Ties That Bind aj-2

by Phillip Margolin

  "Okay," Amanda answered, certain that her father was keeping something from her. She didn't want to stay alone but she knew Frank wouldn't desert her if he didn't have a good reason.

  The music pouring out of The Rebel Tavern was so loud that Frank Jaffe could hear it in the gravel parking lot of the biker bar. An obese, bearded man in a motorcycle jacket staggered out just as Frank reached the door. He was anchored to a heavily tattooed woman dressed in black leather and wearing a dog collar.

  Frank watched the couple stumble toward a big Harley, then stepped inside, where he was greeted by smoke and noise. He squinted through the haze and found Martin Breach sitting alone in a back booth. Scattered around the bar near the booth were three of the gangster's bodyguards.

  Breach was dressed in lime-green polyester pants, a loud plaid jacket, and a Hawaiian shirt. His sense of style hadn't improved since the last time Frank and Amanda had met him at one of his strip joints during the Cardoni case. Breach was squat and heavyset with thinning, sand-colored hair. His skin was pale as plaster, because he rarely went outside. He waved to the attorney who had represented several of his associates over the years.

  "Hey, Frank!" Breach said, flashing a wide grin as Frank slid into the booth.

  "Thanks for meeting me, Martin."

  "Beer, some hard stuff? It's on the house," said Breach, who owned The Rebel.

  "Beer's fine," Frank answered as he filled a glass from the pitcher that stood in the middle of the table.

  Breach had a silly grin and often looked sleepy or stupid. The gaudy, ill-matched clothes helped create an image of incompetence that disguised a sharp intelligence and a truly psychotic personality. Many a rival had figured this out moments before suffering a violent death.

  Frank had thought long and hard before setting up this meeting. He had been dealing with criminals for more than thirty years and had no illusions about Breach. Doing business with the man was as close as he would ever come to doing business with the devil. But Frank would trade his soul to Satan to protect Amanda.

  "So, Frank, what can I do for you?"

  "You remember my daughter, Amanda?"

  "Sure. Great kid, gutsy, too."

  "Amanda is representing Jon Dupre."

  "So."

  Frank leaned forward. "This has to stay between us, Martin, because Amanda . . . She could be hurt badly if . . ."

  "Talk to me, Frank."

  "Three men kidnapped Amanda last night. They . . . they made her strip. They threatened to kill me and torture her if she didn't throw Dupre's case."

  Breach showed no emotion. "Why are you here, Frank?"

  "Have you ever heard of The Vaughn Street Glee Club?"

  Surprise flickered across Breach's features. "Keep talking," he answered.

  "Amanda thinks they're behind her kidnapping. It has something to do with the Dupre case."

  Breach leaned back against the booth. He did not look nervous or afraid, but he did look wary.

  "She needs help, Martin."

  "Kidnapping, that's something you usually report to the police."

  "We think that these people have someone in the cops--maybe more than one person."

  Breach waited for Frank to tell him what he wanted. Frank hesitated, knowing that this was his last chance to step back from the brink. He jumped.

  "Can you get these people to lay off Amanda?"

  "I can't help you directly, Frank. I want to. I like your daughter. But I can't get involved with these people. You're right about the cops, but it goes deeper than that. These people could make me very uncomfortable. I'm not even sure who's who. Wendell Hayes was one of them. Him I'm sure of. I heard rumors about Senator Travis, and I know for sure that Pedro Aragon's people are involved. We have a truce, Pedro and me. He does his thing and I do mine. If it was Aragon's people who snatched your daughter, I can't get involved."

  Frank's shoulders sagged. Coming to Breach had been a long shot, anyway. He started to stand.

  "Sit down. I said I couldn't help you. But I may be able to put you in touch with someone who can watch Amanda's back."

  "A bodyguard?"

  "Something like that. This guy is freelance, ex-Delta Force. He's not cheap, but he's the best."

  "Give me the number."

  Breach shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You just go about your business. Wait for a guy named Anthony to make contact."

  Frank held out his hand. Breach took it.

  "I won't forget this," Frank said.

  "What are friends for?" Breach answered. Frank wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

  Chapter Forty-Two.

  It took a moment or so for the flashing light in his rearview mirror to register, and a few more seconds for Tim to figure out that the police car wanted him to stop. He pulled to the side of a winding stretch of road in the West Hills where the lots were large and there was little traffic. Once the other car had parked behind him, Kerrigan saw that it was unmarked. Stan Gregaros got out. Kerrigan gripped the wheel and fought his panic. Was it possible that the detective knew about the plot to murder Ally Bennett? Was he going to be arrested?

  Gregaros came around the passenger side and rapped on the window.

  "Stan!" Kerrigan said a little too loudly after lowering the window. "Don't tell me I was speeding."

  "No, Tim," the detective answered. "It's something bigger than that. Let me in."

