Childless: A Novel (23 page)

He nodded as the boy exclaimed, “So you’re the dorf?”

Another slap, this time less playful than the last.

Matthew smiled weakly until Maria broke the momentary silence. “Why don’t you two play another round together? You know, see if you can reach level nine.”

Matthew started to object. Time to throw in the towel.

“I’m in!” Jared announced.

“I don’t know,” Matthew began before stopping himself at the thought that he might have been misreading Maria’s body language. She wouldn’t have suggested another round with Jared unless she wanted the two to continue bonding. Maybe the picture hadn’t given her the creeps after all. Perhaps she was just reacting to an embarrassing reminder of her own age. Unlikely, he thought, but possible. Most women, even those as gorgeous as Maria Davidson, struggle with self-doubt.

“Come on,” Jared prodded. “Just one more round.”

“Why not?” Matthew said with a smile of renewed optimism.

“And then we should go,” said Maria.

Jared frowned indignantly. “But you said I could order a dessert if I came along.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Matthew added. “We can’t leave before I buy you two an ice-cream sundae.”

She smiled at the label, and the offer. “All right,” she relented. “We’ll stay long enough for dessert.”

“Great!” the duo said in unison, prompting another smile from the beautiful woman Matthew hoped was open to giving him another, less creepy, chance.

“I’m sorry,
Mr. Cain,” a pleasant female voice said through Tyler’s earpiece. “Mr. Dimitri will be with you in a few minutes. He’s wrapping up his other meeting now.”

Tyler continued staring at his tablet screen. It displayed a still-vacant chair behind what looked like an empty news anchor desk. He’d seen countless nearly identical sets on television, with this or that pundit commenting on the latest White House decision, international incident, or celebrity hairstyle change.

“Like I said, I don’t mind rescheduling if it would be more convenient.” He half hoped the assistant would accept the offer, still a bit unnerved by his sudden inclusion in Evan Dimitri’s “very busy schedule.” Tyler’s idea of a power lunch would be meeting Smitty for a sub sandwich. Dimitri, by contrast, routinely dined with senators and corporate titans. Tyler’s greatest accomplishment had been putting a low-life murderer behind bars. Dimitri, from all appearances, had put presidential hopefuls in the White House.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Cain. But thank you.” The woman spoke with more respect than Tyler deserved. He hadn’t, after all, been entirely forthright when requesting the meeting.

It was true, he reminded himself, that he was investigating a case of suspected murder. Never mind no killing had yet occurred.

He actually had been a Denver detective…once upon a time.

And he did want input on the case from a well-respected businessman with unique expertise on the transition industry. And, he’d failed to mention, a strong motivation to intimidate Judge Santiago. Or kill him.

“Nice set,” Tyler said to make small talk.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” the woman’s voice replied.

“I suppose Mr. Dimitri does a lot with the media?”

“Actually, not as much as you’d think. Necessary evil, if you know what I mean.”

Tyler answered with a polite, unseen nod.

“He mostly uses it for board meetings, conference calls, and such. He prefers it over face-to-face meetings, which he considers an
unnecessary
evil. Except when it includes lunch.” She laughed.

Tyler joined her chuckle. “I see.”

A few more minutes of dead air.

“Sorry I’m late,” Dimitri finally said while taking his seat, an obligatory comment that sounded more like an irritated bark. A ten-minute conference call with some detective named Tyler Cain was not, it seemed, on the top of his priority list.

Evan Dimitri appeared every bit as intimidating as his net worth. A solid frame matched a strong, determined jaw. His thick gray hair implied experienced maturity. And a four- or five-thousand-dollar suit fell awkwardly on a body more bruised rugby player than cultured CEO.

He barked again: “What do you want to know?”

Tyler had prepared himself for a few pointless pleasantries such as a comment about the weather or the latest major league rankings. But clearly Evan Dimitri disliked wasting time.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Dimitri,” Tyler began. “My name is—”

“Tyler Cain. I know. Denver police?”

“Yes,” Tyler said instinctively. “I got the case from the assistant chief.”

“Why didn’t
he
call me?” A fair question from a powerful man.

“It’s a somewhat unique situation requiring arm’s-length handling. That’s why it was assigned to me.”

“Who are you?”

“A former officer now on special assignment.”

“Former officer?” Dimitri glanced down, presumably at notes compiled by the executive assistant Tyler had convinced to schedule the meeting. “So you’re not”—he paused to reread—“a homicide detective with the Denver police?”

“Retired to launch my own private investigation agency.”

“Hmm,” he said, clearly unimpressed. “So, what do you want to know?”

