Violent Crimes (21 page)

“Gee, two times in one month,” Martin Breach said with a grin. “You ain't looking for a job here, are you, Amanda?”

“I'm a lousy dancer, Martin. I'm here to thank you. Jenny Harwell saved my life.”

Martin nodded. “She told me, but something else tells me that's not the only reason you're here.”

“No, it isn't. I need another favor.”

Breach leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. “I'm listening.”

“I need to talk to a member of the Desperados motorcycle gang, someone who's been a member for at least ten years and maybe longer.”

“Is this for a case?”

Amanda nodded. “The one that almost got me killed just now.”

Breach thought for a while, and Amanda waited. Finally the gangster sat up.

“There's a guy in the pen, he's in his sixties, doing hard time, only now I hear he's got cancer, some bad kind, the kind they can't cure. He might talk to you if he had the right kind of incentive and if what he told you wouldn't come back on another Desperado.”

“The person I'm after isn't a gang member, and I might be able to arrange compassionate leave if he's terminal and helps solve my case.”

“Yeah, compassion is nice, but you've been in your business a long time. This guy has a wife and kids.”

Amanda sighed. “If things work out, Tom Beatty's case will be dismissed. He gave me a healthy retainer. Would twenty-five thousand be persuasive?”

“It might. I think ten would work, too.”

“Only I can't pay him directly. It would look like I bribed him.”

“Understood. I can take care of the arrangements. I'll have Arty talk to his wife. She can ask him to talk to you when she visits, and she can tell him why he should.”

“Thanks, Martin.”

“Don't mention it.”

Amanda had a determined look on her face when she walked out of the stygian darkness of the Jungle Club into the glare of a blinding sun. As she headed to her car she pulled out the cell phone Tom Beatty had given her and told him they had to meet. Beatty told her where he would meet her, and Amanda drove to Tryon Creek Park, a large forested area with many hiking trails located behind the Lewis and Clark Law School. After parking in the lot, Amanda walked down one of the trails and waited for
Tom to show up. She had been waiting for a half hour when her client materialized beside her. Amanda jumped.

“Sorry,” Beatty said. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with a hoodie that concealed his face. “I've been watching to make sure you weren't followed. Why are we meeting?”

“Judge Chang said he'd hold a bail hearing if you turned yourself in.”

“I told you before that going into a jail would be a death sentence.”

“I don't plan on you going to jail,” Amanda said. Then she told him what she was going to do.

“What happens if this doesn't work?” Beatty asked.

“Then we have a problem.”

“No, Amanda,
I
have a problem.”

“But I'm pretty certain it will work, and I'll know for sure after I talk to a member of the Desperado motorcycle gang and I hear back from Billie Brewster. If they say what I think they will, I'll tell Larry Frederick, the DA in charge of your case, what I know. If I can get him on board, you'll walk. What do you say?”

“Your plan makes sense, but I won't turn myself in until you nail everything down.”

Mark Hamilton slumped in a chair on his patio and stared into space. Before him, a plate of congealed eggs and cold buttered toast sat uneaten next to a cup of tepid coffee. It was eight in the morning, two hours later than the time he was normally downtown at his desk, but he couldn't bring himself to go to his office anymore. It was too depressing. The once bustling three stories that housed the law firm of Masterson, Hamilton, Rickman and Thomas had become a ghost town. Global Mining, RENCO Oil, and many of the firm's other clients had taken their business elsewhere, several of the partners had left to form a new firm, and the associates and support staff were planning to abandon the sinking ship as soon as they found another job. Soon, Hamilton mused dejectedly, the newly arrived agents of the IRS, FBI, and other alphabet agencies of the state and federal government would outnumber the employees.

The door to the patio opened and Hamilton heard footsteps crossing the terrace, but he didn't have the energy to turn toward his guests. Moments later, Angela Forsythe and Larry Frederick
blotted out the sun and cast his uneaten breakfast in shadow.

“Good morning, Mr. Hamilton,” the prosecutor said.

“What's good about it?” Hamilton said.

“Possibly a lot, Mark,” Angela answered.

“May we?” Frederick asked, indicating the chairs that ringed the circular table.

Hamilton nodded and the lawyers sat down.

“Angela and I have been discussing your future. You are at a crossroads in your life and you have to make a choice. Regardless of which path you choose, your future won't be great, but your decision will make it either terrible or bearable.”

