False Witness (26 page)

Sam was silent a moment. There was something going on behind the lawyer’s eyes. She was uncomfortable, and not just because of their aggressive interrogation. Was there something she wanted to tell them but couldn’t?

He leaned forward and said: “What if this was off the record?”

Tess picked up on the cue. It had worked with Mickey Horvath, maybe it would work again. Of course, comparing Horvath to Diane Manning was like comparing a goldfish to a shark, and they ran the risk of getting swallowed whole for their hubris.

Tess gave Diane another officious look. “Look, we’re going to run a story about the fact you haven’t filed an appeal, whether you comment or not. But I think we all know that silence here will imply that you know you can’t win.”

Diane looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Yes, and we all know that this case was tried in the court of public opinion. You’re making my point for me.”

“So you’re saying you don’t believe Rufus Hodge can get a fair appeal?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t get a fair trial, why should his appeal be any different?”

Tess tapped her pen against her lips. She wasn’t putting on a show now, Sam thought. The wheels were turning in that pretty auburn noggin. “That’s quite cynical, don’t you think?” she asked. “I mean, appeals are conducted outside the public eye. In theory, they’re supposed to be based entirely on legal procedure, nothing else. Besides, you have nothing to lose by filing one, and everything to gain. It’s a free bet.”

“I never said we wouldn’t appeal.”

“But you haven’t started proceedings yet. Why the wait?”

Diane was all but sweating now.
We’ve hit a nerve
, Sam thought.
Now what do we do with it?
He decided to play a hunch. “Appeals are often delayed when there’s new information,” he said. “Is that the case here? Has something come to light that wasn’t known during the trial? Some new evidence, maybe?” He leaned closer. “Does it have something to do with the murders of Chuck Palliser and Richie Duff? It does, doesn’t it?”

Tess glanced sideways at him. He could read this look loud and clear: they were on thin ice again. And he still had no idea what the endgame would be. Even if Diane revealed something, what would they do with it?

“I’m . . . not at liberty to discuss that,” Diane said haltingly. “Now, if that’s all, I have things to do.”

Sam stood suddenly and placed his palms flat on the top of Diane’s desk. An aura of heat vapor traced his hands on the cool polished wood as he leaned forward, until their faces were only inches apart. He was pretty sure he could feel Tess’s horror emanating from behind him.

“I have one question, Diane, and I want you to answer it honestly. Not as a lawyer, but just as a decent human being. You have my word as a journalist that no one else will ever know what you say.” Under any other circumstances, Sam knew, Diane Manning would likely have slapped him – hard, not a girly slap – for his audacity. He was absolutely sure she didn’t suffer fools. But this wasn’t any other circumstance. He locked his eyes on hers and steeled himself for whatever came next. “Do you believe – deep down
believe
, in your gut – that Rufus Hodge killed Tom Ferbey?”

#

Crowe was glad to see the lobby empty when he walked through the door of Ledger, Larson and Manning. The only person in the room was the receptionist behind a raised granite-topped desk. She was a middle-aged bleached blonde, with ruby red lips and about forty extra pounds packed into all the right places.

He put on a flirtatious smile that he didn’t remotely feel and leaned on the counter. “Stella, my love, what do you know?”

The woman glanced up from her computer screen. “I know you still haven’t given up on Ms. Manning and swept me away to your love prison,” she sighed. “I could show you things that would make your hair grow out and then stand up on end. Speaking of which, hasn’t anyone told you that the whole five-o’clock-shadow-all-over-your-head look went out a couple of years ago?”

Crowe chuckled in spite of himself. “I’ve killed people for less than that, darlin. Don’t you know my reputation?”

“Oh, pooh.” She rose from her chair and drove a fingertip as red as her lips into Crowe’s tee-shirt. “You swagger around like you’re Clint Eastwood, but I know in here you’re really just Leo DiCaprio, looking for your Kate Winslet.” She batted her eyelashes and leaned forward to show off her ample cleavage. “Wanna sketch me naked? There’s an empty break room around the corner.”

