A Wrongful Death (27 page)

Hoggarth turned a deep red and set his cup down hard. "By all that's holy! Jesus Christ, you set them up! And now you're telling me about it!"

"Lieutenant," she said in protest, "come on. I'm just pointing out a remarkable coincidence. Of course, if those men are private investigators, and if they truly are involved in dealing in meth, that could be a very serious offense, one that would cost them their licenses and put them in prison. Isn't that so? I wonder, if they knew anything about the phone tap would they be willing to talk about it? Just wondering, you understand. They might not know a thing about it, of course, and just take their chances with the law."

"You're framing those guys, and you expect me to go along with it! I'll have your license, Holloway."

She spread her hands and shook her head. "For what? For wondering out loud? That's all I'm doing, just wondering. Of course, if it turned out they had a green van filled with electronic gear, that might move idle wondering more to the speculation department."

Bull's-eye, she thought in satisfaction when his eyes narrowed. "I don't imagine that guys from Seattle have a local attorney ready to spring them instantly, post bail bond and such. But on the other hand, depending on who hired them, it might not take very long for someone to rush to their rescue. It would be nice if someone had a chat with them before that happened."

She poured more coffee and held the carafe up in an inquiring way. He shook his head. Musingly she said, "If I were leading the investigation into that shooting, I'd wonder if a gun dealer in Sacramento had inherited a small fortune from a long lost uncle recently."

"That guy gave a sworn statement. Made a positive ID, said there was a man with her, Hispanic, giving her advice about what to buy. They left together."

Barbara shrugged. "The newly deceased uncle might have been quite wealthy. Anyway, I'd also wonder if old Dr. Diedricks, who was a field surgeon in Germany in World War II, brought home any souvenirs, possibly a Luger. I understand many soldiers did. And I guess I'd like to find out if he still has it stashed away in a box somewhere."

"You're accusing the Kurtz family of homicide," Hoggarth said heavily. "They cover each other. In the old Kurtz house all that evening."

"It takes eleven minutes to drive from there to the apartment at that time of day," she said. "And Elizabeth gave me very good directions on the phone. BiMart across the street, Albertson's on the corner. Hard to miss that intersection. She even told me about the drive behind the apartment where there's parking with a back entrance to an alley. Whoever had that tap had the same information."

"You have the statement from the caretaker?" Hoggarth asked.

"I'll have Patsy make a copy for you, "she said, taking it from her briefcase. She handed it to him to read first.

He handed it back after examining it carefully. "Don't bother making a copy," he said. He ran his hand over his scalp.

She wondered if he missed his hair, and felt the need to check now and then, to verify that it really was almost all gone.

"You don't have anything," he said. "Speculation, nothing there I can take to the D.A. He thinks he already has all the case he needs to convince a jury, and he thinks you're trying to squirm out of taking the stand and testifying under oath. He intends to call you as a hostile prosecution witness and ask hard questions. That week they were having a funeral, then a memorial service; the house was full of people, business meetings, conferences. There were probably dozens of calls, that's just one more call on voice mail, maybe never even listened to." He stood. "He's ready to take the case he has to the jury right now and doesn't want any complications."

"He'll get them, Lieutenant," Barbara said softly. "I promise you, he'll get them, and they start the day he orders the arrest of Leonora Carnero."

Chapter 25

Barbara had been sitting in her office gazing at the calendar, brooding. Three working days, she kept thinking, no more than that. Then another long holiday weekend and the following Tuesday back to regular work schedules, and no doubt the police would move in on Elizabeth. It mattered little how dissatisfied Milt Hoggarth was with his case; he would follow orders. She had to admit that if the district attorney dismissed the attack at the cabin as the first of two aimed at Elizabeth, he had an airtight case. A case he would win. And she, Barbara, would be his key witness. Insane, she thought again and again. Arrested, tried and convicted for the murder of oneself. Insane. As Leonora, she would be convicted of murder. As Elizabeth, she'd end up another murder victim, if not immediately, soon. Too much money was at stake to let her stay alive. They would find her, no matter where she was hidden. And no defense was possible without the truth coming out.

