going to find out who it was.
Quinn suddenly realized that there was someone else who was in danger, someone who had a motive as strong as Quinn's to discover the people behind the plot to fix the Crease case and the resources to fight back. Quinn went to his desk. He opened Ellen Crease's file and found the form that she had filled out so that she could be released on her own recognizance. Then he dialed her unlisted phone number.
[4]
Two armed and uniformed guards were waiting for Quinn just inside the front gate of the Hoyt estate in a patrol vehicle with the markings of a private security company. As soon as Quinn stopped his car, the passenger door of the patrol car opened and a man with the build of an offensive lineman walked to the gate.
'Please step out of the car, sir, and show me some identification/' he commanded. Quinn noticed that he kept one hand on the butt of a holstered revolver. The guard in the car also watched Quinn's every move.
A gray mist covered Portland and the air was cold and clammy. Quinn shivered and hunched his shoulders. He slid his driver's license through the bars of the front gate. As soon as the guard was satisfied that the judge was the person he claimed to be, he told Quinn to return to his car. Quinn waited while the guard radioed the house, glad to be in a warm place again. Moments later, Quinn heard a low hum. The gate opened wide and the guard told him how to reach the house. Quinn drove through the gate. In the night sky was a dim quarter-moon. Quinn's headlights only made the barest incursion into the thick fog that obscured most of the grounds. Twice he saw an armed guard on patrol.
A handsome man in a gray business suit was waiting for Quinn when he parked in front of the mansion.
'Come in, Judge,' the man said, extending a hand. 'I'm Jack Brademas, head of security at Hoyt Industries. The senator wanted me to sit in on this meeting.'
Quinn shook hands and Brademas led him into the library, where Lou Anthony had talked to Ellen Crease on the evening of the murder. Crease stood up when the men entered. She was wearing jeans and a white shirt under a baggy sweater. A cigar smoldered in an ashtray at her elbow.
'You look cold, Judge,' Crease said. 'Would you like tea, coffee, or something stronger?'
Quinn noticed a coffee urn and a teapot sitting on a cherrywood sideboard next to several fine-china cups and saucers.
'Coffee, please.'
'Would you, Jack?'
Quinn sat down across from Crease in a high-backed chair and Brademas handed him a cup. The senator waited patiently while Quinn took a sip. Quinn's exhaustion was apparent, as was the discolored swelling on the side of the judge's face.
''When you called me, you sounded so upset that I agreed to meet with you,' Crease said. 'Now that I've had some time to think, I'm wondering if this meeting doesn't violate some code of ethics. I am the defendant in a case you're hearing.'
'Matters have gone way beyond that, Senator. There are events happening on the periphery of your criminal case of which you have been completely unaware. Both our lives are in danger.'
'Please explain that.'
'Senator, you have some very powerful enemies. People who will stop at nothing, including murder, to harm you. They have already effectively destroyed my career as a judge. Tonight they tried to kill me.'
'What?'
'Monday evening, a man in a ski mask broke into my apartment. He had photographs of a young woman and me that have the potential of destroying my career and my marriage. The man threatened to make the pictures public if I didn't fix your case so that you would be convicted of murdering your husband and Martin Jablonski.'
'But you ruled for me. You destroyed the State's case.'
'Yes. I did the only thing I could think of to protect you,' Quinn said softly. 'Because of what I did, a woman was murdered and an attempt was made on my life.'
'Judge, this is getting a bit confusing,' Jack Brademas interrupted sympathetically. 'If we're going to help, we have to know everything that's happened to you. Why don't you start at the beginning?'
Quinn recounted the trip to St. Jerome, the ruse that was used to trick Laura into flying to Miami, the visit from Claire Reston, his discovery of the second explanation for the blood spatter evidence found on the armoire, Reston's murder, and the recent attempt on his life.
'I think that Martin Jablonski was paid to murder you, Senator,' Quinn concluded. 'When he failed and you were arrested for your husband's murder, I was set up. Now that I've double-crossed the blackmailers, they're trying to frame me for Reston's murder and kill me. But I'm not the main focus of these people. You are. And that means that you're also in danger.'
'Judge, I can't begin to thank you for the sacrifices you've made for me. I owe you everything. Quite possibly my life.'
Quinn looked down, embarrassed. Crease thought silently for a moment. Then she blew an angry plume of smoke into the air and said, 'Benjamin Gage has to behind this. He and Junior are the only people I can think of who hate me enough to want me dead, and Junior is too stupid to dream up a scheme this complex.'
Brademas nodded. 'I drew the same conclusion.'
He turned to Quinn.
'Benjamin Gage's administrative assistant is a man named Ryan Clark. He's an ex-navy SEAL. As soon as you told us that a man in scuba gear snatched the Chapman woman I thought of Clark. Pulling off a fake abduction underwater would be a piece of cake for someone with Clark's skills.'
'How did he do it?' Quinn asked. 'I never saw Andrea surface for air.'
'She wouldn't have to. There's an emergency breathing apparatus attached to all air tanks. She could have used the one on Clark's tank while they were underwater.'
'What do you think we should do next, Judge?' Crease asked.
'I think that the key to discovering the person behind this plot is learning the true identity of Andrea Chapman or Claire Reston or whatever her real name is. If we find out who she is, we might be able to find a link between her and the people who are after us.'
'Jack can trace her, Judge,' Crease said. 'He was a Portland Police officer before he came to work for my husband's company. We knew each other on the force. He still has contacts in the bureau.
'Jack, can you get copies of the investigative reports of the murder at the Heathman? We need to know the identity of the murdered woman and where she lived. Then we can try to find out how she got mixed up in this.'
'Til have the information by tomorrow afternoon,' Brademas assured his boss.
'Good. Why don't you also think about the information that Judge Quinn has given us and see if you can come up with any other avenues of investigation?'
Brademas left and Crease turned to Quinn. 'It looks like we're both in more trouble than we ever wanted to be.' Crease sighed heavily. 'If the latest polls hold, my political career will be over. The only way I can save it is by proving that I was framed. Otherwise, people will always believe that I hired Jablonski and beat the rap on a technicality.'
'It might help if I went public and told everyone about the blackmail attempt.'
'It would only help if we can prove that we were both set up and who is behind this conspiracy. Otherwise, anything you say will sound like an attempt to exonerate yourself in the Reston murder. Besides, going public would destroy your career and I couldn't let you do that for me.'
'My career is over, anyway. I'm stepping down from the bench tomorrow. When I was attacked, I was going back to the courthouse to write my letter of resignation.'
'Don't do that. You're a good judge. If you resign from the bench, you're letting the bastards who set us up win. It took guts to rule for me. It was the right thing to do. Let Jack and me work on this. And don't give up hope. That's what you'd be doing if you resign.'
Chapter 21.
[1]
When Quinn walked into Stanley Sax's chambers, the presiding judge took a hard look at the yellowish purple bruise that spread across the left side of Quinn's face.
