A Very Simple Crime (11 page)

Adam pushed back his chair, stood, and looked out his office window. After a minute, he turned back around to look at Leo. “She exists. Look, Leo, I admit I’ve been lying. I haven’t had contact with her since that weekend. We more or less ended the affair. That weekend was the coup de grâce. Don’t you think I want to find her just as much as you do? It’s my name, my reputation on the line.”

Adam faced away from Leo, turned back to the window. Leo smiled. The mouse trembles, and the cat licks beads of blood from its whiskers.

 

 

When the desk nurse didn’t look up from her charting, Leo cleared his throat a little louder. She looked up, mildly annoyed at being interrupted.

“Hi, my name is Leo Hewitt. I’m with the district attorney’s office. I was wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for a Violet Perkins. I’ve already been to administration twice, but I thought I could check down here, too, just in case.”

“Oh, yeah. There was a guy in here the other day. Looking for the same girl. I remember ’cause of the name. Violet. I told him I been here for years, never heard of her.”

Leo sighed and turned away. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“Then I happened to think. Maybe I didn’t know her because she’s not on regular staff.”

“What do you mean?”

“We hire out to a temp agency when we’re short on staff, which is all the time. Payroll cuts a check directly to the company and they pay their employees from their end; the person’s name never goes on our payroll. And when I fill in the schedules, I just pencil in the word
temp
because I never know who they’ll be sending over.”

“Is that a fact?”

The nurse cracked open her Rolodex and flipped through it. She scribbled a number on a scrap of paper and shoved it across the counter at Leo.

“BWB Temporary Services. Check with them.”

“Thanks, I will.”

Leo folded the paper over and inserted it into his breast pocket.

 

 

Halfway down the directory posted in the lobby of the building, Leo found BWB Temporary Services. He took the elevator to the ninth floor and introduced himself to a good-looking, youngish man eating a take-out sandwich at his cluttered desk.

“It must be exciting working for the DA’s office.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I guess that was a stupid thing to say. I bet everybody says that. It’s probably boring just like everybody else’s job. Although I can personally testify that running a temp agency is never boring. Every day there’s another emergency. Some girl’s got her period and can’t work her assignment. Some boy’s got
his
period and won’t come in. You know how it is.”

“The thing is, I’m looking for a lady who might have worked for you.”

“What’s her name?”

“Violet Perkins.”

“Oh sure, Violet worked for us.”

“She did?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been looking all over for her. I was beginning to think she didn’t exist.”

“Oh, she exists all right. But she’s not on my Christmas list, I can tell you that much. I had an assignment for her three weeks ago and she never showed. You have no idea what a bad impression it makes when one of our people is a no-show. The clients usually don’t call back. Anyway, I bet you ran her name through your computer and couldn’t find her.”

“Right.”

“I bet I know why.”

“Why?”

“Because you were right, she doesn’t exist. Her name isn’t Violet. It’s Constance. That’s what it says on her driver’s license. But she hates it, so she tells everybody to call her Violet. And I have to say, I don’t blame her. Violet is much more colorful. I’ve got a photocopy of it if you want.”

“What?”

“Her driver’s license. We have to keep one on file for everybody that works here.”

The youngish man, Leo could now see, augmented his good looks with a bit of makeup and was older than he had first thought. He opened a massive filing cabinet drawer and thumbed through the files until he got to the right one. He held out a photocopied page to Leo.

“Here, you can keep it. Since she doesn’t work here anymore, I won’t be needing it.”

“I really appreciate this. You don’t know how much.”

“Happy to help.”

“So, what does BWB stand for? I guess everybody asks.”

“Everybody does, and I always say they’re my mother’s initials, but for you, I’ll tell the truth. When Craig, that’s my partner, when we started the business, it was just the two of us. And it was just a cleaning service. We went into rich people’s homes and cleaned up. And we really did—clean up, that is. So we expanded into other areas and hired more people and eventually became a multiservice temp agency. We just never bothered to change our name, which has since grown to be an embarrassment.”

