."

  Kate had watched the exchange. "Why the question?" she asked once Grace left the courtroom.

  "Only Judge Grant, Wendell Hayes, and Grant's clerk knew that the judge was going to appoint Hayes. If Hayes wanted to distract the guard at the desk so he could smuggle in the shiv, it would help to have a pack of howling journalists flashing lights in Larry McKenzie's eyes and causing their usual havoc."

  twenty- Seven

  The reporters were waiting when Tim Kerrigan and Maria Lopez left the courtroom. Most of the spectators were gone, but Kerrigan noticed a young blond woman with sunglasses, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, leaning against a marble pillar and studying him with intense concentration. A cameraman moved and blocked his view. When the cameraman moved again, she was gone.

  As soon as the press conference was over, Stan Gregaros and Sean McCarthy joined the prosecutors.

  "What did you think about the hearing?" Kerrigan asked the detectives.

  "Slam dunk," Gregaros answered. "You're gonna have a ball at the trial if Jaffe sticks with her bullshit theory that Dupre acted in self-defense."

  "We've got some more evidence to use against Dupre," McCarthy said. "Remember Rittenhouse telling us that Travis said that 'Jon' was going to make everything okay on the night of the murder?"

  Kerrigan nodded.

  "I had Dupre's phone records sent over. A call was made from his house to Travis's place in Dunthorpe on the evening Travis was killed."

  "Another nail in Johnny boy's coffin," Gregaros said.

  The detectives and the prosecutors conferred for a few more minutes before Tim and Maria took the elevator to the district attorney's office.

  "I've actually got some work to do in another case, Maria," Kerrigan said. "Why don't you do some research on the evidentiary issues we talked about and we'll touch base tomorrow."

  "I'll get right on it."

  Maria walked away and Kerrigan entered his office. He dumped his files onto his desk and hung his jacket on a hook, closing the door behind him. As he was loosening his tie, he found himself remembering the blonde he'd seen briefly in the courthouse. Something about her seemed familiar.

  Kerrigan's intercom buzzed.

  "There's a Miss Jasmine on line two," his secretary said.

  Kerrigan froze, and in that second he pictured the blonde again and knew for a fact that she was Ally Bennett.

  Kerrigan lifted the receiver.

  "Hello, Frank," a husky and familiar voice said.

  "I think you've got the wrong person," he said carefully.

  "Do I, Frank ? Should I go to the press and let them sort it out?"

  "I don't think you'd get very far."

  "You don't think they'd be interested in a story about a DA who is prosecuting a pimp while having very raunchy sex with one of his whores?"

  Tim closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. "What do you want?"

  "Let's meet where we did the last time and I'll tell you in person. Eight o'clock. Don't be late, Frank, or Jasmine will be very angry."

  Kerrigan felt himself begin to grow hard as an image from their last meeting was triggered by her words. An insane desire to have sex with Jasmine again welled up in Kerrigan, despite the knowledge that meeting with her could only lead to his destruction.

  Then he thought about Cindy. Something was going on between them that he hadn't anticipated. They had grown closer since she'd comforted him after his return from Senator Travis's crime scene. When he made love to his wife, there was none of the energy he'd felt with Bennett, when lust and shame had combined to produce a cocktail of illicit pleasure, but he'd felt dirty when he left the motel and he'd felt at peace when he was in Cindy's arms.

  For a moment, Kerrigan thought about defying Ally, but he didn't have the courage. There were so many things she could do to hurt him; she could go to the press, to Jack Stamm, or, worst of all, she could go to Cindy. Tim felt defeated. Ally Bennett had ordered him to return to the motel and he was too weak and afraid to disobey.

  Part Four

  THE VAUGHN STREET GLEE CLUB

  Chapter Twenty-Eight.

  Joyce Hamada wasn't hard to spot in the crowd of students that surged out of Smith Hall shortly after three. Kate Ross had found her picture in the case file Oscar Baron had given to Amanda, but the picture did not do her justice. Baggy jeans and a loose-fitting Portland State sweatshirt could not conceal her voluptuous figure. Jet-black hair hung to Hamada's waist and gleamed in the afternoon sun as if it had been polished. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide and alive, the highlight of a face that would have looked great on the cover of a fashion magazine.

  Kate followed the nineteen-year-old sophomore across the street to the parking garage. She lagged behind when Hamada walked up a flight of stairs to the third floor, and closed the gap while she was tossing her books into the back of a beat-up Mazda.

  "Miss Hamada?"

  The woman spun in panic, her eyes wide. Kate held out her credentials.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. My name is Kate Ross. I'm an investigator working for the lawyer who's defending Jon Dupre. Do you have a minute?"

  "You've got the wrong person. I don't know this man."

  "I'm talking to you here, Miss Hamada, because I don't want to embarrass you in a more public setting."

