After Dark (34 page)

The second officer had fast reflexes. While Cruz was shooting his partner, he was rolling and ducking. He almost had his gun out when Cruz shot him in the ear. Cruz took a second to check the bodies to make certain they were dead.

There was a silencer on Cruz's gun and both kills had been accomplished with a minimum of noise. Cruz moved to the living-room entrance and scanned the hall. He strained to hear any sound that would indicate that Deems was on the move. When he heard nothing he went down the hall to check the kitchen, before going upstairs to finish his work.

Cruz crouched low and swung through the kitchen door into more pain than he could imagine. The pain covered every inch of his face. It blinded and paralyzed him and it deafened him to the cry of animal rage that came from Charlie Deems's throat as he stepped out of the kitchen and turned the cast-iron skillet sideways. This time, instead of smashing the flat of the pan into Cruz's face, Deems swung the edge against his right shin. Bone snapped and Cruz collapsed on the floor.

When he swung the skillet, Charlie's face looked crazed, but a horrific smile transformed his features into a demonic mask as he watched Bobby Cruz twitch on the hall floor. The pan had smashed every part of Cruz's face, and it was hard to make out his features because they were covered with blood.

Deems caught his breath. Cruz's gun was on the floor where he had dropped it as he staggered back after the first blow. Charlie picked it up and put it on a hall table. Then he methodically crushed the fingers on both of Cruz's hands. When he was certain Cruz was incapacitated, Charlie looked in the living room.

The cops were so obviously dead, Deems didn't bother to look at them closely.

Cruz moaned. "Time to go to work," Deems sighed. He went into the kitchen and traded the skillet for several sharp knives and a pitcher of ice water. When he came back into the hall, Cruz was looking at him with glazed eyes.

"Hey, Bobby. How you doin'?" Charlie asked with his trademark grin.

Cruz sucked air.

"Sorry about the teeth." Deems chuckled. "It's gonna be tough getting dates for a while, amigo."

Cruz tried to say "fuck you," but his mouth didn't work right.

Deems laughed and tousled Cruz's hair.

"Sorry, Bobby, you're not my type. I'd rather fuck Abigail Griffen. But thanks for the offer."

Cruz mumbled something and Deems smiled.

"I bet you just cursed me out again. Am I right? But that's not necessary. A smart guy like you doesn't have to resort to this macho bullshit. In a situation like this, you should be using your brains. Of course, you weren't using your brains when you came in the side door.

Didn't you wonder why it was the only door that wasn't locked?"

Deems paused to watch Cruz's reaction, but Cruz wouldn't give him the satisfaction. That was okay. Charlie loved a challenge. He squatted next to Cruz and continued speaking as if they were friends seated in bistro sipping a good dark beer.

"I knew Raoul was gonna send you after me sooner or later, so I've been watching for you. When I saw you creeping through the tall grass like a wetback crossing the border, I slipped downstairs and fixed it so you could get in.

"Now, I should be angry, because you just tried to kill me, but I'm not.

You don't know it, but you've given me the chance to do some really naughty things without getting caught. See, I'm going out for a while.

Then I'll come back and call Geddes. I'll tell him how you killed the cops and tried to kill me. You're gonna be my alibi. Is that some great plan or what?"

Cruz still stared defiantly. Deems looked amused.

"Don't be that way, Bobby. I don't know why you're mad at me. I'm not mad at you. In fact, if you tell me where you stashed your car, I promise I'll kill you quickly. What do you say?"

"Kiss my ass," Cruz managed. Deems laughed.

"These offers of sexual delight are hard to pass up, but I'd rather play Jeopardy! The guards used to let us watch it on the row. It's my favorite."

Cruz refused to answer. Deems drove a knife into his thigh.

The scream pierced the air and Cruz's right leg shot forward, causing more pain in the fractured shin.

"Sound check," Charlie told Cruz. "I had to make certain that you can talk, because you can't play Jeopardy! unless you can answer the questions."

Deems pulled out the knife and Bobby groaned. Deems splashed some ice water on Cruz's face and slapped his cheeks.

Cruz opened his eyes. Deems slapped him again, hard, and said, "Pay attention. Here's how the game works. I'm gonna give you the answer and you have to say the question. Like if I asked, 'He was the first President of the United States,' you'd say, 'Who was George Washington?"

