Thomas Prescott Superpack (36 page)

The judge laughed and said, “On what grounds?
That you were given a compliment. Sit down, Counsel.”

He sat.

Gray continued. “But they had little to work with. Three witnesses that could hardly be considered reliable. Two detectives that mishandled evidence at every step of the investigation. And most importantly, they had me.”

Everyone in the courtroom was shaking their heads.
And from what I could see, most were fighting down smiles.

“I’m expensive.
I’m expensive because I’m the best. Had my client been guilty, had my client killed that young woman, would I still have taken the case. You’re damn right I would have. And I would have gotten him off just the same.”

I looked down at my arms.
I had chills.

Adam said, “But when my client looks into my eyes after telling me about all the pain and suffering—and death—yes,
death
—that he’s caused in the past and swears to high hell that when he left that girl she was a bit bruised, but very much alive, well, I believe him.”

He turned to the jury and said, “Hopefully, someday they can tie my client to one of his horrendous crimes and put him away for a long time.
In fact, I hope they sentence him to death. I really do. But today he is charged with the murder of Amanda Peters. A murder he didn’t commit.”

He walked up to the jury box, placed his hands on the railing, and said, “He didn’t do it.
He didn’t kill Amanda Peters. Someone else did. And for this very reason you have to find my client not guilty.”

He added, “It’s your duty.”

. . .

The jury recessed for twenty-six minutes before returning a verdict of not guilty.
The gallery, reconvened quickly from the courthouse hallways, collectively gasped.

Proctor let out a long sigh, then turned to shake hands with his lawyer.
But Gray was already on his way out. He threw a quick glance in my direction, a look similar to the one MJ threw Spike Lee at the Garden after he put up 63. And I, much like Spike Lee, nodded in respect.

The courtroom emptied and I followed the herd until I was in the courtroom foyer.
I was making for the exit when I felt a tug on my shirtsleeve. I turned. It was Ethan. Erica was at his side.

Ethan said, “You’re still the same little punk you were eight years ago, Prescott.
I told you to stay away from this case.”

“I was here clearing up a traffic violation.
I was doing 260 in a school zone.”

He glared.
“If I see you again, just
see you
, I’m gonna have you arrested.” He stormed off.

Something about the way he said it made me not doubt him.

Erica leaned in and said, “What’d you think about Gray’s little performance?”

I told her it was quite impressive. She concurred.

She smiled and said, “Still think he didn’t do it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“You’re right.
It doesn’t.”

She winked at me and followed after Ethan.

Chapter 17

I know very little about politics. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I know absolutely nothing about politics. Hell, the last time I voted it was for Carrie Underwood.

So about the time Adam Gray was being hauled away by Ethan, Erica, and company, I was in Olympia trying to find a parking spot on Capitol Hill.
If I were going to find out more about Ellen Gray, I thought this the best place to start.

I should mention that I looked slightly presentable.
I’d shaved, threw on a pair of my dad’s jeans and a light blue button down. I think the style was in J. Crew as Detective Chic. 

Anyhow, I covered my head and ran through the torrential downpour.
It wasn’t coming down in sheets, it was coming down in comforters. I’d said that to Alex once. She didn’t laugh. And she did break up with me three days later. Coincidence? Maybe not.

The streets were lined with school buses and it dawned on me that the only time I’d been inside the capitol building was in fourth grade.
 

As for the building, it looked like the White House’s ugly step-cousin.
It was gray concrete and although they might use different jargon in
Architectural Digest
, I’d describe it as column-y. The compulsory steepled dome was there, as well as the American flag and Washington state flag. Throw in a couple hardworking state employees clamoring down the stone steps and you’ve got yourself a Norman Rockwell painting.

I trudged up the thirty or so steps and pushed through the large double doors.
I walked to the standard information booth, where a white-haired lady behind sat behind a high desk. She had the glasses with the necklace and looked like she should be in the enormous library across the street. She had a name tag that read Milly.

Milly said, “Help you?”
Her voice took me off guard. It sounded like that of a child. Sweet and buttery.

I said, “Hi.
I have a couple stupid questions for you.”

She smiled, revealing perfect pink gums and flawless teeth.
I guessed she used Efferdent and not the generic. Anyhow, she remarked, “I’m sure they’re not stupid questions.”