Damned if she hadn’t managed to lift his mood, even if it was just for a moment. “Stella,” he said with mock gravity, “I honestly don’t think I’d survive the encounter.”

She broke up into peals of laughter, and he followed suit, laughing honestly for the first time in a long time. It felt good.

#

Diane’s eyes darted from Sam to Tess and back again. It wasn’t panic he saw in those eyes, but it wasn’t her usual confidence, either. It was like she was deciding whether she could trust them. With what, he could only guess.

After a long silence, Diane looked down at the surface of her desk. “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t believe that Rufus Hodge killed Tom Ferbey.”

Sam nodded. “I appreciate your candor. I just have one more question.”

#

Crowe glanced at his watch, still chuckling. “Think she’ll be much longer?”

“I doubt it,” said Stella. “She’s just with a couple of reporters from the
Chronicle
.”

“Reporters?” Crowe sobered instantly. “What the hell do they want?”

“I couldn’t tell you. My guess it that they’re just here to ask her about the attack on Mr. Hodge. One of them is the guy who covered his trial.”

Crowe was already walking toward the office door. “Thanks, darlin,” he said grimly as he raised his boot and kicked it open.

#

Sam just about shit himself as the door to Diane Manning’s office swung inward and slammed against the stopper on the wall behind it. Splinters of doorjamb rained down on the immaculate carpet.

A muscular man with close-cropped hair and a black tee-shirt stabbed a finger at Diane as he proceeded into the room. “Not another fucking word,” he growled. Then he turned his attention to Sam, cocking a thumb at the door. “Out. Now.”

Sam glanced back at Tess, who sat wide-eyed in her chair. He positioned himself between her and the man in black. Diane had stood up and was walking around towards the man, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Calm down, Jason,” she said. Her voice sounded like she was on the edge of panic.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Jason? Crowe, right?”

The man glared at him. “I thought I told you to fuck off.”

Sam bristled. “Look, buddy, we were having a private conversation.”

“Well, now you’re not. Get out.”

“I don’t think that’s your call to make.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tess rise slowly from her chair. “Sam, don’t – ”

“Sam?” said Crowe. “Walsh. I remember you. I read your stuff during the trial.”

Sam brightened a bit. “That’s right, I was – ”

“
Get. OUT
.”

Diane had positioned herself between the two men, trying to keep them from coming together. “We all need to calm down,” she pleaded.

“I’ll get to you in a second,” Crowe said coldly. His eyes never left Sam’s. “I won’t tell you again, Walsh. Leave, or I’ll toss you out that fucking window.”

Diane blanched. “What my client meant to say – ”

“I’m pretty sure I know what he meant,” said Sam.

“You’re smarter than you look,” said Crowe.

“Tougher, too. So, did you kill Chuck Palliser and Richie Duff?”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I don’t have time to play piddly fuck, Diane,” he said. “Tell these two to get out before he gets hurt.”

Diane swept over to where Sam and Tess stood, linking her arms in theirs. She pulled them toward the door. The receptionist was standing on the other side, gawking into the room.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Manning?” asked the woman.

“We’re fine, Stella, everything’s fine. Mr. Walsh and Ms. Gallagher are just leaving.”

Sam stopped in the doorway and locked eyes with Diane. “Are you going to be okay here with him? Like this?”

She gave him a steely look. “Mr. Crowe is my client. You really do need to leave now.”

Sam felt Tess’s hand around his upper arm, tugging him out of the room and into the lobby. “Sam, just let it go. We don’t have any business here.”

“Smart girl,” said Crowe. “You should listen to her.”

Sam eyed him up. “This isn’t over.”

“Sam!” Tess snapped. “Now!”

Crowe slammed the door as they walked into the lobby. The blonde receptionist looked from them to the door and then back again as they left.

“Well,
that
was fun,” Sam heard the woman say as the door closed behind them.

#

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Diane spat. “You’re paying for that door.”

Crowe gripped her arms and drew her close. His nose was nearly touching hers. He could smell her perfume, kicked into high gear by her perspiration. “I’m asking the questions here,” he hissed. “Understand?”

