The Perfect Alibi Read online

  “All we know now is that Gorski has a private detective agency in New York.”

  “You should call Detective Jacobs in New York and let him know. He can get on it from his end.”

  “Gee, Robin, I never thought of that.”

  Robin blushed. “Sorry.”

  “Why don’t you let us do the detecting? That’s what we’re paid for. You concentrate on putting criminals back on the street so I can stay employed.”

  Robin laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not after your job.”

  “That’s good to know,” Carrie said as she flashed an answering smile.

  “Have a nice day, Counselor.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Randi Stark and her mother moved back to their house as soon as Robin told Randi that Blaine Hastings was back in jail. Two days later, Robin filed Randi’s lawsuit against Hastings in the Multnomah County Circuit Court, and the next day, Jeff ushered Annie Roche into Robin’s office before taking a seat against the wall.

  When Roche testified in Blaine Hastings’s rape trial, she’d worn a long-sleeve blouse and an ankle-length dress, and her only jewelry had been conservative earrings and a tasteful turquoise ring. Today, her bare arms were covered from shoulder to wrist with tattoos, and she wore a nose ring and metal piercings in her ears and eyebrows.

  “Have a seat, Annie. Can I get you coffee, tea, some water?” Robin asked.

  “I’m good.”

  Robin thought Roche looked nervous. “Thanks for coming in.”

  “Yeah, about that. How come you need to talk to me? I saw you sitting in at Blaine’s trial. You already know what I’m going to say.”

  “I do have a transcript of your testimony and the police report with your statement. But you’re going to have to tell your story to the civil jury that will hear Randi’s lawsuit. There may be different issues we have to cover in that trial, since we’re asking for money to compensate Randi for her physical and emotional injuries.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself. How old are you, did you grow up in Oregon, are you in school or working? That kind of thing.”

  “Uh, I’m twenty-one. I grew up in Salem. Then my folks moved to Portland when I was thirteen. I’m going to community college and working part-time in a nail salon and also at a grocery store to pay tuition.”

  “That sounds hard.”

  Roche shrugged.

  “How long have you known Randi?”

  “Like forever. We went to middle school and high school together.”

  “So, you’re good friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One of the big issues in a civil suit is the pain and suffering the plaintiff has endured. This can be physical pain or mental and emotional pain. Have you had a lot of contact with Randi since she was raped?”

  “Yeah, I have.”

  “And have you noticed any physical or emotional changes?”

  Roche nodded.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve seen.”

  “Uh, well, she’s depressed, you know. She told me she has nightmares and has trouble sleeping. And, uh, she’s scared all the time. Like she thinks it could happen again.”

  “Okay. That’s helpful. What about physical pain?”

  “Uh, after Blaine did it, she was sore. That’s what she told me.”

  “Anything lasting?”

  “You have to ask her.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about something else. Did you know Blaine Hastings in high school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “No. Blaine Hastings is a pig. He belongs in jail.” Roche answered with more emotion than she’d shown since she walked into Robin’s office.

  “You really hate him, don’t you?”

  Roche looked away and shrugged.

  “Did he ever do anything to you to make you feel this way?”

  “Not to me, but to people I know.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “There’s a guy I knew. He framed him, and he went to jail.”

  “Was this Ryan Tucker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Randi told me he killed himself.”

  When Roche nodded, she looked grim.

  “What about other times Hastings molested a woman? Have you heard anything like that?”

  “Just rumors. I don’t know anything specific.”

  “Okay. Let’s move on to the PSU frat party. How did you know about it?”

  “Portland State played Oregon. Some guys we knew from our high school play for PSU. They told me about the party when we saw them after the game.”

  “Did Randi know about the party when you were at the game?”

  “Not until I told her.”

  “My investigator talked to several of the guys you talked to after the game. They say that Randi did know about the party.”

  “Then I guess Randi may have heard about it.”

  “Blaine Hastings said he found out about the party from some of the PSU players. It must be the same guys.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did the guys tell you Blaine was going to be at the party?”

  Roche’s shoulders folded in. “Uh, no. Not that I remember.”

  “Dino Portis told my investigator that Randi knew and you were standing next to her when she found out.”

  “Maybe I did know. I’m not sure.”

  “If you and Randi hated Blaine, why did you go to a party he was going to attend?”

  “There’s a lot of people at those parties. We weren’t going to hang out with him.”

  “But Randi did. She danced with him, made out with him, and went into a bedroom with him.”

  “So?”

  “It just seems odd if she hated him so much.”

  Roche shrugged again.

  Robin noticed that Roche was worrying the skin on one of her fingers. Robin was wondering what was bothering Roche when she remembered Blaine Hastings’s cryptic statement about the DNA evidence that had been crucial to his conviction.

  Robin studied Roche. A reason for Roche’s nervousness occurred to Robin—a reason that made her feel a little sick.

  “Let’s go over some basic stuff about testifying, Annie. Did Rex Kellerman, the DA who prosecuted Blaine Hastings, talk to you about perjury and the consequences of lying under oath?”

