Mason was parked on the third level of the Hyatt's covered parking garage. Melting snow laced with dirt and debris gave the garage a dank taste, like a flooded basement. As he turned the key in the ignition, Amy White rapped a gloved hand on the front passenger window, opened the door, and slid in beside him.
'If you lost the mayor, don't look at me. I left him with you.'
'Cute. We need to talk.'
'I tried that. It didn't work too well.'
'I'm sorry about what happened in the hotel. Blame me, not the mayor. I read Rachel Firestone's article in today's paper. She practically accused the mayor of trying to railroad your client onto death row. I had a feeling you might show up at one of the mayor's public appearances since he wouldn't see you at his office. I handled it the only way I could without having another incident.'
'Wouldn't it have been a lot easier to make an appointment?'
'The mayor's schedule is so tight I can barely get in to see him.'
'That's bullshit. You just hoped I didn't have the balls to nail your boss in public. I've got to hand it to you, though. You guys were ready. Made it look like I was at the top of the mayor's Christmas list.'
'I can put you there.'
She arched an eyebrow and cocked her head to one side. It wasn't exactly a come-hither look. She didn't strike him as the kind of woman who would wet her lower lip with her tongue and open her thighs a provocative inch or two to make an offer he couldn't refuse.
'Of course you can. In return for what? My firstborn male child?'
'Nothing so dramatic. Besides, Rachel Firestone would just write a story that the mayor had fathered another child out of wedlock.'
'She really gets under your skin, doesn't she?'
'No. She just creates work for me to do. The mayor has done tremendous things for this city, and she can't stand that.'
'Save it. The mayor isn't George Washington or even George Bush. He won the Super Bowl and should have gone to Disney World instead of city hall. I thought he'd be more interested in who killed Jack Cullan since they were so tight.'
'The mayor believes that the killer has been caught. But he wants to be fair to your client. He's opposed to any rush to judgment.'
'You can't possibly believe that, and even if you do, you can't possibly expect me to believe it. If half of what Rachel Firestone has written about your boss and the Dream Casino is true, the odds are two to one that Cullan's murder is tied to that deal. We both know the best thing that could happen to the mayor is for my client to be convicted or plead guilty before Cullan's secret files end up on the front page of the Star.'
'Do you have the files?'
'What do you think?'
'I think if you did, they would already have been on the front page.'
'And you can't let that happen, can you? If I keep the mayor out of my case, will he name a street after me?'
'The mayor had nothing to do with Jack Cullan's death. There's no reason to throw mud at him. That won't save your client.'
'Finding the killer will save my client. If the mayor wants to stay above the fray, I need his help. I need to know the whole story about the Dream Casino.'
'The mayor can't help you. Even if he wanted to, I wouldn't let him. But I'll help you on one condition. If you find Cullan's files-assuming they really exist-I want to see the mayor's file before anyone else. If there's anything in it that will help your client, use it. If there isn't, I get the file and you agree that you never saw it.'
Amy was the second person to make him an offer if he found the files. Like the deal he had made with Rachel, this one could also help Blues.
'Okay. You've got a deal. Now tell me about the casino.'
'Sorry to disappoint you. There's no story there. The casino deal is clean. The U.S. attorney, the prosecuting attorney, and the gaming commission have all blessed it. Ask me something I really can help you with.'
'That doesn't mean the deal was clean. It only means they couldn't prove anything. When was the last time you spoke with Jack Cullan?'
'Last Friday night, but that won't help your client.'
Mason leaned toward her. 'Let me make that decision. Besides, I'd rather know the bad facts now. Finding out in court ruins my day.'
Amy pressed her back against the passenger door and took a deep breath.
'Okay. Jack called me at home Friday night. It was late, about midnight. He told me that he wanted a copy of the liquor license for a club called Blues on Broadway and he wanted to know all about the owner.'
Mason felt the inside of the Jeep shrink as the case against Blues got a little tighter.
'What else did he say?'
'He told me that the owner had roughed him up and that he was going to shut the bar down, teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. I told him that I'd get him the records on Monday morning.'
'Is that a service the mayor's office routinely provides?'
'Favors are what I do. It wasn't illegal to provide him with records that are available to anyone who wants to walk into the office of the director of liquor control.'
'Do the police know about this?'
'Yes. I told them when they came to see the mayor about Jack. I hadn't had a chance to request the records before we found out that Jack had been killed.'
'How did you find out about Cullan?'
'The chief of police called the mayor and said he had something important to discuss. He came to the mayor's office around ten o'clock Monday morning with a couple of detectives.'
'Harry Ryman and Carl Zimmerman?'
'That's right. The mayor was very upset. In spite of what you might think, Jack and the mayor were really close. The mayor cross-examined the detectives as if they were on trial. He told them to keep him informed of the progress of the investigation.'
'Which means keep you informed?'
Amy nodded. 'I'm paid to be his eyes and ears.'
Amy's story added credibility to Cullan's threat that he would punish Blues for interfering in his fight with Beth Harrell.
'Could Cullan have gotten Blues's bar shut down?'
Amy shrugged. 'Depends on what he came up with. Jack had a lot of influence, but he wasn't king.'
Mason decided to switch gears. 'Do you know Ed Fiora?'
Amy gave him her cocked-head look again. 'Yes, I know Ed Fiora and the mayor knows Ed Fiora.'
'Do you know any of the people who work for him?'
Amy hesitated. 'A few.'
'How about a big guy, roughly the size of New Jersey, with breath that smells like licorice?'
Amy frowned. Mason assumed that she wasn't trying to decide whether she knew him. Rather, he figured she was deciding whether to give him up.
'Tony Manzerio,' she said at last. 'I met him at Fiora's office. He sits outside the door like a guard dog. Ed must give him licorice instead of dog treats. Why do you ask?'
'Can't tell the players without a program. I'll let you know if I find the mayor's file.'
'I'm counting on you,' Amy said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The door to Mason's office had a slot in it for mail delivery. He scooped Friday's delivery off the floor, tossed
