Lincoln Perry 02 - Sorrow's Anthem (6 page)

Amy called back within ten minutes and told me she’d arranged a
meeting with Gajovich at ten. I thanked her and told her we’d
meet her at the Justice Center. When I passed the news along to
Joe, he looked grim, but he stood up and slid his suit jacket over his
shoulder without a word of complaint.
“Last chance to back out,” I said.
“I had my last chance the day before I asked you to be my partner,”
he said. “I’ve been kicking myself ever since.”
“That’s what I like most about working with you,” I replied, “the
constant support.”

The Cuyahoga County Prosecutor’s Office is located in the Justice
Center, a twenty-six-floor building of little aesthetic appeal that
stands on Ontario Street, casting a shadow over Cleveland Browns
Stadium. The building is also home to the police department’s
downtown headquarters, but I decided not to drop in and say hello
to the chief. There was no love lost between the two of us. The
prosecutor and his minions were on the eighth and ninth floors of
the building. Amy, Joe, and I took the elevator up and sat in the
lobby together, waiting. Amy assured us we’d get in to see Gajovich
without trouble.
“Trust me,” she said, “I deal with this guy on a regular basis, and,
happy family man or not, he’s got wandering eyes. You tell him I’m
on my way to his office, and he’s on his way to greet me.”
“Journalism at its finest,” I said.
Amy shrugged. “Hey, not my fault most of our elected officials
are lecherous jerks.”
She made good on her promise. Hardly had the secretary gone
to alert her boss of our arrival before Mike Gajovich stepped out
into the lobby with a big grin on his face, looking right at Amy.
“What a lovely surprise,” he said, walking toward her happily,
and immediately my respect for him plunged. Prosecutors are supposed
to be like cops, dodging the press whenever possible. I never
trusted a cop who went out of his way to be friendly to a reporter,
and the same notion lingered here.
Gajovich stepped right past Joe as if he didn’t see him, offering
his hand to Amy. When she took it, he covered her palm with both
of his, still with that grin on his face.
“Gosh,” I said to Joe, “it’s almost like this guy doesn’t recognize
one of the most decorated cops in department history.”
Joe didn’t respond, looking bored with the whole scene, but
Gajovich took his hands away from Amy’s and looked at us for
the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you gentlemen waiting to
see me?”
“We’re with her,” I said, jerking a thumb in Amy’s direction.
“Hey, that’s great,” he answered, his face making every word a
lie. “How come you didn’t tell me you were bringing backup, Amy?”
“Slipped my mind,” she said. “This is Lincoln Perry, and that’s
Joe Pritchard. They’re private investigators now, but both of them
were cops at one time.”
“Joe Pritchard, of course.” Gajovich shook hands with Joe as if
my partner had been sculpted from pure gold. “You’re a law enforcement
legend in this city. A pleasure to finally meet you.” He
turned to me and offered a limp hand. “And Lincoln Perry. I think
I remember hearing about you, too.”
“Got booted from the force for a night of drunken disorderly
conduct and an assault on one of our better-known attorneys,” I
said helpfully. Hate to be forgotten.
Gajovich managed a smile. “I wasn’t sure of the circumstances,
and I doubt they’re the reason for your visit now, so we don’t have
to get into it.”
“Right.”
“Come on back into my office and we’ll have a talk. I’m really
swamped today, but I promised Amy I’d clear a few minutes.” He
winked at her, and I wanted to kick him in the ass.
We went back into an office that wasn’t particularly impressive
aside from a gold-embossed nameplate on the desk that looked as
if it weighed thirty pounds.
“Say, Amy, who’s this new reporter covering the city beat?”
Gajovich said, sitting down behind his desk and stretching his arms
behind his head. He was in his late forties but looked ten years
younger, with tousled blond hair and freckles that gave him a bit of
Tom Sawyer charm. He was smooth and confident, and despite his
leering at Amy I could see why people tended to like him. His bearing
suggested a genuine quality, and in government and administrative
circles that’s not something you see every day. If and when he
made a run for the mayor’s office, I wasn’t going to bet against him.
“Andrew?” Amy said. “He got promoted from features. Why,
don’t you like him?”
Gajovich grinned at Joe and me. “Can he spell my name right?
If so, then we’re good.”
He laughed, and we all joined in, as that was clearly the thing
to do.
“Hell,” Joe said. “Could you blame him if he couldn’t?”
We all laughed some more then, just yucking it up to start this
meeting.
“So I should probably be nervous,” Gajovich said, leaning forward.

“Why?” Joe said.
“Two private investigators and a reporter? You kidding me? This
is a threatening group.” He gave us the grin again, and we all returned
it. My face was already starting to ache. In my business we
don’t do so much smiling so early in the day. “What’s on your
minds?”
Amy turned in her chair and motioned to me. “It’s really Lincoln’s
show. I’m along for the ride.”
“Well, let me have it,” Gajovich said, still showing us his perfect
teeth. We’d put him in such a good mood that some lucky bastard
was probably going to get a plea bargain this morning.

