Now Quinn knew that Andrea Chapman had been killed to set him up. It was the only way to explain what happened to Laura in Miami. The people who wanted Crease convicted had learned about Quinn's trip to St. Jerome. They had lured Laura to Miami with a fat retainer check so they could make certain that the first-class seat next to Quinn would be vacant. He had been played for a fool from the beginning.
[3]
Frank Price eyed Quinn as he let him into the apartment. The judge's tie was loose, his suit coat was rumpled and there were stains on his wrinkled white shirt. His complexion was pasty and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
'For someone who's just been on vacation in a tropical paradise, you don't look so hot.'
'Too much work,' Quinn mumbled without conviction. Price gave him a harder look.
'How are things with you and Laura?' Price asked as he led Quinn into the living room.
'Fine. Everything is fine,' Quinn said.
Only after he answered did it occur to Quinn that Price had asked about the health of his relationship with Laura and not the usual small-talk question about the state of his wife's health. Quinn wondered if Laura had talked to Frank at work. Price was watching him closely.
'We're separated,' Quinn confessed.
Suddenly, Price looked every bit of his eighty years.
'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said.
Quinn heard a slight tremor in Price's voice. Quinn knew that the old man loved him and hoped he would have a good marriage. He could see how much his separation from Laura hurt Frank.
'I'm living in an apartment. It's just temporary.'
'Do you want to talk about it?'
Quinn shook his head. 'We'll work it out. I still love her. I think she loves me.'
'If you need my help I'm always here for you.'
'I know that.'
'I put up some coffee, but you look like you can use something stronger.'
Quinn wanted a glass of Scotch, then thought better of it.
'Coffee will be fine.'
Price carried two mugs of steaming coffee into the living room.
'I came for some information and I need it in confidence,' he told Price.
'Oh?'
Quinn wrapped his large hands around the mug for warmth.
'I'm hearing the pretrial motions in Ellen Crease's case. Do you know her?'
'We've met at political functions and I know people who know her. We're not friends.'
'What about her husband, Lamar Hoyt?'
'He was a major contributor to the Republican Party. I've had dinner with him.'
'Frank, can you think of anyone with a grudge against Ellen Crease? I'm talking about something very serious. Something that would motivate a person to want to hurt Crease very badly.'
Price was clearly uncomfortable.
'This is highly irregular, Dick. This extra-judicial inquiry into the background of a defendant whose case you're hearing. Do you mind telling me what prompted this visit?'
'I ... I can't explain why I'm here. You're going to have to take it on faith that the information I'm asking for is crucial to a decision I have to make.'
'If you're in some kind of trouble . . . ,' Price started.
'Frank, I know I can trust you. I just can't confide in you.'
'Does this have anything to do with Laura?'
'No,' Quinn lied.
Price hesitated for a moment, but he could see how desperate Quinn looked.
'Ellen Crease has always been confrontational and she's made several political enemies, even in her own party. We never minded her ambition when she was running aggressive campaigns against Democratic opponents, though I, and others, did find her methods objectionable on occasion, but I can tell you that she has not endeared herself to the party by challenging an incumbent Republican senator.'
'How did she get away with going after Gage?'
'Crease doesn't feel that she's accountable to anyone. She has a very committed following on the far right and her husband's money.'
'Is there anyone you can think of who would be so upset with Crease that he would try to have her killed?'
'Why do you need to know that?'
'What if the man who broke into the Hoyt mansion came to kill Ellen Crease and not Lamar Hoyt? Crease would be innocent.'
'Dick, do you realize what you're doing? You're a judge, for Christ's sake. You have to remain impartial. You have no business playing detective like this. In fact, you're violating your oath by taking sides in this case.'
'I know that, and I can't explain why I'm asking you these questions. Please, Frank, I need your help.'
'What have you gotten yourself into?'
Quinn looked away. Price was very troubled. For a moment, Quinn worried that he was going to end the meeting. Then Price said, 'There are two people I can think of who would have the motive and personality to do what you're suggesting. Lamar Hoyt, Jr., was a constant source of concern to Lamar since he was a child. He is irresponsible and he has a history of violence. I know of two assault charges that Lamar was able to settle out of court by paying off the complaining witnesses. Junior has been quite vocal about his hatred of his stepmother. I assume you've heard about the will contest?'
Quinn nodded.
'Then, there's Benjamin Gage. Have you heard the rumors about his connection to Otto Keeler's death?'
'I never paid that much attention to them.'
'I have no idea if there's any truth to them, but they won't go away. Gage made his fortune in the computer industry with a company called StarData. Otto Keeler and Gage started the company. For a while, StarData looked like it might take off, but it experienced a serious funding problem. Just when things looked darkest, the StarData building burned down. Otto Keeler was killed in the blaze. Gage assumed total control over the company and he used the millions the company received from Keeler's key man insurance and the fire insurance to help StarData turn the corner financially. The origin of the fire was unquestionably arson and there was no reason anyone uncovered for Keeler sleeping in the building on the evening of the blaze. There was never any evidence connecting Gage to the fire, but the police took a very hard look at him for a long time.
'Other than Gage and Lamar, Jr., I can't think of anyone else who would have a reason to try to do what you're suggesting.'
Quinn stood. He looked drained and distant. Price gripped Quinn's shoulders.
'Let me help you, Dick.'
Quinn smiled sadly. Then he embraced Price. 'I love you, Frank. But I've got to do this on my own.'
Quinn let Price go and headed for the door. 'If you change your mind . . . ,' Price said. 'I know,' Quinn answered.
Chapter 18.
'Officer Yoshida, how are you employed?' Cedric Riker asked.
'I'm a criminalist with the Oregon State Police Forensic Laboratory in Portland.'
'Please give Judge Quinn your academic background.'
Yoshida turned toward Quinn. He had testified in his court on a few occasions and was perfectly relaxed on the witness stand.
'I graduated from Portland State University with a B. S. in chemistry in 1989 and returned to PSU for courses in genetic biology and forensic DNA analysis. From 1989 to 1990, I worked as an analytical chemist. Then, in 1990, I became an Oregon State Police officer assigned to the crime lab.'
'Over the years, have you had training in crime scene investigation and, more specifically, in the analysis of
