The Perfect Alibi

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Vanessa Cole waited until she had shut the door to her new office before breaking into a huge grin. She still could not believe the surprising turn of events that had made her the district attorney for Multnomah County. It all started with Rex Kellerman’s startling resignation and his declaration that he had no plans to run for Paul Getty’s seat. Two weeks later, Paul suffered a stroke and announced that he was retiring. Then, yesterday, the governor summoned Vanessa to tell her that she was going to follow Paul’s recommendation and appoint her to the post.

Vanessa wondered if she would miss trying cases and how she would feel about being an administrator. She knew she would enjoy instructing her fellow prosecutors on the ethical standards she would demand that they follow—lessons Rex Kellerman could have used.

Vanessa detested Kellerman and was ecstatic when she learned he was leaving. Rex was smug, egotistical, condescending, and rude. Several women had complained that he’d made sexual advances or harassed them. What was far worse—though she could never prove it—was Vanessa’s belief that Rex had manufactured evidence to gain convictions. Everyone knew about the Henderson case, and Vanessa was certain that Henderson wasn’t the only time Kellerman had ignored the discovery rules; it was just the only case where he had been caught.

Vanessa didn’t know the story behind Kellerman’s rapid exit, but there were rumors galore. Paul had personally dismissed all the charges against Doug Armstrong the day after Rex quit, so Vanessa was pretty certain that something had happened in Armstrong’s case.

Vanessa had inherited Paul’s secretary. She told Vanessa that Robin Lockwood and Rex had met with Paul on Kellerman’s last day, but she had no idea what was said in her boss’s inner sanctum. She did say that Rex had looked like a death row inmate who was walking the last mile when he left the meeting.

Vanessa had a ton of things to do, but thoughts of Rex Kellerman kept distracting her. She worked through lunch. When the page she was reading began to blur, she told her secretary to hold her calls. Then she put her head back and closed her eyes, but visions of Rex Kellerman danced in her head like demented sugar plum fairies.

Paul Getty was convalescing at his home in Portland Heights. After work, Vanessa drove there for a one-on-one seminar on how to be the Multnomah County district attorney. Paul’s wife, Sheila, greeted Vanessa with a warm hug and congratulated her on her new job. Then she led Vanessa to the sunroom, where Paul was reading in an overstuffed armchair.

“I see you survived your first day on the job,” Getty said.

“Just barely. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I went for a mile walk this afternoon, and I’m still here.”

“Good. You had us all worried.”

“The doctor says that stress was partly to blame for the stroke. Let that be a warning to you. If the job starts getting to you, back off. I wish I had.”

“Well, now you can be a bum and forget about protecting an entire county.”

“Yeah. I’m resigned to spending the rest of my days eating bonbons and watching daytime TV.”

Vanessa smiled. “Somehow I don’t think I see that in your future.”

Paul grinned back. “Shall we get down to business? Sheila’s preparing a gastronomic feast for you. I’m going to get the healthy, tasteless crap my doctor has prescribed.”

Vanessa waited to talk about Rex Kellerman until Sheila told them that dinner would be ready in twenty minutes.

“Thanks for the crash course,” she said.

“My pleasure.”

“Can I ask you about something that happened in the office recently?”

“Sure.”

“Why did Rex quit?”

Getty stopped smiling. “That’s not something I want to discuss.”

“Did he do something unethical in Doug Armstrong’s case?”

Getty looked conflicted. Then he nodded.

“I’m DA now, Paul. If he did something that reflects badly on my office, I should know about it.”

Getty sighed. “You guessed right. It was Armstrong.”

“What did he do?”

“Before I tell you, you’ve got to promise me you’ll let the matter stand the way it is now.”

“I don’t know if I can do that without knowing what happened.”

Getty’s lips formed a grim line. “Rex had an affair with Doug Armstrong’s wife, and she broke it off.”

Vanessa’s jaw dropped. “He prosecuted an innocent man for revenge?”

“I think he’s convinced that Armstrong is guilty.”

“Based on what evidence?”

Getty told Vanessa about the blood under Frank Nylander’s fingernail and what happened with the DNA tests.

“That’s horrible, Paul. What if Armstrong had been executed? What if Robin hadn’t figured out what Rex was doing?”

“Well, she did, and Doug is a free man.”

“I have to think about this, Paul.”

“Doug doesn’t know that Marsha cheated on him. Think of the damage you’ll do to their relationship if he learns what happened between her and Rex.”

“Think of the damage Rex could have done. He’s a criminal, Paul, and I don’t know if I can sweep what he’s done under the rug.”

The next morning, Vanessa was the first person to arrive at the Multnomah County District Attorney’s Office. There were two reasons for her early appearance. First, she wanted to know if there was a history of prosecuting district attorneys who intentionally withheld exculpatory evidence or offered evidence they knew to be false or questionable to a grand jury or trial jury. Second, she just couldn’t sleep, knowing that Rex Kellerman had tried to put Doug Armstrong on death row to avenge being jilted by Doug’s wife.

Vanessa found only a few cases where a prosecutor had been disbarred or jailed for withholding exculpatory evidence. In one case, a Texas prosecutor had intentionally withheld evidence in a murder case that could have cleared the defendant. The defendant was convicted and spent twenty-four years in prison before being exonerated. The ex-DA, who was a judge when his crime was discovered, was prosecuted and pled no contest. He left the bench and was disbarred, but he spent only ten days in jail.

Vanessa was furious when she finished reading about that case. In Brady v. Maryland, the United States Supreme Court had made it crystal clear that prosecutors had an absolute duty to turn over exculpatory evidence to the defense. Every district attorney knew that. The Texas DA’s dereliction of duty had robbed a man of twenty-four years of his life and forced him to spend those years in the company of hardened criminals. Ten days in jail was a woefully inadequate punishment for such a hideous crime. To Vanessa’s mind, the DA was guilty of kidnapping, and Rex Kellerman was guilty of attempted murder.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Blaine Hastings was still on the run, but Robin figured that he’d be behind bars soon. Fugitives were usually caught. Someone would recognize him and phone the police or he’d get desperate and use a credit card or he’d just get tired of being hunted and turn himself in. So, she began preparing Randi Stark’s lawsuit. During a brainstorming session, Robin and Jeff drafted a witness list. Many of the witnesses in the civil suit would be the same witnesses who testified at Hastings’s criminal trial, but there were some loose ends that Robin wanted tied up.

Jeff found the names of Hastings’s high school teammates in Hastings’s high school yearbook. Then he cross-checked the names with the Portland State roster. There were three boys at PSU who had played football in high school with Blaine.

Two days after his meeting with Robin, Jeff parked in front of Alpha Phi Sigma’s fraternity house, a converted Victorian near the Portland State University campus. When Jeff started up the steps to the frat house, he spotted a young man with a blond crew cut, a thick neck, massive thighs, and ripped biceps sitting on a dilapidated sofa on the front porch. The young man stood up when he saw Jeff and walked toward him.

“Dino Portis?” Jeff asked.

“That’s me,” Portis said with a smile. “And you must be the PI.”

“I am.” The investigator handed Portis his card.

Portis pretended to look Jeff over. “Where’s your trench coat?”

“I left it at home with my magnifying glass.”

“That’s cool,” Portis answered with a laugh.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

“Yeah, well, Randi and I lived in the projects and went to school together. So why do you want to talk to me?”

“I was hoping to get some background on Blaine and Randi from someone who knew them. Can you tell me a little about Blaine? Have you had much contact with him since high school?”

“No. I didn’t have much contact with him in high school either, except during football practice, and even then, not so much.”

“Why is that?”

“We were on opposite sides of the ball. I was a running back and he was a linebacker, so there wasn’t much interaction during practice. And I told you I lived in the projects. Blaine was partial to rich kids who were members of the Westmont Country Club.”

“How did Randi and Blaine Hastings get along in high school?”

“Blaine never paid much attention to her, but he wasn’t nice to her the few times I saw them together.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were in a group, he’d insult her or talk down to her, if he paid any attention to her at all. Then there was that thing with Ryan.”

“Ryan Tucker, her boyfriend?”

“Yeah. That was fucking awful.”

“Tell me about that.”

“They had a fight after school. I came out of the locker room after it started. But, from what I heard, Ryan accused Blaine of forcing himself on Randi.”

