The Adored (26 page)

-Vito’s to dos:

Thumb print—analysis not in file; go to forensics and confirm

Juror—get names and addresses, contact at least two, ask about the process and the judge’s push back

Judge Mortensen?

Defense Lawyer—talk with: who hired, who paid, why?

First time offender—school counselor, teacher, mother: what kind of kid was he

Who was Augusto Santos, dealer, up the line, priors?

John Walsh—father and son? Talk with Walsh’s supervisors.

Jim’s to dos:

Talk with Strong; he must tell who committed murder, otherwise he’ll never be free—police need more than “I know but can’t or won’t tell”

If he was helping Santos, why did he run off, not in his story or police evidence

Talk with Strong cellmates—has he ever said he knew who did it

Find out who visited or wrote to Strong in two months prior to his writing the story down

Chapter 38

They were all there, all except the current Democratic senator from Connecticut, Richard Blumenthal. He had not been invited.

On this night with the sun setting over Barnes’ private beach in back of the house they call “Apple Manor,” Barnes would surprise his guests, and shock some, by announcing that he would run for the US senate in the Democratic primaries. His good friend Senator Joe Lieberman had given every indication that he would run for the seat he had held for over thirty years, but then decided to drop out.

Barnes was very good at politics; after all it was through his other good friend former Senator Chris Dodd, who chose Hollywood over Washington, sensing he would have been defeated, that Barnes began courting powerful politicians that could help his firm. Dodd received substantial contributions for his reelection campaigns from Barnes, and he won new building projects for the banks that were building trading floors and new operations in Stamford, CT. In fact, Barnes Construction had won every major bank building project since banks began exiting New York City in the late nineties.

Bankers knew of the relationship between the Democratic senator, who happened to be Chairman of the Senate Banking Committee and Barnes, something that Barnes was not shy about sharing as he discussed new projects. Barnes had an uncanny knack for getting involved early and often with all parties to the process of attracting and outfitting new businesses coming to Connecticut.

But now Joe Lieberman was hanging it up, and Barnes felt the country had had enough of politicians like Dodd. After all it was on Dodd’s watch the great recession began while he moved his family to Iowa to run in the Iowa caucuses for President of the US against Barrack Obama and Hillary Clinton. If that wasn’t enough to turn the tide against him, he was also receiving subprime loans on his property thru the VIP program being operated by Angelo Mozzillo, CEO of Countrywide Mortgages and one of the instigators of the country’s financial meltdown.

On this night Jonathan Barnes would propose a bold new future for America; one that would right the wrongs of excessive greed and put the crooks in jail. His main opponent for the Democratic nomination would be the state’s Attorney General, Michael Samuels. Samuels had been deputy AG under Richard Blumenthal. It was Richard Blumenthal, who the prior year had run for and won Dodd’s seat. And it was Blumenthal who had endorsed Samuels for the Lieberman seat. Between Blumenthal and Samuels, it looked to Barnes like they were trying to keep the two seats in the Temple.

However, Barnes had a silver bullet for him. It wasn’t two months before that an ex-US Congressman from Connecticut, at a party right here in Barnes home had shared that the announced candidacy of Samuels was doomed for failure.

“Why?” Barnes asked, while standing in a circle of six men, enjoying after-dinner conversation.

“Well, Jonathan, it’s like this. Louis Samuels is a decent guy, but he fancies himself a war hero,” Harold Andrews offered up.

“Wait a minute, you’re getting him confused with Blumenthal,” Barnes said.

One of the other guests, a hedge fund manager named Barry Cohen, jumped in, “Congressman, what are you talking about? He is a Marine and served in Vietnam. I heard him say it myself.”

“Well, he is and he isn’t,” the ex-Congressman, coyly offered. “You see, he is in the Marine reserves but never served on active duty.”

Another guest, Mike Slade, the editor of the local paper, joined in, “I think you have it wrong Congressman. This is Richard Blumenthal you’re thinking about.”

“Listen to me boys,” Harold Andrews said. “He is a clone of Blumenthal. A clone so closely developed he even has the same weaknesses as Richard.”

“I’ve also heard him say in speeches that when he returned from Vietnam he was spit on. He is a very strong backer of Veterans, Congressman. I’d be careful about spreading this stuff around about him,” Barry Cohen said.

“Are we all going crazy? The things we’re attributing to Samuels are the issues everyone had with Blumenthal. Right?” asked Barnes.

The ex-Congressman at this point was a little embarrassed by the hostility towards him. “I bring this up in our conversation because lately, since he announced he was running for Lieberman’s seat, I am hearing more and more of the war hero stuff. And frankly, Louis is a friend of mine. I like the guy even though we’re from different political worlds. I would never say anything against him unless I knew it to be true. What you gentlemen have just confirmed are the exact lies that are going to come out. He never served in Vietnam and, therefore, was never spit upon when he returned. Maybe the tobacco industry might have spit on him.” The six men shared a laugh since as the Assistant AG he had pushed Blumenthal’s agenda and brought a successful suit against the tobacco industry.

“Let me just finish this,” the ex-Congressman continued, “and it’s going to vetted, that Louis only joined the Marines after all other options ran out before he was drafted, exactly the same as Richard. He had at least five deferments at the height of the Vietnam War. When his selective service number, after his last deferment, showed he was likely to be drafted into the Army, Richard joined the Marine Reserves in DC, and so did Louis, in a unit that was almost assured of never seeing active duty in Nam. They spent their active duty weekends running toys for tots programs. All I’m trying to do is put the truth out there early before anyone goes too far supporting him. When this comes out, he’s unelectable.”