Au contraire.

I said, “What exactly is a governor?”

She gave a look as if to say, “You’re right. That is a stupid question,” then said, “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

That made two of us.
I tried again, “What is a governor in charge of?”

“Oh.
Well that’s not
that
stupid.” She sat on the word
that
like it was her favorite porch lounger.

I smiled.
 

She took her glasses off and let them hang around her neck.
“The governor is in charge of the state. Making sure the state runs smoothly.”

“And how long is a governor’s term?”

“Four years per term. Up to two terms. Just like the president.”

“And who does the governor spend the most time with?”

She furrowed her brow and I clarified. “I mean, who is the governor closest with? People-wise?”

“Oh.
It differs. When a new governor is elected, they bring in their own cabinet.”

Apparently, I looked confused.

She said, “You do know what a cabinet is, don’t you?”

“Sure, I put my groceries in them. In fact, I’m thinking of having mine redone.” For the record, I knew what a cabinet was. And to come clean here, I knew the basics of what a governor did. But when people think you are incompetent and a tad slow, they tell you things they wouldn’t tell the average person. Just look at Geraldo, he made a career out of it. 

She pushed her glasses up. “A cabinet is basically an elected official’s team.
Think of the governor as the coach and the cabinet as the players.”

I nodded my understanding. “Just out of curiosity, who is the present governor?”

Her eyes immediately glazed over. She said, “Well the acting governor is Bill Eggers. He took over about two weeks ago. He won’t officially be governor until the first of the year. Unfortunately, the
real
governor was killed. Her name was Ellen Gray.”

I nodded and said, “Oh.”
Like I’d caught it on the news recently. After a moment, I asked, “Who was she closest with? Who did she confide in?”

“Her press secretary.
Kim. Kim Halloway.”

Bingo.
“Does she still work here?”

“Not
a her. It’s a him. And yes, he’s still around. One of the few that survived the changing of the guard.” She inched up in her chair, gave a small nod and said, “In fact, that’s him right there.”

I looked over my shoulder.
A tall gentleman was strolling into the café attached to the back of the building. He had one of those Blackberry things in his hand and one of those wireless things in his ear—the ones where from one side you look like a cyborg and from the other side you look like you just escaped the asylum.

Milly smiled and said, “If you hurry you can catch him.”

I gave a wry smile, turned, and followed after Kim Halloway.

Chapter 18

The Capitol Bistro was half coffee shop, half restaurant, half retail shop, and half asleep.

Kim had opted for the coffee and sandwich bar, and I fell into line three people behind him. He was clad in a business suit with a pink dress shirt and complementary pink striped tie.
It takes a rare specimen to be able to pull off the pink ensemble, and Kim did it flawlessly. He had thick black hair with some of that pomade stuff in it, designer glasses, and the aforementioned metal earwig. I’d put him in his mid to late thirties.

He ordered a wrap of sorts and a complicated beverage, then found a seat at a table near the window.
I ordered a piece of banana bread and some apple cider. Kim was playing with his Blackberry when I approached. The drab Seattle day pressed hard against the bistro’s glass walls, and condensation had built up between the double-plated window.

I stood behind the chair opposite Kim and waited for him to acknowledge me.
He had one of those touch screen Blackberry’s, and he did a couple finger jabs before finally looking up. He had light blue eyes with long eyelashes. Girls would kill for these lashes.

I motioned to the seat with my apple cider and said, “Do you mind?”

It was immediately evident he minded. He said, “Actually, I’m expecting someone.”

“Great.
I’ll leave when they get here.” I sat.

He looked around the restaurant, then said, “There are plenty of open tables.”

I ignored him. I popped a chunk of banana bread in my mouth and garbled, “Nice tie.”

He looked down. “Thanks.”

“It’s pink.”

“It is.”

“So is your shirt.”

He nodded.

“
Bright
pink.”

“You’re a keen observer of color.”

I shrugged and said, “It’s a gift.” I added, “I could never wear pink. But it looks good on you.”

He glanced down once.
“Thanks, I guess.”

