Reality set in and Dupre swallowed. When he turned to Lori, he tried to look reassuring.
'I'm sorry, kid. There's nothing I can do.'
Lori looked sick. Manuel took her by the arm and led her toward a waiting car. As they faded into the dark, Dupre touched the cassette through the fabric of his coat. Manuel was right. He was out on bail, and his lawyer wasn't too sure about the outcome of his case. He needed friends in high places, and there wasn't any place higher than the White House.
Harold Travis uncurled his clenched fists and noticed that they were covered in blood. How had that happened? He remembered the girl fleeing the bedroom. My, she was fast. Her little rump had been tight and her little breasts had jiggled when she jumped across the bed. He'd let her think she could get away before catching her in the living room. He remembered leaping over the couch and grabbing a fistful of hair, but the rest was a blur. Now, Andrews was sprawled on the floor, her head turned at an odd angle and surrounded by a halo of blood. What a waste.
Travis closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, he felt calmer and better able to evaluate the situation. No need to get excited, he convinced himself. This was just a tragic accident. The girl must have hit her head on the baseboard and snapped her neck or some such thing. Accidents happened every day. It wasn't his fault if the girl met with an accident. The phrase itself flooded him with relief. 'Met with an accident' was exactly what she'd done. The little blonde was in the living room, and an accident was in the living room, and they'd met, that's all. It had nothing to do with him.
Travis caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. It startled him. Blood had turned some of his curly black chest hairs red, and there was spatter on his cheeks and forehead. What a mess.
What to do? What to do? Take a shower, of course, but what about the body? He wasn't going to risk getting caught moving it, which meant that he'd have to have Pedro Aragon's man--Manuel--take care of it. Shower first or call Manuel first, that was the question. There was the sticky problem of getting blood all over the phone, so Travis compromised. He headed for the kitchen sink. It felt good to walk naked through the house. He was in his late forties, but his body was still firm, powerful. He liked feeling strong and sexually potent.
Travis continued to consider his options as he washed his hands. Manuel had been very efficient that other time. Of course, he only had to take the girl to the hospital and threaten her a little, then pay her something extra. There hadn't been a body to dispose of, or a room to clean. And the downside of using one of Aragon's men was that Manuel would tell Pedro, and Pedro'd tell the others, but it couldn't be helped. He was certain that they would call him on the carpet, as they had before. He smiled as he remembered how they had berated him. He'd hung his head and acted contrite, but inside he'd been laughing. Let them save face, let them think that they were in charge. He was the United States senator. He was the one who would soon be the president of the United States.
Chapter Four.
Tim Kerrigan groped for his coffee mug without taking his eyes from his computer monitor. He took a sip and grimaced. The office coffee was vile to start with. Now it was cold. How long did it take for hot coffee to cool? The senior deputy district attorney looked at his watch and cursed. It was already seven-thirty, and his brief had to be in Judge Lerner's chambers by nine.
Patrolman Myron Tebo, with all of six weeks on the job, had arrested Claude Digby while he was standing over the battered body of Ella Morris, an eighty-five-year-old widow. The teenage burglar had confessed to the murder but yesterday, moments before court adjourned, Digby's lawyer had cross-examined Tebo about the circumstances surrounding his client's statements. It was the rookie's first time on the stand and he'd fallen apart, forcing Kerrigan to spend the previous evening in the courthouse library researching the law of criminal confessions.
Tim's wife, Cindy, had been upset when he told her he wouldn't be home for dinner. Megan, too: she was five years old and didn't understand why Daddy wanted to write a memo to a judge when he should be reading her another bedtime installment of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland . Tim had thought about trying to explain why his work was important, but he was too tired to make the effort. Cindy had barely spoken to him this morning when he crept out of bed at five-thirty to go downtown to finish the memo. Since six-fifteen, he had been hunting for the words that would convince a liberal judge that a flustered rookie cop's slightly altered version of the Miranda warnings should not invalidate a confession of murder.
'You busy?'
Kerrigan looked up and found Maria Lopez standing in the doorway. Crumbs from one of the doughnuts she was always munching clung to her lower lip. After a year of handling misdemeanors, the slightly overweight, bespectacled deputy DA had graduated recently to Unit D, which prosecuted sex crimes, assaults, and other felonies. Tim was the senior deputy in Unit D, which made him Maria's supervisor. The interruption annoyed Tim but he didn't let it show.
'What's up?' he asked, taking a quick look at his watch.
Maria slumped into a seat across from the senior deputy. Her suit was rumpled and her long black hair had partially slipped out of the barrette that pinned it in a bun at the back of her head. Maria's bloodshot eyes told Kerrigan that the deputy hadn't slept either.
'I'm prosecuting a guy named Jon Dupre.'
'Pimping, right?'
Lopez nodded. 'Compelling and promoting. The guy runs an upscale escort service.'
'Drugs, too, no?'
'Cocaine and ecstasy for college kids. My case is strictly the escort service, and it depends on the testimony of one of Dupre's women, who we rolled.'
Lopez shifted in her seat. She was definitely on edge.
'And?' Kerrigan prodded.
'Stan Gregaros can't find her.'
'Does Stan think she split?' Kerrigan asked, concerned. Dupre wasn't the biggest fish in corruption's pond, but he wasn't a minnow, either.