  "I'm late. I have to go," Hamada said as she opened the driver's door.

  "You were arrested for prostitution three months ago but the charges were dropped. Jon Dupre posted your bail and paid Oscar Baron's legal fees. That's a strange thing for someone you don't know to do."

  Hamada swore and her shoulders slumped.

  "I don't want to hurt you. I'm not interested in things you may have done. I just want to talk about some things that might be relevant to Jon's case."

  Hamada sighed. She got into the car and motioned Kate around to the passenger side.

  "Ask your questions," Hamada said when Kate shut the door.

  "Why don't you start by telling me how you met Jon?"

  Hamada laughed, but her eyes didn't. "I was fresh off the bus from Medford, my first time in the big city, if you can believe that. About two weeks after school started, I went to one of the clubs with some girls from school. Jon made a move on me and I didn't know what hit me. He's this great-looking, older guy, he dresses well, and he's ultrasmooth, not geeky like most of the freshman boys. The next thing I know I'm in this house I'd only seen in the movies, high on cocaine, and he's fucking my brains out. I thought I'd died and gone to Hollywood."

  "How did he convince you to work for him?"

  "I don't want to get into that stuff. I'm out of the life now that he's locked up." Hamada paused and shook her head. "The way he killed that lawyer, that could have been me."

  "Did Jon ever hit you?"

  "Yeah," Hamada said, hanging her head.

  "Why didn't you leave him?"

  She laughed harshly. "You think it's easy to walk away from someone like Jon?"

  "Jon says that you were at his house with another girl on the evening that Senator Travis was killed."

  "So?" Hamada asked defensively.

  "Were you there?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you remember Jon calling anyone that night?"

  "He was always on the phone. I didn't pay any attention."

  "Did you hear him mention Senator Travis?"

  "No, but we weren't always in the same room. Besides, we left early."

  "Why is that?"

  "Jon got pretty fucked up on some drug he was doing, and Ally chased us out."

  "Ally Bennett?"

  "Yeah. She was like a mother hen when she was around Jon. Always trying to act important."

  "You and Bennett didn't get along?"

  "It wasn't like that. She's just territorial where Jon is concerned. She could be nice, too."

  "The DA m
ay subpoena some of the women who worked for Jon to convince the jury that he has a violent nature. If you're a witness, what can we expect from you?"

  "He roughed me up once when I didn't want to go out on a job. He scared me more than hurt me. Once I did what he wanted he was nice again."

  "Can you think of anything that would help Jon?"

  "Not really. I'm sort of relieved that he's in jail. I wanted to quit, but he made it hard. I hated it, really. Having some fat pig slobbering over me. I always took a long shower afterwards. Sometimes it didn't help. There'd be this smell that would stay with me."

  "Was being afraid of Jon the only thing that made you stay?"

  "Look, the money was great. My folks don't have much and it really helped. But, all in all, I'm glad I have an excuse to get out."

  Kate headed for Ally Bennett's apartment as soon as she finished talking to Joyce Hamada. She had to find out how long Ally Bennett had stayed with Jon Dupre on the night Travis was murdered. Kate tried to remember if the medical examiner had estimated a time of death. If Bennett had stayed most of the night, she could be Jon's alibi.

  Kate pulled into the lot at Ally's apartment complex and walked to Ally's door, which was ajar. She knocked. No one answered.

  "Ally?" Kate called as she pushed the door all the way open. It looked like a freight train had driven through the apartment at full throttle. The Van Gogh and Monet prints had been thrown to the floor, cracking the glass, the cushions on the sofa had been ripped to shreds, books littered the floor, and the bookshelf had been overturned.

  Kate crossed the living room and walked down the hall to the bedroom, hoping that she would not run across Bennett's body. The bedroom had suffered the same fate as the living room. Sheets and blankets were strewn across the floor and the mattress had been ripped open. Every drawer in the dresser had been pulled out and Bennett's clothes had been tossed about.

  After a brief look at the kitchen and bathroom, which had also been trashed, Kate left, pulling the door shut and wiping her prints from the knob. Then she drove to the parking lot of a nearby supermarket and phoned Amanda.

  "What do you think happened?" Amanda asked after Kate told her about her interview with Joyce Hamada and her visit to Bennett's apartment.

  "I can't begin to guess, but finding Bennett should be our chief priority."

  "If she can alibi Jon for the evening of Senator Travis's murder I might be able to convince Tim Kerrigan to back off on those charges."

  "I'll get right on it."

  "And I'll call Sally Grace and see if she has an estimate of Travis's time of death."

  "Okay. Phone me with it if you get one."

  "Will do. Where are you going to start looking?"

  "I'll hit the computer to see if Bennett has used a credit card recently and I'll talk to people at her apartment complex. Maybe see if Hamada or that other woman knows if she's working somewhere now that Exotic Escorts is on hiatus."

