'It's in your name.'
'But I don't know anything about it. That fucker Reynolds set me up.'
'And I suppose he took the pictures of the shed, too?'
'I don't know anything about those pictures. There was dynamite in the shed when I was at the cabin.'
Geddes swiveled his chair toward the window. The picture of the shed and the bank account were devastating. There had to be an explanation.
He hoped it did not have something to do with being duped by Charlie Deems.
'Wait outside,' Geddes told Deems. Deems seemed only too happy to leave the room.
'What the fuck is happening, Neil?' the prosecutor demanded when they were alone.
'Either Deems was paid off to pin Justice Griffen's murder on Abbie Griffen or someone set him up.'
'Damn it. Reynolds is making me look like a fool.'
'What do you want to do with Deems?'
'Keep him at the farm until we figure out what's going on. If that son of a bitch lied to me, I'll have his balls.'
Raoul Otero was staring at the gray roiling clouds and sheets of rain that obscured the view from his penthouse apartment in downtown Portland when Bobby Cruz sat down across from him. Raoul's mood was as black as the weather and the fifth of scotch he'd been working on all afternoon had only stoked his rage.
'You want some?' Otero asked, holding up the bottle.
'No, gracias,' Cruz answered politely. Otero was not surprised. Except for violence, Bobby Cruz had novices. 'Well?'
'It don' look good, Raoul. Deems testified for the DA.'
Otero stared at the Willamette River. No ships were moving on its turbulent waters. It was so dark the cars crossing the Hawthorne Bridge were using their headlights even though it was only four o'clock.
'Why is Charlie doing this? He beat his case. The cops don't have no leverage on him.'
'What I think is, he's doin' it to get even with the Griffen woman for putting him on the row.'
Raoul nodded in agreement. 'That piece of shit was always big on revenge. Remember how happy he was when I let him do Shoe?'
'Yea,' Raoul. He could barely contain his joy. Our problem is that Griffen isn't the only one Charlie's mad at.'
'How can he be stupid enough to talk to the cops about me?'
Raoul asked incredulously.
'Charlie isn't stupid, but he's mean. He's also loco. Charlie does what Charlii wants to do. That's why I told you not to have no dealings with him in the first place. Remember I said you can't control Charlie, because Charlie is always out of control?'
'And you were right. Jos called from Tijuana while you were at the courthouse. The feds busted the two border guards we had on the payroll. Charlie knew about them, just like he knew about Lee Terrace and the rest area on I-5.'
'There's only one thing to do,' Cruz said calmly.
Otero knocked down what was left of the scotch in his glass.
He did not like being in this position, but that fuck Deems had put him in it. Killing someone always hurt business, because the cops had to work hard on a murder case. Still, normally the risk was small with someone like Charlie, because the cops wouldn't spend too much time looking into the murder of a dealer who'd offed a kid. But 'normally' might not apply anymore. Charlie was on the side of the angels. The cops were going to work overtime if someone took out the key witness in the murder of a Supreme Court justice. But that shit-for-brains, loco son of a bitch gave him no choice.
'Do you know where the cops have Charlie?'
'They're hiding him at a farmhouse. I followed them from the courthouse.'
'Can you do it?'
'It won't be easy. He has two cops guarding him.'
'You need help?'
Cruz smiled. 'No, gracias. I think I will handle this myself.'
Raoul nodded. A red mist clouded his eyes. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to smash Charlie Deems. If the situation wasn't desperate, if they had not lost three shipments already, he would wait and personally carve up Charlie Deems like a fucking turkey. But there would be no more shipments until Charlie was dead, so he would have to let Bobby Cruz have the honor.
Neil Christenson arrived home at ten o'clock Monday night, after spending all evening listening to Chuck Geddes scream at Charlie Deems.
Christenson changed into jeans and an OSU sweatshirt, then he settled into his favorite armchair and tried to get into a sitcom his wife, Robin, was watching.
At a commercial, Christenson went into the kitchen to fix himself a Snack and Robin put on some water for tea. It was quiet in the house because the kids were asleep. 'Are you okay?' Robin asked.
'I'm just tired, but I'm thankful for a chance to forget about the Griffen case for a few hours.'
Robin gave him a sympathetic smile. 'Is it that bad?'
'Worse. Geddes has been driving me crazy ever since Reynolds took apart Deems this morning.'
Robin put her arms around her husband and gave him a compassionate kiss.
'The trial will be over soon,' she said. 'Maybe we can get away for a few days.'
Christenson held his wife and kissed the top of her head.
'What did you have in mind?'
'I don't know,' she answered coyly. 'Maybe we could shack up in a motel on the coast for a weekend. Mom can watch the kids.'
Christenson froze. 'That's it,' he muttered to himself.
Robin pulled back and looked at her husband. He was staring into space.
Christenson gave her a tremendous hug and kissed her on the cheek.
'I've got to go,' he said.
'What? You just got home.'
'It was the receipts, Robin. You're a lifesaver.'
'What did I do?'
'You may have won the Griffen case.'
Christenson walked back into the living room and put on his shoes.
'You're not going out?'
'I'm sorry. I have to check something to see if I'm right. If I don't do it now, I won't be able to sleep.'
Robin sighed. She had been married to Neil for twelve years and she was used to his odd hours.
As he laced up his shoes, Christenson thought about the afternoon he had watched Tracy Cavanaugh and Barry Frame sift through the state's evidence. He had never figured out what piece of evidence had intrigued Tracy so much that she had felt it necessary to hide it from his view.
Now he thought he knew what she had been looking at. Some of the credit card receipts in the box of evidence from the bottom right drawer in Justice Griffen's den had been from the Overlook Motel. Christenson knew that motel. Three years ago, there had been a murder there and he had visited it during the investigation. The Overlook was a dive.
What was a Supreme Court justice doing there on three occasions? Robin had given him the answer. He was shacking up. But with who? Geddes's guess was Laura Rizzatti, and Christenson was going to see if Geddes was right.
Charlie Deems paced back and forth across his small bedroom on the second floor of the farmhouse. The rain had trapped him inside and he was going stir crazy.
Not even the game shows made this dump bearable anymore. To make matters worse, that asshole Geddes and his flunky Christenson had grilled him all evening.
'Why wasn't there dynamite in the photo of the shed? Where did the money in the bank account come from? Did he kill Justice Griffen and frame Abigail Griffen?' And on and on, over and over again.
Deems was certain he knew what had happened, but he wasn't going to tell Geddes. What he was going to