“Forcing himself how?”

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I wasn’t there at the start.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Someone told me that Blaine called Randi a slut and Ryan took a swing at him. Blaine is a bully, but he can back it up. I’d never want to tangle with him. Ryan could fight but he wasn’t in Blaine’s league, and Blaine beat the shit out of him. It would have gotten really bad if me and a few of the guys on the team hadn’t jumped in to stop it.

“What was worse than the beating was what Blaine did afterward. He had Ryan arrested. I mean, you don’t do that. A fight is between you and the other guy. When it’s over, that’s that. But Blaine got the cops involved. Then he got his buddies to lie about what happened, and Ryan went to juvie.”

“That’s pretty low.”

Portis nodded. “And it got worse, because Ryan committed suicide after he got out.”

“I heard that.”

“I doubt Blaine gave a shit. I had an abnormal psych class last semester. Blaine would have fit right in to our discussion of sociopaths.”

“Tell me about Randi when she was in high school.”

“She was always a little wild, always rebelling against something. She hung with the Goth crowd, smoked weed. I don’t think she was into any other drugs. If she was, it didn’t show. One thing you should know. She isn’t dumb. She never did well in school, but that’s because she never tried. But she was in a few of my classes, and I could tell she has it between the ears, even if she didn’t use what she had up there.”

“She’s in community college studying to be a nurse, so maybe she’s a late bloomer.”

“Yeah, she told me about that at the game.”

“The PSU–Oregon game?”

Dino nodded.

“Tell me about that.”

“There’s not much to tell. We got our butts kicked. But guys on our team knew a lot of the Ducks, so we were milling around on the field after the whistle blew. Randi and Annie Roche came up and we were talking, and Jerry Reyes told Randi about the party.”

“Did he mention that Blaine was going to be there?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“So, Randi and Annie knew that?”

“Yeah, probably. Annie was there, but she was talking to Nick Dominico. She had a thing for him in high school, and it looked like she was trying to rekindle the relationship.” Portis laughed. “Nick told me later that he was afraid she was going to attack him.”

“She might not have known?”

“It’s possible, but we were all just inches from each other.”

“Did you see Randi or Blaine or Annie at the party?”

“I saw them when they came in.”

“Randi says that Blaine came over to her and started talking. Then they danced. Then he asked her to go to a bedroom to make out. Does that sound right?”

Portis thought for a bit. Then he frowned. “Okay. I remember Blaine talking to someone. There was a group of people from our class. Randi and Annie came over.” Portis paused, and his brow wrinkled as he tried to remember what happened at the party. “You know, I do remember Randi and Annie looking at Blaine before they came over to our group.”

“Looking how?”

“Just looking. And they were whispering. Then they’d look over again.”

“And this was before they came over to your group?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know how Blaine and Randi got together?”

“Yeah. Blaine was talking to someone. I don’t remember who. And Randi started talking to him, which I thought was odd given the way I knew she felt about him. Then they started dancing.”

“Did you see the two of them go to the bedroom?”

“I wasn’t paying that much attention, because I was talking about the game with some friends of mine. They go to Oregon and they were razzing me.” Portis smiled. “That game will not be on my highlight reel.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you can think of that might help?”

“No, I…” Portis paused again. “There was one other thing. While Randi and Blaine were talking and dancing, Annie was watching them. This is just an impression, and it was dark and I wasn’t paying her that much attention, but I thought she looked nervous, but she also had this little grin on her face.”

“What did Annie do after that?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I did see Blaine leave right before the girls did.”

“How did Blaine look?”

“I can’t say.”

“And Randi and Annie?”

“You know, now that I think about it, Randi was bent over and Annie looked like she was supporting her.”

“Is there anything else you can think of that bears on the rape?”

Portis thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“Okay, well, thanks,” Jeff said as he stood up. “You’ve got my card. If you think of anything, give me a call.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Rex Kellerman’s second wife let him keep the house when she divorced him. Her dentist boyfriend had a much bigger house. Besides, the house wasn’t anything to brag about. It was just a serviceable ranch in a decent middle-class neighborhood. The nicest feature was a back patio that had a view of the mountains. The rain had let up for a few days, and the weather had been unseasonably mild. When the detectives came to arrest him, Rex was on his patio nursing a glass of Scotch.

Even those who detested Kellerman agreed that he always looked as if he had just stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. Not today. The man Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon found on the patio sported a ragged three-day growth, unwashed hair, and was dressed in a sweatshirt, a worn T-shirt, and soiled jeans.

Kellerman had stopped shaving and showering when the fifth firm he’d interviewed with told him that they thought he was a hell of an attorney, but they just weren’t hiring. That’s when the light went on. He was persona non grata. Someone had talked. How else could you explain the lack of interest in a lawyer who, Kellerman firmly believed, was one of the best litigators in the state?

The disgraced assistant district attorney was so deep in his sea of misery that he didn’t hear the detectives approach.

“Afternoon, Rex,” Dillon said.

Kellerman wrenched sideways, startled, almost spilling his drink. When the identity of his visitors registered in his soggy consciousness, he smiled. “Hey, Rog, Carrie. Pull up a chair. Wanna drink?”

“Not right now, Rex,” Carrie answered.

“Come on.” Kellerman extended his arm and pointed toward the perpetually snowy summit of Mt. Hood. “What’s the sense of having this view if you don’t take advantage of it? Pull up a chair, let me get you a drink, and let’s enjoy the day.”

“I’d love to, Rex,” Dillon said, “but we’re here on serious business.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

Dillon held out an official document and Rex read it. Then he laughed.

“Is this a joke, Rog? Did you and Carrie cook this up?”

“It’s no joke. We’re here to arrest you for the attempted murder of Doug Armstrong.”

Kellerman stared at the detective. Then he broke out laughing again. “Okay, who put you up to this?”

Carrie stepped in front of Kellerman and showed him her handcuffs. “It’s time for you to get serious, Rex.”

It suddenly registered that the detectives weren’t the only law enforcement personnel on his patio. Two burly cops had moved behind him.

Kellerman stood on shaky legs. “You are serious?”

“Please turn around and put your hands behind your back so I can cuff them. Roger, read Mr. Kellerman his rights.”

“It’s that bitch Cole, right.”

“I don’t want to use force. Please don’t resist,” Carrie said.

“All right, all right, but I am going to sue her ass. I was promised. Paul promised.”

Roger Dillon had read Rex his Miranda rights, but the detectives had not tried to question him, because they knew he wasn’t sober enough to waive them. Rex had sobered up a little as soon as it dawned on him that he was in handcuffs, in the back of a police car, charged with a crime serious enough to land him in prison.

Kellerman’s first instinct was to try to make the detectives understand how ridiculous the charges were, but he had been on the other side in enough interrogation rooms to know that talking to the police was the quickest way to kill any chance of being cleared. There was, however, one word he knew he had to say, and he said “Lawyer!” loud and clear. The detectives allowed him his call as soon as he was booked in.

Carrie made sure that Rex was put in isolation. She was afraid of what would happen to him if the inmates discovered a DA in their midst. Rex lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, too scared to sleep, even though he was certain that he would be released on bail when he was arraigned in the morning. Hell, the charges might even be dismissed. Who had ever heard of such a thing? Charging a district attorney with attempted murder for trying to bring a killer to justice? Vanessa was insane. She should be behind bars for even thinking of throwing him in jail for pursuing Armstrong. He would definitely sue her when this was over. He would get her disbarred. Thinking about bringing down the haughty bitch made Rex feel a little better, but his good mood soon faded when an inmate began screaming, prompting other inmates to howl like banshees.

When the guards restored order, Rex made a serious attempt at sleeping, but imagining everything that could go wrong kept him awake. What if he ended up in prison? No, that couldn’t happen. He’d hired Les Kreuger, and Les Kreuger was brilliant. The charge was as flimsy as a spider’s web, and Les would rip right through it. Rex took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. But what if…?

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Blaine Hastings had been hiding in the bushes at the edge of the bar’s parking lot for an hour before the back door opened and a man staggered out. Several men and women had gone to their cars while he waited, but they had been in groups. He needed a lone drunk, and he got one just after one in the morning.

