MR. JONES: (unintelligible) MR. TOKARIK: ChipbET. STURGIs: Are those tears I see, Chipper? Poor baby.
Speak up-I can't hear you.
MR. JONES: Let's deal.
bET. SrvRGis: Deal? For what?
MR. JONES: Reduced charges: assault assault with a deadly weapon.
That's all you've got evidence of, anyway.
bET. S'11IRGIS: Your client wants to negotiate, Counselor. I suggest you advise him.
MR. TOKARIK: Don't say anything, Chip. Let me handle this.
MR. JONES: I want to deal, goddamit! I want out!
bET. S'rURGIS: What do you have to deal with, Chipper?
MR. JONES: Information hard facts. Things my dad's been doing. Real murder. There was a doctor at the hospital named Ashmore-he must have been bothering my dad about something. Because I overheard my dad and one of his lackeys-a worm named Novak-I heard them talking about it when I went to visit my dad at his house. They were in the library and didn't know I was standing right outside the door-they never paid much attention to me. They were saying this guy, this doctor, would have to be handled. That with all the security problems at the hospital it shouldn't be a problem. I didn't really think much of it, but then a month later, Ashmore was murdered in the hospital parking lot. So there had to be a connection, right? I'm sure my dad had him killed.
Take a close look at it-believe me, it'll make all this nonsense look trivial.
bET. STURGIS: All this folderol, huh?
MR. JONES: Believe me, just investigate.
bET. STuRGIS: Selling the old man down the river, huh?
MR. JONES: He never did a thing for me. Never protected me-not once, not a single time!
bET. STu~Gis: Hear that, Counselor? There's your defense: a bad childhood. Bye, Chip. C'mon, Steve.
bET. MARTINEZ: See y'all in court.
MR. JONES: WaitMR. TOKARiK: Chip, there's no need. The indictment made the third page of a news-thin Saturday paper.
The headline was PROFESSOR CHARGED WITH MURDER AND CHILD ABUSE, and an old college photo of Chip was included. In it, he looked like a happy hippie; the article described him as a 'sociological researcher and recipient of several teaching awards.' The mandatory sample of disbelieving colleagues was quoted.
Next week's story swallowed that one up: Chuck Jones and George Plumb's arrests for conspiracy to commit the murder of Laurence Ashmore.
A co-conspirator named Warren Novak-one of the gray accountants-had cut a deal and was telling all, including the fact that Plumb had instructed him to draw cash out of a hospital account to pay a hired killer. The man who'd actually cracked Ashmore's skull was described as a former bodyguard for Charles Jones named Henry lee Kudey. A photo showed him being escorted to jail by an unnamed federal agent. Kudey was big and heavy and sloppy-looking and appeared to have just woken up. The marshal was blond and wore black-framed spectacles. His face was a nearly equilateral triangle. As a Western Peds Security guard he'd called himself A. b. Sylvester.
I wondered why a government agent would be doing the arresting on a homicide until I came to the final paragraph: Federal charges against Chuck Jones and his gang for 'alleged financial wrongdoings based upon a lengthy government probe' were imminent. Anonymous 'federal officials' were quoted. The names Huenengarth and Zimberg never appeared.
At four o'clock on a Tuesday, I made my fourth attempt to reach Anna Ashmore. The first three times, no one had answered at the house on Whittier Drive. This time, a man did.
'Who's calling?' he said.
Alex Delaware. I'm on the staff at Western Pediatric Hospital.
