Most Wanted

29

IN THOSE MOMENTS WHEN YOU HAVE AN IMPOSSIBLE amount to do and too much on your mind, you have to put blinders on. Choose the most pressing task and perform it as if it is the only one. Block out emotion. Otherwise confusion and anxiety will overwhelm you and you will accomplish nothing. Melanie understood this as she sat down in her swivel chair and logged on to her computer. She was here to type a subpoena for Amanda Benson, period. She wouldn’t go through the envelopes piling up in her in-box, wouldn’t check her voice mail or e-mail or check in with her boss, wouldn’t review the videocassette that was burning a hole in her handbag. She wouldn’t think about Rosario or Jasmine or her disintegrating marriage. It wouldn’t do much good if she fell apart, would it? Accomplish the task at hand, and get the hell out of here.

She pulled up the grand-jury subpoena macro and began typing information into the blank fields. She tried to keep her mind focused. But her message light was in her field of vision, blinking insistently. Finally she reached for the receiver. She’d multitask-play the messages on speakerphone while continuing to type.

The first message advised her that evidence she’d ordered had been sent out to her office. The second one was about a sentencing in another case she needed to postpone. But the third one-the third one was intriguing.

“You have a collect call from a correctional facility. Caller, state your name, please,” said the automated operator’s voice. Inmates weren’t allowed to dial out directly from prison. Even though she’d heard that same message a thousand times-every time one of her cooperators called her from jail-the name of this caller was totally unexpected.

“Del-vis Di-az,” he’d enunciated painstakingly.

Why was Delvis Diaz calling her? She hadn’t been at her desk to accept the charges, so he got disconnected before he could explain. Did he want to confess? Unlikely. Cooperate and provide information against Slice? Possibly. Too bad she didn’t have time to take a ride up there and find out. She finished typing the subpoena and sent it to print.

There were more messages, but before they could play, the other line rang. Could it be Delvis calling back? She dropped her voice mail and picked up right away.

“Melanie Vargas.”

“It’s me,” Steve said.

“Oh. Hi.”

“I left you four messages. Couldn’t you tell how upset I am? I can’t believe you haven’t called me.” He sounded distraught.

“I’ve been running around all day,” she said hesitantly. “Really. I didn’t even listen to my messages yet.”

“You just leave your wedding ring for me to find, like a piece of trash, and then you don’t call? That’s so cold. Can you imagine what I’ve been going through?”

“Steve,” she said, but then stopped, helpless. Even with all her agonizing about taking her rings off, somehow she hadn’t grasped how huge a step it would be in his eyes. She felt terrible for the pain she’d caused. And yet maybe it would wake him up. Maybe he’d finally see he had to do better in this relationship, that she wouldn’t stay with him otherwise.

“You just keep slipping further and further away,” he cried, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to reach you. Tell me what to do, please. Because I don’t want this, not for us, not for Maya.”

“I don’t want it either!” she said with sudden vehemence, the thought of Maya’s chubby little face cutting her to the heart. She had to think of her daughter’s future. As disgusted and outraged as she was with Steve, maybe she could get over it. But only if she believed he was sincere.

“Tell me what to do,” he said. “Anything. You want to see a marriage counselor? I could arrange that. I already got the name of somebody good.”

Her other line started ringing. If it was Delvis Diaz, she couldn’t afford to miss him. He might give up and stop calling.

“Steve, can you hold on a second?” If she didn’t pick up now, she’d lose the call.

“What? No-”

She put him on hold and picked up the other line. “Melanie Vargas.”

“You have a collect call from a correctional facility. Caller, state your name, please,” said the automated voice.

“Del-vis Di-az.”

“Accept the charges,” Melanie said eagerly. He was serious about this, whatever it was. “Hello, Delvis. Hold on for one minute, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She switched back to Steve. “Listen, Steve, I have to take this, but your idea about the counselor is a good one. We should definitely do that.”

“Uh, okay.”

“So arrange it, okay? I have to take this other call.”