  "Sounds good."

  They rang off and Amanda thought about this new twist. Why had Bennett's apartment been trashed? Bennett could be dead, or so scared that she'd run. And what if she was dead? Amanda hoped that they could find her, and that she was safe.

  Amanda's mother had died in childbirth, but she'd had one great parent and a carefree childhood. She always felt incredibly lucky about the breaks life had dealt her. Amanda shivered. Growing up with a sexual predator for a father, having to sell your body because it was the only way to get by. She thought about the psychological scars she carried from her one brief brush with depravity. What if every day of your life was like the moments she'd spent as a prisoner of the surgeon?

  Amanda hoped that Ally had escaped the people who'd invaded her apartment and she hoped, for Jon's sake, that Kate could find her. A call girl was not the greatest alibi her pimp could have, but it would be a lot better than what they had now.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine.

  Tim parked in the motel lot. He'd told Cindy that he would be out late meeting with a reluctant witness, and he didn't know if she believed him. He'd lied to her before and merely felt uncomfortable, but this time he felt as if he was losing a part of himself. The other times he'd gone to prostitutes, there was almost no risk. Ally Bennett was not merely a threat to his career. He had finally admitted to himself that she was a threat to his family. What had he been thinking? If Bennett went to the media, Megan would grow up with the shame of his disgrace, and Cindy . . . It would be terrible for her.

  Ally was already inside, dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, smoking a cigarette and watching television. Ally snapped off the set when Tim walked in and closed the door. She was sitting in the shadows, in the room's only armchair.

  "Take a seat, Mr. DA," she said motioning toward a chair at the desk. Tim pulled it out and sat down. The desk was on the other side of the small room. He was glad to have the bed between them.

  "What do you want?" Kerrigan asked.

  "Getting right to the point, are we? Don't you want to engage in a little foreplay first?"

  Kerrigan did not answer.

  "Does Cindy like foreplay?"

  "Keep her out of it," Kerrigan said angrily, rising to his feet. Ally showed him her .38.

  "Sit," she commanded. Tim hesitated, then sat back down.

  "That's right, Timmy. Be a good boy and do what you're told and you won't get hurt."

  Kerrigan's fists knotted but he did not dare move. Ally placed the gun on the table beside her chair.

  "I've been finding out all sorts of interesting things about you. I didn't know that you were a big strong football hero," she taunted. "You didn't seem very strong the last time we were together."

  "There's got to be a point to this, Ally. So why don't you get to it. Is it money? Is that what you want?"

  "Yeah, money. But I have other demands."

  "Such as?"

  "I want you to dismiss the case against Jon Dupre."

  "That's impossible."

  "But you'll do it anyway if you want to hold on to your job, your family, and your reputation."

  "I couldn't dismiss the charges even if I wanted to. Jack Stamm is the district attorney for the county. I just work for him. He'd dismiss the charges if I could give him a reason, but he'd overrule me if I tried to do it on my own."

  "Then give him a reason."

  "Like what?"

  "Jon didn't kill Senator Travis."

  "I don't believe that for a second, but even if it was true there's no question that he killed Wendell Hayes."

  "Tell Stamm that Jon killed Hayes in self-defense, like Amanda Jaffe said."

  "There's absolutely no proof that Dupre was acting in self-defense. Were you in the courtroom when the jail guard testified?"

  Ally nodded.

  "Then you heard what he said."

  "He didn't see everything."

  "Ally, there is nothing I can do for Jon Dupre."

  "Then I'll destroy you."

  Kerrigan felt the fight go out of him. He hung his head.

  "You want to know the truth? There's not much to destroy. I'm a civil servant and an unfaithful husband."

  "If you're looking for pity, forget it." Ally stood up. "Just figure out how to get Jon out of jail. And figure out a way to get me fifty thousand dollars." Kerrigan looked shocked. "And don't waste your breath telling me you're a poor civil servant. Your wife and your father are rich. Get them to give you the money or get it someplace else, but get it."

  Ally pulled a minicassette from her pocket. "Cheer up, Timmy. I give value for my money. You should know that." She held up the cassette. "When I get the money, you get this. It'll make your career."

  "What is that?"

  "A recording of a conversation I taped at Senator Travis's fund-raiser. It's got some interesting information on it about the way the anti-cloning bill was killed in the Senate. You'll be able to make headlines with this tape that will make everyone forget about Jon Dupre. See you soon."

  Ally held the
gun on Kerrigan while she moved toward the door.

  "How will I get in touch?" Tim asked.

  "Don't worry. I'll call you."

  The door closed behind Ally. Tim didn't move. The desk chair was uncomfortable but he didn't notice. An image of a toppling house of cards flashed in his head.