William Bernhardt - Capitol Offense

“Right, right.” Loving frowned. “And you didn’t see anythin’ suspicious when you got there?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And there was no sign of a fight, right?”

Babbitt’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me what you already know, or trying to get me to tell you what I already know?”

“Little of both. No fight, right? No sign of forced entry.”

“True enough.”

“So Sentz let him in. And they didn’t scuffle.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Well, holy moley, Jimmy. Sentz refused to find the man’s dying wife. They have a big knockdown grudge match at the scene of her death. Sentz has him arrested. When they meet again, I figure it’s not gonna be to play canasta!”

“Yeah, that part is odd, I admit. But I don’t think it means anything. You know how Chris was. He probably tried to talk some sense into the guy. Probably felt sorry for him. And paid for it, big-time.”

“Why were you the first responder when there were already cops on the premises? You came in from the street.”

“Like I told you, they were busy.”

“And like you also told me, Shaw stopped the guy on his way to the elevator!”

“Did I hear my name?”

Loving bit down on his lower lip. He didn’t have to swivel to know who that was. Served him right for being stupid enough to raise his voice.

“If you’ve got questions about me, Loving, why don’t you ask me?”

Loving turned and saw Peter Shaw standing behind him, bald head, goatee, sour expression. Two of his buddies were standing behind him.

It was never a good sign when they came with muscle.

“I’m just tryin’ to find out what happened at that hotel,” Loving said, as cool and nonchalant as the circumstances allowed. “Kind of a strange deal.”

“What’s so strange about it?” Shaw obviously worked out. His arms and pecs were artificially inflated but, Loving reminded himself, size did not necessarily equal strength. He wore a tight T-shirt and, since Loving had seen him last, he had shaved his head. A necessity, Loving wondered, or had he just spent too many nights playing his DVD box set of The Shield? “Doesn’t seem strange to me.”

“What were you stakin’ out at the Marriott? No drugs out there. No gangs.”

“That’s not the only kind of crime in town.”

“Then what was it?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“How ’bout I run through a long list and you tell me what it wasn’t? Gold, silver, rare stamps, old comic books, Krugerrands-”

“Give it up, Loving. I’m not telling you anything.” He was inching closer, defensive and irritated and expressing both through his attempts to be intimidating. Which would work fairly well even without his muscle-bound buddies. “Go home.”

“And then there’s the question of why Sentz was alone in the hotel room. Every stakeout I ever heard about, two men partner up and stay together. It’s too dangerous for one to be alone. As I guess this proves.”

“Sometimes I was in the room, sometimes one of the other boys. We had a lot of ground to cover. We couldn’t afford to stay in one place all the time.”

“Sounds like you weren’t followin’ procedure.”

“We weren’t expecting a murderer.”

“Didn’t he threaten Sentz when his wife died?”

“Nobody thought he meant it.”

“Or maybe you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Truth to tell, Loving didn’t really know. But there was something odd about Shaw’s reaction. “I know you were on the premises when it happened, Shaw. Why didn’t you stop Thomas before he got upstairs?”

“I was working!”

“In the hotel bar? I can just imagine.”

“I was watching the front door.”

“With a couple of martinis, I’ll bet. Is that why you couldn’t stop Thomas? Vision a little blurry?”

Shaw clenched his teeth. “I don’t know who you think you are-”

Loving pressed ahead. He wasn’t going to make friends with this guy, and he sensed his time was limited, so he might as well play for as much information as possible. “You did stop and talk to him. But then you let him ride on up the elevator. That’s weird.”

“I couldn’t make a big scene! I was undercover!”

“So you let a guy who supposedly threatened your pal a few days before ride up the elevator and plug him.”

“I didn’t know he was planning to kill Sentz!”

“Your report says you knew he was packin’ a gun. Did you think that was for huntin’ rabbits?”

“You know as well as I do that carrying a concealed weapon is not illegal in Oklahoma.”

“So you let the guy ride up and shoot your friend.”

Shaw’s fists clenched. “You sorry-” He almost swung, but caught himself at the last moment. “I want you out of here, Loving.”

“Gee, you own this place now? Ousted Jake with a hostile takeover?”

“I don’t have to own the place to police it. That’s what I do.”

“I hope you do it better here than you did at the Marriott. Otherwise everyone in the joint is doomed.”

This time Shaw’s arm swung around, but one of his heavyweight buddies caught it just before it impacted on Loving’s face.

Loving did not flinch, did not even blink. Instead, he smiled. “What are you tryin’ to hide, Shaw?”

Shaw launched himself again, but his friends still held him back.

Behind them, toward the big screen, Loving heard someone clearing his throat. It was Jake, the owner.

“You know, Loving,” he said calmly but firmly, “maybe it would be a good idea if you headed out.”

“You sayin’ I’m not welcome here anymore?”

“No, no, of course not. But maybe just until this thing blows over?”

“I think Shaw’s the one who needs to blow over.”

“Just for tonight, Loving. As a personal favor to me.”

“Well. If you put it that way.” Loving stood and brushed himself off. “What’s a little favor for an old friend?” He nodded toward the three huge men eyeing him with venom. “Been a pleasure, boys.”

Loving strolled out of the bar, glad once again that he had parked a distance away, this time because if Shaw had known where he parked, he might be walking home.

That hadn’t been as productive as he’d hoped. But it hadn’t been a total waste of time, either. He’d laid his groundwork. Rustled the bushes. Now he had to wait and see what shook out.

Shaw knew he was being watched. Perhaps he would make a mistake. And everyone in the bar knew Loving wanted information. Eventually someone would produce some. He hoped.

Loving didn’t begin to know what was going on here. But the two conversations convinced him that someone was covering something up. Probably several somethings.

Tomorrow night, he’d be back. And the night after that and the night after that. Until he had what Ben needed.

Ben let Christina out on Denver, just as close as it was possible to get a vehicle to the front door of the courthouse. He helped her unload the large quantity of materials they would be using at trial. It was their usual pretrial trade-off. She would have to maneuver the loaded dolly through the metal detector, up the elevator, and into the courtroom. He would have to find a parking space. His job was worse.

This time, Ben didn’t even attempt to park in the minuscule courthouse parking area maintained by the adjacent Central Library. The parking lot was a great fund-raiser for them, and he liked to support libraries, especially the one where Jones’s wife, Paula, worked, but he knew there would be no open spaces. He drove next door to the Civic Center parking lot, and even then he had to hunt a good long while before he found a space. He plugged the meter to the max but he would still have to send someone to plug it two more times during the course of the day.