“Melanie-”

“Bye!” She disconnected him. Amazing what leaving a couple of rings on the bedside table could do for the balance of power in a marriage. It felt good to be the boss for a change. And she felt a real glimmer of hope about Steve’s attitude.

“Delvis?” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“Look, I gotta talk to you, ma’am.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I kinda don’t wanna get into it over the phone, you know? It ain’t too private over here. Can you come see me?”

She sighed. Was this a game? She’d been through this before with other inmates. Visits from a prosecutor-especially a female one-relieved the boredom of long days on the inside. She could spend weeks trying to drag information out of Delvis, only to find he’d never had any to give. She leaned over, plucked the subpoena out of the printer, and began proofreading it. It looked good.

“No, I can’t visit you,” she said, tapping her foot impatiently. “Not without more of an explanation. If you have something to tell me, let’s hear it now.”

“I got some information about the hit. Word I do, ma’am. Like, who be involved and why it went down. You need to come back to see me again real fast.”

“Slice did the hit, am I right?”

“Not just him. Some other mu’fuckers, too.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“I can’t give you names over the phone, but they gonna surprise you.”

“It’s not news to me that Slice killed Jed Benson. If that’s all you have, I’ll add you to my to-do list and get up to see you when I can. But it’s a very long list.”

She pulled an empty Redweld folder out of her bottom desk drawer, put the subpoena in it, and placed it on her lap. She picked up her handbag and placed it on top of the Redweld, ready to head for the door.

“Please, ma’am,” he whispered. “I’d be jeopardizing myself here to say anything more.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Hablamos en español, entonces.”

“Nah, no good. I’m on the Spanish phone. All the mu’fuckers in line be, like, Colombian and Dominican and shit.”

That made sense, given what she knew about the extreme self-segregation of prison life. Between the Aryans, the Latin Kings, and the Five Percenters, inmates kept to their own kind just to steer clear of trouble.

“Look, Delvis, you know the game. Risks you take get factored in at the end of the day when the judge gives you credit for cooperation. That’s the best I can do.”

“It ain’t the credit I’m worried about. More peoples is gonna die if this shit don’t stop.”

Terrible images flooded her mind- Rosario ’s severed head, Jasmine’s bent body.

“More people already have, Delvis,” she said, furious. “So if you know something that can help me stop it, you better damn well spill it.”

“Benson was dirty.”

Melanie laid the Redweld and her handbag aside. “Dirty how?”

“That’s what I can’t be saying over the phone.”

“You mentioned something during the interview about Slice setting you up. Did Benson know about that?”

“Yeah, you real warm, but it even bigger than that. Look, I say this shit over the phone, I’ma end up dead. Maybe you, too.”

“Come on, Delvis, don’t get all dramatic on me.”

“Naw, I’m serious. That’s why I’m risking it to call and warn you. You treat me like a human being, so I’m returning the favor. Peoples around you is dirty, Miss Vargas.”

“Yeah, like who?”

“Like the ones you brang to see me.”

Dan and Randall?

“Delvis, I-”

“Shit. Gotta go.”

“What?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“No! Wait!”

He hung up.

HOW LONG COULD SHE SIT AROUND WAITING FOR a phone call? Twenty minutes had passed, and Delvis hadn’t called back. She couldn’t work, couldn’t think. Was it possible that Dan and Randall were mixed up in something dirty? Every fiber of her being screamed no. They were rock solid, people you could trust with your life. Then again, she trusted her husband, and look what he did. People could fool you. She needed to hear the rest of Delvis’s information to evaluate it properly. But you couldn’t call an inmate on the telephone. Either he called back or she’d have to drive all the way to Otisville to interview him.

Maurice Dawson, the custodian, knocked on her door, interrupting her chaotic thoughts.

“Hey, Melanie, you ask for a VCR? Guys in Audiovisual sent this up.”

He wheeled a videocassette player on a metal cart through her door.

“Yeah, thanks,” she replied. “Just put it there by the bookshelf.”

She made a deal with herself. She’d review the videotape. If Delvis hadn’t called back by the time she finished, she’d go to the hospital and find Dan. Maybe if she looked him in the eye, she’d know the truth. Feeling calmer, she took the tape from her bag and slid it into the VCR.