Recognizing the futility of going over this same scenario yet again, Barbara finally got up, put on her jacket and told Maria that she would not be back that day. She drove to Elizabeth's condo apartment building.

"I don't know what I'm after," she said to Elizabeth. "We have to do something, and at this particular point in time, I don't have a clue about what that something is. Let's just talk. Let me ask questions, try to fill in some blanks. Game?"

"Sure, Barbara, whatever it takes. I understand the situation. I even considered hightailing it out of here, but I'm done running. All out of hiding skills, I guess. I just want to get it over with." She spoke with hopelessness, verging on despair, and looked like someone already defeated.

Barbara began asking questions, sometimes randomly, sometimes following up on something already said, and after two hours, she didn't know if she had gained anything worth the effort or not. "Let's back up a little. Gary Swarthmore. You think he's a physical therapist or a nurse?"

"Probably a therapist. Grandfather Diedricks didn't really need a nurse as such. He needed help with his bath, and someone to take him outside in the wheelchair and in the car now and then. And to help exercise. Gary was there only a few hours a day. Grandfather isn't totally helpless. He ate dinner with the family and was very good with one hand, despite being blind. The cook cuts up anything that needs it in the kitchen. He's proud and doesn't want anyone fussing over him. Gary didn't. He seemed matter of fact, but apparently was very fond of Grandfather. I don't think he had anything to do with anyone else in the family, and seemed to deliberately avoid Lon Clampton."

She drew a house plan and pointed out various areas — the kitchen, Grandfather's rooms, a den, a spacious dining room, an office. "It's not a mansion in the usual sense of the word," she said. "It's a big rambling house, two-story, old-fashioned and very comfortable. A good house, with the entire main floor accessible for the wheelchair."

Barbara studied the house plan. "Dr. Diedricks's rooms are pretty well separated from the rest of the downstairs. Could he hear much of the activity in the other rooms?"

"Probably not. When I was in there helping out with his French I couldn't hear a thing."

"And no one could hear him, either, I guess," Barbara said thoughtfully.

"Well, he wasn't much of a noisemaker, you know. But you're right. When he was out of sight it was as if he didn't even live there," Elizabeth replied.

Barbara's phone buzzed and she saw that it was Frank calling. "Hold it," she said to Elizabeth. "Latest from the second front, or something." On the phone she said hi, and then listened.

"Bailey checked in. Everything's taken care of and he's on his way home. And Kevin Lorenz is dropping in tomorrow to renew old acquaintances. Thought you'd like to know. Are you coming home for dinner? And where are you?"

"Good news on both accounts," she said. "I'm chatting with your client, and is it okay if I bring company? If things are underway and that's inconvenient, we'll pick up a bite first and then come over. There's something I want to do there with her."

"You know there's always plenty. Bring her."

She disconnected, then said, "Well, we're invited to dinner. How about that?"

Elizabeth laughed. "That was brazen, getting me invited that way! I'd better not."

"I think you sort of have to, in order to finish up something. Dad's used to cooking for me, he does it all the time and he loves company. Anyway, his message was that the Knowltons are safely stowed away, no longer our responsibility. And the law firm that handled Knowlton's case years ago are taking him on again, now that he'll have the original research to back up his claim. Good news."

Elizabeth regarded her curiously. "Why were they your responsibility in the first place? And, as far as that goes, why do you think my welfare is your responsibility? Isn't that a bit above and beyond the call of duty?"

Barbara shrugged. "Damned if I know why. Just how it works, I guess."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It's a good question, evasive answer."

"Okay, back up a bit. Jefferson Knowlton and his claim have nothing to do with the murder that the D.A. is pursuing, granted. But those papers are at the center of it, as you know. We had to tend to that and get it off our plates if possible. Done. Next, you can't be arrested and tagged as Leonora, entered in the database that way, or it will be a lifelong struggle to get out of it again. One you might lose. You can't be tried for your own murder, because they'd convict you. Twenty-five years to life. Who knows? The judge might hate your curly hair or something and go for the limit in his instructions to the jury. Finally, you can't be identified as Elizabeth until they have the killer pegged and put away. You're the missing link, the only one who can swear to the origin of that research, and frankly your chances of staying alive as Elizabeth are pretty dim." She smiled faintly. "Both Dad and I have lost cases now and then, but never a client, and we don't intend to start now."

