Final Judgment (20 page)

FORTY-ONE

Room service trays stacked with dirty dishes and unclaimed copies of
USA Today
littered the hallway floor as Mason counted down room numbers, finding 1201 in an alcove at the end of the corridor. He knocked once and Bongiovanni opened the door, looked down the hall as if he was checking for anyone who might have seen Mason, then motioned him inside.

Room 1201 was a suite with a large living room, a mini-kitchen, and a bedroom separated from the rest by French doors. Carol stood at the living room window overlooking the casino and the Missouri River, dressed in a bathrobe, a towel around her head and a cigarette jammed in the corner of her mouth. A king-size bed was visible through the open French doors, the linens tossed as if Carol had slept either poorly or with a friend. It was a high roller’s hangout, the kind the casino would use to reward guests with a track record for dropping big bucks. It was too rich for a blackjack dealer on leave for emotional distress.

“Lou Mason, say hello to Carol Hill,” Bongiovanni said.

The morning sun broke against the window, the glare obscuring her features. She stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray and met him in the center of the room, her hand trembling when she shook his. Fruit-scented soap and shampoo mixed with tobacco smoke in a sweet but trashy off-balance fragrance. Just out of the shower, her skin was pale and a bit rough, the kind of complexion that did better with makeup. Her mouth was small, and he thought her upper lip had been shot full of collagen until he realized it was swollen and that the dark yellow ring round her left eye was man-made. She was wearing a bulky white terry cloth robe that blunted her figure, though she moved enough beneath it that he could tell it was the only thing she was wearing. Stripped, scrubbed, and beat up, she was barely holding herself together. Mason was ready to award her damages for emotional distress, though he wasn’t certain who was liable.

“I’m sorry about standing you up twice on Saturday,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said in a whisper, clearing her throat. “Gotta quit smoking,” she said, coughing again.

“Get dressed, honey,” Bongiovanni said. “I’ll keep Mason company.”

Carol nodded and closed the French doors behind her. Bongiovanni sat on an overstuffed couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and gestured Mason to a chair.

“Nice digs,” Mason said. “If this is a Galaxy employee benefit, tell me where to apply.”

“Try inheritance. Ed Fiori was my uncle. Carol’s too. We’re first cousins. Our mothers were Ed’s sisters. He owned the casino and the hotel, but you knew that.”

Mason did know that. What he didn’t know was whether Fiori had been close enough to Bongiovanni to have shared the story about Mason and Judge Carter. Fiori had been a little bent but not enough that he couldn’t get a gaming license. Mason had never known who Fiori’s lawyers were, but it made sense that he’d consult his nephew the lawyer even about things that were outside Bongiovanni’s practice. Keeping things in the family was another way of keeping things quiet.

“I did know that.”

“You were there when he was killed, if I remember right.”

“I was,” Mason said, not interested in talking about the details. “I’m sorry.”

Bongiovanni waved his hand at Mason. “Hey, don’t be sorry. You didn’t kill him and the bastard that did is dead. Shit happens. But, I’ll tell you what. There was a hell of a mess after he died. Soon as I heard, I raced down to the boat to secure his office before the cops showed up. I didn’t know everything Ed was into, but I didn’t want the cops to find out first. Found lots of interesting stuff. He even had one of those secret tape-recording setups, just like every president since Kennedy.”

Mason studied Bongiovanni, trying to decide if Bongiovanni was playing with him, dangling a baited hook. If Bongiovanni had the tape, he wouldn’t use it to blackmail Judge Carter to rule against his own client, especially since Carol was his cousin. Still, Mason thought he detected a glint in Bongiovanni’s eyes and a curl at the corners of his mouth like he knew what he was doing and was enjoying it. Mason refused to bite, changing the subject instead.

“I’ll bet you did. So, he left you the hotel?”

Bongiovanni laughed. “I was a nephew, not a son. But he did leave me the permanent use of this suite. Those bastards at Galaxy offered me a mint to give it up, but I told them to pound sand. We had to sell the casino and the hotel to pay the taxes on Ed’s estate. After everything that happened with Ed, buyers weren’t exactly lining up. Galaxy practically stole it, but we didn’t have a choice. It eats their ass not to have this suite, though, and I love it.”

