Motion to Kill

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

“So who’s the lucky heir?” Mason asked.

“He doesn’t know. In 1987, some woman contacted Sullivan and claimed that he was the father of her ten-year-old child. Sullivan didn’t deny it but wanted a blood test to confirm it. Afterward, he never mentioned it again.”

“Call the blood bank,” said Blues. “They keep their records forever.”

“Forget it,” answered Sandra. “I’ve dealt with them on other cases. You won’t get anything out of them voluntarily. They’re too worried about confidentiality. You’ll need a court order.”

“That’s what assistant prosecuting attorneys are for,” Kelly said.

She grabbed her phone, punched in a number, and asked for Tina DeVoy, telling what she wanted and that she wanted it yesterday. Even though they could hear only one end of the conversation, it was easy enough to piece it together.

DeVoy followed standard rank-and-file procedure, explaining why she couldn’t get the order before Monday and why it would take another week to get the records after she got the order.

“Not good enough,” Kelly told her. “You’ll get the order, serve it, and bring me the records before the sun comes up in the morning or you’ll spend the rest of your career plea-bargaining traffic tickets. Are we clear?” Kelly listened and nodded. “Good. I’m sure you will.”

“That prosecutor surely knows you aren’t her boss, doesn’t she?” Blues asked when Kelly hung up.

“She’s brand-new and figures that anyone who yells at her might also sign her paycheck. She’ll get the order today, but we’ll be lucky to get the records before Monday. But at least it’s a start.”

Sullivan’s blood tests triggered a memory from Tommy Douchant’s trial. Tommy’s hip was lacerated by one of the I beams he hit on his way down to the pavement. Mason had used his bloody clothes as trial exhibits.

“How long will dried blood last?” he asked.

“Why? Are you planning to start a collection?” Sandra asked.

“Just trying to revive a lost cause. Any ideas, Kelly?”

“There are too many variables to generalize. Depends on the surface, the temperature-a lot of things.”

“Who would you use in Kansas City to analyze a safety hook for dried blood?”

“Virginia Norville. She’s the county medical examiner, and she does freelance forensic work if it’s interesting enough.”

Mason called Webb Chapman, leaving him a message to take the box of hooks to Dr. Norville for analysis. Sandra grabbed the phone as Mason was about to hang up, telling Chapman to also have the hooks checked for fingerprints.

“Good enough,” Mason said. “Let’s see if we can figure anything out in the O’Malley records. The fixtures deals are the key. Quintex invested in a series of sale and leasebacks of store fixtures. Scott Daniels did all the legal work.”

“Who signed off on the deals for the corporations?” Blues asked.

“A Chicago law firm with power of attorney for the corporations. The real players are anonymous.”

“What’s the name of the law firm?” Kelly asked.

“Caravello and Landusky,” Mason said.

The light drained from Kelly’s eyes as she grabbed Mason’s file and tore through the pages. Dropping the file, she balled her fists under her arms and paced around the room.

“What’s the matter? It’s only a law firm. Did they turn you down for a job?”

She stopped with her back to the stone fireplace, her expression grim. “Caravello and Landusky is Carlo D’lessandro’s personal law firm. They don’t sharpen their pencils unless it’s to cover for the mob. Jimmie Camaya has always been freelance, but D’lessandro is one of his best customers.”

“What else do we know?” Blues asked.

Mason answered. “Quintex invested fifty thousand to seventy-five thousand dollars in each deal. Annual rent was around sixty thousand. The first group of deals have recouped the initial investment and threw off about a half million dollars in the last year.”

“Anything else?” Kelly asked.

“In the last twelve months, O’Malley paid Sullivan amp; Christenson a half million dollars for work it never did.”

“Who controlled the billing?” Kelly was boring in.

“Angela Molina on the administrative side. She planted bugs in Sullivan’s, Harlan’s, and Scott’s offices to try and get something she could use on them.”