I popped another chunk of banana bread and took a long swig of apple cider.
Kim had gone back to his Blackberry. He was probably writing a memo to himself to avoid wearing pink so as to stop getting hit on by strange men. I tossed back my last chunk of banana bread, wiped my hands, and said, “Word is you were Ellen Gray’s press secretary.”

He looked up.
“Maybe I was.”

“Well, you either were or you weren’t.
Which is it?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“I am.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m me.”

I don’t think Kim was in the mood for my Abbot and Costello routine.
He started to gather his stuff and I said, “Hold on.” I told him how I’d been the one to pull her from the surf.

He asked to see my ID and I suppose he found it satisfactory because he started yammering away. “I’ve already told the police everything I know.
They came looking for me a couple days after she went missing and put me through the ringer. I was one of the few people that knew where she’d been that Sunday.”

“Hiking?”

“Yeah. Other than me and the guy who heads up her security detail, and maybe her husband, she never told anybody when she went hiking.”

“Describe the guy you talked to.”

“Big guy. Curly blonde hair. Not quite as good looking as you, but close.”

I gave him a look.

“Yeah, I am.”

I mentally shrugged.
What did I care if this guy liked to go
mano y mano.

I said, “So they say you two were close.”

“Who?”

You and Sir Elton.
“You and Ellen.”

“I suppose we were.
I think she was drawn to me because I was the first guy in her life that didn’t want to get into her pants. I mean, how many guys can you have
Sex and the City
night with?”

Not many.

I explained to him I thought her death might be tied to her job. I asked him what her last couple motions had been as governor.

He said, “Well, as anyone who lives here knows, the freeway system is a nightmare.”

I was tempted to tell him that at one point today I went negative ten feet in forty-seven minutes. I let him continue.

“She wanted to institute a tax on all alcohol, tobacco, and firearms that would go directly to reconstruction of the freeway system.
It would raise close to $10 million annually. It’s actually in the last stages of legislation. Should be on the docket come next session. Looks like it will pass no problem.”

That would have angered a decent number of people.
One out of three drink alcohol. One out of five use some sort of tobacco product. One out of ten own a firearm. But would anyone go so far as murder for a two-cent tax increase? I guess I’d have to take a straw poll at the next NASCAR race.

I asked, “Anything else?”

He told me about a couple of her highest priorities. Basically all your standard stuff, the big five—education, environment, crime, water, and transportation—among others.

I wasn’t exactly sure what a press secretary was in charge of, and Kim spent the next couple minutes titillating me with the intricacies of his job.
Basically, he was in charge of making sure Ellen Gray said all the right things at all the right times. Sounded fun.   

I asked, “So do you have any suspects?”

“You mean besides that asshole she married?”

“Yes.
Besides him.”

“No.
Everybody adored Ellen.”

“No threats?”

“None. At least nothing that got back to me.”

“She was a celebrity.
And she was beautiful. There had to be a couple nutjobs who were in love with her.”

“Oh, there was the occasional love letter.
A couple that got a little creepy, but nothing we ever took seriously.”

“What about stuff related to work?
She had to piss off someone. What’s the cliché, ‘It’s harder to fit half a camel through the eye of a needle than to teach a man to fish all day?” I added, “Carpe diem.”

He looked at the table, then looked up, “Promise me you’ll never say that again.”

I promised.  

He said, “I think the cliché you’re thinking of is more like, ‘
You can only please some of the people some of the time.”

I pointed at him and winked. “That’s the one.”
Although I probably shouldn’t have winked. Leading the poor guy on and all.

“Ellen alienated her fair share of people.
She was pretty conservative.”

“Was there any hot-button issue in particular that resonated with her?”

He leaned back in his chair, then brought it back down. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a hot-button issue, but Ellen felt strongly about agriculture. She grew up on a ranch in Wisconsin in the 60’s. I think they sold mostly livestock. So she was always looking out for the farmers and ranchers. She pushed for more subsidized money from the state. Better irrigation laws. She held a huge fund-raiser every year that benefited the Washington Ranchers Society. Raised about two hundred thousand annually.”

I nodded.
Then I leaned back in my chair. “What about men?”

“What about them?”

“Was Ellen seeing anyone? Any clandestine affairs?”

He shook his head.
“She didn’t have the time. Hell, she couldn’t make time for one man, let alone two.”

