Fool Me Twice

57

Rita Fiore’s silver Lexus convertible was parked in front of the footbridge. Jesse got out of his cruiser and walked over to it. He found Rita sitting inside. She lowered the driver’s-side window.

“Am I intruding,” she said.

“Not at all.”

“You’re certain?”

“Completely.”

“May I come in?”

“Either that or you can stay in the car and we’ll keep talking to each other through the window.”

Rita smiled.

She got out of the Lexus, and together they crossed the bridge.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You won’t like it.”

“How could I not like it,” he asked as he opened the door and ushered her inside.

“Wait,” she said.

Jesse removed his Colt Commander from its holster and placed it on the kitchen counter.

Rita settled herself into one of his two leather chairs. She looked around.

“Nice house.”

Jesse smiled.

Mildred Memory trotted downstairs and began circling Jesse’s legs, her tail twitching in the air. He reached down and rubbed her back.

“Have you any scotch,” Rita said.

“I do.”

“With soda?”

“Coming right up.”

He prepared two drinks and brought her one.

“What won’t I like,” Jesse said as he sat down next to her.

“Rules first.”

“What rules?”

“We’re gonna play a little game called ‘privileged information.’”

“Meaning?”

“We’re going to protect the integrity of the defense counsel.”

“How do we do that?”

“This conversation never happened.”

“That bad?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. It never happened. What’s up?”

“Goodwin canceled our appointment and refused to set up another.”

“Did he offer a reason why?”

“He did not.”

“That’s strange.”

“There’s more. Tony Devlin, my A-list investigator, tells me that the executives at state Water and Power claim not to have heard from William J. Goodwin for several years.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Tony knows someone there, and he made a routine call in an effort to confirm who it was that rebuffed Goodwin’s appeals for a rate reevaluation. His contact did some sniffing around and then informed Tony there was no record of any recent meetings between their personnel and Goodwin. The contact’s research identified Goodwin as having once been actively engaged in dealings with W and P, but not for a while.”

Jesse sipped his drink.

“And that’s just for openers,” Rita said. “Tony took a drive up here in order to have a look around. He started with Goodwin’s house, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Oscar LaBrea’s residence, on the other hand, was a different story. Our Mr. LaBrea lives in a two-story town house located on Osgood’s Point, which Tony describes as a high-end neighborhood. He probed further and discovered that the town house is appraised for something north of a million dollars.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Isn’t this guy a meter reader?”

“Maybe he logged a lot of overtime.”

“Don’t kid around, Jesse. He’s living in the lap of luxury.”

“Okay.”

“Normally we would subpoena a suspect’s financial records. In order to get a peek at bank statements, investment accounts, stuff like that. But because Tony is so well connected, he was able to sniff out some information without a subpoena.”

“I won’t like this either, will I?”

“Mr. LaBrea is sitting on more than a million dollars’ worth of top-grade investments. All purchased within the last few years.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Odd, don’t you think,” Rita said.

“What about Goodwin?”

“Hard to say. He lives modestly in a house he’s owned for more than a decade.”

“And his finances?”

“He’s made a great many contributions to water-starved countries and water-related enterprises. The accountants are going to have a field day sorting them all out. But in contrast to Mr. Goodwin, it appears that Oscar LaBrea was raiding the cookie jar for his personal enrichment. We’re double- and triple-checking it, of course.”

“Yikes,” Jesse said.

“Exactly.”

Jesse was silent for a while.

“What are you going to do,” Rita said.

“I’ll have a look for myself.”

“I don’t like this, Jesse. You’ll want to be careful.”