“Where in the hell does that news come from, and when were you planning on telling me?”

Kelly strapped her arms down with her hands to keep from strangling Mason. Blues just grinned, enjoying the show.

Even Mason couldn’t believe that he hadn’t told them everything he’d found out. Then he remembered that he’d spent most of the time since he talked with Angela being beat up and shot at, hitting bad guys with toilets, and sneaking out of town in the back of a car. It was easy to forget petty stuff like blackmail, wiretapping, and fraud when he got caught up in the fun and excitement of dodging bullets. Still, he felt sheepish-well, actually, stupid, but he thought he could sell sheepish easier than stupid.

“Okay, look. I’ve been kind of busy the last couple of days, what with being beat up, held prisoner, shot at, rescuing Sandra, and killing a guy. I know I should keep you guys more up to date, and I’ll try to do better from here on out.”

Blues grimaced as if he had gas. Sandra stuck two fingers down her throat. Kelly wasn’t buying any of it. All he could do was finish the story.

“Okay. Here it is. Angela and I had a drink at a gay bar called The Limit. She admitted the bugging and said the recordings were in a safe place. She was about to tell me where when Diane Farrell showed up.”

“Sounds like somebody is laundering money through Quintex and the law firm,” Kelly said. “Probably drug money. We need to talk to someone who can tell us if the lease payments are way above market value. If they are, I’ll bet that’s how they’re washing the cash.”

“Might be easier to trace the money after it leaves the law firm than try to backtrack it to where it started,” Blues said.

“How do we do that?” Mason asked.

“The first thing to do is examine the firm’s expenses. Are there any new, large expenses that aren’t easily explained? Do they match up in time with the receipt of the fees from O’Malley?” Kelly explained.

“We’ll have to get into the firm’s records to figure that out. I doubt if Scott will just turn the books over to us,” Mason said.

“That’s assuming he’s still running the show,” Sandra added. “Last we heard, the firm was the prize in a dogfight between St. John, with his federal court order freezing the firm’s assets, and O’Malley, with the receiver appointed by the state court.”

“Don’t leave anything else out, Counselor,” Kelly said.

“There is one other thing. Diane Farrell had Angela witness Sullivan’s codicil revoking his will, except Angela never saw Sullivan sign it.”

“So we charge Angela with murder, wiretapping, and falsely witnessing a document. Great.” Kelly said.

She picked up Mason’s file and started to return it to his briefcase when she hesitated, reached inside, and pulled out three CDs. “I thought you said you told us everything, Lou. What are these?”

“Souvenirs from Sullivan,” Mason said. “Two porn DVDs and the Johnny Mathis CD that was in his briefcase when we searched his room at the lake. His wife didn’t want them, so I kept them.”

“Why? You like a Johnny Mathis soundtrack with your porn?”

“Yeah, the moaning and groaning get old after a while.”

“Where did you find the porno DVDs?”

“One of them was in Sullivan’s office and the other was at his house.”

“Tell me again how you know that there isn’t anything else on them.”

“Diane Farrell looked at them for us.”

Kelly’s eyebrows rose with each word until Mason thought her forehead would vanish. He realized again how lame some things sounded when you tried to explain them to someone else.

“This is the same Diane Farrell who told Angela to witness Sullivan’s codicil without Sullivan’s signature and who showed up just in time to stop Angela from telling you where she was hiding her wiretap tapes?” Kelly asked.

Mason decided to treat her question as rhetorical.

“Yeah,” Blues answered for him. “My money says these disks will get you more than a rise in your Levi’s.”

Kelly picked up her phone again.

“Riley, it’s Kelly. Meet me at the courthouse computer center as soon as you can, and be prepared to do some hacking.”

“Who’s Riley?” Blues asked.

“He’s the register of deeds,” Mason said.

“And, he set up the county’s new computer system,” Kelly said. “If Sullivan hid something on these disks, he’ll find it. And, Lou, another shower wouldn’t hurt.”