The man leaned over the driver’s door and made two unsuccessful attempts to insert his key into the door of an old Ford pickup. He was making his third attempt when Hastings hit him with a metal bar. As soon as the man collapsed on the asphalt, Hastings grabbed his wallet and ran. When he was far enough away from the bar to feel comfortable, he went through the wallet. There were thirty-four dollars and some credit cards. He took the cash and tossed the wallet with the cards into a Dumpster.

Hastings was very hungry. He’d been reduced to rolling drunks for cash because he didn’t dare use a credit card. He’d been sleeping on the street in Seattle and Tacoma. He couldn’t risk going to a shelter or a soup kitchen for fear of being identified.

This was his first evening back in Portland. He had gone to Mexico briefly and sent a letter to his parents, hoping it would be intercepted so the police would think he’d left the country, but he had planned to make his way back to Portland to kill Randi Stark, the lying bitch who was responsible for destroying his life.

After getting a burger, fries, and shake at a McDonald’s, Hastings made his way to the Starks’ house. He had spent a long time deciding what he would do when he got there. He was wearing a hairnet under a hoodie, and he’d shaved off his body hair in a gas station bathroom. He also had gloves and long sleeves to cut down on the possibility of leaving trace evidence for the cops to find.

When he got to the Stark residence, he would break in and beat the bitch and her mother to death. His only regret was that he’d have to kill them quickly. He would have loved to torture them for hours to avenge what they’d done to him. But the important thing was killing Randi.

Hastings had been to the house before, but the cops had been called and he’d had to run. This time he would be more careful. It took him three quarters of an hour to walk from the restaurant to the house. He noticed that there were no lights on. He tried the doors and found them locked. He didn’t think the Starks could afford an alarm system, so he broke a pane in the back-door window and waited a minute. When no alarm screeched, Hastings reached through the window and opened the door from the inside.

When he was inside, he crept up the stairs to Randi’s bedroom. He knew where it was because he’d seen Randi looking down at him the first time he’d been outside the house. He turned the doorknob slowly. Then he slid into the room. His hand closed on the iron bar he’d used to fell the drunk, and he walked to the bed. He wanted to stun Randi with the first blow so she could see who was going to beat her to death. Only he didn’t get the chance, because the bed was empty and neatly made.

Hastings made his way through the rest of the house. No one was home, and there were few items of clothing in the closets. Hastings stifled an urge to scream. Then he closed his eyes and took several slow breaths until he’d regained control of his emotions. The Starks were hiding. But where were they and who would know?

One name came to mind immediately. Robin Lockwood, Randi’s lawyer, would have to keep in touch because of the lawsuit. Hastings remembered the contempt she’d shown him in court. He hoped Lockwood would refuse to tell him where the Starks were hiding so he could beat the information out of her.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“It’s Vanessa Cole,” Kellerman said as soon as he and Les Kreuger were alone in the contact visiting room at the jail. “The bitch has always been jealous of me.”

“I talked to Vanessa,” Les said. “She wouldn’t tell me much, but she did tell me you were forced to resign because of the way you handled Doug Armstrong’s case.”

“Doug Armstrong killed Frank Nylander, but everyone is trying to protect him.” Kellerman shook his head. “Paul and I had a deal. I can’t believe he’d stab me in the back like this. I was supposed to resign, and that was supposed to be that.”

“Vanessa knows about the deal. She told me that Paul tried to talk her out of bringing any charges against you, but she decided to charge you anyway. Once I know more about the case, I might be able to use Paul’s promise to your advantage. Right now, I need to know what’s behind these charges. If Armstrong is guilty, why were you fired for prosecuting him?”

“I may have cut some corners,” Kellerman answered with a nervous laugh.

“Tell me about that, because the indictment alleges that you bribed a witness to falsify evidence so you could frame Doug for a crime that could have led to his being executed.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t framed. The DNA evidence proved he’s guilty.”

“I’m confused. If you had evidence, what was the problem?”

Kellerman told his lawyer about the inconclusive first test and his request for a retest. “It was all legal, but Paul misinterpreted what I did.”

“Vanessa told me you had an affair with Doug’s wife and didn’t tell anyone about it. Did she ‘misinterpret’ that?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, to protect Marsha. I didn’t want to mess up her marriage.”

“Wouldn’t sending Doug to death row have messed up their relationship?” Kreuger asked.

Kellerman started to respond. Then he realized there wasn’t much he could say. “Can the attempted murder charge stand?” he asked instead. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”

“I had an associate work on the problem after you called from jail. He found a few cases where a district attorney was prosecuted for withholding evidence that led to the conviction of an innocent man. But there is a United States Supreme Court case that might hurt us. It held that the Civil Rights Act of 1871 did not authorize a convicted person to assert a claim for damages against a police officer for giving perjured testimony that helped the state get a conviction. The bad news is a statement by the Court that you don’t need the possibility of damages to dissuade witnesses from lying, because they know they can be prosecuted criminally for perjury.

“Vanessa can argue that you convinced the DNA expert to commit perjury and should be criminally prosecuted for attempted murder since you knew that the jury might sentence Doug to death if it accepted the perjured testimony.”

“That’s a stretch,” Kellerman said.

“I agree. I was just trying to play devil’s advocate.”

“What’s the plan, Les? What are we going to do next?”

“Your arraignment is at ten. I’m sure Vanessa will alert the press, so be prepared for a circus.”

“Can you get me out of here?”

“Teresa Reitman is presiding. That’s good. She’s smart and she doesn’t choose sides. I’m fairly confident she’ll grant bail that you can afford. After that, we hunker down and figure out how to get your case dismissed.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

Marsha Armstrong turned on the television in the kitchen while she fixed breakfast for Doug. He had started going to his office again because he thought it would help to get back into a routine, but he still couldn’t remember anything about the days surrounding Frank’s murder.

The lead story on the news killed Marsha’s appetite. Vanessa Cole had charged Rex Kellerman with attempted murder because he had bribed a witness to falsify evidence that could have led to Doug’s execution. From the debate between the legal experts, Marsha gathered that no one had ever charged a prosecutor in this manner, but it wasn’t the novelty of the legal action that made Marsha want to throw up. Now that he was under arrest, Rex would have no reason to keep their affair a secret, and Marsha was smart enough to realize that Vanessa would expose the affair to prove Rex’s motive for framing Doug.

Marsha turned off the set and collapsed on a chair. By the time Doug walked into the kitchen, she had decided what she had to do.

Doug was smiling, but his smile faded when he saw Marsha’s face. “What happened?” he asked.

“Sit down. I have something I have to tell you.”

Doug was confused. Marsha looked like she was about to cry. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“The police arrested Rex Kellerman for attempting to murder you by bribing that witness to lie at your trial about the DNA.”

Doug brightened. “That’s great! I hope they send the bastard to prison.”

“It won’t be so great for us.”

Doug’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a reason Rex went after you, why he tried so hard to frame you.”

“What reason?”

Marsha looked down at the tabletop. “I… We… Rex and me, we had an affair.”

“What?!”

“It was the miscarriage. I was so depressed about losing the baby. I wasn’t thinking straight. I… I was sick, crazy with grief.”

Marsha looked up. “I stopped when I came to my senses. When I realized how wrong it was.” Her eyes begged Doug to understand. “I’m so sorry.” Marsha started to cry.

Doug stared at her for a moment, stunned by what she’d told him. Then he walked around the table and took Marsha in his arms. “I love you, Marsha. I’ll always love you. I know what losing our baby did to you. The affair means nothing. It’s your happiness that means everything to me.”

“I was so wrong.”

“No, if that’s what you needed to heal, it’s what you had to do.”

Marsha started to wail. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw back her head. She was crying so hard, she couldn’t talk. Doug hugged her as hard as he could.

“You’re so good,” Marsha managed when she had enough air to speak.

“No, baby, you’re the one who’s good. You’re the one who saved me. You brought me back to life after Lois died. I’d do anything for you. I love you so much.”

Marsha rested her head on Doug’s shoulders, and they stayed in an embrace for a while. When Marsha calmed down, she leaned away from Doug. “Paul Getty made a deal with Rex. He said he wouldn’t make public the reason Rex was resigning if Rex promised to keep our affair secret. Now everyone will know I betrayed you.”

“I don’t care,” Doug said. “All that matters is that we’re back together.”

“How can I face our friends? What will they think?”

