Violent Crimes: An Amanda Jaffe Novel (Amanda Jaffe Series) Page 5

  “What’s on your mind?” Amanda asked.

  “You know I went through a bad divorce.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “That’s the reason I moved to Oregon from California.”

  Amanda nodded again, not sure where this was going.

  “So trusting someone—a woman—isn’t easy for me.”

  Mike paused and took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll just say it. I love you and I want to be with you and having two apartments, well, it doesn’t make sense because we each have clothes in the other person’s place and we’re one place or the other almost every weekend.”

  Mike paused again and took another breath. “We should move in together. You can choose the place; I don’t care as long as we’re together.”

  Amanda hesitated. Her romance with Mike had been rocky at times, especially when she had been traumatized by the events in the Cardoni case, but any of their problems had always been her fault. Despite that and a lot of other things, he was always in her corner and never judged her. Amanda’s problem was that she valued her independence, and moving in together was a big step.

  “This is sudden,” she said to stall for time.

  “Not for me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just had to work up the courage to talk about it. If you don’t want to I’ll understand,” he added quickly.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . Well, it’s a big move and . . . Can you give me some time to think?”

  “Sure, take all the time you want,” Mike said with a smile, but Amanda could see that the smile was forced, and that he was hurt that she hadn’t accepted immediately.

  Amanda reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I really care about you, Mike, you know that.”

  “I shouldn’t have just dropped this on you,” he said, backtracking.

  Amanda squeezed his hand again. “No, don’t think that way. You are the best thing in my life. You’ve been my rock through good times and bad. This is just a lot to get my head around. So give me some time, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Amanda leaned back. The moment was awkward, and she could see that Mike was struggling to think of something to say. So she smiled and asked, “So, how about those Blazers?”

  Mike burst out laughing, and Amanda joined him.

  Now it was Mike’s turn to squeeze Amanda’s hand.

  “You’re the best,” he said.

  CHAPTER 12

  The morning after the arraignment, Amanda walked across town to meet Kate Ross at Dale Masterson’s law office. Thinking about her conversation with Mike had kept her up most of the night and she was exhausted. Did she love him? If she did, moving in would be the right thing to do. She tried to analyze his proposal the way she worked through a problem on one of her cases, but lawyers were trained to be unemotional and objective when analyzing the issues in a case, and love was all emotion.

  Amanda kept thinking about the move during her crosstown walk, and she was still conflicted when she saw Kate in Masterson, Hamilton’s waiting room.

  “We may have caught a break,” Kate said as soon as Amanda was seated next to her.

  “What makes you say that?” Amanda asked, grateful for a chance to think about something other than her personal situation.

  “I went through the discovery. Have you read the affidavit for the search warrant carefully?”

  “I skimmed it, but I was too busy to give it a hard read.”

  “Okay. Well, two things stand out. First, Carol White told Nowicki that Beatty took her to his house. No drug dealer with an ounce of brains would take a junkie to his house. And then there are the dates when Carol White claims that she bought heroin from our client.”

  “What about the dates?” Amanda asked.

  Before Kate could answer her question, an attractive woman entered the waiting room.

  “Ms. Jaffe?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Julie Birnbaum, Mr. Masterson’s legal assistant. He can see you now.”

  Amanda and Kate followed Birnbaum down a long hall to a corner office. When his assistant opened the door, Dale Masterson walked around his desk and crossed the room.

  “Thank you for seeing me and my investigator, Mr. Masterson,” Amanda said.

  “Dale, please. This has been terrible. Christine was a valued member of our firm and a very decent person. And Tom . . . I don’t know him that well but . . . Well I know about his assault charge. Still, that was self-defense.”

  Masterson shook his head, and Amanda noticed that every one of his silver gray hairs stayed perfectly in place. The law firm’s managing partner was a little over six feet tall and looked fit and muscular. Amanda had researched his background and knew he’d played football and wrestled at Arizona before going to law school at the University of Washington. Masterson sported a perfect tan and was wearing a suit that Amanda guessed had been hand-tailored. If she didn’t know what the lawyer did for a living, Amanda would have guessed that he was an actor or a TV news anchor.

  Masterson indicated two client chairs and returned to his seat behind the desk.

  “How can I help you?” Masterson asked after they were all seated.

  “I’ve read the police reports. Several witnesses said that Christine and Tom Beatty had an argument a few days before Christine was murdered. There are other witnesses who told the police that shortly before Tom and Christine argued, Christine had left your office and appeared to be upset. Can you tell me what upset her?”

  “Yes, I can. How well do you know Christine?”

  “We were classmates in law school. She was in my study group.”

  Masterson flashed a sad smile. “Then you know your friend was strong-minded.”

  Amanda nodded.

  Masterson sighed. “Christine was assisting me with a case. I can’t go into details—the case involves a negotiation we were conducting for a client, so the details are privileged. I can tell you that we had diametrically opposed views on how a certain matter should be handled and she argued very strongly that I should adopt her approach. When I declined to do so, she became upset.” Masterson shrugged. “That’s all there was to it.”