“Do you know a guy named Ed Gradduk?” I said.
The smile dissipated slowly, ice melting in the sun.
“Ed Gradduk,” I repeated when he didn’t answer.
Gajovich let out a sigh that nearly cleared his desk of paperwork
and leaned back in his chair. “You mean the murderer?”
“I mean the guy who got run over by one of Cleveland’s finest
last night,” I said. “Far as I know, nobody’d convicted him of murder
yet. Or is that not required around here?”
“Getting fired in disgrace didn’t do a whole lot to change your
attitude, did it?” Gajovich said.
“I got fired quite a while ago, and that’s got nothing to do with
why we’re here.” Even as I spoke, I was amazed at how quickly the
tone had changed. I mentioned Gradduk’s name; Gajovich and I
were adversaries. That fast, that simple.
He looked at Amy. “You know, I would have appreciated it if
you’d given me an idea of what to expect here.”
She spread her hands. “Hell, Mike, I didn’t know what to expect.
I’m just an interested observer.”
For a minute no one said anything. When the silence was broken,
it was by Joe.
'So I’m confused. Where’s the hostility coming from?”
Gajovich didn’t look away from me. “There’s no hostility,” he
said. “Sorry if I gave that impression. Here’s the deal: I’m not a big
fan of this Gradduk fellow. He came into my office not long ago
with some crazy idea, criticized me for not supporting him, and a
few weeks later I find out he’s an arsonist and a killer.”
“What crazy idea did he come to you with?” I said.
“That’s what you’re here for?” Gajovich said.
“Yes.”
“And what’s your interest?”
“That of a concerned friend and citizen. You know, one of those
taxpayers who provides your salary. And one who plans to vote in
the next election.”
He ran a hand through that boyish blond hair and smiled at me,
but there was no Tom Sawyer in it this time. “I’m not a guy to
screw with, Perry.”
“Didn’t come in here with the intention of screwing with anybody.
Came here with a pretty simple question.”
“You know,” Gajovich said, “a lot of people forget that I am still
a practicing attorney. That’s what a prosecutor is, of course, an attorney.
And people also forget that any legal conversations I have
are protected by attorney/client privilege. They’re private.”
“Including the one you had with Ed Gradduk,” Joe said.
Gajovich nodded. “Yes. I don’t know what Gradduk told you, or
what you heard. And I don’t really care. Here’s what I do know,
and what I do care about: Gradduk was a criminal. He came in
here with a record, and when I sent him away, he promptly went
out and killed somebody. I regret that he was killed in that accident,
and not just because it was an embarrassing moment for our
police force. I regret that he was killed because it robbed me of the
opportunity to see him prosecuted, to see him put back where he
belonged.”
“Hard-nosed,” I said. “That’ll appeal to the voters. You might
pound on your desk with your fist, though. Add a little emphasis.”
“Go to hell,” Mike Gajovich told me.
For a long time we all sat there and said nothing, just traded
stares. Outside, a printer was grinding away and women were
laughing.
“I suppose this is the end of our meeting,” Amy said at last.
“I suppose so,” Joe answered when Gajovich didn’t.
They got to their feet, but I stayed where I was, meeting the
prosecutor’s glare. Joe had his hand on the doorknob when
Gajovich finally spoke again.
“I heard there was a stack of charges pushed under the rug for
you in that Weston fiasco, Perry.”
“People say the craziest things,” I said.

“A situation like that can get messy.”
“He threatens without threatening,” I said. “Damn, but you are
savvy, Mr. Gajovich. A politician’s politician, I’d say.”
“If I were you, I’d go back to your office and leave this one alone.
That’s all I’ll say. Gradduk was a loser, Perry. So I’m not surprised
to hear he was your friend. But losers don’t have power, and losers
don’t attract sympathy from people who do have power. They attract
trouble and then they’re stomped out. You remember that.”