“If they’re really our friends, they’ll forgive you like I have.” Doug gripped Marsha’s shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Be strong. Together, we’ll get through this.”

“Oh God, Doug,” Marsha said as she threw herself back into his arms. “I will never deserve you. Never.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

The arraignment went the way Les had said it would. Vanessa had pressed for a high bail, but Les argued that the case presented novel legal issues that might not survive pretrial motions, and the judge had agreed. Les posted bail, and Rex had been set free two hours after court adjourned.

One of Les’s associates had been waiting for Rex in the jail reception area and drove him home, where he had showered and dropped into a deep sleep. The annoying tones of his doorbell woke him at seven thirty the next morning. He staggered downstairs and opened the door. A reporter from a local television station was standing outside, his cameraman aiming a lens at Rex. Rex slammed the door before the reporter could get his question out. Moments later, Rex’s cell phone began to ring. It was another reporter. Rex disconnected and turned off his ringer.

Rex tried to get back to sleep, but the doorbell kept ringing. At eight o’clock, he gave up. After pulling down all the window shades so the reporters couldn’t look into his house, Rex fixed a breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and black coffee. Eating this breakfast, after gagging on the slop he’d been fed in jail, proved to be one of the greatest dining experiences of his life.

While he ate, Rex booted up his laptop. The story of his arrest was featured on the local paper’s webpage. Vanessa had told the press that Rex had faked evidence to frame an attorney against whom he had a grudge, which was bullshit. Rex knew Vanessa had planted this slanted and inaccurate story to poison the jury pool.

It was a cool but sunny day. Rex thought about going out on the patio, but the reporters could get to him there, so he went into his den, collapsing on the sofa, where his emotions yoyoed between anxiety and rage.

Before he left Rex at the courthouse, Les had told him that he wanted him to go through the files in Frank Nylander’s case so he could tell him the strongest argument he could make that Doug had killed his partner. Shortly after three, a messenger from Kreuger’s office arrived with copies of the discovery that Vanessa had turned over.

Rex spread the files across his kitchen table and fixed a cup of black coffee. While the afternoon slipped away, he read the files in the Nylander murder case, the New York City case file that contained the investigation into Tyler Harrison’s murder, Nylander’s file with the information about Leonard Voss’s lawsuit against the pharmaceutical company that had brought him to New York City, and the file about the murder of Leonard Voss.

Kellerman made notes on his laptop during his initial read-through. He got hungry a little after eight and made a sandwich. It was already dark when he started to reread the files. By eleven, he’d finished the interviews with Ken Norquist and the other employees of Nylander & Armstrong, the Harrison murder file, and the forensic and autopsy reports. Rex’s eyes were getting heavy and he was ready to pack it in when something occurred to him. He frowned. Then he went back to two of the files. His heart began to thud when he found what he was looking for. It was strange, but was it relevant?

Kellerman did a web search and found what he was looking for. He peeked through a window. The reporters had cleared out. He walked outside and stared into space. It was cold on the patio, but Rex was too distracted to notice. It was too late to follow up on his idea. He decided that he shouldn’t be the one to investigate anyway. That was his lawyer’s job. Les had crack investigators who could find out if there was anything that could help him.

Rex went back inside and found his cell phone on the kitchen counter. That’s when he realized that he didn’t have the number for Les’s cell phone. He looked up the number for Kreuger’s law office. A computer voice told him to leave a message.

“Les, this is Rex. I came across something odd in the files you sent me. I don’t know if it means anything. Give me a call in the morning when you get this message.”

Rex disconnected. He was tired, but it was too early to go to bed. He decided to watch some television and was headed for the den when he heard a noise. He paused. Someone had come in the door that opened onto the patio. It was probably a reporter. Rex was furious. He walked toward the rear door.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

“It was definitely arson,” Carrie Anders told Vanessa Cole.

They were standing in front of the charred remains of Rex Kellerman’s house. The blaze had awakened the neighbors, but the house was badly damaged by the time the fire trucks arrived.

“Any leads on who did this?” Vanessa asked.

“It’s too early.”

“Any thoughts?”

“There are all the defendants he prosecuted,” Anders said, “and no one I know liked Rex. Doug Armstrong comes to mind. He must hate Kellerman for framing him. If he found out that Rex was having an affair with his wife, that would give him another motive.”

“If I were Doug, I’d want to see Rex go through the hell of a trial,” Vanessa said. “Then I’d wait to see if he went to prison. That would give me more satisfaction than killing him.”

“I’ll check on his alibi anyway,” Anders said just as Les Kreuger drove up.

“What’s Les doing here?” the detective asked.

“I don’t know. He was representing Rex,” Vanessa said.

Anders and Cole walked to Kreuger’s car.

Kreuger got out and stared at the ruins of Kellerman’s home. “What happened?” he asked

“Rex was murdered last night, and his house was set on fire,” Carrie answered.

Kreuger looked stunned.

“Why are you here?” Vanessa asked.

“Rex left a voice mail message last night. He said he’d found something odd in the files I gave him. I called when I got the message. He didn’t answer. Then one of my associates told me he’d heard on the radio that Rex’s house had burned down, so I drove over.”

“Did Rex say what he’d found in the files?” Carrie asked.

“No. Only that he found something strange. I saved the message. I’ll give you a copy.”

“When was the last time you saw or talked to Rex?”

“When he was arraigned. One of my associates drove him home and dropped off the files yesterday afternoon. I can make him available if you want to talk to him.”

“What files did you give him?”

“It was your discovery, Vanessa. The files in the Nylander case, the stuff the New York detective sent about the Harrison murder, some information about the case Nylander went to New York to negotiate.”

“The arson investigator thinks the fire might have been started by setting the files aflame,” Vanessa said. “Did you see anything in the files you gave Rex that can help us figure out why someone would want to destroy them or what Rex was talking about?”

“I’ve been through the files a few times, but I didn’t see anything that struck me as ‘odd.’” Kreuger looked at the house. “Did he die in the fire?”

“No,” Carrie said. “His body was burned, but the ME says he was probably dead when the fire started.”

“Thank God he didn’t burn to death. That’s a horrible way to die.”

“Dr. Grace found an entry wound in his forehead, and forensics found a bullet lodged in a wall under a painting. His body was found near the back door. Dr. Grace thinks Rex was shot by someone who came in that way and that he died immediately.”

“Do you have any more questions for Les?” Vanessa asked Carrie.

“No.”

“Why don’t you take off,” Vanessa said. “If you think of something that might help, give Carrie a call.”

Kreuger nodded. He took another look at the house and gave a sad shake of his head before walking to his car.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The doorbell woke Marsha Armstrong from a deep sleep. She looked at the clock on her end table. When she saw the time, she bolted up in her bed. Ten o’clock! How had she slept until ten o’clock? She was an early riser, out of bed by seven at the latest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept until ten. She looked at Doug’s side of the bed. It was empty, the sheets rumpled and his blankets thrown back. Doug was also an early riser, so she guessed that he was at the office.

The doorbell rang again. Marsha grabbed her robe and rushed down the steps. When she looked through the peephole, she saw Roger Dillon and Carrie Anders. She had no idea why they would be here. She opened the door.

“Hi, Mrs. Armstrong,” Roger said. “Is your husband home?”

“No. He’s probably at work.”

“I guess that means he’s feeling much better.”

“He is, but he still can’t remember what happened on the night Frank was murdered, if that’s what you’re here to find out.”

Carrie smiled. “It’s not.”

Marsha frowned. “Then what do you want with Doug?”

“Actually, we wanted to talk to the two of you.”

“Oh?”

“Can you tell me what you and Doug did last night?”

Marsha’s brow furrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Marsha hesitated.

“It’s important,” Roger said.

Marsha shrugged. “We stayed home. I fixed dinner and we watched some episodes of Game of Thrones Doug missed when he was in jail. Then we went to bed.”

“About what time was that?”

“I don’t know. Nine, nine thirty.”

It suddenly dawned on Marsha that she couldn’t remember what time she’d gone to bed or even going up to bed. She did remember seeing the episode where the dragons burned up the army, but even that memory was hazy.

“You were together all night?”

“Yes,” she said, although she was guessing.

“Could Doug have left during the night?”

“Okay. That’s enough. I don’t think I should say anything else until you tell me why you’re here.”