  “Do you have anyone named Albert Roth working at your firm in any capacity: contract work, a security guard?”

  “Not that I know of. I can ask HR to check our records. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “I’d like Kate to talk to the people who told the police about the argument between Christine and Tom and other people at the firm who might be character or fact witnesses. Would that be okay?”

  “Certainly, with the proviso that there be no discussion about specific cases.”

  “Naturally,” Amanda agreed. “I’d especially like to talk to Brittney Vandervelden, Christine’s secretary. Can we see her now?”

  “I’ll have my secretary ask Brittney to go to one of our conference rooms. And, if there’s nothing else, I have a meeting for which I need to prepare.”

  “What did you think?” Amanda asked Kate as they walked to the conference room where Brittney Vandervelden was waiting.

  “He’s very smooth,” Kate said, “and, to be honest, I couldn’t get a read on him.”

  “Me either. If he was lying about why Christine was upset, I couldn’t tell.”

  They arrived at the conference room to find an attractive, very nervous redhead waiting for them.

  “Thanks for meeting with us,” Amanda said after she’d introduced Kate and they’d taken seats at one end of a long conference table. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m not great,” Brittney answered quietly. “I really liked Christine and Tom. I . . . It’s hard to believe he could . . .”

  “If it helps any, Tom vehemently denies hurting Christine, and I believe him.”

  Brittney nodded.

  “Have you ever seen anything that would lead you to believe that Tom would do something like this?” Amanda asked.

  “No, never. They really got along,
and Christine helped him when he got arrested. Tom was very grateful.”

  “In the police reports, several people said they’d heard an argument between Tom and Christine. Do you know what that was about?”

  Suddenly Brittney looked nervous. The conference room had a glass wall through which she could see the hall. Brittney took a quick look through the glass before shaking her head.

  “I heard them talking in loud voices but I couldn’t hear what they said.”

  “So you don’t know why they argued?”

  Brittney broke eye contact with Amanda and shook her head.

  “Shortly before the argument, I understand Christine came back from a meeting with Mr. Masterson and was upset. Do you know why?”

  “No.”

  Amanda studied Brittney for a moment. She was certain that Christine’s secretary was holding something back but decided not to press her. She could always have Kate contact Brittney later.

  “The police are going to say that Tom killed Christine in a lovers’ quarrel. Have you ever seen anything that would make you believe Tom and Christine were romantically involved?”

  This time Brittney looked directly at Amanda. “Absolutely not! A detective came to the firm. He interviewed me and several other people. He knew about the argument Tom had with Christine. Someone else heard them. Probably one of the people in the cubicles on either side of mine. He wanted me to say it was a lovers’ quarrel but I told him I was certain that Tom and Christine only had a working relationship.” She paused. “I don’t think he believed me. I don’t think he wanted to believe me. He kept asking me why Christine would be in Tom’s bedroom if they weren’t romantically involved.”

  “Tom assures me that he and Christine were coworkers and nothing more,” Amanda said.

  “You should believe him, and if anyone says they were lovers, well, that would be a lie.”

  Kate and Amanda spent another twenty minutes talking to Brittney before excusing her so they could interview some of the others who had heard the quarrel.

  “What do you think?” Amanda asked Kate.

  “There’s something she’s not telling us,” Kate said. “I’d like to give her a day or two to think, then take another shot at her.”

  “I agree.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “There’s a call for you on line two,” Amanda’s receptionist said.

  “Who is it?”

  “She won’t say, but she did say that she had information about Mr. Beatty’s case.”

  Amanda thanked her, then took the call.

  “This is Amanda Jaffe.”

  “Miss Jaffe, I know something that could be important about Tom Beatty’s case,” Brittney Vandervelden said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t want to talk over the phone. Can you meet me on the second floor of the parking garage at the Lloyd Center Mall in one hour?”

  “I could, but—”

  “I have to be certain that no one will see us.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Stand by your car. I’ll drive by and pick you up.”

  Amanda had been standing by her car for less than a minute when a red Miata stopped in front of her. Amanda bent low and peered into the car. Brittney was behind the wheel. She looked anxious. Amanda got in and Brittney took off down the ramp, pulled into traffic, then drove into the middle of the large parking lot for a multiplex theater across the street from the mall. No one said a word until the car was concealed between a van and a pickup truck in a part of the lot where they were not likely to be seen.

  “Before I say anything, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this meeting,” Brittney said.

  “Are you worried about your job?”

  “After what happened to Christine, I’m worried about my life.”

  “Why did you want to meet me if you feel you might be in danger?”

  “It’s Tom. There’s no way he would have hurt Christine, let alone beaten her to death. And this heroin thing . . . I just don’t believe it. If I kept what I know to myself and Tom was convicted . . . I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Do you know something that might help Tom?”

  Brittney nodded. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to decide.”

  “Okay.”

  “I think I know why Christine was upset when she left Mr. Masterson’s office.”

