From the Post-it note provided by Raines, Lotello knew when Abrams and Thomas were scheduled to meet, but not where. Or why. Lotello figured he would have to take some liberties and do some bluffing to make Thomas think he knew more about any Thomas-Abrams connection than he actually did.
“I’m here to see Mr. Thomas. My name’s Frank Lotello.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lotello,” answered the receptionist. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Thomas?”
“I don’t. But I’m hoping he will give me a few minutes of his time.”
“Will Mr. Thomas know what this is about?”
“Mr. Thomas and I have not met before. What I wish to discuss with him is private. And rather urgent.”
“Please have a seat and I’ll see if he’s free.” The receptionist whispered into her headset and momentarily gave Lotello the answer he expected but was unwilling to accept. “Mr. Thomas is rather busy right now. He asked that you call to make an appointment.”
“Well, then, here’s my identification. I’m Detective Frank Lotello with the Metro D.C. police. I’m here to see Mr. Thomas on official business. I’m afraid I must insist on seeing him right now. Please let him know.”
This time the receptionist left her post and scurried off through a door that closed behind her. She returned in less than a minute. “Mr. Thomas says he’ll be right out.”
“Thank you.”
Two minutes later, a casually dressed middle-aged man entered the reception area through the same interior door the receptionist had used. “Detective Lotello? I’m Tommy Thomas. You say you have some official business with me?”
Lotello was not fooled by the casual dress or the man’s age. Right down to the buzz cut, he looked very fit. Like he’d know what to do if he was wearing military fatigues and brandishing a semiautomatic. “I do, Mr. Thomas. Is there somewhere we can speak privately for a few minutes?”
“I have a lot on my plate right now. But sure, let’s go to my office.” Without more, Thomas turned and proceeded through the same door and down a hallway.
* * *
LOTELLO FOLLOWED THOMAS INTO a nicely appointed office that included a three-hole practice putting green, a putter, and several golf balls. And very little paperwork on the desk.
“Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I see you’re a golfer. Those balls have the Congressional logo on them. That’s a super nice track. Are you a member there?”
“Nah. The fees there are a bit steep for me. But I get invited out there every now and then. Do you play?”
“I used to. Before becoming a dad. Not much time for it these days, I’m afraid.”
Lotello took out a tape recorder, set it on the table, and turned it on. “The memory’s not so reliable anymore. Plus my handwriting is abominable. I trust you won’t mind if I record our conversation.” It wasn’t a question.
Seeing the recorder already running, Thomas hesitated, but replied, “No … I guess not.”
“Mr. Thomas. I know you’re a busy man. I’ll come right to the point. Are you acquainted with Bernard Abrams?”
“Who?”
“Bernard Abrams, the public defender here in D.C. Actually, Mr. Abrams was our public defender. He passed away over the weekend.”
Damn, how would this cop possibly know I had any dealings with Abrams? Not sure how to respond. “Sorry to hear about Mr. Abrams’s death. But I don’t believe I ever met the man. What’s this all about?”
“That’s odd. According to Mr. Abrams’s notes, he met with you at his office last Saturday afternoon at two. You don’t recall that meeting?”
Oh shit! Gonna look terrible if I reverse myself now. Thank God I used a disguise going through building security. “This must be some kind of a mistake. I don’t recall ever meeting with Mr. Abrams.”
“That really is quite strange, Mr. Thomas. One of Mr. Abrams’s colleagues definitely recalls seeing you in Mr. Abrams’s office with him at that time.”
Impossible. I didn’t see anyone. And how would anyone know what I look like? Wait a minute. Fuck. I removed my disguise after exiting the elevator on Abrams’s floor when I didn’t see anyone around. I should have kept it on during the meeting, too. “I’m not generally in the public light. How would anyone in Mr. Abrams’s office know what I look like? Or recognize me?” How’s this bastard gonna answer that?
“Because I showed him your picture.”
“Picture. What picture?”