“Rex Kellerman was murdered last night,” Carrie said as she watched Marsha closely for her reaction.

Marsha’s jaw dropped and she looked stunned. Then she realized why the detectives were at her door. “You think…? That’s ridiculous.”

“We have to talk to everyone who had a grudge against Mr. Kellerman, and Doug had a powerful motive to kill Rex.”

“Doug was home all night, and I don’t think we have anything more to talk about.”

“I’m sorry we upset you,” Carrie said.

“You have some nerve, coming here after what you did to Doug. So just go.”

Marsha slammed the door. The adrenaline generated by her anger had cleared Marsha’s head a little, but not completely. Why did she feel so dopey?

Marsha had told the detectives that Doug was with her all night, but had he been in her bed all night? She could never swear to that, because she had been dead to the world until the doorbell roused her at ten in the morning.

Marsha thought about the previous evening. She had been tired, but not abnormally tired. So, what was the explanation for her foggy memory and deep sleep? Marsha did take sleeping pills on occasion. She’d taken them almost every night after her miscarriage and while Doug was under arrest. But she had not taken any since Doug forgave her for having an affair with Rex Kellerman.

Marsha strained to remember what had happened during their viewing of Game of Thrones. Doug had been very sweet, she recalled. He’d bought several flavors of ice cream for her, and she’d eaten a big bowl while the dragons were flying around.

It dawned on Marsha that this was her last clear memory. She frowned. Did Doug put something in the ice cream? Why would he do that? The answer that came to her was one she quickly rejected. Doug was no killer. He was a gentle soul. It was ridiculous to think that he would drug her, sneak out of their house in the dead of night, and kill Rex—wasn’t it?

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Robin had a court appearance in another county, so she had to take her car. The case finished at three. When she got back to her office a little after four, she found Everett Henderson waiting for her in Reception. Robin broke into a big grin. She hadn’t seen Everett since she’d won his case and humiliated Rex Kellerman, two very pleasant accomplishments.

“Hey, Rockin’ Robin,” Henderson sang when he stood up.

“What brings you here? Hopefully, not another run-in with the law.”

“Nah. I’m keeping my nose clean.” Henderson pointed to a man who was sitting next to him. “This is my good friend, Bill Carmody. He’s got legal problems, which I’ll let him explain. And he has money, so don’t let him off cheap.”

Carmody gave new meaning to the word disreputable. He was rail thin, dressed in stained jeans, a soiled black T-shirt, and a leather vest that displayed the colors of the Viper motorcycle gang. His beard was unkempt, as was his hair, and he couldn’t sit still. As Robin drew near, she caught a whiff of a horrible stink resembling the odor of cat piss, which she knew from experience attached itself to people who cooked speed.

“Thank you, Everett,” Robin responded, trying not to breathe.

Henderson stood. “I’ll be waiting downstairs, Bill. You’re in good hands.”

“Mr. Carmody,” Robin said, “why don’t we go to my office, and you can explain why you think you need my help.”

It was after six by the time Robin finished interviewing her new client. She was too tired to work, so she called Jeff to tell him she was on her way. He said he’d treat her to dinner at their favorite restaurant. Robin straightened her desk and headed down the street to her garage.

The lot had been packed when Robin arrived, and the first spot she’d found was far from the elevator, at the back of the eighth floor. By six thirty, most of the cars were gone and her car was the only one parked against the back wall. Robin was reaching for the driver’s door handle when she heard footsteps. As she turned, a hand shot out and jammed her against her car.

“Where is Randi Stark living?”

“She moved after she saw you outside her house, Blaine. I don’t know her new address.”

“I don’t believe you. Give me the address or I’ll hurt you.”

“You’re in enough trouble already. Don’t make it worse by piling an assault on top of a rape.”

“I never raped that lying cunt.”

“The evidence and the witnesses say otherwise,” Robin said to stall for time.

“The witnesses lied and the evidence was planted.”

“DNA doesn’t lie.”

“You moron, that scheming bitch rigged the DNA.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hastings’s features hardened. “I’m through talking. Give me the address or I’ll beat it out of you.”

Robin let her voice crack so Hastings would hear fear. She hoped he would relax enough to give her an opening.

“Okay, okay. But I don’t have it memorized. It’s on my phone. Give me some room. It’s in my pocket.”

Hastings stepped back, and Robin aimed a kick at his knee. Blaine had exceptional reflexes, and Robin’s foot missed the mark. Robin smashed her fist into Hastings’s stomach, but it was like hitting a wall. Hastings grunted. Then he swung. Robin blocked the punch, but there was enough force behind it to drive her back against her car. She raised her forearm to block the next punch, but Hastings was so strong that the blow drove her forearm into her face. The back of her head smacked into the side of her car, stunning her.

Hastings grabbed Robin by the throat with one hand and slapped her hard with the other. “The address, bitch, or…” Hastings’s eyes went funny and he released Robin.

He started to turn, and a massive fist adorned with brass knuckles crashed into the side of his face. Hastings staggered and tried to raise his arms, but he was too dazed to get them up. The next punch flattened his nose and sent him to his knees. Everett Henderson’s final punch put Blaine out.

“How you doing?” Henderson asked.

“I’ve been better. How did you know I needed help?”

“I was downstairs waiting for Bill when I saw this asshole watching the building. I didn’t think about it until his hood fell back for a moment, and I recognized him. Then you came out and he started following you. I decided to tail him.”

“I’m glad you did. He was way too big for me.”

“Hey, you tried.”

“I’m going to call 911. Those brass knuckles are illegal, so I think you should disappear.”

Henderson smiled. “Good advice, Counselor.”

“And thank you.”

“No need after what you did for me. Hey, I just got an idea. We should go WWE. We’d make a good tag team.”

Robin laughed. “Get lost.”

Hastings started to come to before the police arrived. Robin hesitated. Then she remembered what Blaine had done to Randi, and she stomped his head hard enough to put him out again. Two police officers arrived moments before the ambulance.

Robin had told Dispatch who had attacked her and asked them to notify Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon. The detectives showed up fifteen minutes after the first responders. The EMTs had Hastings strapped down in the back of the ambulance. The detectives checked on the prisoner, then walked over to Robin, who was sitting in her car with the door open.

“You’re going to have a tough time getting dates if you keep beating them up,” said Anders.

“Blaine Hastings isn’t my type, Carrie. I don’t date rapists.”

“I took a good look at Mr. Hastings’s injuries. I didn’t know you could hit that hard.”

“I can’t. A Good Samaritan came to my rescue.”

“Did you get a name?”

“No. And I was too dazed to give you a description, so don’t ask.”

Anders studied Robin for a moment. Robin met her gaze and Anders smiled.

“Maybe Prince Charming can give us a description. But he’s going to have his jaw wired shut for a while, so I’ll have to wait. Why did he attack you?”

“He wanted Randi Stark’s address.”

“Lucky for her, he’s in no condition to pay a visit.” Anders frowned.

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asked.

“I was just wondering if Hastings murdered Rex Kellerman.”

“Kellerman’s dead?”

“You haven’t heard. It’s been all over the news.”

“I was in court and out of town all day. What happened?”

“Les Kreuger gave Rex all the files in the case against Doug Armstrong, those New York cases, all that stuff. Someone shot him early this morning, then set fire to the files. His house burned down.”

“And you think Hastings might have killed him because he prosecuted him?”

“It’s possible. Especially now that you tell me he was going after Randi Stark.”

“Why would Blaine or anyone burn case files? Plenty of people have duplicates.”

“That’s a question we’ve been asking. Les Kreuger told us that Rex left a message in his office voice mail last night. He claimed he’d found something odd in the files, but he didn’t say what it was. I have someone going through our copies to see if he can figure out what Rex noticed.”

Robin was about to say something when she grew dizzy and reached out to brace herself.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked.

“I think my adrenaline tank just went dry.”

“Do you think you have a concussion?”

“I hope not.”

“Did you make a statement already?”

“Yeah, to the first officer who responded to my 911 call.”

“Can you drive safely?”

Robin thought about calling Jeff but decided against it. She’d see him at the apartment. “I’ll be okay. I’ll just sit for a minute.”

“Okay. Then go home. If I need anything more, I’ll get in touch.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

When Robin walked in the door of her apartment, Jeff saw her black eye and swollen jaw.