  “Go ahead,” Amanda urged.

  “About two years ago, the firm had some business reversals. One of our biggest clients had a dispute about fees and decided to drop us in favor of using in-house counsel. After that happened, we heard rumors that the firm was having trouble generating sufficient revenue to pay the contracts of the name partners and cover the payments on loans that had been incurred during the recession. There was a lot of talk about layoffs; it was all gloom and doom.

  “Then the firm started secret talks with Global Mining; I knew about them because Christine was involved. I also knew that Global had heard the rumors about the firm’s financial troubles and was concerned. So the partners let Global examine the books. And they looked great—only Christine thought they shouldn’t have. She was worried that the big partners were making fraudulent accounting entries that showed increased revenue and decreased expenses and appeared to rein in distribution payments to partners. I think that’s what she was talking about to Mr. Masterson on the day Tom learned his case was dismissed.”

  “By ‘the big partners,’ who do you mean?”

  “Dale Masterson and Mark Hamilton. They founded the firm and they’re in control. None of the other partners have any real power. They make a lot of money but they knew when they joined the firm that they might be on the letterhead but Mr. Masterson and Mr. Hamilton are in charge.”

  “Okay, so you think Christine was killed because she was going to expose the fraud?”

  “I don’t have any proof, but if they were afraid that Christine had told Tom about the fraud it would explain why they had to frame him for the murder. He’d be so distracted by his arrest that he wouldn’t be able to pursue an investigation. And who would believe him anyway if he was a convicted murderer?”

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Amanda said.

  “I can’t prove a word of anything I’ve told you. So please keep me out of the case.”

  “I will. And I may have a way of finding out if the firm is in as much trouble as you think it is.”

  “But it’s not. We’re Global’s lawyers. They hired the firm. Christine was going to talk to the people at Global but she never got the chance. The influx of cash can be used to solve most of the firm’s problems and the partners can fix the books. By the time you get a court order, everything will look fine.”

  “Kate’s looking for you,” the receptionist said when Amanda returned. Amanda walked down the hall.

  “Guess where I was?” she said when she walked into Kate’s office.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Brittney Vandervelden and I just had a secret rendezvous at Lloyd Center.”

  Kate listened carefully while Amanda told her about her meeting with Christine Larson’s secretary.

  “It looks like the partners at Masterson, Hamilton had millions of reasons for wanting Christine Larson dead,” Kate said.

  “But proving the senior partners in one of the most powerful law firms in the state had another partner rubbed out—if they did—will not be easy,” Amanda answered. “By the way, have you run down Carol White?”

  “No. But I found an address for her.” She shook her head. “She’s living in an apartment house that’s one step away from being condemned. Talk about bottom of the barrel. Anyway, when she didn’t answer her door I slipped the manager a few bucks for a look at her apartment. It’s a pigsty, and I don’t think she’s been home for a while. The food in the refrigerator is producing penicillin, and I don’t even want to talk about the smell. I knocked on doors. None of her neighbors say they’ve seen her around but that does
n’t mean much in a place like that. Most of her neighbors belong to the subclass of society that never tells the truth to anyone, especially cops or investigators. But my guess is she’s not staying there anymore.”

  “Damn. I’m sure White lied to Nowicki.”

  “I do have something for you on White, but I don’t know how much it helps. I looked through the court files in the cases where she was a defendant or an informant. If she testifies, you’ll grow old telling a judge or jury about her priors and if she testifies her occupation is drug addict, streetwalker, or shoplifter, she won’t be committing perjury.”

  “Anything violent?”

  “Nah, it’s all petty shit. The worst thing she’s been busted for is distribution, but they were all small amounts. She was probably selling so she’d have the money to buy more heroin.”

  “What about informing? Has she done it a lot?”

  “A fair amount, usually when she needs to work off a beef. And she’s been doing it off and on for a long time. The first time was ten years ago when Greg Nowicki and his partner, Reginald Kiner, used her to bust Diego Chavez, a mid-level drug dealer. Four years later, White got probation after selling to an undercover cop. The amount she sold should have landed her in prison but the charges were dismissed after White helped Nowicki jack up a college kid who was selling at Reed College. There are two more times Nowicki used her as the affiant in a search warrant affidavit before we get to Tom’s case.”

  “Okay. Well keep looking for her; let me know if you have any success. I’m certain Tom was set up, and finding White is the key to proving it.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The brutal murder of a partner in one of Portland’s largest law firms by a paralegal who might have been her lover was a juicy news item, and the spectator benches of the Honorable David Chang’s fifth-floor courtroom were jam-packed. As Amanda walked to the front of the courtroom, she noticed Brittney Vandervelden, Dale Masterson, and several other members of the Masterson, Hamilton law firm scattered among a crowd that included well-dressed society women, a heavily bearded hippie, new deputy district attorneys hoping to learn their trade by watching two top attorneys in action, reporters, and ancient court watchers who attended trials instead of watching daytime television.