“The one right here in the CRP brochure that says Tom Thomas III, chief intelligence and security officer. That is you, isn’t it?”
Damn! Got me. Now what? “Obviously that’s me, Detective. But that doesn’t mean I ever met Mr. Abrams. Whoever said that to you is mistaken.”
“Uh, I don’t think so, Mr. Thomas. Abrams’s notes definitely say you were there and so does my witness. This is quite odd. It’s way too recent to have slipped your mind. Take a moment to refresh your recollection. Or you and I are going to have a problem. It will not be difficult for me to get you under oath and put you in a position of committing perjury.”
Shit. What do I do now? This guy sounds serious. Thomas took the moment Lotello offered him. “This is not an issue of recall, Detective. You’re right. I did meet with Mr. Abrams. It was about a confidential matter that I cannot share with you. That’s why I denied knowing him.”
“Uh-uh. I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it, Mr. Thomas. You’re going to have to tell me what the meeting was about.”
“Sorry, Detective, I can’t do that. The subject of my meeting with Abrams is a matter of national security. I’m not at liberty to divulge anything further.”
“Really? Who do you report to, Mr. Thomas?”
“Pardon me?”
“Who do you report to? I need to verify what you are saying. It’s unlikely that your work for CRP would involve matters of national security. Or that you would have any business with Mr. Abrams involving national security.”
“Detective, I think you are getting in way over your head. I have more than one position. I cannot and will not discuss this with you any further.” No idea where this is headed, but this guy is not budging. Neither am I. I need more time to figure a way out of this.
“I understand, Mr. Thomas. Again, can you give me the name of a supervisor, someone with whom I can corroborate what you’re saying?”
“I’m not authorized to do that.”
“Okay, Mr. Thomas. We’ll stop for now. But I’m not done with you. Do you have any plans to be out of town?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Detective. You do what you have to do. You know where to find me.”
“Alright, then, thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry to cut you off. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do understand, Mr. Thomas.” Lotello looked right at Thomas as he shut off his recorder and returned it to his pocket.
* * *
LOTELLO WALKED OUT OF the CRP offices. Gotcha, you little Gestapo toad! What a bunch of horseshit, telling me you’re protected by national security. But no way I can verify that he’s lying to me. Yet. Isn’t it just amazing how far a little poker can sometimes get you?
What exactly have I stumbled onto, Beth? I’ve got Hollister, who I believe had something to do with the killings of Wells, DiMarco, and Johnson. Then Abrams also turns up dead. Maybe from natural causes. Maybe not. And now I have some wacko lunatic spook trying to conceal what he was meeting with Abrams about. Could Thomas be in cahoots with Hollister? Where is all this going? Somehow, I’ve got to find out why Thomas met with Abrams. How am I ever going to do that?
CHAPTER 76
Monday, July 27, 3:10 p.m.
LOTELLO HAD BEEN HOLDING on the phone for Hollister’s lawyer for several minutes. He was about to hang up and call back.
“Jonathan Mortimer here. How may I help you?”
“Thank you for taking my call, Mr. Mortimer. My na
me is Frank Lotello, Detective Frank Lotello, Metropolitan D.C. police. I’m calling concerning Blaine Hollister. Mr. Hollister tells me that you’re his attorney. Is that correct?”
“I represent Mr. Hollister, yes.”
“I called on Mr. Hollister at his residence last Saturday afternoon. I was—”
“Which residence, Detective? He has two residences here in the D.C. area. A large estate in the country and a townhouse in a large complex closer to downtown D.C.”
“It was his estate. I didn’t know he owned a townhouse. Be that as it may, I was asking Mr. Hollister some questions when he decided any further discussions should be arranged through you. I’m calling to make those arrangements.”
“I see. I find it unusual that you and Mr. Hollister met at all outside of my presence. Did you make an appointment prior to meeting with him?”
“No. I just called on him. He was initially quite comfortable speaking with me. Midstream he changed his mind and decided you should be present. I’d like to know when I can continue my discussions with him.”
