John Lescroart - Nothing But The Truth

Pratt waved that away. ‘So what’s your theory, Scott?’

‘All right, listen. We all agree Ron did this, right?’

Struler, if anything, was more certain than Randall. ‘Absolutely.’ He turned to Pratt and gave it to her one more time, so she would be clear on it. ‘Straight insurance scam, ma’am. Bree was heavily insured. She was also Ron’s support and had decided to throw him out on the street.’

‘Why?’ Pratt asked.

Struler continued. ‘He had another girl on the…’

‘Woman,’ Pratt quickly corrected him. They were talking about multiple murder, but some things just couldn’t be tolerated even for an instant.

The inspector made a quick face, fixed it, and moved on. ‘Another woman on the side.’

‘Not Frannie Hardy?’

‘No, ma’am. We don’t believe so. Anyway, I’ve got four witnesses from the building saying they’d seen Ron with another woman – same one – during the day when Bree was out working. They’d just walk out through the lobby holding hands, maybe sit on the bench out front.’

‘So who is she?’

‘That we don’t know. Yet. We’ll find her. Anyway, the point is, Bree found out about this.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘It’s a reasonable conjecture,’ Randall interjected, ‘but maybe she didn’t. Either way it doesn’t matter. But you’ll see, it fits.’ He nodded back at Struler to continue.

‘So what finally happened was Bree got herself another boyfriend, got knocked up, and was going to marry him.’

Scott Randall whispered. ‘We’re hearing it was Damon Kerry.’ He exulted in his boss’s stunned expression – there was nothing, he thought, like a good surprise. And he was going to have a couple more for Frannie Hardy tomorrow.

‘Damon Kerry.’ Pratt’s eyes shone with excitement.

‘That’s the word on the street,’ Struler said.

‘It’s really pretty smart the way they’ve figured it all,’ Scott said.

‘What? Who?’

‘Hardy and Glitsky. Knowing Kerry would have to get involved…’

Pratt held up a hand. ‘I’m afraid you’re getting ahead of me. How is Kerry…?’

‘Why do you think the mayor wants us to pull back on this, just at this time? Democratic mayor. Democratic – now – front runner for governor.’

‘Yes, all right. But Damon…’

Scott Randall bulled on ahead. ‘Kerry was having an affair with a married woman, Sharron. During his campaign. He got her pregnant out of wedlock.’ He shook his head. ‘No no no. It just can’t come out.’

The DA still didn’t see it. ‘All right, but what about Lieutenant Glitsky? Where does he fit?’

This, to Scott Randall, was the easy part. ‘Hardy,’ he explained, ‘is Ron Beaumont’s attorney, right? Ron comes to him with this problem – he knows Bree’s going to dump him. So if that happens, he’s out two million dollars.’

‘Two million?’ The number was new to Pratt.

Randall smiled. ‘It’s a nice, round motive, isn’t it?’

Struler interjected again. ‘And Hardy’s not exactly hauling big coin. He hasn’t had a worthwhile trial in a couple of years. He’s doing scratch defense work. Meanwhile, the wife has no job, he’s got kids in private school. Money’s an issue – count on it.’

‘You want to go along that road a little further, Sharron,’ Randall added. ‘The smart bet says he set fire to his own house yesterday, to get some cash in.’

‘So you’re saying,’ Pratt was getting into the idea now, ‘that Hardy and Ron Beaumont conspired to kill his wife?’

Randall nodded, beaming. ‘With Hardy’s wife as the alibi.’

‘So where does Glitsky fit in?’

Struler and Randall exchanged glances, and the inspector took it. ‘What does Glitsky make – seventy, seventy-five? He’s the head of homicide and Hardy’s pal, so they cut him in and it’s a dead lock Ron’s never arrested. Glitsky never moves on it. Period. End of story.’

Randall picked it up. ‘Then they run a little squeeze on Kerry about the affair with Bree, which makes him go to the mayor, who in turn tells us to release Frannie for political reasons, yada yada – just make the whole thing go away.’

‘That son of a bitch,’ Pratt exclaimed.

‘Exactly.’ Randall’s Martini arrived and he lifted the olive out of it and chewed contentedly. ‘Every part of this fits, Sharron. And meanwhile, Beaumont’s killed two other people, both cops who were getting the picture.’

Pratt liked the scenario, but she had to raise an objection. ‘Except if Canetta was working with Hardy…’

But Scott had an answer for that, too. ‘Canetta was supposed to be digging up dirt on Kerry and Pierce, the Caloco guy. Classic muddy-the-waters lawyer shit, pardon the French. Some other dude did it. Then Canetta ran across something, got wise, and tried to cut himself in.’

‘And Ron had to kill him, too.’ Struler sipped his beer.

‘ And , last but not least,’ Randall said, ‘then Glitsky lays down orders that nobody talks about Canetta or Griffin or anything else. He’s, quote, pursuing his own investigation and PS, Ron Beaumont seems to have dropped off his radar.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Pratt enthused, ‘if this is true…’

‘It’s the case of the decade,’ Randall concluded.

‘It’s true,’ Struler repeated. ‘It all fits.’

A silence descended briefly while the waiter brought their salads. Pratt played with hers for a moment, then put her fork down. ‘OK, another objection. If this was so well planned, why did this Hardy woman let herself get thrown in jail?’

‘Anytime you want,’ Struler answered, ‘I’d do four days for a million dollars.’

But Randall answered seriously. ‘That was just a dumb mistake like criminals make every day. She was nervous, and got pissy with Braun.’

That wasn’t good enough for Pratt. ‘But what about this secret she couldn’t tell?’

‘There’s no secret,’ Randall said matter-of-factly. ‘She got over-confident and was extemporizing. She got too cute and talked herself into a corner, saying she knew Ron and Bree had problems, but didn’t know what they were. It seemed an innocent enough question at the time. She didn’t see where I wanted to go with it, and when she found out, it was too late.’

‘So she…’

‘My prediction is she’ll back off on the secret tomorrow. Or make one up.’

Struler: ‘She does that, it locks up this theory.’

Randall chewed happily. ‘That’s my plan,’ he said.

‘And meanwhile, the man Glitsky’s protecting has become a multiple cop-killer.’ Pratt was firm. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said, ‘we’ve got to take these people down.’

From a freezing phone booth on Grant, checking back at his office for messages, Hardy learned that the fire department’s arson team had called and more or less urgently wanted to chat with him. So had three of his clients.

Finally, he was surprised at the relief that washed over him when he heard that David Freeman had, at last, come in. Back on foot, from Chinatown he made it to Sutler Street, the Freeman Building where he worked, in under ten minutes.

His old, crusty – and still apparently bullet-proof- landlord was scribbling intently on a yellow legal pad at his desk when Hardy opened his door.

‘I need a moment of your valuable time,’ he said. He had scandalized Phyllis by overriding her ‘He doesn’t want to be disturbed,’ by saying, ‘Oh, OK. I’ll leave him alone then.’

He never glanced back, walking directly past her station, over to Freeman’s closed door, knocking, and pushing it open.

The old man’s eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t really as annoyed as he sounded, although he did pull an hourly billing form over, make a note on it, and growl. ‘Valuable doesn’t begin to describe it. And I am on billable time here, Diz. You want input right now, it’s going to cost you.’