“I understand your company owns the patent on the PotassiPass serum.”

A single nod.

“And that you have an exclusive supplier contract with NEXT Transition Services.”

Dimitri huffed impatiently. “Do you plan to waste my time telling me what you already know or do you have a question?”

Tyler heard annoyed arrogance in Dimitri’s voice, the same kind he had heard a thousand times during criminal interrogations. Apparently felons and power brokers felt a similar self-importance. Tyler knew how to respond. “Look, Mr. Dimitri,” he said sternly, “I have no interest in wasting your time any more than my own. This will only take a few minutes.”

Dimitri’s smile suggested a respect for tough-skinned adversaries. “All right, Mr. Cain. I’ll give you five.”

Tyler realized he had acquired a measure of respect, but had lost half of his scheduled time.

“What do you know about the wrongful death decision appeal involving NEXT?”

“Same as anyone else. A greedy kid hopes to land a big payday from his mom’s accidental death.”

“Do you know the judges reviewing the appeal?”

A scowl. “Know them? Personally?”

Tyler hesitated. He had planned to feel his way through the conversation to find a less direct angle. But there was no time for tact.

“I mean have you corresponded with any of them?”

The question appeared to confuse Dimitri. “Corresponded? About what?”

“The case.”

A caustic laugh. “Of course not.”

Tyler watched Dimitri’s eyes. He appeared to be telling the truth.

“Mr. Cain, I was told you wanted to discuss a murder case. Why are we talking about appeal court judges in a wrongful death lawsuit?”

Tyler wished he could hit pause and then rewind to restart the conversation on a less adversarial footing. He needed to gain Dimitri’s confidence quickly. An idea came.

“I must ask you to keep what I’m about to share completely confidential,” Tyler said, already regretting what he had decided to do.

“Of course.”

“One of the federal judges issuing an opinion on the NEXT case has received letters that appear threatening.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows rose, but his face offered no indication of guilt. “Really?”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler’s tone changed, as if he were speaking to an ally helping with the case. “I was hoping you could help me think through who might be behind them.”

For the first time since the conversation began Dimitri’s eyes met Tyler’s image on the screen. “Help you think it through?”

“That’s right.”

“So you can identify potential suspects?” He sounded, what, flattered?

“Exactly. I would really appreciate your opinion.”

“Would you?” he asked flatly.

“Yes, I would,” Tyler replied warily.

“Why me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why me, Mr. Cain? You don’t know me from Adam and I’ve certainly never heard of you. Yet out of the blue you decide to seek my advice solving a case involving NEXT.”

Dimitri reached to accept a glass of something on the rocks from a feminine hand. He sipped, then smiled derisively. “What do you take me for, some kind of naïve fool?”

“No. Not at all. I just—”

“Who gave you my name?”

Tyler froze.
What to say
?

“Who told you to talk to me, Mr. Cain?”

“Two different sources suggested you could help me,” he lied.

“Name them.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then this conversation is over. I don’t have time for a goose chase prompted by anonymous leads. I’m a very busy man.”

“Davidson.” The name spilled from Tyler’s lips before he could stop it.

Dimitri stared blankly. A good sign. Tyler sensed an opening window.

“Julia Davidson suggested I show someone like you the letters.”

“Someone like me how?”

“Someone who understands both the business significance and the political significance of the NEXT appeal.”

“I see,” Dimitri said, appearing and sounding a bit more receptive. “Kim,” he said into the air.

“Yes, Mr. Dimitri.”

“Track down any communications or meetings I’ve had with a Julia…” He paused, shifting his eyes back toward Tyler.

“Davidson,” he said, reluctantly filling in the blank.

“Julia Davidson.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman replied obediently.

Tyler knew Dimitri would connect the dots from journalist to husband to congressman. But he couldn’t worry about that now. He had less than two minutes of Dimitri’s attention left. The moment of truth had arrived.
Show him the letters and watch his eyes like you did with Jeremy Santos
, he coached himself.

A different voice protested within. “Once you go digital, you lose control,” Jennifer McKay had warned. He pushed past the objection.

“Would you be willing to take a look?”

“At what?”

“At the letters.”

Dimitri seemed intrigued. “What? Now?”

“Yes, sir. I can forward copies. All I need is a secure in-box and the assurance you’ll destroy the files after our conversation.”

Tyler waited as seconds chipped away at his remaining minutes.

“Any insight you can give would help. To be honest, we don’t have many leads at the moment.”

Dimitri smiled like a man accepting a stick of his favorite gum. “Kim will send you an in-box address, same one we use for confidential legal documents,” he said, standing. “Send them while I take a leak.”