“Well, this is all news to me, Detective. I’ll need to speak to Mr. Hollister and then get back to you to schedule a time and place to meet. Can you please tell me what you and Mr. Hollister were discussing?”
“We were discussing Mr. Hollister’s relationship and dealings with Senator Jane Wells.”
“No kidding. You’re referring to the Senator Wells who was murdered a while back?”
“Yes.”
“What does Senator Wells’s misfortune have to do with my client?”
“I’m not sure, Mr. Mortimer. That’s precisely why I’m trying to meet with him.”
“Help me out here, Detective. Please provide me with a little bit of context. What has Mr. Hollister to do with Senator Wells? And why do you want to speak to him about her?”
“I have reason to believe that your client and the senator were acquaintances and had met on several occasions in the months prior to her death. I’m interested in knowing about those meetings. And the extent of their relationship.”
“I understand the police arrested and charged someone with her murder and that the trial of that person is about to get underway. This seems like a strange time for you to want to speak to Mr. Hollister.”
“Probably nothing to it. But I have to cover all the bases. I only just learned about Mr. Hollister’s connections with the senator. Again, I need to know about their dealings.”
“I understand. As I’ve explained, this is all news to me. I’ll speak to Mr. Hollister and get back to you. Okay?”
“Of course. But time is of the essence. How soon will you be able to come back to me?”
“Mr. Hollister’s a busy man. I’m not sure of his calendar or even his whereabouts. I’ll do the best I can.”
“I trust that Mr. Hollister’s not beyond the reach of a telephone. I’ll expect to hear back from you this afternoon.” Lotello gave Mortimer his office and cell numbers.
“You’ll hear from me as soon as possible. Thank you for calling.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mortimer.” What bullshit. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Hollister hasn’t spoken to Mortimer in the time since I met with him. They’re stalling. I wonder why, Beth. No matter, it’s not gonna fly.
CHAPTER 77
Monday, July 27, 4:20 p.m.
“JONATHAN MORTIMER’S OFFICE.”
“Detective Lotello calling back. Is he there, please?”
“Just a minute.”
“Hey, Detective, I was just about to call you.”
“It’s nice to see that great minds really do think alike. When are we going to be able to meet?”
“I was able to reach Mr. Hollister. Between his schedule and mine, this is not so easy to work out. We can meet with you next Thursday afternoon. Say around three o’clock at my office. Will that work for you?”
“We can’t do this any sooner? Say in the next day or two?”
“I’m afraid not, Detective. I apologize. It’s mostly my fault. I have a really busy week. Should we book next Thursday?”
“Let’s do it. Unless we speak sooner, I’ll meet you and Mr. Hollister at your office next Thursday afternoon at three. Thanks very much.”
“Thanks, Detective. See you then.”
The son of a bitch is laughing at me, Beth. We’ll see what Brooks has to say about this. And who laughs last.
CHAPTER 78
Monday, July 27, 4:45 p.m.
“JONATHAN MORTIMER’S OFFICE.”
“Judge Cyrus Brooks calling for Mr. Mortimer.”
“Certainly, Your Honor. Just a moment, please.”
“Judge Brooks. How are you, sir?”
“Fine, Jonathan, I hope you’re well too. I’ll be brief: I need a favor.”
“Of course, Judge.”
“I understand that Detective Frank Lotello is trying to arrange a meeting with you and a client of yours. A Mr. Blaine Hollister.”
“Yes, sir. In fact, we just scheduled a meeting for next Thursday afternoon.”
“That’s the favor, Jonathan. I need that meeting to take place this week.”
“Your Honor, I’m only too happy to oblige, but Mr. Hollister is a very busy man. His calendar really doesn’t permit a meeting any sooner than what I was able to schedule with Detective Lotello.”