"You think there could still be doubt raised about the research, in spite of all the papers, the notes, drawings, all of it?"

"Most assuredly doubts would be raised. They'd claim that Jefferson Knowlton spent the last ten years producing them, and now sees a chance to present his case again."

"So I lose, no matter what," Elizabeth said wearily after a moment. She ran her hand through her hair and added in a low voice, "And no judge could hate these damn curls more than I do. What's my role in whatever you're planning? I've already told you everything I can."

"Let's go eat Dad's good cheese and drink my excellent Soave, and let me think a bit longer. But whatever the play is you're the central character.You'll have the starring role. Let's go."

"Now what are you up to?" Frank asked when he admitted Barbara and Elizabeth.

"I need to think it through " Barbara said, taking off her jacket. "And I want Elizabeth to start making a written statement of everything she did after finding those papers in Joe Kurtz's safe. We'll go on from there." She took Elizabeth's jacket and hung it in the closet along with her own. "Are you up to that?" she asked her.

"Sure. Why here?"

"I don't want it to be on your computer, just in case." She didn't want it on her own laptop for the same reason — either or both could be taken by the police through a court order. "You can use Dad's desk computer." Belatedly she glanced at him. "Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," he said. "First, come on out and have a bite to eat." He suspected that Barbara had not had a thing since breakfast. She often forgot that real people ate lunch in the middle of the day, and Elizabeth looked as if she was suffering from sleepless nights, and she was probably skipping food unless and until someone told her to eat. "Come on out to the kitchen. I have a few things you can nibble on until dinner's ready, sevenish."

He had cheeses and a pate, crackers and bread, olives. Barbara grinned and said to Elizabeth, "See? I told you he'd feed us."

Then, as they ate, she said, "Start with the day Terry went to your office, and take it up to when you left the women's shelter and headed north. Take your time with it, make it as long or as short as you need, just so it's complete to that point, including some explanation of why you did this or that, how you were feeling. Everything you can think of. Okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. She finished the bit of cheese she held and spread pâté on a piece of bread.

"One more thing," Barbara said. "At one time you said you planned to go to Dr. Diedricks and tell him the whole story and let him decide what to do. Address this report to him directly, will you? Just as if you planned to mail it to him, something like that."

"Okay, but there's no point in mailing it. Lon Clampton scans his mail and decides what to pass on for Gary to read to Grandfather."

"I'll keep that in mind," Barbara said.

Later, after leaving Elizabeth at Frank's computer, Barbara Googled Gary Swarthmore under physical therapists in Portland, and found his name associated with a group there. Deep in thought she returned to the kitchen, where Frank was still busy with dinner preparations. She refilled her wineglass and sat down, waiting for him to pause. The kitchen was fragrant with the combined smells of lamb, garlic, roasted chilies, tomatoes and olive oil. She had another cracker with cheese.

Frank put a covered bowl into the oven, and joined her at the table. "Give," he said. He knew that look in her eyes, he thought, pouring himself a glass of wine. What it sometimes meant was frequently just short of being illegal.

"First, a favor, something I feel a little awkward about," she said, avoiding his gaze. "It seems that Gary Swarthmore is a physical therapist, and is quite fond of old Dr. Diedricks and tends to him every day. I wonder if Darren knows him, and knows him well enough to give me a reference or something. You know, an introduction by phone, something of that sort." Her expression was bland, and to all appearances she was fascinated by the wine swirling in her glass.

"For God's sake!" His first impulse was to tell her to do it herself, but he suspected she wouldn't. She was too damn stubborn. She'd find a different way to the same end. "What do you want him to tell Swarthmore?"

"Oh, just something like I can be trusted. I don't mean any harm to Dr. Diedricks, enough to let him know that I'm more or less okay. That he, Darren, trusts me, maybe. And I need to talk to him in the next day or two, not in person, just by phone."