“That’s what they said about Richard Blumenthal when all this Marine stuff came out about him. Congressman, I find the whole subject rather unnerving. Could we end the discussion with the agreement it will not be any of us who will spill these beans and keep these stories going? That strategy did not work for the Republicans against Richard, and it won’t work for us against Louis Samuels in the primaries.” Jonathan Barnes uprightly concluded.

The ex-Congressman smiled and said, “Agreed.”

The others all said “agreed.”

Later that particular night Jonathan Barnes pulled the local newspaper editor Mike Slade aside. “Mike, what do you know about this stuff on Samuels?”

“First I’ve heard of it, Jonathan,” he said to his longtime patron. It was Jonathan Barnes who saw to it that Mike Slade got the post of editor when it opened up. Barnes had been overwhelmingly delighted by an in-depth story that Slade did on the construction industry in Connecticut, particularly the building of the new Stamford and specifically on the design and quality of the buildings being built by Barnes Construction.”

“Mike, I need you to get to the bottom of this. Give it everything you’ve got,” and Barnes added, “You know that conversation you keep having with me, telling me to run for the Senate? Well this may be the exact opportunity to run. There is no Republican candidate that can beat us, certainly not the wrestling babe. If this is true about Samuels, then the field is wide open on our side. I might be wrong, but I don’t think the voters will stand for two fake war heroes in a row. It’s our chance.”

“I agree. This is great news,” Slade said enthusiastically.

“Not a word, Mike. Not a single word. If all of what the Congressman said is true, I just might do it. But first I need confirmation. I need you to research this personally, no one else. Understood?” Barnes ordered.

“Understood,” Slade accepted.

Two weeks later Barnes began planning his campaign as Mike Slade confirmed everything the Congressman had said.

In the six weeks prior to this night’s party, Barnes billed the evening as a “discussion about the future of Connecticut.”

“Who else to lead the discussion,” Slade encouraged Barnes in the days leading up to this evening as he camped out at Barnes residence planning the announcement.

And they were all there. Everyone who could help Barnes win the party nomination and the general election in the fall, and some who could help him lose it.

Before the evening began, Jonathan went to Parker’s suite in the gate house, where Parker stayed when not in his apartment in the city. Barnes Sr. didn’t knock on entering and went up to his son, who rose and not more than one foot, nose to nose, told Parker, “From this point on in our lives, your behavior is going to be different. I’m taking a considerable risk running for senate, which will be announced tonight. I do not need any more issues from your life interfering with my life. Is that understood?”

As happened in most conversations between the two Barnes males, it was one way, directed from father to son. Yes, there were good reasons for Jonathan Barnes’ concern for his son’s behavior. Word getting out that the younger Barnes had a significant substance abuse problem would not help a run for the senate. However, Parker Barnes was blind to his father’s concern. His whole life had been lived in the intimidating shadow of the man that Parker had increasingly grown to hate.

“Is that understood?” Barnes senior repeated.

“Yes, sir,” the cowered Parker replied.

Those that could help him win were the local politicians and state representatives: two US Congressmen, and the mayors of the six largest cities in Connecticut. Also present were the moneyed class: the hedge fund owners who would centralize their hundreds of thousands of dollars behind the campaign of those who would help them avoid financial regulation; the bankers were there still as cheap as ever, contributing their meager thousands, but expecting exceptions from the Congress for their trading operations that had become huge profit centers. There were the investment fund leaders who contributed heavily, selfishly, to the one or two individuals in the state government who directed state workers and teachers’ retirement funds their way.

Then there were other scammers, less respectable, but no less sinister: the jewelry dealer seeking big ticket buyers, the Broadway star from Greenwich with the fading light looking for support through theater owners friendly with Barnes. Paulo Cartino, president of his own line of women’s wear, came with his top designer, Santa Alba. Cartino, a Connecticut resident, was a reasonably large contributor to political causes. Santa Alba was designing a new branded line of ladies casual wear. While all the men would talk politics, the retailer and his designer would share with the women guests their new ideas and seek financial backers.

Also looming at the far end of the semicircular balcony, richly dressed but looking awkward was the squat figure of Juan “Chunk” DeLuna, businessman by day, a villain in a tux by night.

How was it possible that the molester of Cuomo from so long ago could possibly end up on this night in the same house as the molestee, one beauty queen of Coamo?

DeLuna, the businessman, was here doing relationship building as he continued to stretch his drug-funded cement business empire further north. DeLuna now with a decent grasp of business had been importing Brazilian cement to the US for the past few years. But it was not until he got two large contracts with Barnes Construction that he established himself as a player.

DeLuna was one of thirty Barnes subcontracting companies, whose leaders were invited to Jonathan Barnes home for the evening. Hors d’oeuvres were served outside on the balcony over-looking Long Island Sound; at dinner guests were seated in the cavernous dining hall with a fireplace at one end that ten men standing tall could fit in. After dinner the invitation tucked in Chunk’s ill-fitting uniform informed the guests there would be a discussion on the future of Connecticut in the south salon.

And there was Senor DeLuna’s arm candy, a beauty queen in her own right, but not from Coamo. Many miles, many years and many bodies later, DeLuna had himself a tall slender, exotic beauty from Recife, Brazil. Lupe Montserrat had grown into an attractive woman who knew how to wear a backless, clingy evening gown.

In a room of one hundred people, beautiful women always spot beautiful women. DeLuna’s woman and the beauty queen of San Blas spotted each other after dinner in the south salon. Their eyes then went to see who the other had snagged. The Brazilian beauty saw the tall thin designer and thought well of her opponent. Santa Alba could not see a man beside this other lady, then the crowd moved and she spied the short squat Chunk DeLuna. “She has a penguin,” Alba thought of the man in the tight tux. Alba thought she saw something else, something familiar, but she shook it off. There was nothing familiar in that little man.