“What happened!?”

“I had a run-in with Blaine Hastings.”

Jeff looked shocked. “Are you okay? How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m good. Just a little shaken up.”

“Did you go to the hospital?”

Robin smiled. “Relax, Jeff. I used to fight professionally. I’ve been hurt worse in the octagon, believe me.”

“Not by someone who tried to kill you.”

“Blaine didn’t try to kill me. He just wanted information. And he’s in jail, so I don’t have to worry about him. He also got much more of a beating than I did.”

Robin told Jeff about the attack and the rescue. By the time she finished, he’d calmed down.

Jeff wrapped his arms around Robin and pulled her tight. “I should have been there for you.”

“It’s not your fault Blaine got to me.”

“We dropped our guard. I should have known better.”

Robin pushed Jeff far enough away to look into his eyes. “I’m okay. Please don’t beat yourself up.”

“I love you, Robin. If anything happened to you…”

“Neither of us can live in a bubble. If I could go back in time, I’d keep you from going into that meth lab, but I can’t, and you can’t go back in time and walk me to my car.”

Jeff started to say something, but Robin silenced him with a kiss.

“Who rescued you?” Jeff asked when they came up for air.

“I’m not saying, because I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“You won’t be able to if I don’t tell you the identity of my knight in shining armor.”

Jeff decided it would be futile to pursue this line of questioning.

“Did you hear about Rex Kellerman?” Robin asked to divert Jeff.

“Yeah. Do you think Hastings killed him?”

“I don’t know. And right now, I don’t want to think about Kellerman, Blaine Hastings, or anyone but the sandman.”

Robin had a splitting headache when she woke up the next morning. Jeff was concerned, but she told him that he shouldn’t worry. Then she took two Advil and fixed a bagel and tea for breakfast. Jeff read the newspaper while they ate. Every once in a while, he would comment on an article, but Robin seemed miles away.

They were almost finished with breakfast when Carrie Anders called to see how Robin was feeling and to ask her to come in to give a formal statement. Robin called her secretary to tell her she’d be in late.

“Do you want me to drive you downtown?” Jeff asked.

“I’ll be able to drive myself.”

“Are you really okay? You seem a little spacey.”

“More than usual?” Robin said, flashing a smile that made it look like she felt a lot better than she actually felt.

Jeff didn’t return the smile.

“I’m okay, Jeff. Please don’t worry.”

“Will you promise me you’ll see a doctor? You could have a concussion.”

“I’ll go right after I give my statement to Carrie.”

Robin went back to her breakfast, and Jeff turned to the sports page. He was about to comment on an upcoming football game when he saw Robin staring into space.

“What is it?” Jeff asked.

Robin frowned.

“Out with it,” Jeff said. “I know when a weird idea is whirling around in your little brain.”

“It’s something Carrie told me. Les Kreuger gave Rex copies of the files in Doug Armstrong’s case. Rex left Les a message on his voice mail. He said he’d found something odd in the files, but he didn’t say what it was. The person who killed Rex burned the files. Could Rex have been killed because he found something in them that put someone in danger?”

“There’s another possibility,” Jeff said. “Paper burns. Maybe the killer just used the files to start his fire.”

Robin sighed. “That’s the most likely possibility. But Frank Nylander went to New York to settle a case against a pharmaceutical company represented by a lawyer named Tyler Harrison. The files in that case were among the files that Les gave to Rex. Leonard Voss was the plaintiff in the case. Both Harrison and Nylander were murdered. Then Leonard Voss and his wife were murdered, and their house was set on fire, just like Rex.”

“And you don’t think that’s a coincidence?”

“I’m starting to think that there are too many coincidences connected to the New York case.”

“Did Rex have anything to do with the New York case?”

“Not that I know, but he might have stumbled onto something when he read the files. Norcross Pharmaceutical is a relatively new company, and the drug that Voss claimed caused his stroke is their first big product. If Voss’s suit had been successful, it could have been devastating for Norcross.”

“You think the company hired someone to kill Voss?”

“I don’t know, but Voss and the lawyers who were representing Voss and Norcross were all murdered within a short time.”

“Assuming Rex found a smoking gun in the files last night, how would Norcross even know about it?”

Robin grimaced. “You’ve got a point.”

“This isn’t our case anymore, Robin. Doug was our client, and you cleared his name. Why waste your time?”

“It just bothers me.”

“If you’re right, poking around in Rex’s case could be dangerous.”

Robin smiled. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to worry. If I do find something, I’ll tell Carrie and Roger.”

Robin drove to police headquarters and gave a statement about Blaine Hastings’s assault to Carrie Anders. She pretended not to know the identity of her rescuer, and Anders didn’t push.

“Can I ask you a question?” Robin asked just before she left.

“Shoot,” Carrie answered.

“Something has been bugging me. Does the way Rex died and the way Leonard and Rita Voss died strike you as being similar?”

“I did think about Voss when I drove up to Rex’s house, but I haven’t found anything that ties the two together.”

“Have you had a breakthrough in the Voss murders?”

“Maybe. Mrs. Voss called the station before she died and said she thought someone was following her. She said she got suspicious when she saw the same car on two occasions. Then she spotted a car down the street from her house.”

“Did she give a description of the car?”

“She said it was a red Honda Accord.”

“Did she get a license number?”

“No, the car was too far away, and it sped off when she started to walk toward him. But we may have caught a break. A red Honda Accord ran a red light two blocks from the Voss home on the night they were killed. There was a traffic camera at the light, and we have a photo of the driver and the license. The car was a rental. The renter used fake ID, but we ran the photo of the driver through facial recognition software and we think his name is Ivar Gorski.”

“Does he have any connection to Norcross Pharmaceuticals?”

“All we know now is that Gorski has a private detective agency in New York.”

“You should call Detective Jacobs in New York and let him know. He can get on it from his end.”

“Gee, Robin, I never thought of that.”

Robin blushed. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you let us do the detecting? That’s what we’re paid for. You concentrate on putting criminals back on the street so I can stay employed.”

Robin laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not after your job.”

“That’s good to know,” Carrie said as she flashed an answering smile.

“Have a nice day, Counselor.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Randi Stark and her mother moved back to their house as soon as Robin told Randi that Blaine Hastings was back in jail. Two days later, Robin filed Randi’s lawsuit against Hastings in the Multnomah County Circuit Court, and the next day, Jeff ushered Annie Roche into Robin’s office before taking a seat against the wall.

When Roche testified in Blaine Hastings’s rape trial, she’d worn a long-sleeve blouse and an ankle-length dress, and her only jewelry had been conservative earrings and a tasteful turquoise ring. Today, her bare arms were covered from shoulder to wrist with tattoos, and she wore a nose ring and metal piercings in her ears and eyebrows.

“Have a seat, Annie. Can I get you coffee, tea, some water?” Robin asked.

“I’m good.”

Robin thought Roche looked nervous. “Thanks for coming in.”

“Yeah, about that. How come you need to talk to me? I saw you sitting in at Blaine’s trial. You already know what I’m going to say.”

“I do have a transcript of your testimony and the police report with your statement. But you’re going to have to tell your story to the civil jury that will hear Randi’s lawsuit. There may be different issues we have to cover in that trial, since we’re asking for money to compensate Randi for her physical and emotional injuries.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself. How old are you, did you grow up in Oregon, are you in school or working? That kind of thing.”

“Uh, I’m twenty-one. I grew up in Salem. Then my folks moved to Portland when I was thirteen. I’m going to community college and working part-time in a nail salon and also at a grocery store to pay tuition.”

“That sounds hard.”

Roche shrugged.

“How long have you known Randi?”

“Like forever. We went to middle school and high school together.”

“So, you’re good friends?”

“Yeah.”

“One of the big issues in a civil suit is the pain and suffering the plaintiff has endured. This can be physical pain or mental and emotional pain. Have you had a lot of contact with Randi since she was raped?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“And have you noticed any physical or emotional changes?”

Roche nodded.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve seen.”

“Uh, well, she’s depressed, you know. She told me she has nightmares and has trouble sleeping. And, uh, she’s scared all the time. Like she thinks it could happen again.”

“Okay. That’s helpful. What about physical pain?”

“Uh, after Blaine did it, she was sore. That’s what she told me.”