Hamilton raised his head and looked at Frederick. The prosecutor could see that he was talking to a beaten man.

“Cut to the chase,” Hamilton said. “What do you want me to do and what's in it for me if I take your deal?”

“We're pretty sure we know who killed Reginald Kiner and what happened to Christine Larson and Dale Masterson, but we need someone to fill in the blanks. Right now I consider you an accomplice to several murders and attempted murders, as well as financial fraud. If you turn down our plea offer, I will try my hardest to send you to prison for life, and I may seek the death penalty. The Feds are also very interested in the creative accounting you used to lure Global Mining to hire your firm. They will pursue you in federal court. One or both of us will get you, and you will definitely spend the rest of your life in a cell.”

“You don't have to scare me—I'm scared already. So what do you want me to do and what do I get if I cooperate?”

Angela leaned across the table. “Larry needs you to be totally honest about everything. He needs to know what you know about
the murders of Christine Larson, Dale Masterson, and Reginald Kiner and the attempts to frame and kill Tom Beatty.”

Hamilton sat up. He no longer looked tired. He did look terrified.

“Did you get Beatty?” He pointed at his face. “He did this to me. He's a maniac.”

Frederick looked Hamilton in the eye. “One side benefit of cooperating with us will be that you will no longer have to be afraid of Tom Beatty. I can guarantee that.”

Hamilton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he said.

Someone had tipped off the press, and the corridor in front of David Chang's courtroom was a mob scene. Kate Ross ran interference for Amanda and Tom Beatty as Amanda called out “No comment” over and over until they were inside. Larry Frederick and Alan Hotchkiss were sitting at the table closest to the jury box and Billie Brewster and Greg Nowicki were seated in the spectator row directly behind them. Amanda took her place at the other counsel table, with Kate on one side of her and Tom on the other. They had just gotten settled when the bailiff smacked the gavel and Judge Chang took his place on the dais.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Larry Frederick said. “We're here for a bail hearing in
State v. Beatty
. I'm representing the State, and the defendant, Mr. Beatty, is present with his attorney, Amanda Jaffe.”

“Very well,” Judge Chang said. “Miss Jaffe, I revoked Mr. Beatty's bail at a previous hearing because he failed to comply with several of the conditions I set when I released him on bail
after granting your motion to suppress. I also remember telling you I would reconsider the matter after your client was in custody. Is he in custody now?”

“No, Your Honor. I spoke with Mr. Frederick, and he promised that he would not have Mr. Beatty arrested until this hearing was concluded if Mr. Beatty voluntarily appeared in your court. I'm confident that you will let him remain on bail when you've heard why he did not comply with the conditions you set.”

“Very well. Are you going to present evidence?”

“I am, and I'd like to start by calling Mr. Beatty to the stand.”

Beatty was showered and shaved and dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and conservative blue tie. As he took the oath, Amanda marveled at the contrast between the way he looked now and the Stone Age savage who had killed two men in Forest Park with a spear and a rock.

“Mr. Beatty, are you accused of killing Christine Larson?” Amanda asked.

“Yes.”

“I'm going to ask you several questions and I'd like you to answer yes or no to them.”

Amanda picked up a sheet of paper and began to read from it.

“To your knowledge, did you ever meet a woman named Carol White?”

“No.”

“Did you ever sell heroin to Carol White or any other person?”

“No.”

“Did you ever knowingly have heroin in your home?”

“No.”

“Did you kill Christine Larson?”

“No.”

“Your Honor, before Mr. Beatty came to court, we met with Mr. Frederick at the headquarters of the Oregon State Police, where Mr. Beatty waived his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent and was asked these questions and others by a polygrapher chosen by Mr. Frederick. With regard to the questions I just asked, the polygrapher concluded that Mr. Beatty was being truthful.”

“Is that right, Mr. Frederick?” Judge Chang asked the district attorney.

“Yes, sir,” the DA replied.

“Mr. Beatty,” Amanda continued, “a condition of your release on bail was that you stay in contact with Parole and Probation. Did you do that?”

“No.”

“Please tell Judge Chang why you violated this condition?”

Beatty turned to Judge Chang. “Miss Jaffe's investigator, Kate Ross, drove me home from the jail after you granted my release. I noticed a car following us. There was an armed man in my home. I decided to confront him and try to learn who had killed my friend, Christine Larson. While I was attempting to subdue this man, the person in the car came in. There was a fight, during which the man in the car shot his companion and I killed him while trying to disarm him.”