A black-and-white picture of Sarah’s bed appeared, neatly made this time and piled with cushions. A date-and-time stamp flashed on, then disappeared. The video had been shot in the middle of the afternoon on the day of Jed Benson’s murder. Interesting timing anyway. No people on screen yet, but Melanie heard voices in the background. She knelt down and adjusted the volume.

“…so much stress,” Sarah was saying.

“It’ll all work out, but that’s why I need a little fun. Did you get the ecstasy?”

The man’s voice sounded unfamiliar. Not Jed Benson. But they were still off-screen, so Melanie couldn’t be sure.

“Not so fast, dodo. You wanna fuck, I need some reassurance first, or I can’t relax.”

“I told you, I have a friend at the SEC. I slipped him some stuff I dug up on Jed. He’s looking into it.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You don’t need to know. Shit, didn’t I say white panties under the skirt?”

Sarah walked into camera range and sat down on the bed. She had on a complete schoolgirl getup-short plaid kilt, white cotton blouse, buckle shoes over white ankle socks, hair up in pigtails. She leaned back against the pillows, letting her legs fall open provocatively.

“Give it a whirl with these slutty ones. Pretend I’m, like, the corrupt little vixen,” Sarah said.

A man came into view and walked over to the bed, his back to the camera. He was wearing a dress shirt and suit pants. He sat down and thrust his hand up Sarah’s skirt, his face visible in profile. It was not Jed Benson. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, large, hulking, nearly bald, with heavy-rimmed eyeglasses. Sarah writhed under his touch, then pulled away, closing her legs.

“Come on, I can tell you want it,” the man said, lifting his fingers to his nose. “You’re all wet.”

“Would you just explain to me how your friend is gonna keep the spotlight off what we did on Securilex?”

“He already opened a file on Jed, okay? So if and when the shit hits the fan, which hopefully it won’t, Jed looks good for it. Satisfied?”

“I guess.”

“Jesus, now you got me all upset. Where the fuck are the pills? I need one, or I won’t be able to get it up.”

Sarah sighed, stood up, and walked out of camera range. The man turned, looking directly into the camera. Melanie punched the “pause” button, freezing his face on the screen. She studied it. Hmm, vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t say from where. Had she seen him at the Reed firm? He must work there, right? She pushed “play.”

Sarah returned with a glass of water in one hand. She extended the other hand, palm up. The man plucked a pill from it and tossed it into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of water.

“You, too,” he ordered.

Sarah swallowed the other pill. They sat there for a few minutes. He began to fondle her breasts through her shirt.

“Suck me first,” he said, and Sarah got down on her knees and unzipped his fly. He moaned.

Not likely to be much meaningful dialogue for a while, Melanie thought. She hit “fast forward” and watched them have speeded-up sex, wrinkling her nose. Jesus, whoever this guy was, he was kinky. And ugly! Certainly gave one a different perspective on Miss Sarah van der Vere. Any woman who spent her spare time gratifying this ape must be deeply twisted. Melanie fast-forwarded, looking for some postcoital conversation. She hit “stop” and then “play” again at what looked to be the end of the festivities. The man lay on his back, spent as a beached whale, saying nothing. Sarah got up, naked, and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Time passed. Out of camera range, a cell phone rang, and the man hauled himself out of bed to answer it. Melanie shielded her eyes as his large, hairy body filled the screen.

“Yeah?” she heard him answer, off-camera now. “Oh, hey, Mary…right, right…Is the general counsel gonna be on the call? Because if not, you can handle it yourself…Okay, then set it up for four o’clock, and we’ll do it in my office. And make sure you have Word Processing redline the last draft so we can work from it…Appreciate it. Bye.”

Mary. Hale? Had to be. So who would speak to the eminent Mary that way, like he was her boss? Only Dolan Reed, the managing partner himself, right? Sarah had called the man “dodo” at one point. Dodo? Short for Dolan? Could be-these WASPs had the queerest nicknames. And if the man looked slightly familiar, come to think of it, he resembled the portrait in the reception area, except fatter and balder.