“Anything lasting?”

“You have to ask her.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about something else. Did you know Blaine Hastings in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you friends?”

“No. Blaine Hastings is a pig. He belongs in jail.” Roche answered with more emotion than she’d shown since she walked into Robin’s office.

“You really hate him, don’t you?”

Roche looked away and shrugged.

“Did he ever do anything to you to make you feel this way?”

“Not to me, but to people I know.”

“Tell me about that.”

“There’s a guy I knew. He framed him, and he went to jail.”

“Was this Ryan Tucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Randi told me he killed himself.”

When Roche nodded, she looked grim.

“What about other times Hastings molested a woman? Have you heard anything like that?”

“Just rumors. I don’t know anything specific.”

“Okay. Let’s move on to the PSU frat party. How did you know about it?”

“Portland State played Oregon. Some guys we knew from our high school play for PSU. They told me about the party when we saw them after the game.”

“Did Randi know about the party when you were at the game?”

“Not until I told her.”

“My investigator talked to several of the guys you talked to after the game. They say that Randi did know about the party.”

“Then I guess Randi may have heard about it.”

“Blaine Hastings said he found out about the party from some of the PSU players. It must be the same guys.”

“Maybe.”

“Did the guys tell you Blaine was going to be at the party?”

Roche’s shoulders folded in. “Uh, no. Not that I remember.”

“Dino Portis told my investigator that Randi knew and you were standing next to her when she found out.”

“Maybe I did know. I’m not sure.”

“If you and Randi hated Blaine, why did you go to a party he was going to attend?”

“There’s a lot of people at those parties. We weren’t going to hang out with him.”

“But Randi did. She danced with him, made out with him, and went into a bedroom with him.”

“So?”

“It just seems odd if she hated him so much.”

Roche shrugged again.

Robin noticed that Roche was worrying the skin on one of her fingers. Robin was wondering what was bothering Roche when she remembered Blaine Hastings’s cryptic statement about the DNA evidence that had been crucial to his conviction.

Robin studied Roche. A reason for Roche’s nervousness occurred to Robin—a reason that made her feel a little sick.

“Let’s go over some basic stuff about testifying, Annie. Did Rex Kellerman, the DA who prosecuted Blaine Hastings, talk to you about perjury and the consequences of lying under oath?”

Roche’s cheeks reddened, and she squirmed in her seat. “He told me that it was important for me to back up Randi’s story about Blaine raping her.”

That would be typical of Kellerman, who was always more interested in a conviction than the truth, Robin thought. Out loud, she asked, “You know that the DNA evidence in Blaine’s case was crucial?”

“Yeah.” Roche looked uneasy, and that encouraged Robin to press her.

“Rex got in trouble because he bribed an expert to lie about the DNA evidence in another case. He was facing serious jail time before he was killed.”

“Why are you telling me about this?” Roche asked. “You’re Randi’s lawyer.”

“I am, but I’m also an officer of the Court, so I have a duty to keep from putting on testimony if I know it’s not the truth.” Robin paused and look Roche in the eye. “You’ve been very nervous since you entered my office. Is there a reason for that?”

“No,” Roche answered, but her answer didn’t sound convincing.

“Did you hear about Blaine’s scam, the way he got out of jail after he was convicted?”

“Yeah, Randi told me.”

“So, you know that Blaine’s father paid a woman to put Blaine’s ejaculate in her vagina and claim she was raped.”

Roche didn’t move.

“Did you know that Blaine attacked me in my parking garage?”

Roche nodded.

“Here’s the thing,” Robin said. “While we were in the garage, Blaine insisted that he never raped Randi. I said that DNA doesn’t lie. He said that the DNA evidence in his case had been rigged.”

Roche twisted in her seat.

“Did Blaine get the idea for his scam from Randi? Did Randi lure Blaine into a dark bedroom and jerk him off so she could get his sperm? Did Randi shout ‘Get off me’ as a signal for you to come into the bedroom so she could put his cum in her when you walked in and distracted him?”

“Why are you cross-examining me like I’m some kind of criminal?”

“I’m just asking you questions Blaine’s lawyer is going to ask when you testify for Randi in her civil case, and I wanted to see how you’d hold up. With millions at stake, Blaine’s family is going to hire the most vicious lawyer they can find. He’ll try to rip you apart. Doug Armstrong is a pussycat compared to the attorney who will be defending this case. He’s going to try to make the jury believe that you lied on the stand to convict Blaine so you could get revenge and a share of the money Randi gets.”

“Well, that’s… that’s not true.”

“Good, because witnesses who lie in court get in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, I’m not lying.”

“So, Blaine didn’t get the idea for his scam from Randi?”

“I have no idea how Blaine dreamed that up.”

“Well, that’s good to know. Now, let’s go over the questions I’m going to ask you.”

“Why did you lace into Roche like that?” Jeff asked as soon as they were alone.

“You weren’t in the garage when Blaine attacked me, so you didn’t hear the way he protested about being framed. He really sounded sincere.”

“Blaine Hastings is a sociopath. You can’t believe a thing he says. You sat through the trial. You heard the testimony. Hastings raped Randi Stark.”

“Yeah, but Hastings has insisted that Randi gave him a hand job and that he never penetrated her. If he ejaculated in her hand and she put Hastings’s cum in her vagina, the same way Braxton did, it would explain how his DNA got inside her and how he got the idea for his scam.”

“You think Randi’s smart enough to come up with a plan that complicated?”

“You told me that Portis kid said she’s bright, and she’s studying nursing. She told me that she has a 3.65 GPA. That’s up there. I’m pretty sure that Randi would have the medical know-how to pull off something like this.”

“You think she made up the rape?” Jeff asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think that Roche was nervous because you scared the hell out of her, and I think Blaine Hastings raped Randi Stark.”

Robin thought for a minute. Then she shook her head. “You’re right. I’m probably still concussed and not thinking straight.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

“I found something you need to know,” Peter Okonjo told Carrie Anders as soon as she answered her phone.

“Tell me.”

“We dug a bullet out of the wall in Rex’s place, and I ran it through the National Integrated Ballistic Information Network. NIBIN came up with a match to a bullet used to murder a lawyer in New York City named Tyler Harrison III.”

“Now that’s interesting. Can you match the bullet to a particular gun?”

“If we had the gun. Without it, all I can say is it’s the kind of bullet that could be fired from a certain type of gun. This one could have been fired from an automatic like a Smith and Wesson, a Beretta, or a Glock nine-millimeter. Why, do you have a specific gun in mind?”

Anders had a thought. “Let me get back to you.”

As soon as she disconnected, Anders phoned Roger Dillon and told him to meet her at the Nylanders’ house.

Frank Nylander’s widow lived a few blocks from the Armstrongs in a yellow and white Dutch Colonial. Janet Nylander had put on makeup, but it didn’t completely disguise the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the many sleepless nights she had endured since her husband was murdered.

“We’re sorry to intrude, Mrs. Nylander, but we want to ask you about something that may help us figure out what happened to your husband,” Anders said.

“Go ahead.”

“Did Frank own a gun?”

“Yes, a handgun.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“No.”

“Where did he keep it?”

“I don’t know. He bought it when there were a rash of home burglaries in our neighborhood. But that was a while ago.”

“Could it have been in his office or his car?” Roger Dillon asked.

“I’m not sure where it is.”

“Can you look for it now?” Dillon asked.

“Yes. Of course. Why don’t you wait in the living room?”

Janet returned twenty minutes later. “I can’t find it,” she said. “I looked in our closets, the den. I’ll keep looking after you leave. I could have missed it.”

“Thanks,” Carrie said.

“You know, I think Frank did tell me that he was going to take it downtown.”

“Do you remember what kind of gun Frank owned?” Dillon asked.

Janet’s brow furrowed. “It had a funny name.”

“Beretta?” Dillon asked.

“No. Something that sounded German.”

“Was it a Glock?” Carrie asked.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Nylander. You’ve been a big help.”

“Are you any closer to finding out who… did that to Frank?”

“Maybe. And what you’ve told us may help.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Robin was in court, asking the presiding judge for a setover in one of her cases. The assistant district attorney had no objection, and the request was granted. When Robin walked into the corridor outside the courtroom, she spotted Les Kreuger talking to another lawyer. She waited for them to finish before walking over to Les.