There was a stir in the courtroom, and the judge rapped his gavel to silence it.

“Did you place these men in the trunk of their car and drive to a location far from your home?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you call the police?”

“I should have, but the men struck me as well trained and I had no idea if they had backup. I fled because I was in fear for my life.”

“Was that fear justified?”

“Yes. I established a camp in a remote section of Forest Park. You figured out where I was living and came to the camp. Two men followed you.”

“Were they armed with guns and knives?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear these men threaten to torture me?” Amanda asked.

There were more gasps and whispers in the spectator section. This time Judge Chang did not rap his gavel, because his attention was riveted on the witness.

“I did.”

“Did you rescue me?”

“Yes.”

“In the course of rescuing me, did you kill my assailants?” Amanda asked.

“Yes.”

“Your Honor,” Amanda said, “both Mr. Beatty and I were polygraphed concerning the Forest Park incident and Mr. Beatty was polygraphed concerning the incident in his home. The polygrapher concluded that we were telling the truth about these incidents.”

“This is very disturbing,” Judge Chang said.

“I agree, Your Honor,” Larry Frederick said.

“Why did you remain in hiding until I contacted you about turning yourself in?”

“I was concerned that there would be another attempt on my life if I was confined in jail.”

“I have no more questions of Mr. Beatty,” Amanda said.

“No questions,” the DA said.

“Do you have any more witnesses?” the judge asked Amanda.

“I do. I call Mark Hamilton to the stand.”

Larry Frederick stood up. “Mr. Hamilton has negotiated a plea with my office and the United States Attorney's Office. I'm handing a copy of the plea agreement to the court. As part of the plea deal, Mr. Hamilton is required to testify truthfully about any matter brought up in this hearing.”

Moments later, a chastened Mark Hamilton was led into court from a holding area for prisoners and took the stand. He was dressed in a suit and looked like a lawyer, but his shoulders slumped, his eyes were downcast, and he avoided looking at Tom Beatty.

“Mr. Hamilton, what was the condition of your law firm earlier this year before Global Mining hired you?” Amanda asked after some preliminary questions.

“We were in bad shape and on the verge of bankruptcy.”

“Did you do anything illegal to entice Global to hire your firm?”

“Yes. Dale Masterson and I created a false set of books that made our financial condition appear far better than it was.”

“Did a junior partner, Christine Larson, threaten to tell Global what you had done?”

“She told Dale Masterson. I wasn't there. I learned about the threat later from Dale.”

“What did you decide to do about Miss Larson?”

“I didn't decide anything. I was out of town on business. When Dale couldn't reach me, he panicked and called Reginald Kiner.”

“Who was Mr. Kiner?”

“He was the head of security for RENCO Oil.”

“Why did Mr. Masterson call him?”

Hamilton looked down, and his voice dropped low enough for the judge to tell him to speak up.

“Mr. Kiner had helped us when we needed him in the past.”

“Did Mr. Kiner use intimidation and violence when he assisted you?”

“Not personally, but he used mercenaries to protect pipelines and oil fields overseas, and he would hire these men to do the . . . dirty work.”

“Where was Mr. Kiner when Mr. Masterson called him?”

“He was in Iraq.”

“What did Mr. Kiner do when Mr. Masterson told him about Miss Larson's threat to tell Global Mining about the doctored books?”

“Dale told me he promised to take care of Miss Larson.”

“Meaning, he was going to kill her?”

“I . . . I didn't ask and Dale didn't say.”

“Was part of Mr. Masterson's plan to have Mr. Beatty framed for Miss Larson's murder?”

“I learned that after Miss Larson was killed and Mr. Beatty was arrested.”

“Will you tell the judge whether Mr. Beatty had anything to do with Christine Larson's murder?”

“No, Your Honor, he's completely innocent. He was set up.”

“Thank you. Now let's turn to Dale Masterson. Who killed him?”

“I don't know for sure, but Dale was panicky after he learned that Carol White had been murdered and Beatty was on the loose. We met with Kiner, and he made several comments to me when Dale was out of the room that led me to believe he was worried that Dale would panic and go to the police. Kiner may have sent more of his men to kill Dale and make it look identical to Christine's murder so everyone would think Beatty killed him, but I'm just guessing.”

“One more question: Who killed Reginald Kiner?”