She nodded, eyes as wide as a china doll’s.

“What did you tell those two?”

Diane swallowed. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Nothing! I swear. All they asked was why I haven’t filed an appeal yet.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“We, uh, never really got to that point.”

Crowe took a deep breath and let her go.

Diane rubbed her arms. “Jason, what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

“When you came to the Rosebush that afternoon after Palliser and Duff were killed – who were you coming to see?”

“You. Who else would I talk to? The rest of those thugs couldn’t string together a full sentence.”

“Me. Not someone else. Not Pulaski?” Crowe’s stomach bunched. It always came back to the Roses. Whoever had killed Tom Ferbey had to have known what was in the storage unit. And the only people who knew that were the members.

She wrinkled her nose as if she could actually smell Pulaski in the room. “Why on earth would I even give that greasy little narcissist the time of day?”

“How was your lunch today?” Crowe asked, ignoring her.

She blinked. “How was my
lunch
?”

“Yeah. Saigon Palace, right? Stella told me.”

“I had spring rolls and satay shrimp. What does that have to do with anything?”

Crowe sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. He cocked one boot over the other. “Did the reporters ask you about the attack on Hodge?”

“No. Why would they? All I know is what you told me.”

“Exactly. Why would they? Unless maybe you knew more than you were letting on. What about it, Diane? Do you know who was behind the attack?”

Diane was still on the ropes, but whether it was out of panic or just confusion, Crowe couldn’t tell. “Of course I don’t,” she said. “I would never lie to you, Jason. Besides, how
could
I know anything else?”

“The same way you could know about a package taped to the back of a toilet in the men’s room at Saigon Palace.”

The line was a calculated gambit, designed to elicit a reaction. Crowe had other methods of spotting a lie, but most of them involved sweat and, all too often, pain. He studied Diane closely, hoping for a particular response in spite of himself. If it
was
true, he’d have his answers. But he didn’t want it to be true, and not just because of his own feelings for her. If she really
was
behind the hit, it would mean he had been completely suckered from the outset. By a woman, no less.

Diane cocked her head to one side, her brow a knot of confusion and distaste. “Why the hell would I go into the men’s room at the Saigon Palace?” she asked, clearly baffled. “I barely trust the kitchen there, let alone the facilities. That place is a pig sty.”

Crowe realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out in a long, low hiss. “All right,” he said. “I believe you.”

The confusion on her face quickly turned to anger, and Crowe could see the real Diane was back with a vengeance. “You
believe
me? About whether I frequent the men’s room in a divey Vietnamese restaurant? What the fuck is going on in your head, Crowe? You have precisely five seconds to tell me what this interrogation is all about, and it better be a damn good story.”

Crowe thought for a moment before deciding to spill it all. What did he have to lose? He told her about Hodge and what had happened in the Badlands, about Trinh and his suspicions, and what had led him to her office. She listened in silence. When he was done, she turned her back to him and walked to the window. The sunlight streaming through it highlighted Diane’s wicked curves under her dress as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Get out,” she said without turning around.

“I had to be sure.”

“I know. And the fact that you weren’t sure before you walked in here means you don’t trust me. If that’s the case, I can’t be your lawyer.”

“Come on, Diane.”

“Goodbye, Jason.” She continued to stare out the window at the Rocky Mountains in the distance, faded to a powder blue by the white light of the summer afternoon sun.

Crowe scowled as he pushed off from the desk and stalked out of the room.
This day just keeps getting better and better
.

#

Sam and Tess sat in Blue Thunder, waiting for Crowe to emerge.

“I could have handled him, you know.”

Tess gave him a pinched smile. “Of course you could,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to get charged with beating the hell out of the de facto leader of Alberta’s most vicious criminal organization.”

Sam peered at her. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Tess.”

“And the Mr. Tough Guy act doesn’t become
you
,” she said, rounding on him. “God, it’s a wonder you can even stand with that giant chip on your shoulder.”

“Well, what should I have done? Rolled over like a dog and run away? How did I know he wasn’t going to attack Diane?”