“Because?”

“Because BWB stands for Bitches With Brooms.”

“This is Anne Hunter, may I help you?”

“Guess who’s investigating a murder at the DA’s office?”

“Who is this?”

“Do you want the story or not? Maybe I should call Dear Abby.”

“Okay, spill it.”

“The man who set the Torso Killer free is working a murder case.”

“Leo Hewitt? Investigating a murder? That’s not possible. What murder?”

“Rachel Lee.”

“Look, why don’t you give me your—”

Anne heard the click of the line disengaging and hung up the phone. She took a notepad from her desk and wrote:
Leo Hewitt, Rachel Lee, possible connection with Monty Lee?
She looked at the paper a moment, then added:
This has got to be bullshit!

 

 

Anne Hunter had been the first to break the story about the infighting in the DA’s office during the Guaraldi trial. She’d coined the term every paper in the nation picked up on:
The Guaraldi Fiasco
. Even the television news shows used it. And it had been the headline of her first lead story: The Guaraldi Fiasco. And thanks to her source on the prosecution team, she had scooped every paper in the nation—as well as television and radio—with Hewitt’s resignation. But then, Hewitt himself had been her source. Who was Mr. Anonymous that had just called her? He had to work in the DA’s office to get that kind of information. If it was true. It would be nice to write another lead story; the only problem was that once Leo had his fall from grace, no one at the DA’s office would talk to her. She’d pretty much burned those bridges. And, truth be told, she’d had something of a hand in Leo’s undoing. Her stories had targeted the entire DA’s office for its mishandling of key evidence, and, at the end, she had singled out Leo for her tirades.

Her last story on the case had been an overview of Leo Hewitt’s legal career and had been titled,
The Man Who Set the Torso Killer Free
. The story had, in effect, bordered on slander but got her on the short list for the Pulitzer that year. And the woman who had once been as close to a Pulitzer as Roxanne’s trumpet was now covering county zoning meetings. And here she was, wondering if that far-off whistle was the sound of the gravy train pulling back into the station. Maybe it sounded too good to be true, but she’d be a fool not to follow up on it. She picked up the phone and dialed. The number was still as fresh in her mind as it had been three years ago.

“This is Anne Hunter with the
Tribune
. Put me through to Paula Manning’s office.”

She listened to a series of electronic clicks, then heard the phone ringing on Paula’s secretary’s desk.

“Hi, this is Anne Hunter with the
Tribune
. I need to speak with Paula. I know she’s not in, but while you’re checking to make sure she’s not in, please tell her I’m running a story on the Lee case and this will be her only opportunity to confirm or deny. I’ll hold.”

She waited for several minutes, and the next voice she heard was Paula’s.

“There is no Lee case. What are you talking about, Anne?”

“Rachel Lee. Your office is investigating her death.”

The line was silent, and Anne knew she’d screwed up. She should have at least confirmed that someone named Rachel Lee had died recently. She could kick herself for being so stupid. She closed her eyes and hoped for the best. Maybe Paula would trip herself up.

“I don’t know what you heard, but it’s wrong.”

Bull’s-eye. “I hear that you have Leo Hewitt working the case. And Paula, I got this from a very reliable source in your own department. I’m running the story whether you confirm it or deny it, but if you do deny it, you’re gonna look like either a liar or an incompetent who doesn’t know what’s going on in her own office. Either way, you’re gonna look bad.”

“Well, that’s your specialty, isn’t it? Making people look bad. It was a nice try, but you can’t bluff me, Anne. If you really had a source that strong, the last thing you would do is call me.”

“I’m not bluffing. Try me.”

“You’re way out of line on this. First of all, the district attorney’s office is not investigating the death of Rachel Lee. It was deemed an accident. Second, Leo Hewitt works traffic court. You get the picture?”

“Yeah, I get it. Hey, you can’t blame a girl for trying, right?”

