The First Counsel

* * *

"What do you mean you want me to prove it?" I ask late Thursday afternoon.

"Exactly what I said," the detective explains on the other line. "Show me a receipt, a bank account, a stock certificate--anything that'll prove the cash is yours."

"I already went through this with the cop who took it. It's my personal savings--it's not like I have a receipt."

"Well you better find one. Otherwise the whole thing's going to forfeiture."

From the shortness in his tone, I can tell this is one of hundreds of cases he'd rather not deal with. Which means if I can stall him a few days, that's a guarantee of at least another week to keep this part quiet. It takes a bureaucracy to know one. "Now that I think about it, there might be one way for me to prove it."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I'm just going to have to go through my files," I say as Trey walks in the room. "I'll call you next week."

"How goes the stonewalling?" Trey asks as I hang up.

"I'm not stonewalling; I'm stalling. There's a difference."

"Tell that to Nixon."

"What do you want me to do, Trey? I've got Inez paying people for stories; the FBI threatening to go public tomorrow. If I get caught with this money . . . stuck between a drug dealer and Nora . . . they'll bury me with Simon's version of the story."

"And Nora's. Don't forget, you guys split up after you lost the Secret Service. That's why she came home alone that night."

I burn my worst annoyed look into his forehead. I know he's only trying to help, but now's not the time. "Just tell me what Simon's secretary said."

"More bad news. According to her schedule, on the day Caroline died, Simon left the staff meeting and spent the rest of the morning in the Oval." Reading my reaction, he adds, "I know. If you tried, you couldn't come up with a better alibi."

"That's not possible! Is there a way to check it?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just because Judy says he was in the Oval doesn't mean he was actually there. I mean, when I had my appointment, I stood around for twenty minutes before I finally got called in."

"I can call the President's secretary," Trey suggests. "As the gatekeeper, she records the actual times people go in there."

"When I walked into the Oval, I remember her making a note."

"Then that's our best bet. I'll check it out." Wasting no time, Trey reaches for my phone, but just as he's about to pick it up, it starts to ring.

I check caller ID. Outside Call. I'm betting on Lamb. He said he might have something.

"I should take this," I say.

"Is there another phone I can call Barbara on?"

"In the anteroom," I say as I point to the small desk that Pam's been using. Answering the phone, I add, "This is Michael."

"Michael, it's Lawrence."

I mouth "Lamb" to Trey. He nods and heads for the phone in the anteroom.

"Find anything out?" I ask Lamb.

"I spoke to the FBI," he begins in his slow, methodical voice. I can practically hear the starch in his French-cuffed shirt. "They still won't release their list of the last five files . . ."

My whole body deflates.

"However," he continues, "I told them we were having some security concerns in assigning new cases, and that we would therefore appreciate--at minimum--a list of all the people in our office whose files Caroline had in her possession. As we discussed, I think that's the best way to figure out who she was blackmailing--and who else would therefore want her dead."

"And were they helpful?"

"They gave me the list."

"That's great," I say, my voice cracking.

"It certainly is," Lamb replies. Even with a breakthrough, he's too careful to be excited. "The first two names were exactly what we expected. She had your file and Simon's."

"I knew it. I told you he--"

"But it was the third name on the list that caught me by surprise."

"Third? Who?"

He's about to answer when I hear the loud touch-tone beeps of someone calling on the line. Looking up, I see Trey punching in a phone number in the anteroom. "Ooops--sorry," he says as his voice comes through the earpiece on my phone. I look up, astounded. The phone in the anteroom is supposed to be on a separate line.

"Michael, is everything okay?" Lamb asks.

"Yeah. I just leaned on the keypad." Trying to stay focused, I can't stop thinking that the phone in the anteroom could've been used to listen in on my conversations.

"Back to Caroline's files," Lamb begins. "The third name on the list . . ."

There's only one person who uses that phone. A sharp pain rips through the back of my neck. My legs are already numb. Please don't let it be her.

Lamb voices my fear as succinctly as possible. "The last file . . . was Pam Cooper's."

Chapter 26

What'd he say?" Trey asks as I hang up the phone.

"I don't believe it," I say, collapsing in my seat.

"What? Tell me."

"You heard him--we were all on the same line."

"I meant after I hung up."

"What else is there to say? Caroline had Pam's file."

"I don't believe that."

"You think he's making it up?"

"Maybe he--Did he say what was in it?"

All I can do is shake my head. "FBI wouldn't give it to him."

"You really think Pam was being blackmailed by Caroline?"

"Can you think of any other reason why Caroline would need her file?"

"What about if Pam had an ethics question? Didn't Caroline do those?"

"It doesn't matter what she did--you saw the phone--Pam's been listening on my line."

"Just because you shared a line doesn't mean--"

"Trey, in all the time we've been in this office, Pam's never once used the phone in the anteroom. Then, as soon as I start sniffing around for Caroline's killer, she's on it full time."

"But if she were listening in, don't you think you would've heard her by now?"

"Not if she hit the mute button. She could pick up and I wouldn't hear a thing." Jumping out of my seat, I head for the door. "I bet she even turned off the ringer so I couldn't hear when someone--"

"It's off," Trey whispers, turning away.

"What?"

"I checked it when I hung up. The ringer's off."