Silent Justice: A Ben Kincaid Novel of Suspense

Chapter 9

CHRISTINA MET BEN AT the door the moment he arrived at work.

“It’s official,” she said, waving a thin document in front of his face. “We’re at war.”

Ben snatched the paper from her hands. “As if I didn’t know that already.” He threw his briefcase down on his desk and gave the pleading a quick onceover. “They’ve filed their Answer? Already? Defendants usually let a month pass before they get around to that.”

“It came accompanied by a Motion to Dismiss.”

“That son of a bitch really did it.”

“He did.” She passed him the motion. “It’s a tactic, Ben. That’s all it is.”

He did not appear appeased. “When’s the hearing?”

She drew in her breath. She knew he wasn’t going to like this part. “Three o"clock. This afternoon.”

“This afternoon? What’s the big damn hurry?”

“To read their motion, you’d think all of Western civilization was teetering on the brink.”

“Who’d we draw?”

“Judge Perry.”

“Perry! Jiminy Christmas!” Ben pounded his forehead. “You’re full of good news today, aren’t you?”

Christina held up her hands. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger.”

“I can’t believe we drew Perry. The last thing on earth this case needs is a Reagan appointee. And not one renowned for his big heart, either.” This was a critical blow. They needed a sympathetic ear, someone who would be moved by his clients" plight and perhaps even would cut them some slack occasionally as a result. But they didn’t get it. And like it or not, this judge would be with them till the bitter end of the case. “I’m still surprised they went ahead and filed their Answer.”

“I think they wanted to strike quickly while the story was still fresh and the press was still reporting each new development. Check out the section labeled General Overview.”

Ben did as she instructed. It read:

While the H. P. Blaylock Industrial Machinery Corporation regrets the loss of children’s lives and sympathizes with the grief of their parents, Blaylock nonetheless states that it categorically and without exception is without fault or blame with regard to those deaths. H. E Blaylock has always maintained and rigorously enforced a systematic policy for the disposal of its industrial waste, which has not at any time involved removal of such waste to any place where it could even conceivably contaminate the water supply of Blackwood or of any other community.

“Well, that just about covers it, doesn’t it?”

“I have a question,” Christina said, “as a struggling law student who can’t possibly understand all the nuances of big-time litigation. What exactly is the purpose of a General Overview?”

“There isn’t one,” Ben said. “At least not in terms of the pleading. That section was clearly added for the press. They know the reporters will pick up copies of the Answer at the courthouse. This was designed to give the fifth estate a succinct, quotable quote for the front page.”

He flipped to the second page, where the actual pleading began. The purpose of an Answer was supposed to be a paragraph-by-paragraph response to the allegations contained in the plaintiffs" Complaint. Here, the defendants managed to deny everything without actually saying anything:

“With regard to the allegations contained in Paragraph Four of Plaintiffs" Complaint, Defendant H. P. Blaylock either denies them or is without sufficient information to form a belief as to the truth of the allegations and therefore denies them.”

A quick scan told Ben that most of the Answer repeated this unenlightening language. Only the number of the paragraph referenced changed.

“Not very helpful, is it?” Christina said.

“Answers rarely are,” Ben replied. “I wonder why courts require us to go through these hoops anymore, since they almost never convey any useful information.”

“You mean this isn’t unusual?”

“Unfortunately, no. Typical. This is time-tested language.”

“Because defendants like to play it safe?”

“Actually, I think it’s mostly laziness. You can draft this kind of response without doing the least bit of investigation. A lawyer can draft an Answer like this without even calling his client up on the phone. Heck, his secretary could probably draft this, without knowing a thing about the case. Just plug the names into the word processor and recopy it over and over.” He rifled through the pages. “Is there anything useful in here?”

“Check out the last page.”

Ben found one lone paragraph that broke the pattern. Christina had marked it with yellow highlighter:

H. P. Blaylock admits that the land behind its plant in the Blackwood area consists in part of forests and marshlands. Although this land has occasionally been used for the temporary storage of industrial equipment and drums, the contents of the drums have never been permitted to escape and no industrial waste materials have ever come into contact with the ground, ravine, or any groundwater stream.

