Executive Privilege

“I can make an educated guess,” Gi

“That’s what I thought. But would they like it any better if I was responsible for the acquittal of the most fiendish killer in recent Oregon history?”

“Good point. At least they could argue that Reed, Briggs fights for its clients no matter how despicable they might be. That would endear them to the tobacco and oil companies.”

“So you think I should try and find the pinkies?”

“It sounds a lot more interesting than trying to find the meaning of the section of the tax code they’ve got me studying. And there’s something else you should think about. What if he is i

Brad sighed. “Please get serious. This whole thing is giving me a splitting headache.”

“I say you do it. Call Little’s bluff. Ask him to tell you where he hid the pinkies. If he’s screwing with you, you’re off the hook.”

“And if he’s not?”

“You dig them up. I’ll even come with you. I’ll be your trusty sidekick.”

Brad was suddenly suspicious. Gi

“What’s going on? How come you’re so anxious to get involved in my case?”

Gi

“I got interested in Laurie Erickson’s murder after we talked,” Gi

“Sure. We’ve played te

“Jeff grew up in Portland and went to law school here, and his folks are loaded. They’re members of all the right clubs and know everyone and are co

“What gossip?”

Gi

“What! I don’t believe that. She was just a kid.”

“Do you know what a dirty old man is?” Gi

Brad blushed. “I’m not an idiot, Gi

“I asked Jeff the same thing. He said Farrington’s dodged a bullet. There were rumors floating around about an affair but everyone clammed up after Erickson was murdered. One rumor was that Laurie’s mother was paid off. Supposedly, a lot of money changed hands.”

“I thought Farrington was poor. Where would he get enough cash to buy off a mother whose child was just murdered?”

“Farrington has wealthy backers, but the obvious source would be his wife. Claire Farrington’s family is rich. The Meadows made money farming in Eastern Oregon. Then they diversified into Japanese car dealerships, and they provided the seed money for some successful high-tech companies. After they got engaged, Dr. Farrington’s family financed Christopher’s first run for state office. If it was necessary to save her husband’s career, Claire could come up with the cash.”

“Is there any evidence that Farrington was fooling around, anything concrete?”

“Jeff says no, but he also says that if Farrington was screwing Erickson it wouldn’t be the first time he lusted after tender, young flesh.”

Brad grimaced. “You’ve been reading too many Harlequin romances.”

“Farrington may have been acting them out. Jeff says that a year or so before he ran for the state senate Farrington settled a PI case for a seventeen-year-old girl who was injured in a skiing accident. Supposedly, he brought over the settlement check in a chauffeur-driven limo stocked with champagne and who knows what else and celebrated with her in the backseat.”

“Where did all this come from?”

“The chauffeur. Jeff says Farrington’s driver was so disgusted that he went to the cops. Supposedly, the girl’s parents wouldn’t let her talk to the police, so no charges were brought. Everyone thinks they were paid off by Chuck Hawkins, Farrington’s hatchet man.”

Brad took a sip of coffee and mulled over the titillating information Gi

“So,” he said finally, “your theory is what, that the president of the United States killed his babysitter to shut her up about their affair.”

“Hawkins could have done it for him. Jeff’s met Hawkins a few times. He says the guy is scary. He was some special ops guy in the military and still wears his hair like a marine. He and Farrington are supposed to be very tight. The word is that there isn’t anything Hawkins won’t do to protect the president and the first lady.”

“Okay. This just got way out of my league. I’m not going to accuse the president of murder. Not only would Reed, Briggs fire me but I’d never get another job as long as I lived.”

“Who said you had to accuse the president of murder? Didn’t you pay attention in crim law? When you’re defending someone accused of a crime you don’t have to prove who did it. You just have to show that there’s a reasonable doubt about your client’s guilt. The police will have the job of arresting Erickson’s killer if you convince them that Little didn’t murder her.”

Brad hadn’t paid very close attention in his criminal law class and he’d forgotten that his responsibility to Clarence Little wouldn’t extend to finding the real killer the way the lawyers did on TV and in legal thrillers.

“You’re right,” Brad said, relieved. Then he looked serious. “Don’t tell anyone else your theory about Farrington. It could get you in trouble.”

“I’m not crazy, Brad. And I was just playing devil’s advocate before. I have no idea who killed Laurie Erickson. But I still want to help you find out if there’s anything to Little’s claim of i

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, pretty please. The stuff they’ve got me working on is boring. I want a case I can get excited about.”

Brad frowned. “I need to think.”

“By all means.”

“I do appreciate your advice and the information you gave me.”

“No problem.”

“Give me a day or so to work this out.”

“Take all the time you want. But remember one thing. If Little is i

Part Three.The Ripper

Washington, D.C.

Chapter Eleven

Keith Evans was exhausted. As the agent-in-charge of the D.C. Ripper task force he was expected to set an example by outworking the FBI agents under him. Last night, he’d crawled into bed after midnight. Now it was 5 A.M. and he was up again, groggy, eyes raw, and with no time to shower before heading to the scene of the Ripper’s latest atrocity, a Dumpster in the alley behind a Chinese restaurant in Bethesda, Maryland. The task force office had been notified as soon as the locals realized they had another victim of the Ripper. Evans was sorry that the Bethesda police were so competent; he could have used the extra sleep. At least the bastard had been considerate enough to leave the body only a few miles from Evans’s house.

After finding a parking spot a block from the crime scene Evans took a swig from his thermos and grimaced. He’d been too rushed to put up a fresh pot, and the day-old coffee he’d reheated in his microwave was barely tolerable. As Evans trudged along the sidewalk the wind blew a page of newsprint toward him. He was so exhausted that the skittering sports page hypnotized him and it took an effort to pull his eyes away from it. Evans shook his head to clear it. The Ripper case was wearing him out. When he looked in the mirror he no longer saw the fresh-faced Omaha detective who’d broken a serial case that had stumped the FBI. The agent-in-charge of the FBI task force had been hunting the killer for three years and he was so impressed by Evans’s spectacular detective work that he’d convinced the young man to apply for a spot in the Bureau.