Something occurred to her. She pulled her notebook from her bag and found where she’d jotted down that cell-phone number she’d gotten from Sarah’s caller ID. She dialed it.

“Yeah, hello?” The voice was the same as that of the man on the videotape.

“Dolan Reed?”

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“I’m calling from Verizon with regard to your cell plan, sir.”

“Oh, for Chrissakes. I’m in the middle of a meeting. Never call this number again!” He hung up.

Well, well. So that was Dolan Reed petting the kitty with Sarah on the tape. And it sounded as if something suspicious was going on at the Reed firm, having to do with a company called Securilex. Melanie remembered that name’s being mentioned in the elevator yesterday. Another lawyer had gotten on and asked Sarah if she was still buried in the Securilex transaction. So Securilex must be a client of the Reed firm. Something was crooked on the Securilex deal, and Sarah van der Vere was nervous about getting caught. Dolan Reed was involved, too, and was trying to frame Jed Benson as the fall guy. Dolan Reed and Sarah were having an affair, which Sarah was secretly taping. Sarah and Jed Benson were also having an affair. Wow, the girl got around. And all in all, sinister enough circumstances to have gotten Jed Benson killed.

Jed Benson killed over a dirty business deal involving the Reed firm. Yes. She liked it. She definitely liked it. The thing she liked most about it was, it had nothing to do with anybody she was close to. If Jed had been killed over a business deal gone bad, then Delvis Diaz was full of hot air when he’d accused Dan and Randall of being dirty. After all, what possible connection could there be between Dan and Randall on the one hand and the tony firm of Reed, Reed and Watson on the other? The very thought was ludicrous.

MELANIE UNPLUGGED THE VCR AND LOCKED THE videocassette in her desk drawer. Time to get back to the hospital and meet up with Dan. She might have new evidence on motive and a new lead on who might’ve hired Slice, but that vermin was still out on the street.

As Melanie picked up her bag to leave, Bernadette barged into her office.

“Melanie Vargas! I must have been on drugs when I assigned you to this case!” Bernadette cried, striding up to Melanie’s desk. “I told you to go easy on the Bensons. Romulado called and said Amanda Benson’s bodyguard had to physically eject you from her room. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“ Bern -”

“You’re making me look bad, Melanie, and I don’t stand for that. If there’s one thing I expect, it’s obedience to a direct order. If you can’t listen-”

“Bernadette, wait, calm down. Bill Flanagan isn’t telling the whole story.”

Bernadette stopped, mouth half open. “Bill Flanagan? What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s Amanda’s bodyguard. And he’s misinforming Lieutenant Ramirez about what happened.”

“Oh, Romulado never said it was Bill Flanagan.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Bernadette sat down in a guest chair. “Well. That’s a different story, then. I can’t believe Romulado didn’t tell me that. God, I hate it when people give me incomplete facts!”

“You know Flanagan?”

“Wild Bill? Sure, everyone from my generation in the office knows him. He’s famous. Infamous, I should say. I had an indictment dismissed once in the middle of a drug trial because he stole the cocaine from the vault. We couldn’t convict without the drugs, so the dealer walked. The only time I ever lost a case.”

“Is that when he got kicked off the force?” Melanie asked.

“No, that was something else entirely. In my case they couldn’t prove it, but everybody knew it was him anyway.”

“I think he’s an alcoholic.”

“Oh, definitely! The man has an IV drip of booze going into his body day and night. I’m surprised he could get through a job interview without drinking. How do you think Nell Benson hooked up with a degenerate like that?”

“I have no idea.”

“I hope Romulado didn’t recommend him. He always feels sorry for those boozer types when they’re down and out. I mean, buy the guy a hot meal or something-don’t give him a security job. Hey, you don’t think Flanagan’s carrying a gun, do you?”

“Yes, I know for a fact he is. He almost pulled it on Dan.”

“Jesus! Can you imagine? Flanagan shoots a federal agent, and it comes out that Romulado got him the job? Oh, God, that better not be how it happened.” She dropped her head into her hands momentarily and kneaded her eyes with her fingers.