Get it?

"Now, if you get all the answers, you get the grand prize. It's an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii for you and the wife and kids, plus a Buick convertible. Sounds good, right? But if you miss the question, uh-oh, there's a penalty. I'll keep you guessing about that."

Charlie winked at Cruz and noted, with satisfaction, that the macho glint was leaving Cruz's eyes. Fear was their new resident.

Cruz was tough, but Charlie was crazy and he was sounding crazier by the moment. If there was one thing tough guys like Cruz could not deal with, it was the unknown, and crazy people were the ultimate unknown.

"Our first category is American history. Here's the answer.

'He was President Millard Filmore's Secretary of State." What's the question?"

"What?" Cruz asked.

"Wrong answer, Bobby. Watt was a Scottish engineer who made improvements on the steam engine."

Deems grabbed Cruz's right hand and stabbed him through the palm, pinning the hand to the floor. Cruz fainted. Deems threw ice water in his face and waited patiently until Cruz revived. Then he leaned over and whispered in Cruz's ear, "Jeopardy! is a pretty violent game. It can hurt to get the wrong answer."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what you want," Cruz whimpered, his eyes wide with pain and fear.

"That's not how it works, Bobby. You have to wait for the question.

However, it is time to play Double Jeopardy! There are two grand prizes. The first prize is a trip to Disneyland, where you get to meet Miss America. The second prize is you get to fuck her.

Pretty good, huh?"

Deems smiled and picked up another knife. "Unfortunately, there's also a double penalty for a wrong answer. It's both your eyes, amigo. Ready?

Here's the answer. 'He won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1974."

What's the question, Bobby?"

"Please, Charlie, please," Cruz sobbed.

"Buzz!" Charlie shouted in Cruz's ear. "Time's up."

Deems grabbed Cruz's chin and put the blade under Cruz's right eye. Cruz began to tremble violently. He tried to shake his head from side to side, but Deems held it steady. Tears ran from Cruz's eyes.

"The cat's by the field," Cruz screamed. "On the gravel road."

Deems smiled coldly. He shook his head from side to side in disgust.

"I'm disappointed in you, Bobby. I was sure you'd hold out a little longer. I guess you're not so tough after all."

Deems picked up the gun and shot Cruz between the eyes.

Then he took Cruz's car keys from his pocket, went upstairs and changed his clothes. When Charlie left the house, he was feeling good. Bobby Cruz had been a great preliminary and' he was ready for the main event.

Arnold Pope's front door was opened by a short woman with leathery skin and a sour expression.

"Mrs. Pope, I'm Tracy Cavanaugh. I used to clerk for Justice Sherzer.

We met at the clerk's picnic."

"Oh yes."

"Is Justice Pope in? I have something very important I need to discuss with him."

"It's almost eight o'clock, Miss Cavanaugh. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow? Arnold's had a very hard day."

"I wish it could, but it's urgent. I promise I won't be long."

"Very well," Mrs. Pope said, not bothering to mask her disapproval.

"Step in and I'll ask Arnold if he'll see you."

The Popes lived in a modern ranch-style home in the hills south of Salem. The entryway where Tracy waited had a stone floor and white walls. There was a small marble table against one wall. A slender blue-gray pottery vase filled with daffodils stood at one end of the table under a mirror with a gilt frame.

"Tracy! Good to see you," Justice Pope said affably, smiling at her as if she was an old friend.

"I'm sorry to come by so late."

"No problem. Myra says you have something important to discuss. Why don't we go back to my den."

Justice Pope led Tracy to the back of the house and down a set of stairs to the basement. To the left was a wood-paneled room where two BarcaLoungers were set up in front of a big-screen TV.

In one corner was a small desk. A bookshelf with Reader's Digest condensed books, some best-sellers and a scattering of law books took up one wall.

The smile left Pope's face as soon as they were alone.

"You have some nerve coming to my house after telling those damn lies to the police."

"I was very upset when Laura died. She was my friend. I wanted to help the police and it did look like you were making a pass at Laura."

"Well, I wasn't. And I don't appreciate people talking about me behind my back."