Mason began to understand why Carol and her lawyer refused to settle. The lawsuit, whatever its merits, was about getting even.

“What happened to Carol’s face?”

“I called her after you told me about Johnny Keegan. She was crying, hysterical. Mark had been out drinking—came home and beat the crap out of her. I picked her up and brought her over here.”

“Did Mark give you any trouble?”

“I didn’t see him. He left after he beat Carol up.”

“Did she file a complaint with the police?”

“For what? To get a restraining order? I haven’t seen one yet that will stop an asshole drunk like her husband from knocking his wife around.”

“He can’t hit her if he’s in jail.”

“He can’t hit me if he’s dead either,” Carol Hill said.

FORTY-TWO

Carol had changed into jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. Her auburn hair was brushed and pulled back behind her ears. She’d applied a thin layer of makeup that dulled but didn’t hide her black eye. Lipstick softened her swollen lip. She had large breasts and full hips. Mason guessed she had been a high school knockout. Twenty years later, she was spreading out. Her shoulders were round and sloped like someone was riding her back. She was shaken and sad but angry enough to threaten to kill the man who’d beaten her and may have also killed her lover.

“If anyone kills Mark, it isn’t going to be you,” Bongiovanni told her. “He’s a moron who will piss the wrong person off sooner or later and your problem will get solved in a hurry. In the meantime, he’s not worth throwing your life away.”

Carol sat on the sofa next to Bongiovanni. “Vince says you think Mark killed Rockley and Johnny.”

“Your husband was jealous of Keegan and mad at Rockley. Men have killed with less reason.”

“How’d you know about Johnny and me?”

It was a question Mason had anticipated since he’d warned Bongiovanni about Mark Hill. He had no believable explanation besides the truth and he needed Carol to trust him if she was going to tell him anything. The trick was to tell her enough without telling her and Bongiovanni too much.

“Your husband told me. I represent a man named Avery Fish. Charles Rockley’s body was found in the trunk of my client’s car. I did some checking on Rockley and found out about your case against him and Galaxy. Since you were represented by an attorney, I couldn’t talk to you without your lawyer’s permission and lawyers usually don’t let their clients say much to other lawyers. I thought I’d have better luck with your husband and I found him at a bar in Fairfax Friday evening.”

“That dump called Easy’s?”

“That’s right.”

“He was all beat up when he came home Friday night. Did you do that?”

Mason shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

“I wish it was you. At least I could thank you. Do you know who did it so I can thank them?”

“Sorry. I can’t help you,” Mason said, the image of Hill taking a shot to the chin flashing in his mind. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She looked at Bongiovanni, who nodded at her. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“When did you start seeing Johnny Keegan?”

She blushed, fidgeted with her sleeve, and answered in a quiet voice. “Not long after he started work there. For almost a year. We were always on the same shift. He bought me a drink one night when I was on break. We got to talking, kept talking, and that’s what happened. He was real nice to me. I didn’t care that he was younger than me. It was only a few years, and what difference does it make anyway if people are nice to each other?”

“Did Keegan and Rockley know each other?”

She looked at Bongiovanni again.

“It’s okay, Carol. If he asks you something I don’t want you to answer, I’ll tell you.”

“I saw them talking to each other all the time, but that doesn’t mean they were friends. Johnny was nothing like Rockley. Johnny was sweet and good. He made me laugh. Rockley was dirt. He came on to me because he knew about me and Johnny. He said if I was giving it to Johnny, there wasn’t any reason I shouldn’t give it to him too. So he took it.”

“Did you tell Johnny about Rockley?”

“Sure I did. Johnny was royally pissed. He said he’d take care of Rockley.”

“Is that when you told your cousin Vince about Rockley?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t tell him about Johnny, did you?”

She shook her head. “I knew Mark would go crazy and I didn’t want to get Johnny in any trouble.”