Another schmuck who thinks I’m a potted plant. What’s the matter with these damn lawyers? What makes them think they’re the only ones with more than shit for brains? I am crossing the line a bit here. But, hey, I’ve already crossed the line on this matter. “Within the next two days, Jonathan. Make it happen. For me. I’ll be indebted to you. I’ll assume you were able to arrange it unless I hear back from you within the next hour. Good talking to you, Jonathan. You take care now.”
“Of course, I’ll do my best to work it out, Judge.” Brooks never heard Mortimer’s last words. He had hung up long before they were out of Mortimer’s mouth.
CHAPTER 79
Monday, July 27, 5:45 p.m.
“LOTELLO.”
“Mortimer here. My office. This Wednesday morning. Ten o’clock.”
“Thank …” Lotello was interrupted by the dial tone, but not before a huge grin had spread across his face from ear to ear. Sounds like Mortimer and I won’t be swilling a few beers anytime soon. It sure is nice to have friends in high places, Beth. I could really get used to this kind of influence.
CHAPTER 80
Wednesday, July 29, 10:00 a.m.
“GOOD MORNING. I’M FRANK Lotello. Here to see Mr. Mortimer.”
“Of course, Mr. Lotello. Good morning. They’re expecting you. Please follow me.”
The receptionist escorted Lotello into Mortimer’s large, well-equipped office. Mortimer and Hollister were already comfortably seated around a conference table. “Good morning, Detective. Nice to see you again. I believe you’ve already met Mr. Hollister?”
“I have. Good morning, gentlemen. I appreciate your willingness to meet with me today.” Thanks to Brooks. And certainly not to you two arrogant slime bags.
“No problem,” said Mortimer. “We always want to cooperate with D.C.’s finest. Please help yourself: we have coffee, juice, water, rolls, and muffins.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Okay then.” Mortimer got right to it. “What can we do for you?”
So far Hollister hadn’t said a word or given Lotello so much as a nod. He wondered if Hollister was going to say anything at all. Or just let Mortimer do the talking. “First of all, Mr. Mortimer, if it’s okay with you and your client, I’d like to record this meeting,” Lotello said, taking out his tape recorder and setting it down on the table.
“Sorry, Detective.” Mortimer smiled and responded without skipping a beat. “That would not be appropriate.”
“Why’s that? I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything. Or get anything said here today incorrect.”
“I’m sure you won’t make any mistakes, Detective. Mr.
Hollister’s here voluntarily. It’s in poor taste to treat him like he’s giving you his deposition.”
Voluntarily? Oh yeah, right. Sure he is. And they’re not going to let me level the two-to-one playing field on what Hollister might actually say in this meeting. If eventually he gets around to saying anything at all. But I had to give it a shot. “Okay. Mr. Hollister, would you please—”
“Hold on a second, Detective. If I may ask, is Mr. Hollister under arrest?”
“Not at all.”
“Is he suspected of committing a crime?”
Lotello was impressed. If not happy. Mortimer was very good. And very tricky. Of course Lotello suspected Hollister of committing, or at least arranging and conspiring to commit, several crimes. Three murders in particular. But Lotello couldn’t officially state that Hollister was yet a suspect. “Mr. Hollister’s certainly not a suspect in any official sense of the word, Mr. Mortimer. However, he is a person of interest. Would you feel better if I read him his rights?”
“That won’t be necessary. I just wanted to put our cards on the table and know precisely where we stand. I’ve advised Mr. Hollister of his rights if and when he’s suspected of committing some crime. I’ll expect you to tell me if at any time during this meeting he does officially become a suspect.”
“Got it. May I proceed now?”
“By all means, Detective. Please do.”
“Thank you. Mr. Hollister, where were you on the evening of February fifth?”
“Detective, I’ve—”
“Hold it, Blaine. I don’t want you answering that question just yet. Why are you asking Mr. Hollister that question, Detective?”
“Mr. Mortimer, I believe you know perfectly well why I’m asking that question. The late Senator Jane Wells was murdered, and her body then raped, on the night of February fifth. I’d like to know if Mr. Hollister can account for his whereabouts on that evening.”
Brooks-Lotello Collection Page 51
