Ted Allbeury - The Twentieth Day of January

“Not true, Mr. Oakes. Your bank statements at that period show that you had an overdraft facility of twenty thousand dollars fully utilized. Your tax return for that period showed a net income for that year of fourteen thousand dollars gross. You bought seventy-five-thousand dollars worth of stock. Where did the money come from?”

“Let’s say it was from gambling, Mr. Nolan?”

Nolan raised his eyebrows. “You want that to go on the record, Mr. Oakes?”

“What record would that be?”

Nolan sat silently for a few moments and then spoke quite softly.

“The record of a conspiracy to distort the due process of an election.”

“And what election would that be?”

“The election for State Governor of Connecticut when Logan Powell became Governor.”

Oakes leaned back in his chair, no longer smiling.

“Maybe I should inform you, Mr. Nolan, that I have been elected Senator for this State, and as such…”

His eyes were angry as Nolan cut off his flow.

“I am aware of the election results, Mr. Oakes, but you will remember, I am sure, Article 20 Section I. You are not Senator for this State until the third of January.”

Oakes’s fist came down on the desk-top and the telephone tinkled from the vibration. Saliva bubbled on his thin lips as he shouted, “Are you threatening me, Mr. Nolan?”

“In no way. I am asking for your help as an individual, as a lawyer, and someone deeply concerned with the Constitution, to make a report on what seems to be a serious matter.”

With the bluff of his anger called, Oakes leaned forward. His face was relaxed, and his mouth was attempting a smile.

“You tell me you are investigating a strike that might , and I repeat might , have influenced , not decided, a comparatively unimportant election some years ago. Is this perhaps getting out of proportion, Mr. Nolan?”

He leaned back as if he were in court. He was resting his case. His mouth twisted in the near grimace of victory.

“It got out of proportion when three people were murdered for what they knew about it.”

Oakes’s mouth fell open, his surprise and shock obviously genuine.

“Who has been murdered?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Siwecki and Maria Angelo.”

“But surely they were nothing to do with this.”

“Siwecki was the union negotiator and Maria Angelo had background information. That is why they were killed.”

“But who in God’s name would do that?”

“You have no idea yourself, Mr. Oakes?”

He shook his head in bewilderment.

“A union quarrel. That’s what I put it down to.”

“And the girl? Miss Angelo?”

Oakes looked disturbed and shifty.

“I thought perhaps that was a crime of passion.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I gathered there were some flowers sent. A bunch of roses.”

“I sent her the roses, Mr. Oakes.”

“Oh. I see. I didn’t mean… er…”

“To say ‘thank you’ for helping me with my inquiry.”

Oakes was silent, his face turned towards the window, his hands fiddling with the pipe and the tobacco pouch. Nolan sat quietly, watching him. He knew from experience that Oakes was very near to talking and he prayed that nobody would disturb them and that no call came on the telephone.

Finally, Oakes turned to face Nolan.

“I’d like to speak to a colleague of mine. I shan’t be long. Maybe I can help you.”

He stumbled as he stood up, and his steps as he walked to the door were uncertain.

The secretary brought Nolan coffee and stayed talking. He guessed that it was to prevent him listening to the voice in the outer office. It was fifteen minutes before Oakes came back into the office. He looked uneasy but calmer. The secretary left as Oakes settled himself behind his desk. He put his hands palm down on the desk. People under interrogation often did that when they were going to confess. He looked up at Nolan.

“I’ve had a word with a colleague of mine in New York, Mr. Nolan. I needed his agreement. Am I right in thinking that you want to establish if that strike was deliberately contrived to give Powell the nomination?”

“Yes. If that is the truth.”

“Are we just talking or does my statement become evidence?”

“That could be necessary. But your co-operation would be seen as mitigating.”

“You’re asking me to face criminal proceedings, be debarred from practising law and to cease being Senator. That is asking a lot, Mr. Nolan.”

Nolan sighed. “Tell me what you know, Mr. Oakes, off the record. If it is what I think it is, I shall eventually want a written statement—signed and witnessed. But before it would be used I should ask the Chief Justice to speak to you and give you certain assurances.”

Oakes looked amazed. “You mean Elliot?”

“Yes.”

“My God.”

“Who gave you the money to buy Haig stock?”

“Andrew Dempsey. He was Powell’s campaign manager.”

“Why was it necessary to buy stock?”

“So that I could pressure Haig to appoint Powell as arbitrator. In the event it wasn’t necessary. He agreed straight away.”

“Did Dempsey say why he wanted Powell nominated or elected?”

Oakes shrugged. “Just that they were old friends and he wanted Powell to win.”

“Did you know that Siwecki had been fixed, too?”

“Yes. Dempsey and I had a meeting with him. I paid the money to him and the union. And I paid him monthly until his death.”

“Why did you go along with this?”

“They promised me business and cash. I needed it badly at the time.”

“What about the payments to you from Gramercy Realtors and the Halpern Trust?”

Oakes’s face went white, and his hand trembled as he put down his pipe.

“Those payments were nothing to do with the strike business. I assure you of that.”

Nolan sighed. “I need to know, Mr. Oakes. I need to eliminate that matter from my investigation.”

“And it won’t be used?”

“Not if it isn’t relative.”

“Have you heard of Mr. de Jong?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“He’s Vice-Chairman of the Republican Party.”

“National Vice-Chairman?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“He owns those companies and the payments were made to me to keep him in the picture about Dempsey and Powell.”

“What kind of things do you report to him?”

“Anything and everything.”

“Was he a Powell supporter?”

“Not in the early days.”

“When did he become a supporter?”

“At the Convention.”

“Did you tell him about the strike business?”

“Yes.”

“What was his reaction?”

“That was when the payments started. But he’s not a man who shows his reaction. Not to me, anyway.”

“Was it de Jong who you telephoned just now?”

“Yes.”

“You asked him if you should answer my questions?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that I should co-operate with you.”

“Apart from the de Jong payments, will you make the statement and sign it?”

Oakes nodded. “Yes.”

The secretary was brought in to take down Oakes’s statement and when she had typed it she came back in to witness Oakes’s signature. After she had gone Nolan folded the document and put it in his pocket.

“Are you married, Mr. Oakes?”

“We don’t live together, but we’re still married.”

“Would you be prepared to take a holiday?”

Oakes looked surprised.

“I don’t understand.”

“I could arrange for you to have a secure place in Florida. Otherwise I shall arrange police protection for you here and at your home. They’ll be in plain clothes.”