It had to be tough for someone like Bernadette to be with a guy who was sort of a fuckup, Melanie thought. Not Bernadette’s style, but Rommie’s dark good looks had obviously won out over her better judgment. Amor messed you up like that.

Bernadette looked up at Melanie.

“You don’t think Romulado arranged it, do you?” she asked again.

“Gee, I don’t know, Bern. But it’s not too late to do something about it. Speak to Nell Benson. Maybe she’d listen to you. Amanda’s safety can’t be left to that guy.”

“You’re right.”

“You know, I only went to the hospital because of this incident with Slice. To warn Amanda, make sure she was safe. When I got there, her door was wide open. Flanagan was nowhere in sight. I waited at least ten minutes before he returned. She was completely vulnerable to attack during that time.”

“Yes, I heard about what happened at the Auto Show. Let me ask you, did O’Reilly agree it was Slice chasing this Jasmine Cruz?” Bernadette asked skeptically.

“Dan wasn’t even there when it happened. I saw the whole thing, and I’m convinced it was him. That’s why I’m determined to protect Amanda, don’t you see? First Rosario Sangrador, then Jasmine Cruz. This guy is on a witness-killing spree.”

Bernadette harrumphed. “That’s an exaggeration. One dead witness does not a spree make. Rosario, I accept. She was an eyewitness, about to testify. But Jasmine was Slice’s baby’s mother. It was probably a domestic dispute. Besides, even if it was Slice at the Auto Show, he didn’t push her. She jumped.”

“She fell. He chased her out there, and she fell. She had a little girl. She never would’ve jumped.” Melanie flushed with indignation on Jasmine’s behalf.

“You can’t know that. Anyway, you shouldn’t even have been at the Auto Show. Not only did it waste time, but it got you all tangled up in this girl’s death. Can’t you focus on basic leads to track Slice down? You need to keep your eye on the ball.”

Melanie choked back her anger. She needed Bernadette on her side.

“Okay, whatever. But it’s still reasonable to think Amanda is in jeopardy, isn’t it? She is an eyewitness. Won’t you speak to Nell Benson?”

“I don’t know, Melanie. Romulado has really begged me to leave the Bensons alone right now.”

“ Bern, not for nothing, but what is he doing in the middle of all this? First he hires Flanagan, then he criticizes me for interviewing Amanda. Now that Amanda is able to talk, she should be interviewed. Period. I know you agree. You’re too good an investigator not to.”

Watching the play of emotions across Bernadette’s face, Melanie actually felt sorry for her. She wished she could ask Bernadette openly whether Rommie was meddling in the case in other ways and, if so, why Bernadette was allowing it. But she didn’t have that kind of relationship with her boss.

Bernadette stood up abruptly. “Here’s the deal: I’ll speak to Romulado about the Amanda Benson situation. He can talk to Nell. Maybe we can make some progress that way. But in the meantime you need to do your legwork. Amanda is hardly your only avenue of inquiry. Look at this desk! Didn’t I tell you to clear it off?”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts! I say clear it off, you clear it off. God knows, you could have Slice’s address sitting here in a subpoena response, and you wouldn’t even know it.” Bernadette looked at her watch. “It’s almost five now. You have half an hour. Then you’re coming with me to a retirement dinner I have to attend. What do you think of this suit, by the way? Too matronly?”

Bernadette wore a cherry red suit with a short-sleeved jacket, bright gold buttons, and a skintight skirt.

“Not at all. But-”

“Normally I like to show a bit of cleavage for evening. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I always say. But I needed something I could wear to that meeting in D.C. this morning.”

“It’s very sexy,” Melanie said. Inappropriate, but sexy, she thought.

“You think so? Good.” Bernadette looked down at herself, smoothing her skirt.

“But how can I go to a retirement dinner when I have so much work-”

“Look, Romulado will be there. Maybe we can work something out on the Amanda Benson front. Half an hour, be there or be square,” she said, walking out the door, giving Melanie no chance to protest further.