“I have no idea. It wasn't me.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Amanda said.

“I have no questions of the witness,” Larry Frederick said.

Mark Hamilton left the stand and two deputies took him away.

“Any more witnesses, Miss Jaffe?” the judge asked.

“We call Greg Nowicki to the stand.”

Nowicki looked confused, and he whispered something to the DA. Frederick whispered back. Moments later, Nowicki took the oath.

“Detective Nowicki,” Amanda asked, “did the case against Mr. Beatty start when you entered his home pursuant to a search warrant and found the dead body of Christine Larson in Mr. Beatty's bedroom and heroin in his house?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you able to get a search warrant for Mr. Beatty's home?

“Carol White, an informant, contacted me and said she'd
purchased heroin from Mr. Beatty on several occasions and had made one purchase outside his house after he confided that he had more heroin in his home.”

“And she said she'd read that he was arrested for an assault at the Lookout tavern?”

“Yes.”

“I had my investigator look for stories about the fight at the Lookout. Will you take my word for it if I tell you that the fight was so unimportant that there was no mention of it on the Internet, in any newspaper, or on any television news program?”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“We know that Miss White lied about buying heroin from Mr. Beatty, don't we?”

“Yes.”

“And there is a strong possibility that she never met him. Tom Beatty swore to that and passed a polygraph.”

“Okay.”

“If Carol White never met Tom Beatty and the incident at the tavern was not reported in the media, someone must have told her about him.”

“It looks that way.”

“Would you agree that the blood spatter patterns indicate that Miss Larson was probably killed elsewhere and her body was placed in Mr. Beatty's bedroom after he was lured away from his home?”

“I think that's a reasonable conclusion.”

“And Mr. Beatty's fingerprints were not found on the heroin you discovered in his house?”

“Yes.”

“Would you agree that there is also a lot of evidence that supports Mr. Beatty's contention that he was set up?”

“I'm beginning to think that is what happened,” Nowicki answered.

“But this whole chain of events began when Miss White approached you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you agree that the person who developed this plot to frame Mr. Beatty must have known that you would trust Carol White?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Larson was killed approximately twenty-four hours before your search. When did Miss White come to you?”

“Earlier on the day of the search.”

“So within hours of Miss Larson's murder?”

“I guess so.”

“So the killer had to know how to get in touch with Miss White on a moment's notice?”

“Uh, yes. That sounds right.”

“You knew Reginald Kiner, the head of security at RENCO Oil who was murdered a few days ago, didn't you?”

“He was my partner about ten years ago before he went private.”

“We have information that Mr. Kiner sent the mercenaries who killed Christine Larson and tried to kill Mr. Beatty. Did Mr. Kiner know Carol White?”

“Yes. We used her as an informant shortly before he left the force.”

“Mr. Kiner had been working in the private sector for a decade, dealing with security in places like Nigeria and the Middle
East and was far removed from low-level junkies, wasn't he?”

“I really don't know what contact Mr. Kiner did or didn't have with Carol White. We hadn't spoken for years.”

“Is that because Mr. Kiner left the police under a cloud?”

“Yes.”

“He was investigated by Internal Affairs for several crimes ranging from theft to murder, was he not?”

“Yes, he was a bad cop.”

“But he was never prosecuted, was he?”

“No.”

“And that's because evidence that would have implicated him in crimes disappeared.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Getting back to Miss White, you kept in touch with her over the years, didn't you?”

“I didn't keep in touch. She would call me.”

“Well, you knew she'd been arrested shortly before she approached you?”

“Uh, yes. I knew that.”

Amanda carried a police report to the witness. “This is an account of Miss White's most recent arrest. It has her address, doesn't it?”

Nowicki studied the report, then agreed.

“Since there were no reports about the fight at the Lookout in the media, Miss White could only have learned about the fight if she was told about it by someone who knew about the fight, needed an informant for the search warrant affidavit, and knew where Miss White was staying. Someone like you.”

“Kiner could have tracked her down and sent her to me.”

“Actually, he couldn't. You just heard Mr. Hamilton testify that Mr. Kiner was in Iraq when Dale Masterson asked him to solve his problem with Miss Larson, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you agree that it would have been highly unlikely that Mr. Kiner, who hadn't dealt with Miss White in ten years and was in Iraq on the day Miss White allegedly came to you, could have found a junkie in Portland on a moment's notice?”