Carol had made the same mistake Fish had made when he decided not to tell Mason there was a body in the trunk of his car. She told her lawyer what she wanted him to know and hoped that what she didn’t want him to know wouldn’t matter. She was too naïve to realize that the first thing Charles Rockley would tell Lari Prillman was that Carol was having an affair with another Galaxy employee. Lari was smart enough to keep that card in her back pocket, waiting to play it until it would do the most damage. Her strategy may have worked too well. It may have cost Charles Rockley and Johnny Keegan their lives. Even as he considered the possibility, he still couldn’t come up with a reason for Mark Hill to hide Rockley’s body in Fish’s car.

“Did your husband ever mention Avery Fish’s name?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I remember, anyway.”

“Did your husband buy a time-share for a vacation in Florida?” Mason asked, searching for any possible connection between Mark Hill and Fish.

“That’s real likely. The only vacation he ever took was on a bar stool.”

“What about Keegan? Did he ever talk about getting away, taking a vacation with you to Florida?”

Carol’s eyes grew wet and she wiped them with her sleeve. “He said he wanted me to leave Mark and that he would take me away. He said he was working on something big and he’d have the money so we could start over somewhere else. It was going to be more than a vacation. It was going to be a new life.”

“Did he tell you what his big deal was?”

She sniffled and shook her head. “No. He just said it was okay if I lost my case because he’d have enough money for both of us. He said he was going away. I thought he would take me with him.”

Mason leaned forward. “Carol, this is very important. Did Johnny act like he knew you were going to lose your case?”

Bongiovanni sat up as well, taking a keener interest in Mason’s questions. Carol hesitated, looking at Bongiovanni, then at Mason.

“I don’t know. All he said was it didn’t matter. I thought I was going to lose anyway after everything came out about Johnny and me. I’m sorry,” she said to Bongiovanni. “I know how bad you wanted to get Galaxy and I should have told you about Johnny. I’m sorry.”

Bongiovanni put his arm around her, drawing him to her and comforting her. “That’s okay, honey. The judge hasn’t ruled yet. If we lose, we’ll just get ’em next time.”

Mason said, “One last thing, Carol. Did Johnny ever say that he needed to hire a lawyer?”

Carol pulled herself up, brushing off her T-shirt. “No. Why would he?”

“Because when the police found his body, he had a piece of paper in his hand with my name and phone number on it.”

“And I’m guessing that you’d never heard of Johnny Keegan,” Bongiovanni said to Mason.

“No, but he had obviously heard of me.”

“Sounds like somebody went to a lot of trouble to make sure the two of you never met,” Bongiovanni said.

FORTY-THREE

Mason left the suite accompanied by Bongiovanni. The elevator was empty as they rode down to the lobby. The hotel piped in Tom Jones singing “It’s Not Unusual.” It was too early in the day for lounge singers, but the lyric was on the money. Nothing in this case was usual.

“Do you really think Mark Hill flipped out and became a jealous psycho killer?” Bongiovanni asked.

“Most murders are committed close to home—not physically but psychologically. Spouses, lovers, friends, coworkers. Somebody or something gets off the tracks. That makes Hill the popular choice.”

“But this isn’t a popularity contest, is it?”

The elevator reached the lobby and they stepped into a throng of retired veterans checking in for their chance at something for nothing, many of them wearing caps with their service insignias on the bill. Mason led Bongiovanni away from the crowd.

“No,” he said. “It’s Sherlock Holmes and
The Hound of the Baskervilles
. It’s about finding the dog that didn’t bark. What time was it when Mark Hill came home Friday night and started smacking Carol around?”

“Carol said it was a few minutes after nine. She was watching some reality show that had just started.”

“Keegan got off work at eight. The cops showed me a picture of his body they took at ten. That’s not much time, but it’s enough for Mark to have popped Keegan before he went home to work on Carol. He’ll need an alibi once the cops connect him to Rockley and Keegan. That should take until about lunchtime today.”

“But you don’t buy it, do you?”

“I don’t have a better idea, but there are a couple of things that don’t add up. First, Rockley’s killer cut off his head and hands and dumped the body in the trunk of my client’s car. I haven’t found anything to connect Rockley to my client and I don’t believe in bad luck. Second, Keegan’s body was left in a parking lot a mile from the casino still wearing his head and holding on to a piece of paper with my name and phone number on it. There’s no pattern to the murders and I don’t know any reason Keegan would have my name. It would help if I could find out more about those two guys.”