Ben looked up. “Now that’s interesting.”

“I thought so. Why did they suddenly become so verbose?”

“Well, they had to say something. They could hardly claim that they "lacked information sufficient" to know what was going on in their own backyard. Did we say anything in our Complaint about a ravine?” Christina shook her head. “I didn’t know there was one.”

“And why single out drums? That’s hardly the only way to transport waste.”

“It must be the one they used.”

“And they must think we know that. They’re trying to suggest that the mere presence of drums on the land—to which there are probably witnesses—doesn’t prove contamination. They’re drawing the line at the point they think we can’t prove—that the drums leaked.”

“And what does that tell you?”

Ben placed a finger thoughtfully against his lips. “That they probably did.”

Something about being in the presence of an ungodly attractive woman wearing a bikini put a man at an immediate disadvantage, Mike reflected, as Helen Grace stepped out of the pool, beads of water cascading down the sleek curves of her nearly naked body. Didn’t matter how tough the man was. Didn’t matter how attractive the man was. Didn’t matter who he was or what he was doing. When a woman built like that stood there in as little as the law would allow, exuding sexuality from every exposed pore, she had the upper hand. And anything else she wanted.

Which made Mike more than a little uncomfortable. When he conducted witness examinations, he was accustomed to running the show. It wasn’t ego; it was necessity. He almost never got to talk to anyone who actually wanted to talk to him. If he wasn’t in a position to put on a little pressure, he would probably come up with a great big goose egg.

He handed the woman a towel, careful to keep his eyes up where they belonged. “Ms. Grace?”

“That’s me. Are you the detective?”

“Guilty as charged.”

She dabbed the towel against her body, drying herself. “It’s such a nice day, I thought I’d take a little swim while I waited for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” And you wouldn’t mind if I took a few pictures, would you? Just to show the boys back at the office?

“Did you have any trouble getting in?”

“Not to speak of.” Which was a bit of an understatement. Southern Hills was one of the most exclusive country clubs in Tulsa. Visits from cops were neither frequent nor welcome. He’d had to bellow and bluster for ten minutes before he got in.

“I’m glad. Personally, I find all the elitism and exclusivity most annoying.”

Really. Then why did you ask me to meet you here? “Is there someplace we could talk?”

“Sure.” She led him to a small cabana near the north end of the pool. It was air-conditioned and, as he soon saw, equipped with a television, stereo system, and a stocked bar. Well, he supposed, it was important to have a nice place to change into your swim trunks.

She started to close the door, but he stopped her. “Leave it open a crack. If you don’t mind.”

“I … thought you’d want some privacy.”

“This is private enough. We’ll talk quietly.” He didn’t want to be paranoid, but with a woman like this, you couldn’t be too careful. If the interview didn’t go well, he didn’t want any wild stories starting up about what went on while the two of them were alone in the cabana. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about Harvey Pendergast.”

“Oh. Poor Harvey.” A fraction of the strength and confidence washed out of her face. Her grief seemed genuine. “Sad enough to see him go before his time, but to go in such a hideous way …”

“It was pretty grim. So you can see why we’re investigating every possible avenue. I don’t want his killer to strike again.”

“Oh, my God. Do you think there’s a chance?” Her hand pressed against her very exposed cleavage. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is. I have a friend who tells me sales of security systems in Tulsa tripled the day after the World reported that murder.” He paused, contemplating the best approach. “I’d like to ask you about your relationship with Harvey.”

“What about it?”

“Well, for starters—what was it?”

“Lieutenant, let’s not play games. I was Harvey’s mistress, and apparently you know that or you wouldn’t be here. So let’s not beat around the bush.”

Mike tried not to display his surprise visibly, but it took some doing. He was just interviewing all the people who worked in Harvey’s department; she was the fifth one he’d talked to today. He hadn’t known anything about any affair. “That suits me fine. Since you know how much I already know, I hope you’ll realize there’s no point in lying to me.” Jeez, did he have balls or what?