  Kerrigan unlocked the passenger door and Gregaros slid into the seat, propping a briefcase on his lap.

  "So, what's up?" Kerrigan asked, trying to keep calm.

  Gregaros grinned. "Welcome to the club."

  "The club? I don't . . ."

  Gregaros laughed. "It's okay, Tim. Didn't Harvey tell you that you'd have friends who would help you get through this problem with Ally Bennett? Well, I'm one of them."

  Kerrigan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, his relief palpable. Gregaros opened the briefcase and took out two sheets of paper, a clipboard, and a plastic bag containing a revolver. Kerrigan's eyes fell on the revolver. Something about it looked familiar. Then he realized that it had been evidence in one of his earlier cases.

  "Is that the revolver from the Madigan case?"

  "I took it from the property room. The case is closed, so no one will be looking for it, but the use of a gun that was an exhibit in one of your cases will add to the authenticity of your confession if we ever have to use it."

  "What confession?"

  Gregaros handed Tim one of the sheets of paper, which Tim read.

  I'm sorry for any pain that my death causes, but I could not live with my guilt anymore. I had a relationship with Ally Bennett, one of Jon Dupre's escorts, while our office was prosecuting his case. She threatened to expose me if I didn't dismiss Dupre's murder charges. I killed her with this gun. God help me.

  "What is this?" Tim asked.

  "Our insurance policy. Not everyone knows you as well as Harvey and I do. And even the best person can become weak under stress, so every new member signs one of these."

  "You . . . you'd kill me?"

  "We've had an occasion or two where we misplaced our trust. Those people were dealt with, and so were their families and close friends, anyone they could have told about us."

  "You're threatening Cindy and Megan?"

  Gregaros stared directly into Kerrigan's eyes. "It would be out of my hands, Tim, and there are those of us who believe that there are no limits where self-preservation is concerned."

  The detective fastened a blank sheet of paper to the clipboard.

  "I want you to copy the note in your own hand and sign it."

  "What if I refuse?"

  "You'd be completely on your own, and so would your family. I'm sure Harvey would try to convince the others that you wouldn't tell anyone about us, but they all know how much pressure you're under. I wish I could promise you that nothing would happen to you or your wife and kid, but I can't."

  Suddenly Kerrigan's car felt like a c
age. He was having trouble breathing.

  "Look at you," the detective said. "You're a wreck, and why? That bitch, Ally. Think how good it's gonna feel when she's gone. That's the way to be safe, pal. Putting that whore in the ground will help your disposition better than a bottle of tranqs."

  Gregaros handed Kerrigan a pen. Tim's hand shook when he copied the note and it looked as if it had been written in a moving car. When he was done, Gregaros put the signed confession in a plastic evidence bag and took back the note that Kerrigan had copied. Then he handed Kerrigan the pistol.

  "This is the gun you'll use. You won't wear gloves. I'll be there to help if you need me, but you won't see me. When she's dead, I'll take the gun. You got all that?"

  Kerrigan nodded because his mouth was too dry for him to try to speak. Gregaros looked Tim in the eye and waited until he was certain that Tim was listening.

  "You ever killed anyone?"

  Melissa Stebbins face flashed in Tim's head but he shook his head anyway.

  "That's what I figured. You never know, though." Gregaros grinned. "I'm gonna tell you how. It's easy if you do what I say. So pay attention."

  Chapter Forty-Three.

  Amanda hadn't had much of an appetite since her kidnapping, and the first sign that she was starting to get back on her feet was the rumble of her stomach shortly before one. She walked down the block to a Mexican restaurant and ordered a taco salad. As she ate, her mind drifted to Jon Dupre's case. Even with everything she knew, she had a hard time seeing herself convincing a jury to acquit Jon for the murder of Wendell Hayes. Tim Kerrigan could prove beyond any doubt, let alone a reasonable doubt, that Jon had killed his lawyer, so the only way to win was to convince the jury that Jon had acted in self-defense. To do that, she had to prove that one of the state's most prominent attorneys had risked his career by smuggling a shiv into the jail to murder someone he hardly knew. She might get some mileage out of Paul Baylor's testimony, but Hayes's motive was the sticking point. After all, Dupre was already facing the death penalty. Why risk everything to kill Dupre when there was a good chance that the state would do it for you?

  Amanda paused with her fork halfway to her lips. That was a good question. She played around with it. What circumstances would force Hayes to act so quickly? There was only one answer that occurred to Amanda. Hayes had to believe that Jon knew something that could severely damage him or his fellow conspirators. What could Jon possibly know that was that explosive? Only one person could answer that question. Amanda ate quickly then headed for the jail.

  * * *

  Jon Dupre had adapted to the restrictions his chains placed on his movements and he slid onto his chair with a practiced motion.

