wouldn’t surprise me.”
“So the investigation is closed?”
He shakes his head. “Unsolved murders are never closed. But this one ain’t getting solved, if that’s what you mean.”
I know exactly what he means, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fearing for my life. I’m forming the germ of an idea on how to deal with the situation, but I’m not ready to verbalize it yet, and certainly not to Pete.
“When can I get Adam’s notes?”
“There weren’t any.”
“Come on, Pete, of course there were. He took notes on everything.” Pete’s shaking his head, so I ask, “Did you check his hotel room? And his car?”
“What kind of a moron do you think I am?” he asks. “I’m telling you, there were no notes, zero.”
Laurie jumps in. “He had them, Pete. Legal pads… lots of them. I watched him take them.”
Laurie and I look at each other, each knowing what the other is thinking. If whoever killed Adam took his notes, then it may not have been Quintana’s people at all. They would have no use for them. And if it was somebody else, and they wanted those notes, then it’s just possible that I wasn’t the target after all.
The murderer may have killed exactly whom he intended to kill. Adam may have come upon something that caused his death, something that he never got a chance to tell me.
We tell our suspicions to Pete, who cautions us against jumping to quick conclusions. Adam could have done something else with the notes. He could have shipped them back to LA or left them in some storage place we don’t know about.
I don’t buy it and I tell him so, which causes him concern that we are going to view Quintana as less of a danger. “He’s coming after you, Andy. We know that, whether he killed Adam or not.”
“Pete, do you know that Quintana is a murderer? I mean, know it for a fact?”
“Of course.”
I press him. “I don’t mean know it like you ‘knew’ he killed Adam. I mean absolutely know it beyond any doubt.”
He nods. “I know it beyond any doubt. And I’m not talking about the people he’s destroyed by selling his drugs. I’m talking about murder. I would flick the switch on him tonight if I could.”
Pete thinks I’m asking the questions in order to confirm that Quintana is a danger to me, but I’m not.
I have no intention of telling him why I’m asking.
* * * * *
I CALL A SEVEN A.M. meeting at my office with Kevin, Laurie, and Sam Willis. Laurie and I lay out our developing theory about Adam’s murder, and Kevin’s excitement is obvious. Not only does he agree with our reasoning, but he makes the point that if someone killed Adam because of what he learned about the deaths of the athletes, then Kenny is innocent. He’s been in jail and is thus the one person with an ironclad alibi for Adam’s murder.
I ask Sam if it’s possible to go on my computer, the one Adam was using, and retrace where he had been on it.
“I can’t do it in depth, but I know someone who can. I’ll bring him in right away.”
“What about the phone records?” I ask. “If he made calls those last couple of days, can you find out who he called?”
He nods. “That’s easy. And once I’m in there, I can also lower your phone bill if you want.”
We agree to meet right after court at my house to get an update on Sam and Laurie’s progress. Kevin and I head for court; we’ve got a case to put on and a client to defend. A client who just might well be innocent.
Just before court starts, I go out to the side of the building where I won’t be overheard. I call Vince Sanders on my cell phone and tell him I have a big favor to ask.
“What else is new?” he asks sarcastically.
“I want you to set up a meeting for me tomorrow night with Dominic Petrone.” Vince knows Petrone fairly well, as he knows pretty much everyone in America, and he has served as an intermediary between myself and the mob boss before.
“You mind telling me why? ’Cause he’s gonna want to know.”
“Just tell him it’s about Quintana. That’s all I can tell you right now.”
“I’ll get back to you.” A click indicates the call is over; Vince never says goodbye.
My first witness today is Donald Richards, a private investigator whose main client is the National Football League. Walter Simmons had put me in touch with him. I take Richards through the way he works for the NFL, leading him into a discussion of the great lengths they go to in protecting the integrity of their game.
“What kinds of things does the NFL worry about?” I ask.
“Gambling is number one. Drugs are a close second.”
He describes the drug testing program, which is not as rigorous as it could be, but substantially more intrusive than those for the other major sports. The NFL, he explains, has comparatively good relations with the players’ union, and therefore the players will submit to testing that the baseball players, for example, will not.
“Was Troy Preston one of the people you were hired to investigate?’
He nods. “Yes. On three separate occasions.”
He goes on to explain that Preston had failed a drug test, which is a red flag for the NFL. Richards was assigned to find out the extent of Preston’s involvement with drugs, and based on his initial reports, follow-ups were deemed necessary.
“Why is that?” I ask.
“Because I learned that Mr. Preston was not just using… he was selling.”
I ask Richards to provide the details of his investigation, and he doesn’t hesitate to implicate the deceased Paul Moreno and the unfortunately very alive Cesar Quintana. It’s a weird sensation that I feel while he is doing this, knowing that Quintana will freak out and redouble his efforts to kill me when he finds out that I have once again exposed his name to unwanted worldwide publicity.
Richards is on the stand all morning, and his performance is impressive. I make a note to mention him to Laurie, in case we want to add him to our team on future cases. It hits me that Laurie may well not be on that team, the first time I’ve thought about that possibility in a while. This has been a difficult and frustrating case, but if nothing else, it has served its purpose as a diversion from my personal concerns.
Judge Harrison cancels the afternoon session because of some other matters that he has to attend to, so Dylan’s cross-examination of Richards will be put off to Monday. I call and ask Sam to come to the house at three to report on what he’s learned, and I tell Kevin and Laurie to be there as well. Willie Miller joins us, along with his dog, Cash. Willie has been hanging around as part of my “security detail,” and it does make me feel more secure, though I would never admit it.
Sam starts off with an apology that he hasn’t made more progress, but he’s only had a handful of hours to work on it. Sam has learned that Adam was apparently focusing on something involving the media; he was trying to locate a Web site for a magazine called
“Any other significant calls?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, doesn’t seem to be. Mostly to players Kenny knew… families of the deceased guys… that kind of thing.”
“Any idea why he would be interested in a sports magazine and the
“No… but Adam’s parents mentioned that he was excited about talking to famous sportswriters. I thought they meant football players, but I didn’t question them about it. Maybe they were right.”
I call Vince, whose connections would make him the ultimate authority in matters of this type. He’s not in, and I leave a message for him to call me back ASAP. In the meantime Laurie brings us up-to-date on what she has learned.