“Look, Anne, just between me and you, do you honestly think Bob Fox would let Leo Hewitt investigate a cat up a tree? Someone’s pulling your leg.”

Anne hung up the phone. She knew Paula was right, of course. The whole thing was ludicrous. The only problem was, if the whole thing was just a joke, Paula would never have taken her call.

Anne closed the notepad and stuck it in her purse, put the purse over her shoulder, and headed for the door. Before she could get out the door, she was ambushed by her editor, Jack Jones, whose massive bulk completely blocked the doorway.

“You finished that piece on the rezoning committee meeting?”

“It’s on your desk.”

“It wasn’t five minutes ago.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes, as I’m sure your wife is well aware.”

“You know what you are, Hunter? You’re friendly. That goddamn piece had better be on my desk.”

“What if I told you I might have a possible story on Leo Hewitt?”

“I’d still want the rezoning story.”

“What if I said they put him on another murder case?”

“Fuck the rezoning. What have you got?”

“Paula, you busy?”

“Do I look busy?” Paula asked, covering the mouthpiece of the phone cradled between her chin and neck. “Let me call you back,” she said to whoever was on the other end and hung up the phone. She crooked her finger at Leo and said, “Actually, come in, I need to talk to you.”

“Good, I need to talk to you about something, too.”

“Look, Leo, I was happy to let you dig around a little with this Lee thing. Who knows, you might find something we missed, right? But it’s got to stop. Right now. Officially, there is no case. There never was. I want you to let it alone.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, or what kind of impression you’re giving people, but this was never your case. There was never a case, period.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes, something happened. That Hunter bitch had the nerve to call me.”

“Anne Hunter?”

“Do you know another one? She has somehow gotten the impression you’re working a murder case. Any idea how that could have happened? Do you miss the old glory so much that you’d put my ass on the line to see your name in the paper again?”

“Anne Hunter is no friend of mine. She crucified me in the press. You know that.”

“The thing is, if this gets in the papers, Bob is going to come gunning for me for going behind his back. It all stops now.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Paula. But before I leave, I’ve got someone here I’d like you to meet.”

Leo opened the door wider and ushered in a young woman in a white sundress.

“Paula Manning, I’d like you to meet Violet Perkins. Violet has something she’d like to tell you.”

Monty found himself staring at the phone again. He was waiting for the call that he knew would come. Paula had called several hours before and told him that Adam would be taken into custody tonight. On some level, Monty knew that all of this was inevitable.

While he waited for the call, he was watching an old black-and-white movie on television. It helped distract his mind from the disturbing fact that his brother would soon be arrested for murder. The black-and-white images on the television screen flickered seductively in front of him. He remembered when he and Adam used to stay up all night in their basement kingdom watching old movies.
Out of the Past. Criss Cross. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
Anything swift and violent. He learned from these movies in a way Adam had not. He incorporated their vision into his vision. He learned that greed, the unyielding need to possess what other men already possessed, was the driving force in most men’s lives. He took this knowledge and transformed it into a successful legal career. This same knowledge seemed to be too much for Adam. It burdened him until the weight became too much and Adam collapsed in on himself like a black hole. He became a cipher, a negative. A desperate man leading a desperate life.

Monty was watching
Double Indemnity
. Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck had just killed Barbara Stanwyck’s husband and thrown his body off a moving train to make it look like an accident, but Monty knew that they would be caught. For one thing, there was Edward G. Robinson. There was always someone like Edward G. Robinson hanging around to catch you. No matter how smart you were, no matter how perfectly you had planned the murder, Edward G. Robinson was always smarter, always one step ahead. Plus, you could never trust the woman. Barbara Stanwyck would always betray you in the end. She was always hiding something. She was never what she seemed. In fact, it looked as though the only way to get away with murder was to accept from the beginning that Edward G. Robinson was going to catch you, and Barbara Stanwyck was going to betray you and then, maybe, just maybe, you might have a fighting chance of getting away with it.