David Ellis - In the Company of Liars

There’s a guy, but you probably wouldn’t approve.She thinks of her daughter’s words now with a rush to her heart. She thinks of her daughter’s elaboration, finally, after Allison’s prompting moved from delicate insistence to pleading.

And so here they are, not talking like mothers and daughters are supposed to talk. Instead, they stare at each other and hunt for topics of small talk. Jessica is in a turtleneck and jeans, little makeup as usual, her hair in a ponytail. She is prettier every time Allison sees her, which is far less often these days. The distance, however, has allowed Allison to witness the developments in her daughter more clearly than when she saw her every day. She sees it in the curve to her chin, the cheekbones high on her face, the way she carries herself. Jessica is becoming a woman. But there is something else there, too, and Allison feels it in her fear. Allison is afraid, not that she is losing contact with her daughter, but that she no longer knows who Jessica is, or what has happened to her since the divorce and their estrangement.

“You doing okay?” Jess asks, making an effort at cordiality. No, it is more than that. Jessica still cares. Liking and loving someone are two different things. Allison will always be her mother. Jessica is letting her stubbornness hold her back, but it can only go so far.

“I’m doing fine,” Allison assures her. “I told you, everything will turn out fine.”

Her daughter nods without enthusiasm. “Are you still working on that new book?”

“Not-not really.”

“I liked it, what you had so far. A vengeful woman. It had more edge than the first two. More passion, y’know? But the title could use some work.Best Served -”

“Jess, I really don’t want to discuss that. You know that.” The waiter brings Allison her water, the iced tea for Jessica. “Listen, I just want you to know that-you need to understand, if you try to testify differently than what you told the police, they’ll prosecute you for that.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know, sweetheart, but-”

“ ‘Sweetheart?’ I think we’re past ‘sweetheart,’ Mother.”

Allison recoils. How cruel children can be, with the slightest comment. Her daughter has had to cope with more than the divorce and what she undoubtedly perceives as Allison’s infidelity; she has had to live with endless media reports on a murder trial in which her mother stands accused. She imagines that Jess has a small support group of friends, but Mansbury College is a small school. There must be talk. She must sense it over her shoulder, as she passes.That’s Allison Pagone’s daughter. Her mom killed that guy. Allison has had to endure the same experience, but then again, she is not twenty years old, still trying to find her place in the world. At least Allison is responsible for her own infamy; Jessica is an innocent victim.

Or a victim, at least.

Jessica seems to sense that she has crossed the line, regardless. “You’re going to win the case?” she asks. “You’re sure?”

Allison inhales deeply, stifles a number of emotions. “This is going to turn out fine, Jess. I promise. Just make sure that you’re clear on your testimony. If you make a misstep-”

“I won’t make a ‘misstep,’ Mother. I’ve gone over this with Paul Riley a hundred times. And your lawyer, too. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Jessica has certainly inherited her mother’s strong will, her father’s snappy temperament. She will do great things, this young lady, if she can get past all of this.

Jessica stirs her iced tea, keeps her eyes focused on the table. “They have a really good Caesar salad here,” she offers. She seems to notice something, then reaches into her glass and pulls out the lemon from her iced tea.

“Yellow like lemon,” Jessica says.

Allison hangs on tight to her emotions. Her daughter is trying to change the subject. Trying to lighten the mood. This is the most she can hope for, now, these generic questions about her book or how she’s doing or the quality of a particular salad at a local restaurant or a fond memory. Any attempt at warmth is so welcome that these innocuous comments almost reduce Allison to tears.

She thinks of the things her daughter doesn’t know about her and, necessarily, the things she doesn’t know about her daughter.

The meeting takes place five floors below Jane McCoy’s office in the federal building. Assistant United States Attorney Wayman Teller, from the Public Integrity Division, starts the meeting as soon as McCoy and Harrick enter the room.

Wayman Teller is African American, middle-aged, and graying, dressed like most of the federal prosecutors she knows, which is to say presentable but forgettable. AUSAs make decent cash for public officials, more than McCoy, but they don’t spend it on clothes. Teller is in a suit with a tie pulled down. It’s casual attire around the office nowadays, which means the assistant U.S. attorneys can dress down when they’re not in court, but she hasn’t noticed much of a change in their wardrobe. Convincing a federal prosecutor to loosen up is like convincing the Pope to slam-dance. It’s just not in their nature.

Three FBI case agents are in the room, McCoy’s colleagues, as well as two other federal prosecutors. But this is Teller’s show. Teller has been running Operation Public Trust since its inception approximately three months ago. The case is still in its infancy, but things have moved quickly.

“Agent McCoy,” Teller says.

“Call me Jane.”

“Thanks for coming,” Teller says. “I think you know the basics, but let me be sure.”

“Great.”

“Flanagan-Maxx Pharmaceuticals has a product called Divalpro,” he begins.

“Right,” McCoy says. “Controls high blood pressure. The patent was about to expire. So F-M wanted Divalpro on Public Aid’s prior-approval list. They needed legislation. That’s House Bill 1551.”

“Okay, good.” Teller smiles. “You know more than I thought.”

“I know that F-M hired Sam Dillon, and they had MAAHC hire Mat Pagone to work on the Senate. And I know that Dillon had the votes in the House and the preliminary approval of Governor Trotter. Neither of whom would publicly acknowledge this unless and until Mat Pagone delivered the votes in the Senate.”

Teller pushes a piece of paper in front of McCoy. “This is a memorandum from the chief of staff to the Senate majority leader, Grant Tully. This was during last year’s legislative session. It’s a roll call of perceived votes on House Bill 1551.”

McCoy looks at the memo. “They didn’t have the votes,” she says. “It was three votes short of passage in the Senate.”

Teller nods. “So the Speaker of the House, wanting to help out and realizing that the bill won’t pass during the regular session, put House Bill 1551 on what’s called ‘postponed consideration.’ It gives them until the end of the year to pass it.”

“It gives them veto session,” McCoy says, “in November. But between May and November, somebody needs to convince three senators to change their votes.”

“Exactly. Which, of course, is exactly what happened.” Teller grimaces. “Senators Blake, Strauss, and Almundo flipped. In one day in November, House Bill 1551 was called for a vote in the House, passed by two votes, then was called in the Senate and passed by a single vote. Governor Trotter signed it on Christmas Eve.”

When no one would be paying attention. McCoy chuckles. “So the question,” McCoy says, “is what happened between May and November of last year to make three senators change their minds.”

“That’s right. Senator Almundo is a member of the Latino caucus and a pretty close friend of Mat Pagone. Blake is in the city, too, also an ally of Pagone’s. Senator Strauss is downstate, just south of the interstate. All three have constituencies that are poor and have a high elderly population. Which is why they were opposed to the legislation in the first place.”