“What about him?”

“Adam?”

“Yeah, Adam.”

“She never mentioned anything, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Neither would I. Or had I.

I asked, “Did she ever talk about her marriage?”

“Every once in awhile.”

“Did she hate him?”

“No. But she married him when she was too young. Too naïve.” He leaned in and said, “She was divorcing him.”

Adam hadn’t mentioned this.
I gave Kim a quizzical look. He leaned even farther in and whispered, “After she got elected this term she was going to file.”

I knocked this around for awhile.
It would have been the perfect timing to file for divorce. She couldn’t have filed while she was campaigning. No matter how strong her poll ratings were, a divorce would have ruined her. She might have carried the female vote—although she would have lost a substantial portion of even those—but the male vote would be irrevocably lost.

I said, “So she gets reelected and files for divorce.”

He nodded.

“When did she tell you this?”

“Beginning of October, about two weeks before she disappeared.”

“Do you know if she had a prenup?”

“I never asked her about it, but I would highly doubt it. When they got married, Gray was scraping to get by. He started amassing his fortune about the sixth year of their marriage.”

“So she stood to take a pretty penny with her in the settlement?”

“That would be an understatement.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“We did
Sex and the City
night the week before she disappeared. We were working our way through Season Three.” 

He started to get choked up and dabbed at his leaking eyes with his pink tie.
I visualized Kim setting Season Four on her casket still in the cellophane.

He continued. “I got a call early the morning of the sixteenth.
Head of her security detail, Hank Praud, asked if I’d talked to her. I hadn’t. She usually made a day out of hiking. She’d pack a lunch, get there early, and hike like ten or fifteen miles. But she was usually back in her car by four or five and she’d call Hank first off. He didn’t start worrying until the following morning.”

“When did he drive up there?”

“He found her car around noon on Monday.” His eyes started to water and I had a feeling we were on the verge of some Niagara Falls-type weeping.

Surprisingly, he fought back the currents and said, “I knew right then that she was dead.”

“So you think Adam had something to do with it.”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“Give me a scenario.”

He didn’t hesitate.
“Adam gets wind that Ellen is going to divorce him. He knows she’s hiking, away from her cell phone, away from her security detail. What better time to get rid of her?”

“But he had an alibi.”

“Yeah, I know, he’s meeting with his client on his yacht.”
He rolled his eyes. “Even so, he could easily have paid someone to do it for him. They didn’t even have to kill her, just abduct her, and then he could do the rest.”

I shrugged with my mouth.
I hadn’t thought about this angle. Murder for hire. And Kim was right, they didn’t even have to kill her. It was kidnap for hire, which I’m sure with all the shady characters Gray knew, and the money in his bank account, was not inconceivable. Shit, how many guys had Gray gotten off without a hitch? He could have just called in a marker. But my instincts told me Gray was hands on. He didn’t outsource anything. Didn’t have any paralegals. He was a loner. If he killed his wife, he did it alone. And he did it with his bare hands.

I asked, “What about the new governor?”

“Bill Eggers?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he was the Democrat running against Ellen.” He laughed to himself and said, “Ellen had been missing for nearly three weeks, you know, before the November elections, and she still she carried over 60 percent of the vote.”

“He lost, despite her being presumed dead?”

He nodded.

“Why was her name still on the ballot?”

“Most people vote by mail these days, so they’d already mailed out all those. Plus, it would have been impossible to reprint all the ballots in such a small time span.”

He looked at me like I should know these things.
Unfortunately, I’d never voted. I came close once. I had this one girlfriend who liked to do—well,
it
—in some rather odd places. I remember her wanting to vote for some Republican guy. I voted she stop voting and take her shirt off. My campaign won out.

I asked, “And then what?”

“Something like this had never happened before. So, the state legislature put it to a vote. They could either leave Ellen’s cabinet in place and let the vice governor take over, or by default they could usher Bill and his people in. They voted to leave Ellen’s cabinet in place until the first of the year. But when her body was found, the legislature took a revote and ushered in Bill and his people.”

“Think he had anything to do with it?”

He shook his head. “Doubt it. He had a speaking engagement in Tacoma the day she went missing.”

I nodded.