Joel Goldman - Final judgment

That evening, as he was on the way to the Lake, Rachel Firestone called him. “What did you do to Vanessa Carter?” she asked.

He knew that she wouldn’t have asked him the question unless she’d already talked to Detective Griswold or to Judge Carter. Griswold wasn’t a talker and Judge Carter wouldn’t have been either except that Mason had told her he was going to give the story to Rachel.

“What did she tell you?”

“An absolutely unbelievable story about you, Blues, and Ed Fiori. She said that you asked Fiori to pressure her into releasing Blues on bail when he was charged with murder; that she didn’t know anything about it and released Blues anyway. She says that Fiori taped his conversation with you and somebody at Galaxy ended up with the tape and is using it to blackmail you to blackmail her to rule in Galaxy’s favor in Carol Hill’s sexual harassment case. Jesus Christ, Lou,” she added, out of breath. “You can’t make that up.”

“She didn’t make it up. It’s true.”

“In case you forgot, I covered Blues’s case. Judge Carter granted bail for Blues, then she quit the bench without saying boo to anybody. When it happened, I asked you why she released Blues and then quit and you said you didn’t know.”

“I lied,” Mason said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You lied, you’re sorry.”

“I couldn’t tell you then. I was going to tell you today, but I haven’t had a chance.”

“Judge Carter said you told her that you were going to give the story to me. She figured you had already talked to me and wanted to make certain that I knew she hadn’t been blackmailed then or now.”

Mason knew the story would erase any doubts Rachel’s editor had about her loyalty and commitment to the paper. If there was an upside to his predicament, that was it.

“She’s telling the truth. Print the story. I’ve already told the police. The prosecutor is probably preparing an indictment with my name on it.”

Mason parked on the side of a gas station across the street from the Lake Lotawana police department and waited for Blues, who pulled up just before seven, driving his pickup, signaling Mason to follow him. Mason fell in line behind the pickup, trailing Blues onto a service road that disappeared into the woods far away from any houses. Blues got out of the pickup and slid into the passenger side of Mason’s SUV.

“I called you an hour ago,” Mason said. “Where have you been?”

“Peeking in people’s windows. I figured we’re headed into trouble and I like to see it before it sees me.”

“Kelly told me the same thing a few days ago.”

“I thought we might be back after our last trip out here so I looked at some maps. The house Webb is using is on L Street, which T-bones into a long, narrow cul-de-sac. This service road feeds into a bike path that comes out at the opposite end of the cul-de-sac from Webb’s house. Since no one is home at the other houses, it was easy to get close without being seen.”

“What did you find out?”

“Lot of lights on in that house. Webb was there.”

“What about Lila Collins? Dark hair, thin, mid-forties.”

“I saw two women. One of them was older, late fifties, carrying a bag with both hands like it was real heavy.”

“That’s Sylvia McBride. The money she stole from the bank is in that bag.”

“The other woman was younger. Could have been Lila, but I couldn’t see her face too well. Sylvia and Webb had to hold her up like she was sick or drunk.”

“What did they do with her?”

“Last I saw, they took her out on the deck and down a set of stairs and locked her in a storage room underneath the deck.”

“You’ve got to get her out. Webb is expecting me at seven. I’ll keep him occupied.”

“There’s another problem,” Blues said.

“I know. Sylvia. I’ll have to play that by ear. Maybe Webb will keep her out of sight.”

“She’s not the problem. Avery Fish is. He showed up just as I was leaving.”

Mason slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Damn! Kelly was right. Fish was in on the robbery. He told me that the mark never feels the hook until it’s in too deep. He was talking about me. I let that old man con me. I don’t believe it!”

“How do you want to play this?”

“I’ll knock on the front door. You rescue Lila.”

“You got another plan after I rescue Lila or am I going to have to come back and rescue you too?”

“Might as well. I’d hate for you to feel left out.”

Fish’s rental car was parked in front of the house. Mason opened the driver’s door looking for any hint that Fish was there for a reason other than to split the pot. He found a receipt on the floor from a sporting goods store that Mason had passed on the highway. According to the time printed on the receipt, Fish had made his purchase less than an hour ago. The timing bothered Mason as much as the description of what Fish had purchased-a box of. 38 caliber ammunition.

When Mason rang the bell, Webb opened the door wide enough to see who was there. Mason shoved it all the way open and walked past Webb into a large den with a vaulted, wood-beam ceiling. The sofa, chairs, tables, and rug had a fresh, barely lived-in look. The whole place had the feel of a safe house, not a home.

The far wall was all glass, opening to the deck. The kitchen was to his right. There was a darkened hallway to his left that he assumed led to bedrooms.

He didn’t see Sylvia, Fish, or a bag full of money. He took a slow pass around the den, luring Webb to follow until he had a view of the lake and Webb’s back was to the deck. It was the best he could do to make certain Webb wouldn’t see Blues.

“Where’s Lila?” Mason asked.

“I told you,” Webb said. “She’s ill. She didn’t come to work today.”

“Then why was her car in the parking lot?”

“She got sick yesterday. She couldn’t drive so I took her home.”

Mason knew he wouldn’t get anywhere trading lies with Webb. He had to buy time until Blues could free Lila.

“Then we’ve got nothing to talk about. I’ll just go to the police, tell them about your blackmail scheme, and you can do business with them. Of course, you can’t blame the cops if they’re more interested in the three murders you committed and the money you robbed from the bank.”

“I thought you were only obsessed with blackmail. Now I see that you are completely out of your mind. I didn’t blackmail the judge. I didn’t kill anyone and I don’t know anything about a bank robbery.”

“Killing Rockley and Keegan makes a certain amount of sense if they were about to give you up. You might catch a break on Mark Hill if you claim self-defense. But I think you’re screwed on the bank robbery.”

“Blackmail, murder, and bank robbery. Who do you think I am?”

“I know who you are,” Mason said, walking down the hall leading to the bedrooms. “Fish! C’mon on out and bring Sylvia with you.”

The first door down the hall opened and Fish stepped out. Sylvia McBride was next, turning on the hallway light. She darted past Fish, barely giving Mason a glance as she joined her husband. The color had drained from Fish’s face and his breathing was labored. He lumbered past Mason, bracing himself with one hand against the wall. Mason caught him by the elbow.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Never better, boytchik. ”

Kelly Holt followed Fish, a gun in one hand, the bag of money in the other.

“Hello, Counselor,” she said. “Like they say in the movies, put your hands up.”

“You were in this all the time,” he said, raising his hands.

“From the beginning. Now let’s join the others,” she said, directing him with the gun.