“Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer.”
“Can’t or won’t? Someone is trying to kill me, and it has something to do with the firm. You know more about what’s going on there than anyone else. You’ve got to help me.”
“You give me too much credit. All I know is what I read in the papers.”
Mason waited, not wanting to press too hard. The volume of the bar’s background music had picked up, prompted by the arrival of the after-work crowd.
“Do you remember when Sullivan changed his will last winter? You were one of the witnesses.”
“Sure. Diane asked me to be a witness. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Did you know what changes he made in his will?”
“C’mon, Lou. That was six months ago. I don’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday.”
“I’m not interested in your diet. Just do your best. Was Sullivan in the conference room?”
She hesitated, realizing that his questions were serious ones and that he expected serious answers.
“No. Diane was the only one there. We waited about ten minutes, but Sullivan didn’t show up. Finally, she just gave me the document and told me to sign it, and she would take care of the rest later.”
“So you never actually saw Sullivan sign it?”
“I know that’s against the rules, but we do it all the time with notary signatures.”
Mason hoped she was loosening up, so he decided to take the plunge. “Angela, do you remember our conversation the day after Sullivan’s body was found-”
“-when you did your big-shot impression and told me you were in charge?”
She couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. He smiled without taking his eyes off of her.
“Actually, that was old news by the time I got to your office. You already knew, and I’ve been wondering how you got the word so quickly.”
She reddened, swirled the ice cubes in her glass, and drained it. She looked down the length of the bar as she answered.
“Like I told you, Lou, radio traffic and troop movements.”
“I don’t think so. Only Scott, Harlan, and I knew before the partners’ meeting. I was the first one in your office after the meeting. Try me again.”
No answer. Mason took the telephone bug out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. Angela’s death grip on her glass was answer enough.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“You had me going for a while, Angela. You followed the first rule of the con artist. Tell the truth you have to tell. A little honesty buys a lot of credibility and makes it easier to lie about the important stuff.”
She wouldn’t look at him, but she looked her age for the first time since he’d known her. She shrugged, as though it was no big deal.
“All I wanted was something I could use to bargain with Sullivan. I knew that he’d hold my unauthorized loan from the firm over my head forever. There weren’t enough blow jobs to pay that debt off.”
“So why bug Scott’s phone and Harlan’s phone too?”
“I didn’t care where I got the information as long as I could use it.”
“When did you find out about the subpoena?”
“After the retreat. I came to the office every Sunday night to check the tapes. Scott had called someone, and they talked about it.”
“Who did he call?”
“It was a man’s voice that I didn’t recognize.”
“Why did you remove the wiretaps from their phones and not Sullivan’s?”
“God knows I wanted to. I was afraid what Scott might do if he found out. I didn’t want to deal with another partner who could blackmail me between the sheets or anyplace else. So I got rid of the ones in Scott’s office and Harlan’s office first. I was going to take out Sullivan’s, but the cleaning crew showed up. I didn’t want someone saying they’d seen me in Sullivan’s office, so I left. I planned on getting rid of it on Monday, but you ordered his office sealed before I could.”
“What did Scott and the other man talk about?”
“Scott told the other guy that Sullivan was dead. Then Scott told him that he’d convinced you to handle the grand jury subpoena. The guy got mad, but Scott told him that he could control you. Then the guy told Scott to find some documents and hung up.”
“What documents?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are the tapes, Angela?”
“In a safe place.”
“Does anyone else know they exist?”
“No. An FBI agent interviewed me last week. He asked about the wiretaps but I didn’t confess.”
“Did he interview you at the office?”
“At home. He said he didn’t want to disturb me during the day because he knew how crazy things must be at the office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He said the FBI’s investigation was very confidential and that I should keep quiet. Otherwise, the suspects could be tipped off. Since I knew who had done the taping, I wasn’t about to open my mouth.”
“What was the guy’s name?”
“I don’t remember, but he gave me his card.” She fumbled in her purse and produced Gene McNamara’s business card.
“Angela, I need the tapes. Someone tried to kill me. The tapes may help me figure out what’s going on.”
“Sorry, Lou, but I’m not sticking my neck out. They’ll find out who did the taping, and then I’m finished.”
“Just give me the tapes, Angela, or at least let me listen to them. I’ll make certain your name stays out of it.”
She stopped stirring her drink and looked at Mason as if about to answer. Her gaze went over his shoulder to the front of the bar and froze.
“Oh, shit!”
She looked down, but it was too late. They had company. Mason turned around.
Diane Farrell took a long drag on her cigarette, dropped it on the floor, and ground it out with her heel. She began a slow walk toward them, stopping along the way to kiss one woman and squeeze the butt of another.
“Well, Lou, are you coming out of the closet or are you just curious? Really, Angela, I thought you had better taste.”
She dismissed Mason with a pathetic sigh, gave Angela a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and headed for the bar.
“Let’s get out of here,” Angela said. She left a twenty-dollar bill on the table and he followed her out.
“Sorry, Lou,” she said hurriedly as he caught up to her. “You’ll have to walk back to your car.”
“I don’t get it. It’s no big deal when you take me into that bar. Then Diane shows up, and you can’t wait to get rid of me.”
“You’re right, you don’t get it.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’re the problem. Scott told the staff that we weren’t supposed to talk to you or Sandra. I’ve got enough problems without losing my job. Don’t do this again.”
“We can help each other.”
“I don’t think so. Good-bye.”
The air was thick and still. The peaks of the thunderheads were no longer visible as clouds rolled over the city. People quickened their pace. Mason marched in double time, watching the clouds and the cars.
Anna and her wayward husband were holding hands on their front porch when Mason pulled into his