  "How come a high-priced lawyer like you is visiting the jail instead of taking a power lunch?" Dupre asked.

  "Hey, Jon, the defense never rests."

  Dupre smiled. Amanda realized that this was the first time she'd gotten him to lighten up. Maybe she was finally cracking Dupre's shell.

  "So," he asked eagerly, "do you have some news?"

  "Not really, just questions."

  "About what?"

  "Did Wendell Hayes try to kill you to keep you from talking to the cops about a conspiracy of powerful men that includes Pedro Aragon?"

  "What the fuck is this? Who are you working for?"

  "I'm working for you, Jon, but you don't make it easy. Talk to me."

  Dupre cast a quick look at the guard who was watching them through the glass. He leaned forward and dropped his voice so low that Amanda could barely hear him.

  "Stay away from this. You can't help me and you'll get yourself dead."

  "Jon . . ."

  "Listen to me." He moved so the guard could not see his face. "When we talk, cover your mouth."

  "What?"

  "You have no idea what you're dealing with. The guard could be one of them, he could be a lip-reader."

  "You're serious?"

  "Just do it."

  Dupre's outburst convinced Amanda that he believed they were in danger. She trusted the guards but did as Dupre asked, to humor him.

  "They sent Hayes to shut me up," Dupre whispered. "These people are everywhere. They murdered Oscar Baron."

  "Baron was killed by burglars."

  "That's how they made it look. I sent Baron some evidence to show the FBI."

  "After I started representing you?" Amanda asked angrily.

  "Calm down. This was after our first contact visit. I didn't trust you, so I paid Oscar to negotiate a deal. I was going to fire you as soon as he had it in place. Only they must have found out and killed him."

  "Whoa, slow down. What did you have to bargain with?"

  "I've been taping my drug deals with Pedro Aragon's people. I figured I could use them if I was ever busted and my case went south." He hung his head. "I had Ally bring them to Oscar. The newspaper said he was tortured before he was killed. Knowing Oscar, I don't think he'd hold out for long, so they must have everything Ally gave him."

  Now Amanda knew who had searched Ally Bennett's apartment and what they were looking for.

  "Have you heard from Ally since Baron was killed?" she asked.

  "We haven't talked since I asked her to take the tapes to Oscar."

  "Kate Ross was at her apartment. Someone trashed it."

  Dupre looked alarmed. "You don't think . . .?"

  "I don't know what to think. If she ran, where would she go?"

  "I don't know, Amanda. Honestly, I don't."

  "If she contacts you, make certain that she calls me. So far, she's your best chance of beating the Travis charge."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Kate talked to Joyce Hamada. She said she and another woman were at your house on the night that Senator Travis was murdered but Ally chased them out when you had some trouble with a drug you took. If Ally was with you when Travis was murdered she can testify about that. If the jurors believe her they'll have to acquit you. We need to get in touch with her."

  "They don't give me many calls," Dupre said. "The one time I tried to call after Oscar was killed there was no answer at her apartment and she didn't answer her cell phone."

  Amanda got both phone numbers from Dupre.

  "Do you think that Hayes tried to kill you to protect Aragon?" Amanda asked.

  "No one knew about those tapes when Hayes came after me."

  Something about the sound of Jon's voice made Amanda pause. She cocked her head and studied him. He couldn't meet her eye.

  "Then why did Hayes do it?" she asked. "Why did he feel that he had to act so quickly?"

  "Maybe he was worried that I'd try to make a deal with the cops."

  "And tell them what?"

  "About Senator Travis and these people who protected him. Travis liked rough sex. When he finally went too far with one of my girls he used one of Pedro's men to clean up his mess."

  "This was Lori Andrews, right?"

  Dupre nodded. "He really had a thing for Lori and he thought I'd keep him from seeing her, so he tried to get on my good side. He hinted that he could protect my operation so I'd never have to worry about the cops. I didn't believe him, so he told me about these people."

  "Did he tell you who they were?"

  "No. He didn't mention any names, but he hinted that there were judges and cops in it, even DAs. It sounded far-fetched until Hayes tried to fillet me."

  Something was still troubling Amanda, something that didn't make sense. It took her a moment to figure out what it was.

  "You didn't tell Travis about the tapes, did you?"

  "No."

  "And you couldn't prove that Travis was in this club?"

  Dupre nodded.

  "And you didn't know anyone else in the club, right?"

  "Only Travis, and I wasn't sure that he wasn't bluffing to keep me from hurting him."

  "It doesn't sound like these people would be worried about you hurting anyone. They didn't know about the tapes and they wouldn't know that you kne
w about the group unless Travis told them. Even if he did, he'd also tell them that you didn't know anyone's identity but his, and Travis was dead by the time Hayes tried to murder you. So why did he do it? It doesn't make any sense, something's missing. What aren't you telling me?"