  Roche’s cheeks reddened, and she squirmed in her seat. “He told me that it was important for me to back up Randi’s story about Blaine raping her.”

  That would be typical of Kellerman, who was always more interested in a conviction than the truth, Robin thought. Out loud, she asked, “You know that the DNA evidence in Blaine’s case was crucial?”

  “Yeah.” Roche looked uneasy, and that encouraged Robin to press her.

  “Rex got in trouble because he bribed an expert to lie about the DNA evidence in another case. He was facing serious jail time before he was killed.”

  “Why are you telling me about this?” Roche asked. “You’re Randi’s lawyer.”

  “I am, but I’m also an officer of the Court, so I have a duty to keep from putting on testimony if I know it’s not the truth.” Robin paused and look Roche in the eye. “You’ve been very nervous since you entered my office. Is there a reason for that?”

  “No,” Roche answered, but her answer didn’t sound convincing.

  “Did you hear about Blaine’s scam, the way he got out of jail after he was convicted?”

  “Yeah, Randi told me.”

  “So, you know that Blaine’s father paid a woman to put Blaine’s ejaculate in her vagina and claim she was raped.”

  Roche didn’t move.

  “Did you know that Blaine attacked me in my parking garage?”

  Roche nodded.

  “Here’s the thing,” Robin said. “While we were in the garage, Blaine insisted that he never raped Randi. I said that DNA doesn’t lie. He said that the DNA evidence in his case had been rigg
ed.”

  Roche twisted in her seat.

  “Did Blaine get the idea for his scam from Randi? Did Randi lure Blaine into a dark bedroom and jerk him off so she could get his sperm? Did Randi shout ‘Get off me’ as a signal for you to come into the bedroom so she could put his cum in her when you walked in and distracted him?”

  “Why are you cross-examining me like I’m some kind of criminal?”

  “I’m just asking you questions Blaine’s lawyer is going to ask when you testify for Randi in her civil case, and I wanted to see how you’d hold up. With millions at stake, Blaine’s family is going to hire the most vicious lawyer they can find. He’ll try to rip you apart. Doug Armstrong is a pussycat compared to the attorney who will be defending this case. He’s going to try to make the jury believe that you lied on the stand to convict Blaine so you could get revenge and a share of the money Randi gets.”

  “Well, that’s … that’s not true.”

  “Good, because witnesses who lie in court get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Well, I’m not lying.”

  “So, Blaine didn’t get the idea for his scam from Randi?”

  “I have no idea how Blaine dreamed that up.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. Now, let’s go over the questions I’m going to ask you.”

  * * *

  “Why did you lace into Roche like that?” Jeff asked as soon as they were alone.

  “You weren’t in the garage when Blaine attacked me, so you didn’t hear the way he protested about being framed. He really sounded sincere.”

  “Blaine Hastings is a sociopath. You can’t believe a thing he says. You sat through the trial. You heard the testimony. Hastings raped Randi Stark.”

  “Yeah, but Hastings has insisted that Randi gave him a hand job and that he never penetrated her. If he ejaculated in her hand and she put Hastings’s cum in her vagina, the same way Braxton did, it would explain how his DNA got inside her and how he got the idea for his scam.”

  “You think Randi’s smart enough to come up with a plan that complicated?”

  “You told me that Portis kid said she’s bright, and she’s studying nursing. She told me that she has a 3.65 GPA. That’s up there. I’m pretty sure that Randi would have the medical know-how to pull off something like this.”

  “You think she made up the rape?” Jeff asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that Roche was nervous because you scared the hell out of her, and I think Blaine Hastings raped Randi Stark.”

  Robin thought for a minute. Then she shook her head. “You’re right. I’m probably still concussed and not thinking straight.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  “I found something you need to know,” Peter Okonjo told Carrie Anders as soon as she answered her phone.

  “Tell me.”

  “We dug a bullet out of the wall in Rex’s place, and I ran it through the National Integrated Ballistic Information Network. NIBIN came up with a match to a bullet used to murder a lawyer in New York City named Tyler Harrison III.”

  “Now that’s interesting. Can you match the bullet to a particular gun?”

  “If we had the gun. Without it, all I can say is it’s the kind of bullet that could be fired from a certain type of gun. This one could have been fired from an automatic like a Smith and Wesson, a Beretta, or a Glock nine-millimeter. Why, do you have a specific gun in mind?”

  Anders had a thought. “Let me get back to you.”

  As soon as she disconnected, Anders phoned Roger Dillon and told him to meet her at the Nylanders’ house.

  * * *

  Frank Nylander’s widow lived a few blocks from the Armstrongs in a yellow and white Dutch Colonial. Janet Nylander had put on makeup, but it didn’t completely disguise the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the many sleepless nights she had endured since her husband was murdered.

  “We’re sorry to intrude, Mrs. Nylander, but we want to ask you about something that may help us figure out what happened to your husband,” Anders said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Did Frank own a gun?”

