'I'm hoping these reports are in here by mistake. If they're not, Gary may be in big trouble.'
Mancini skimmed the first report. His features clouded.
'Did Becky mention anything about this?'
'No.
Mancini laid the stack of reports on his desk.
'She can't think Gary was also involved in these cases.'
'She must. Why would she give me police reports about the murders of two other women if she didn't think Gary committed them?'
Chapter FOURTEEN.
The prisoners in the Whitaker jail were allowed an hour a day to exercise in the yard. Gary waited for that hour like a marooned sailor longing for rescue. Inside, the jail was musty gray and the air was heavy. Outside, there with reminders was the sun, birds in flight and air sweet of the way his life used to be. This afternoon, Gary leaned against the chain-link fence and watched several prisoners pumping iron on the far side of the yard.
Gary wanted to lift weights, but he was afraid to go near them. Besides, he wasn't feeling so good. The meeting with Peter Hale had left him confused. Peter said he did not have supernatural powers, but he was certain he did.
If he didn't have those powers, how did he know so much about the murder?
How had he seen Sandra Whiley die?
'Hey, Gary?' a familiar voice said. Gary turned around and saw Kevin Booth. Booth was sweating and of stand still. He had been using so many he couldn drugs that his system was having trouble adjusting to the deprivations jail imposed. Gary did not notice. All he knew was that he finally had a friend to talk to.
'Hi, Kevin! Are you arrested too?'
'Yeah. I got busted a few days ago.'
'What did you do?' Gary asked with concern.
'I fucked up, big time. Federal stuff.'
Booth's shoulders twitched a little.
'I don't like it here,' Gary confided.
'Why is that?'
'Some of the men pick on me. They say mean things.'
'You've got to learn how to deal with those motherfuckers,' Booth responded with false bravado. He wanted Gary to think he was not afraid of being in jail, but he had barely slept during the short stint he had spent when he was arrested at Whitaker State and last night had been hell. 'If anyone messes with you, you mess them up first or you won't get any respect.'
'My mom says I shouldn't fight,' Gary said nervously.
'Yeah? Well, your mom isn't in jail.'
just as he said this, Booth noticed Rafael Vargas sitting in the bleachers near the body builders. Not far away, his bodyguard, Carlos Rivera, was completing a set of curls with weights that were the size of car tires.
Every time he brought the bar to his chest, his body would swell up like a balloon. Booth felt his bowels loosen and he looked away quickly.
'So, man,' Booth said, moving so Gary's body blocked Vargas's view of him, 'I read about you. You're a fuckin' media star. Front page! Murder!
That's heavy.'
'I didn't do anything to that girl,' Gary assured his friend. 'I just seen it.'
'Seen what?'
'My lawyer doesn't want me to talk about the case to anyone.'
An idea suddenly occurred to Booth. He shot a quick look at Vargas. When he turned back to Gary, he was wearing an ingratiating smile.
'Hey, Gary, this is me. We've been buddies since high school. What do you think I'm gonna do, rat you out?'
'Oh no,' Gary said, coloring with embarrassment.
'Your lawyers probably don't want you talking to someone you don't know. Now, that makes sense. But I'm your friend, right?'
'Oh, sure,' Gary agreed.
'So, what gives?'
Gary hesitated. Peter was emphatic about not talking to anyone about his case. He said that some people in jail would tell the D.A. he had confessed to them so they could get a deal on their own case. Then, they would testify against him in court and tell lies. Peter had warned him to look out for those men, but he couldn't have meant Kevin. Peter probably meant he shouldn't talk to strangers, like Mom had always warned him.
Kevin Booth wasn't a stranger. He was a friend. So, Gary proceeded to tell him everything about his case.
it was late afternoon when Steve Mancini returned to his office. He picked up his message slips at the reception desk and glanced through them as he walked down the hall. One of the messages was from Harold Prescott.
Mancini's mouth went dry and the hand holding the message shook. He closed his office door. As he dialed Whitaker Savings and Loan, he shut his eyes and said a little prayer.
The United States Olympic ski team trained at Mount Bachelor near Bend, Oregon. Three years ago, the state of Oregon had launched a campaign to bring the Olympics to Bend. Shortly after, Mancini had joined a group of investors to form Mountain View, Inc with the goal of building a ski lodge and condominiums near Bend.
Harold Prescott had engineered a construction loan at his bank. The loan was used to start work on the lodge and the first condo units, but the weather, labor problems and escalating costs had eaten up most of the loan and slowed progress on the project. The loan was due soon. Mountain View was trying to get a long-term loan from the bank to pay off the construction loan and complete the first phase of the project. Mancini had invested heavily in the project. If it failed, he would be ruined.
'I'm afraid I have bad news, Steve,' Prescott said as soon as they were connected. 'The committee met this afternoon. it voted against authorizing the loan.'
Mancini felt as if he was going to throw up. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the nausea.
'Steve?'
'I don't get it,' Mancini managed.
'I argued for it, but there was too much opposition.'
'What's the problem?' Mancini asked desperately.
'We've been dealing with Whitaker Savings and Loan since the project started. Nothing's changed.'
'Steve, I warned you about this potential problem two years ago. The Federal National Mortgage Association would not approve the project. Without their approval we can't sell the loan on the New York market. I tried to persuade the others to take a chance, but it was no go.'
'Fannie Mae wouldn't approve because it's a resort area and we don't have earnest money for fifty percent of the units. That will change as soon as Bend wins the bid for the Winter Olympics.'
'The problem is that there's no assurance Bend will get the games. The rumor we're hearing is that one of the European countries has the edge. The committee was unwilling to take the risk.'
'Harold, I don't know who you've been talking to.
Roger Dunn told me his sources say we've got a terrific shot. Once the announcement is made, those condos will sell like hotcakes.'
'That wasn't the only problem. There aren't enough liquid assets in your group. Most of the land is only optioned. The feeling was that there wasn't enough hard equity in the project.'
The rest of the conversation went by in a dull hum.
Mancini responded automatically as a sharp throbbing pain filled his head.
After a few more minutes, he hung up and stared at the wall. He knew he should call the other partners, but he could not move. All he could think about was his financial ruin.
Mancini told his secretary to hold his calls. Then he took a glass and a half-filled bottle of scotch out of his
