Self-Defence

"So what happens now? He weasels out on Karen so they can line their coffers?"

"That assumes there's something to weasel out on, Alex. Thank God for the dope, because Karen's death is still not a homicide."

"What about the bones?"

"No evidence of foul play; all the neck bones we found were intact. And what Graydon-Jones described to you at the pit was an accidental OD."

"He's credible?"

"When he told you, he was holding all the cards, no reason to lie. Fact is, attempted murder on you and Lucy's a lot more trouble for him than Karen. But we can't tie that in with App."

"It doesn't make sense," I said. "If Karen had died accidentally, they could have left her on the grounds for someone else to discover. Some bad publicity, but by then OD's were no big deal, every week another rock star was collapsing. There would have been nothing to co

"Maybe. But with the bone fragments we've managed to pull up, you'll never prove it- it is definitely her, by the way. We found enough teeth to match, got confirmation from the odontologist this morning."

"Have you told Sherrell yet?"

"Yeah, I went over in person, early this morning, to his food bank."

"How'd he take it?"

"Like it had just been a matter of time. Then he thanked me and went back to unpacking Rice-A-Roni."

"Poor guy. I called his son this morning. He started sobbing, then hung up."

He ran his hand over his face.

"If it ever goes to trial," I said, "App and Graydon-Jones will make her sound like a whore."

"It probably won't, Alex. With everything else going on, an accidental OD won't prioritize."

"What about two bona fide homicides, Mellors and Felix Barnard?"

He took a bite of cruller and wiped his lips. I could hear Leah Schwartz's voice through her office door, rising in pitch.

"Same problem," said Milo. "Without some sort of evidentiary chain linking Mellors and Barnard to Karen, all we've got are two unrelated shootings. Only link to App is he owned the motel and half of the insurance company that Graydon-Jones runs. So far neither of them are talking."

"Why not make them think you've got more than you do, then try to wedge them apart?" I said. "After a year dealing with Shwandt and his girls, they should be nondairy creamer for you."

Leah Schwartz came out of her office, flushed and hot-eyed. The three of us walked out into the hall.

"Politicians," she said. "They should all be drawn and quartered. We've got a couple of days to turn something up, or the Best girl's case goes to the bottom of the list. Meaning no indictments, and the DEA gets to play Supermarket Sweep."

Milo said, "Couple of days? We talking to the hour?"

"I can probably wangle fifty hours if we get on some kind of track."

"Well." He got up and stretched. "Rome was built in two days, right?"

She laughed. Up to then, I'd never seen her smile.

We were fifteen hours into that edict now.

Graydon-Jones still had his hand cupped over his lawyer's ear. He was in jail blues that nearly matched the hue of the attorney's suit. The lawyer was a lanky, prematurely white-haired handball player named Jeff Stratton. Everyone knew about the handball because each time he showed up at 8 A.M.,he a

He pushed his chair away from Graydon-Jones and waved a finger. "Ready."

A microphone on our side of the mirror amplified his voice.

Leah Schwartz put the bug back in her ear. She and Milo went in and sat around the table, facing Stratton and Graydon-Jones. I turned on my hand mike.

Leah Schwartz said, "So, Jeff."

"We'll hear what you have to say," said Stratton, "but we won't respond."

It had taken an hour to get that far.

Leah said, "Detective Sturgis?"

Milo said, "Mr. Graydon-Jones, from your résumé, you seem like an intelligent guy-"

"Hold on," said Stratton amiably. "Is this going to get personal?"

Leah said, "Of course, Jeff, doesn't it always?" She looked at her watch. "Listen, I'm really pressed. If we can't plow through this quickly, let's just forget it and we'll let your client take his chance with not knowing what's going on until pretrial discovery."

"Mellow out, Lee," said Stratton. Every white hair was in place, flowing over his ears. His tie was printed with golf clubs. He wore a wrist bandage. "No need for sarcasm or egregious vituperativeness."

Leah looked at Milo. "Try to watch your vituperativeness, detective. For all our sakes."

Milo frowned at her.

"Go on," she said impatiently.

Stratton smiled. Graydon-Jones maintained a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Okay," said Milo, placing both hands on the table. They covered a good part of it. Stratton tried not to stare at them.

"Okay… Mr.- um, Graydon-Jones, like I said, you've got an impressive résumé, people in the know say you're a real insurance demon. So we're a little puzzled as to why you keep letting Curtis App call the shots."

Graydon-Jones glanced at Stratton.

Stratton shook his head.

Graydon-Jones said nothing.

Leah looked at her watch.

Graydon-Jones looked up at the ceiling.

I said, "Go for it," into the mike.

Milo said, "He's blaming everything on you, friend. Including the drugs. He says you're the one got him into dope. You were a big user during the seventies. You corrupted him. He also says it was your idea to launder dope through Advent and Enterprise and that you interfaced with narcotics dealers in England and France and Holland and sold them insurance policies that helped them organize their money laundering-"

"Bloody lies!" said Graydon-Jones. "That was just a contract like any other, I had no idea who they were. Curt sent them-"

Stratton touched his hand, and he stopped talking.

Milo said, "I'm just telling you what App says. He also claims he had nothing to do with Karen Best's death, that he wasn't even present when she died, and that you and Terry Trafficant and Joachim Spretzel strangled her-"

"Oh, bloody bullshit. Spretzel was a faggot, and Trafficant wasn't even-"

Another touch from Stratton.

"Trafficant wasn't even there?" said Milo.

No answer.

"Okay, let me finish App's story: He and the three of you were partying with Karen, he left to urinate, and when he came back she was dead in your arms and the rest of you confessed to killing her. He says- hold on-" Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he held it out of everyone's view. "Um, um, um- here we go: He says the only reason he got involved in covering up her death was that he was worried someone had seen Karen with him and that you threatened to expose his drug usage to his wife and to tell her he'd been fooling around with Karen and some other young girls. He panicked because he'd been doping and drinking and thought he'd be criminally liable and when M. Bayard Lowell and Denton Mellors came in, shortly after, unexpectedly, and Lowell said Karen should be buried and forgotten about, he went along with it. He's willing to plea-bargain to aiding and abetting and a suspended sentence, in exchange for testifying against you in Karen Best's homicide. He's also willing to trade information on your drug peddling in return for reduction of his drug charges."

He put the paper back in his pocket.

Graydon-Jones said, "Bullshit. He never said any of that."