  “Yes, a handgun.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “No.”

  “Where did he keep it?”

  “I don’t know. He bought it when there were a rash of home burglaries in our neighborhood. But that was a while ago.”

  “Could it have been in his office or his car?” Roger Dillon asked.

  “I’m not sure where it is.”

  “Can you look for it now?” Dillon asked.

  “Yes. Of course. Why don’t you wait in the living room?”

  Janet returned twenty minutes later. “I can’t find it,” she said. “I looked in our closets, the den. I’ll keep looking after you leave. I could have missed it.”

  “Thanks,” Carrie said.

  “You know, I think Frank did tell me that he was going to take it downtown.”

  “Do you remember what kind of gun Frank owned?” Dillon asked.

  Janet’s brow furrowed. “It had a funny name.”

  “Beretta?” Dillon asked.

  “No. Something that sounded German.”

  “Was it a Glock?” Carrie asked.

  “Yes, that’s it!”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Nylander. You’ve been a big help.”

  “Are you any closer to finding out who … did that to Frank?”

  “Maybe. And what you’ve told us may help.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Robin was in court, asking the presiding judge for a setover in one of her cases. The assistant district attorney had no objection, and the request was granted. When Robin walked into the corridor outside the courtroom, she spotted Les Kreuger talking to another lawyer. She waited for them to finish before walking over to Les.

  “Carrie Anders told me you were representing Rex Kellerman. I thought Vanessa went way out on a limb, charging Rex with attempted murder. How do you think the legal issue would have shaken out?”

  “I’m not sure. There are good arguments for and against.” Kreuger shrugged. “We’ll never know now.”

  “Have you ever had a client murdered before?”

  “I’ve been practicing for twenty-seven years, and this is a first.”

  “I didn’t like Rex, but I wouldn’t have wished this on him.”

  Kreuger flashed a sad smile. “No one liked Rex.”

  “Carrie said that Rex left you a cryptic message about finding something odd in the files.”

  “He did, but I and my associates are stumped. If there’s something odd in those files, we haven’t been able to discover what it is.”

  Robin got an idea. “Would you mind if I took a shot?”

  Kreuger looked surprised. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I guess I’m just curious. I’ve been directly or peripherally involved in several of Rex’s cases. I’m suing Blaine Hastings, whom Rex prosecuted. I also represented Doug Armstrong when Rex charged him with murder.” Robin grinned at Kreuger. “Also, it’s slow at the office so I need something to keep me occupied.”

  Kreuger laughed. “Knock yourself out. Come over to my office tomorrow. I’ll have copies of the files waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Les Kreuger’s law firm was housed in an historic Victorian home in Portland’s West Hills. One of Kreuger’s associates showed Robin into a spacious conference room that was illuminated by high windows and dominated by a carved oak conference table. The conference table was piled high with copies of the files Rex had been reviewing.

  Robin bought a latte before walking over. She took off the lid, took a sip, and started on the files. Two hours later, she was no closer to figuring out if the killer had set the files on fire because paper burns or because there was something incriminating in them. But reviewing the files had made her think about Tyler Harrison’s murder, so Robin decided to call Herschel Jacobs in New York when she returned to her office.


  “You told me to call if I got any ideas about the Harrison case, and I had a few thoughts.”

  “Let me hear them.”

  “Carrie Anders told me about that New York PI who was seen near the Voss house.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know if he had any connection to Norcross Pharmaceuticals?”

  “We’re working on that.”

  “What if Voss wouldn’t settle and the negotiations fell through? That would mean that any problems with Norcross’s product would be aired in public. From what I’ve learned, that could have cost Norcross a fortune. With Nylander, Harrison, and Mr. and Mrs. Voss dead, the suit is dead, and there won’t be any negative information about Norcross’s anticholesterol drug coming out. That gives Norcross a powerful motive for murder.”

  “Detective Anders and I discussed that possibility.”

  “There’s something else that happened in Portland that might be important. A DA named Rex Kellerman was murdered, and his house was set on fire. The modi operandi of his murder and the Voss murders are very similar, and he was going through files that included the files on Tyler Harrison’s murder and the civil suit against Norcross. The only problem is that I haven’t found any connection between Rex Kellerman and the case against Norcross Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Actually, there is one,” Jacobs said.

  “Oh?”

  “Detective Anders called me with some interesting news. It seems that the bullet that killed Mr. Kellerman and Mr. Harrison came from the same gun.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “The gun could have been a Glock nine-millimeter. Frank Nylander owned a Glock, and no one can find it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  When Herschel Jacobs picked up Carrie Anders at JFK Airport, she learned the dangers of stereotyping. When she’d spoken to Jacobs on the phone, his name and heavy New York accent had made her picture the actor who played a chubby, Jewish delicatessen owner on a TV sitcom. The man who greeted her when she got off the plane was a burly six-two with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes.

  “Welcome to the Big Apple,” Jacobs said.