“The relationship has been going on for the better part of a year.”

“How did it start?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it. No one was more surprised than me. Except maybe Harvey.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why was it such a surprise?”

She shrugged, sending provocative ripples up and down her torso. “Harvey was twenty-some years older than me. And not exactly Brad Pitt. But I’d just gone through a particularly nasty divorce. I’d had enough of hunks to last me a lifetime. Harvey wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like any man I’d ever been with before. There was something about him that seemed appealingly …”

“Safe?”

“That’s not it exactly. More like … sweet. Comfortable.” She took a deep breath. Mike tried to look elsewhere. “And I suppose I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I felt a little sorry for him.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“Don’t you know? His wife was an invalid. Had been for some time. Their current sex life was nil. Zip. Not even a BJ under the covers.”

This was a subject he definitely did not need to be discussing with an ungodly attractive woman in a bikini. “Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against Harvey? A reason to wish he … wasn’t around anymore?”

“Enough to kill him? No way.”

“Did he ever act … scared? Like maybe someone was out to get him?”

“No. Never. He could be secretive at times … but not in that way.”

“In what way?”

She paused, reflecting. “There were times when Harvey tried to suggest … I don’t know. That he knew something I didn’t.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know exactly. But he had big plans, and he liked to gas on about them. He’d talk about how we’d leave Blaylock behind. We’d go all around the world, and he’d show me the sights. He’d talk about how someday, when we had seen the world, he and I would buy a villa in France. Or a vineyard. Sit in a deck chair and drink wine all day.”

“Expensive plans for a midlevel employee.”

“Which I suggested to him, on more than one occasion. But he’d just get this coy little smile on his face. He wouldn’t explain. He’d say something mysterious, like, "lsquo;You’ll see, Helen. You’ll see.’“

“Did he think he was coming into an inheritance?”

“Not that I knew about. And honestly, what kind of inheritance could pay for dreams like that? He’d have to be a Rockefeller. And I don’t think he was.”

Mike had investigated Harvey’s background thoroughly. He wasn’t.

“Was there ever any change in his demeanor? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“You know, now that I think of it, there was. It was subtle, but he started being … less carefree. More careful. That’s when he had the dead bolts put on his doors. Iron bars on his windows. A big dog in the backyard. He told me it was because of his wife, because she was at home alone and helpless so often. But … I don’t know. Something about that explanation just didn’t ring true.”

“As it turned out, he didn’t spend nearly enough.”

“Yeah. Sad, huh?”

“Very. Do you recall when this … change came over him?”

“Well, I think it was maybe six months ago. I remember it was about the time that loony broke into the law school and took hostages.”

“Can you think of anything else that might be helpful?”

She thought for a while before answering. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Mind if I ask you a question about yourself?”

Her eyes reflexively glanced down at her own goddesslike body. “I guess that depends on what the question is.”

“You worked at the corporation with Harvey, so, if you’ll forgive me, I know more or less what you make. How can you afford to be a member in this joint?”

A wicked smile crept across her face. “Two words: divorce lawyer.” She laughed. “I just work for the hell of it. If I didn’t, my mind would turn to pudding and my body would bloat up like a balloon.”

Unlikely, Mike thought. He handed her a card. “Thanks for talking to me. If you think of anything else, please give me a call.”

“I will.” She paused, and the expression on her face made a decided change. “You know, Lieutenant … I’m allowed to have guests at the club.”

“Do tell.”

“The air is cool, the cabana is private, and the bar is well-stocked.”

“And?”

“And”—she twisted around slightly—”there’s a spot on my back I can’t quite reach.” She held out a towel. “Would you care to … be of service?”

His face widened with an unrestrained grin. “I can’t tell you how tempting that is. But I gotta go with the advice my sainted mother gave me many moons ago.”

Her lips pursed into a tiny pout. “And what would that be?”

“If something seems too good to be true—it probably is.”