CHAPTER
7

Amy went back to work and Joe and I went back to the office. I
spent most of the ride burning over Gajovich’s words, but even
while they’d angered me, they’d helped me. I knew now I was going
to have to return Scott Draper’s call, after all. My knowledge
of Ed’s life effectively ended seven years before he died. I needed
to talk to someone who’d been close to him, and Draper was the
best option I had.
“Lincoln,” Draper said when I identified myself, “thanks for
calling me back, man. I wanted to apologize. That thing in the
street, it was bullshit. The cops told me what happened, told me
you didn’t push him. From my angle, it looked like something it
wasn’t. Still, I should have better sense than to pull shit like that,
i’m sorry.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Look, you got a few minutes? Time to run down here and grab
a beer?”
“A beer in the morning?”
“Doesn’t have to be right now. Whenever you have a chance.”
“I’ll come down around noon.”
I’d just hung up the phone when the door swung open and Detective
Cal Richards stepped into the room.
He was a tall, lean black man with a face that was all hard angles
and edges, like a wood carving. He wore black slacks with a blue
shirt and matching tie, and a badge was clipped onto his belt. None
of that stood out as much as the scowl on his face, though.
“Gentlemen,” he said, easing into one of our client chairs. We
have two standard client chairs and a set of wooden stadium seats
from the old Cleveland Municipal Stadium, and he gave those a
curious glance as he sat.
“How are you, Detective?” I said, offering my hand. He didn’t
take it.
“How are you, Detective?” he mimicked. “I’m a little pissed off,
Perry. Pissed off that somehow you got kicked loose last night before
I had a chance to talk with you, but for that I can blame an incompetent
sergeant who thinks he’s got authority just because he’s
old. But lest you think all the blame’s headed in that direction, I’m
also pissed off at you. I just got off the phone with a source who
informed me you intend to run a parallel investigation into the
Sentalar death without bothering to contact me.”
I pulled my hand back. “That’s not true.”
“You’re not investigating?”

I hesitated, and his gaze turned even more unfriendly. “I stump
you with that one, Perry? I can speak slower.”
Beside me, Joe was grinning. I gave him a glare and then looked
back at Richards.
“I am not investigating in any sort of official capacity, Detective.
Ed Gradduk was a friend of mine. A close friend, a long time ago.
I saw him on the night that he died, and he talked with me briefly.
You already know that from the police reports, I’m sure.”
He nodded. “And now you want to fool around with this, compromise
my investigation?”
'I have no intention of compromising anyone’s investigation,
and if I am investigating, I promise it won’t be 'fooling around,’
Richards,” I said, a touch of hostility creeping into my own voice.
I’m pretty good at what I do. I was going to contact you this afternoon,
so don’t get all bent out of shape over my failing to notify
you of my interest. It’s a waste of our mutual time.”
He loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair. “You interfere

with this and I’ll take you down hard, Perry. You know that, because
you know my rep.”
“And you know mine.”
A slight smile played on his face. “Oh, yes. Yes, I do know your
rep, friend.” He jerked his head at Joe. “And your partner’s, of
course. Thirty years of distinction. You, Perry? Not so many.”
“Should be enough,” I said.
“It is enough,” he said, “provided you don’t get clever with me on
this.”
“Anything I know, you’ll know, too.”
He chewed on that for a while before speaking again. “Your
buddy’s been dead less than twenty-four hours and already you’re
on the move and concerning people. Makes me wonder what you
know.”
“Not a damn thing,” I said. “And your source for this information
couldn’t be more obvious, because the only person we’ve
talked to today is Mike Gajovich.”
Richards smiled then, and something about the look made me
think that if I had to pick just one man in the city that I would
never cross, he would have to be close to the top of the list. Something
in that smile spoke of a total self-confidence and dangerous
intuitiveness that few men possessed, and I knew at that moment
that never in Cal Richards’s life had he acted simply because it was
what another man told him to do.
“Listen,” he said, “Mike Gajovich has hardly given me the time
of day before this morning. Then suddenly we’re best friends and
he wants to keep me apprised of something that could jeopardize
my investigation. You want to know how I responded to that? By
losing whatever respect I ever had for the man. Because as soon as
he tells me this, I know he’s made the call only to save his own ass.
Why? I don’t know. But don’t think I’m buying it.”
Joe looked at me and grinned as if to say, Isn’t this guy a scream?
Richards said, “Here’s what I’m going to tell you: Stay away
from the Anita Sentalar murder investigation. I don’t like freelancers
stepping inside. However … if you want to dig up every
last damn thing you can about Ed Gradduk’s recent past, go for it.
I know you two are capable investigators. It’s very simple: You
don’t interfere with my work, and I won’t waste my time on you.
Sound fair?”
“Sounds fair,” I said after pausing long enough to make his eyes
narrow. “But can I ask you if there’s anything to suggest the victim
even knew Ed Gradduk?”
Richards took a deep breath, his broad chest filling with air. “I’ll
get back to you on that one.”
“Come on.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Perry. That’s the very thing I’ve been
busting my ass on all day, and while I have a start, I’m not to the
point where I want to throw around theories. When I nail their relationship
down, I’ll let you know.”
“But they did have a relationship? Not total strangers?”
“Not total strangers,” Richards said. “But I’m not taking more
questions. Just stay the hell away from my murder investigation.
You want to look at Gradduk, fine. Not Sentalar. Clear?”
“Clear.”
He shifted his eyes to Joe. “You were a hell of a cop, Pritchard.
Everyone knows that. I’m trusting you to keep your cowboy partner’s
heart in the right place.”
“I’m usually too concerned with keeping his head out of his ass,
but I’ll try to worry about the heart, too,” Joe said.