The man disappeared from view while his voice trailed off. “Then you’ll have another five minutes.”

Glad for the restored time, Tyler quickly unfolded the letters to snap and save copies. Seconds later a link arrived on his screen. He hesitated, then hit
SEND
to complete the transfer.

He waited two minutes. Then he waited three more.

“Mr. Dimitri?” he said apprehensively.

No response.

He tried the woman. “Um, Kim? Is everything OK? The files should have arrived.”

“They arrived, Mr. Cain,” she responded matter-of-factly. “Mr. Dimitri is reading them now.”

Tyler cursed within. He needed to watch Dimitri’s pupils and decipher facial movements in reaction to the letters. How else would he be able to gauge guilt, surprise, confusion, or any other emotion?

“I don’t see him. Where is he?”

“I’m right here,” Dimitri said, resettling himself in the chair and lifting his eyes from the tablet in his hand. “I read the letters. Odd.”

“Yes, they are,” Tyler said. “Any other reactions?”

“Seems pretty straightforward to me,” Dimitri offered.

“Really? How’s that?”

“Judge Santiago needs to resign from the case. He’s been compromised.”

Tyler swallowed hard.
How much to say
?

“The judge hasn’t been compromised because he hasn’t actually seen the letters. I got them from an aide.”

Dimitri waved his hand at the fact as if swatting an annoying insect. “No judge should issue an opinion on a case when some religious nut has made threats.”

“Religious nut? Did you see something in the letters to suggest—”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dimitri interrupted. “Who else would want NEXT to lose the appeal? It’s always the same people.”

“The same people? Who?”

“Do you have any idea how many hostile letters come to my company every week, Mr. Cain? Ever since we landed the supplier contract with NEXT we’ve been targeted by every wacko on a mission to keep debits from ending their misery.”

“Do you keep them?” Tyler asked, an idea forming.

“Keep what?”

“The wacko letters?”

“Beats me,” Dimitri said. “Kim, do we keep the wacko letters?”

“I’m sure we have them on file somewhere, sir,” she replied.

“Can I take a look?” Tyler asked. “You never know. I might find one with matching handwriting.”

“Not likely.”

“All the same, I’d like to try.”

“Be my guest,” Dimitri said curtly. “Kim…”

“On it, sir.”

“Can I give you a bit of advice, Mr. Cain?” Dimitri continued.

“Please.”

“I suggest you ignore these letters.”

Was he offering advice or issuing a threat? “We can’t just ignore them, Mr. Dimitri.”

“Why not? You already said the judge is ignoring them.”

“I didn’t say he’s ignoring them. I said he hadn’t read them. He has a policy of delegating any messages related to an appeal to his aide until after issuing an opinion. So he won’t even know these letters exist until September fourth.”

“Why the fourth?”

“It’s the day after the case will be decided and opinions released.”

“I see,” Dimitri said, his eyes shifting quickly toward a woman’s hand appearing on the screen. He reached to receive a slip of paper. He read it aloud. “Julia Davidson is married to Troy Simmons, Congressman Tolbert’s former chief of staff.”

Needles of panic stung Tyler’s neck and shoulders.

“So Congressman Tolbert gave you my name?”

“No, sir. I’ve never met the congressman.”

“But you’ve met Troy Simmons?”

Tyler shook his head defensively.

Dimitri swore. Then he swore again. “What exactly are you trying to pull here, Mr. Cain?”

“I’m not trying to pull anything. I’m doing a job that—”

“You said your job was to investigate a possible threat, not to accuse honest citizens without a shred of evidence.”

“I haven’t accused you of anything.”

“Oh no?” Dimitri’s face flushed a furious red. “Why else would you have started this conversation by asking whether I had corresponded with the judge? And why didn’t you tell me right up front that you were friends with Congressman Tolbert?”

“I told you, I’ve never met any congressman.”

“Right. You’ve never met him,” Dimitri scoffed. “I think you’re lying, Mr. Cain. I think you know Tolbert and that you’re trying to concoct a plausible story that will throw the trail off of a much more likely suspect.”

Likely suspect
? Tyler wondered.

“You got my name from the only congressman who has an ax to grind with the transition industry. The man who came crawling to me for reelection money last year but now thinks I’m too dirty to fund his Bright Spots crusade.”

Tyler only vaguely recalled the term, something Julia had mentioned. No matter now. He racked his brain for a way to recover the moment. Nothing came but the realization his Hail Mary pass had been intercepted. Evan Dimitri now had the identity of a confidential source. Worse, he had digital copies of the documents Jennifer McKay had insisted Tyler protect.