“Carrie Anders told me you were representing Rex Kellerman. I thought Vanessa went way out on a limb, charging Rex with attempted murder. How do you think the legal issue would have shaken out?”

“I’m not sure. There are good arguments for and against.” Kreuger shrugged. “We’ll never know now.”

“Have you ever had a client murdered before?”

“I’ve been practicing for twenty-seven years, and this is a first.”

“I didn’t like Rex, but I wouldn’t have wished this on him.”

Kreuger flashed a sad smile. “No one liked Rex.”

“Carrie said that Rex left you a cryptic message about finding something odd in the files.”

“He did, but I and my associates are stumped. If there’s something odd in those files, we haven’t been able to discover what it is.”

Robin got an idea. “Would you mind if I took a shot?”

Kreuger looked surprised. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I guess I’m just curious. I’ve been directly or peripherally involved in several of Rex’s cases. I’m suing Blaine Hastings, whom Rex prosecuted. I also represented Doug Armstrong when Rex charged him with murder.” Robin grinned at Kreuger. “Also, it’s slow at the office so I need something to keep me occupied.”

Kreuger laughed. “Knock yourself out. Come over to my office tomorrow. I’ll have copies of the files waiting for you.”

Les Kreuger’s law firm was housed in an historic Victorian home in Portland’s West Hills. One of Kreuger’s associates showed Robin into a spacious conference room that was illuminated by high windows and dominated by a carved oak conference table. The conference table was piled high with copies of the files Rex had been reviewing.

Robin bought a latte before walking over. She took off the lid, took a sip, and started on the files. Two hours later, she was no closer to figuring out if the killer had set the files on fire because paper burns or because there was something incriminating in them. But reviewing the files had made her think about Tyler Harrison’s murder, so Robin decided to call Herschel Jacobs in New York when she returned to her office.

“You told me to call if I got any ideas about the Harrison case, and I had a few thoughts.”

“Let me hear them.”

“Carrie Anders told me about that New York PI who was seen near the Voss house.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know if he had any connection to Norcross Pharmaceuticals?”

“We’re working on that.”

“What if Voss wouldn’t settle and the negotiations fell through? That would mean that any problems with Norcross’s product would be aired in public. From what I’ve learned, that could have cost Norcross a fortune. With Nylander, Harrison, and Mr. and Mrs. Voss dead, the suit is dead, and there won’t be any negative information about Norcross’s anticholesterol drug coming out. That gives Norcross a powerful motive for murder.”

“Detective Anders and I discussed that possibility.”

“There’s something else that happened in Portland that might be important. A DA named Rex Kellerman was murdered, and his house was set on fire. The modi operandi of his murder and the Voss murders are very similar, and he was going through files that included the files on Tyler Harrison’s murder and the civil suit against Norcross. The only problem is that I haven’t found any connection between Rex Kellerman and the case against Norcross Pharmaceuticals.”

“Actually, there is one,” Jacobs said.

“Oh?”

“Detective Anders called me with some interesting news. It seems that the bullet that killed Mr. Kellerman and Mr. Harrison came from the same gun.”

“You’re kidding!”

“The gun could have been a Glock nine-millimeter. Frank Nylander owned a Glock, and no one can find it.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

When Herschel Jacobs picked up Carrie Anders at JFK Airport, she learned the dangers of stereotyping. When she’d spoken to Jacobs on the phone, his name and heavy New York accent had made her picture the actor who played a chubby, Jewish delicatessen owner on a TV sitcom. The man who greeted her when she got off the plane was a burly six-two with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes.

“Welcome to the Big Apple,” Jacobs said.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“First time here?”

Carrie nodded.

“I’ll point out some of the tourist attractions on our way to the Meatpacking District.”

“What’s there?”

“Ivar Gorski. I’ve had someone on him ever since you told me about the photo. My man just called. Gorski’s in his office.”

Ivar Gorski’s office was on the second floor of an old brick building near the High Line and the new Whitney Museum and a few blocks from the Hudson River. Jacobs had determined that Gorski didn’t advertise his services online or any other place. He surmised that the PI had a small list of clients who were willing to pay a lot for services that might cross the line between legal and illegal.

The lettering on the office door read GORSKI INVESTIGATIONS, and that door opened into an unmanned waiting room. Gorski was seated at a small desk in a room off the waiting area. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“Yes?” he said with obvious surprise. Anders guessed that Gorski was rarely visited by people he did not expect.

“We’re here on police business, Mr. Gorski,” Jacobs said as he flashed his shield.

Gorski didn’t look alarmed.

“I’m Manhattan homicide detective Herschel Jacobs, and this is Carrie Anders, a homicide detective from Portland, Oregon.”

“How can I help you?” Gorski asked in a heavy Eastern European accent.

The detectives took seats across from him.

“We have a few questions relating to a recent trip you took to Portland,” Carrie said.

“Yes?”

“Why were you in Oregon?” Carrie asked.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

Carrie smiled. “Come on, Ivar. We know you were employed by Norcross Pharmaceuticals to follow Leonard Voss, who was suing the company.”

Gorski didn’t respond.

“Would you care to explain why you rented the car you used in Oregon under a phony name?” Anders asked.

“These questions are very aggressive. I think I should consult an attorney.”

“That’s your decision, but let me show you something first.” Carrie placed her laptop on Gorski’s desk and ran her fingers over the keyboard. Then she turned it so he could see the screen. “That’s you driving a block from the home of Rita and Leonard Voss. Does that help you remember why you were in Portland?”

Gorski smiled pleasantly. “I don’t want to be rude, but I must decline to answer any of your questions until I have consulted my attorney.”

“You do know that someone murdered Mr. and Mrs. Voss and burned down their house?”

Gorski kept smiling but said nothing.

“Take a good look at the date and time of this picture. It was shot from a traffic camera on the date that Mr. and Mrs. Voss were murdered and minutes after a neighbor saw flames coming from their house.”

Gorski looked at the screen, then back at Anders.

“We know you were hired by Norcross to follow Leonard Voss in connection with his lawsuit. We know that Norcross wanted to bury the suit to avoid adverse publicity about its product. We also know that Tyler Harrison, the attorney who represented Norcross, and Frank Nylander, Mr. Voss’s attorney, were both murdered.”

Gorski smiled. He looked perfectly relaxed. “I couldn’t have murdered Tyler Harrison,” he said. “I was in Oregon when he was killed.”

“Oh, so you know when Mr. Harrison was killed?”

Gorski stopped smiling. He realized he’d made a mistake.

Carrie waited a beat. Then she said, “You’re probably thinking that this picture isn’t enough to get a conviction, and you may be right. But it is enough to get an indictment, after which the Multnomah County district attorney will hold a press conference during which she will lay out everything she knows about the motive for the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Voss. That means that all your hard work to keep the public ignorant of the side effects of Norcross’s drug will be for naught. If you have an alibi for Harrison, I guess we’ll only be able to indict you for killing Mr. and Mrs. Voss. Either way, Norcross and you lose.”

Gorski shrugged. “Do what you have to do.”

“We will. But there is a way out for you. Even if you’re acquitted, the publicity will ruin your reputation.”

“You’ve taken up enough of my time,” Gorski said. “Please leave. If you want to contact me again, do it through my attorney.”

“No problem,” Anders said. “Once we’re gone, you can call Norcross and tell them what we have in store for them. But, if you do that, there’s something you should think about. If someone at Norcross did order you to kill Leonard Voss to keep him quiet, don’t you think they might hire someone to eliminate the only person who can incriminate the company? If you didn’t kill Harrison, someone else on Norcross’s payroll did.”

Carrie paused to let what she’d said sink in.

“We know Norcross is behind the murders of Leonard and Rita Voss. Tell us who gave you your orders, and we might be able to deal.”

“This is getting tedious, Detective.” Gorski smiled. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call the police.”

Anders laughed. “I’m glad to see you have a sense of humor. I wonder if your buddies at Norcross will be laughing when we tell them about our visit.”

Anders and Jacobs stood up.

“See you around,” Carrie said before she and Jacobs left.

“What do you think?” Jacobs asked when they were walking toward his car.

“I think that Ivar Gorski is one tough customer.”

“Do you think he’ll deal?”

“Honestly, no, but I intend to turn up the heat anyway.”