"That's the way it appeared to me. If I'm wrong, I apologize, but Justice Griffen told me you'd done something like that before."

"What! I never . . ." Pope stopped. He looked furious. "I'll tell you something, Miss Cavanaugh. I know all the clerks mooned around about Robert Griffen, the great protector of constitutional rights, but Griffen was no angel. He's the one who made passes at the clerks. I'm surprised he didn't put the make on you. Now, what's so important that you had to interrupt my evening?"

"I've come across some information that suggests that Justice Griffen's murder and the murder of Laura Rizzatti may be connected. Can you tell me why Laura was upset when you talked to her in the library?"

"I shouldn't give you the time of day after you started that damn rumor and I don't see how our conversation in the library can possibly bear on Laura's murder."

"Please. I promise you it's very important."

Pope frowned, then said, "Oh, all right. I'll tell you what happened.

Then I want you to leave."

"Thank you."

"That meeting was Laura's idea. When I got there, she asked me why I voted to reverse the Deems case. I told her that was none of her business. I must have sounded angry, because she got upset. I put my hand on her shoulder and told her to calm down.

That's when you appeared. As soon as she saw you, Laura backed away from me. She looked frightened. I had the impression that she was concerned that you'd overhear us. In any event, I left and that was all there was to it."

"Why did you vote to reverse Deems?" Tracy asked.

"That's confidential."

"Justice Pope, I have reason to believe that one of the justices on the court was paid to influence cases involving the Otero narcotics organization. Over the past five years, four cases involving members of this group have been reversed. You, Justice Griffen, Justice . Kelly and Justice Arriaga voted to reverse in each case. I think Laura Rizzatti figured out who was taking money from Otero. If one of the other justices put pressure on you to vote for reversal, that justice may be the person who killed Laura Rizzatti:"

Pope looked at Tracy as if she was insane. "That's absolutely preposterous. Are you out of your mind?"

"No, sir. I have evidence to support my suspicions."

"I don't believe it. And I can tell you that none of the justices put any pressure on me . . .

Pope paused in mid-sentence, suddenly remembering something. He looked uncomfortable. When he spoke, he no longer sounded sure of himself.

"There is some horse trading that goes on among the justices.

I felt very strongly about a fishing rights case, but I couldn't get a majority. One of the justices told me I'd get my majority in the fishing case if I changed my vote in Deems. Well, I was on the fence in Deems. It bothered me that the police used an informant the way they did. Deems deserved the death penalty, but I thought the law had been violated. I wouldn't have done things that way when I was DA."

"So you switched your vote."

"Right. And the other justice gave me my majority in the other case."

"You also voted to reverse in the Galarraga, Zamora and Cardona cases.

,Think back. Did the same justice do anything to win over those votes?"

"My God," Pope said, and suddenly grew pale.

"Which justice was it?" Tracy asked, certain she knew the name Pope would tell her.

Abbie had prepared chicken with apricots and avocado in a light cream sauce. The dish had been complemented by a fine Vouvray. It was one of several dinners Abbie had cooked for Matthew, who was beginning to appreciate cuisine more extravagant than the steaks he normally ate.

While Abbie was putting the finishing touches on their dinner, Matthew built a roaring fire in the living room. After dinner, they carried their coffee cups to the couch and sat side by side in front of the fireplace. Matthew had been distracted in court that morning during the hearing on Geddes's motion and he had been quiet all evening. Abbie was not surprised by his courtroom demeanor. They were both concerned about the possibility that Judge Baldwin would permit the state to reopen its case. But Abbie expected Matthew to loosen up when he was alone with her.

"What's wrong?" Abbie asked, putting her hand on top of Matthew's.

"Nothing," Matthew answered, wishing he could enjoy the evening but finding it impossible to be happy knowing that Abbie's freedom and his career depended on whether Tracy Cavanaugh decided to tell Judge Baldwin about the fake photograph.

"You've been so quiet. Are you sure nothing is bothering you?"

"It's the case," he lied. "I'm worried that I won't be able to convince Judge Baldwin to keep out the Rizzatti evidence."

Abbie put down her coffee and turned toward Matthew. She put her hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Don't think about law tonight," she said.