Every Move She Makes (41 page)

"What?"

"Project Green was filmed by the Save the Rain Forest Foundation."

"Come again?" Shipley asked.

"Paolini's pet project. Apparently he was an original

investor." Evan Hilliard had hinted as much. But this paper proved it.

"The project that got Hilliard the big break? Sent its stocks soaring?"

"The same. Maybe Paolini used the Hilliards to transport cocaine." My
gaze returned to the paragraph about the seed pods, and I thought of the
Holistic Herbs paperback book. Hilliard Pharmaceutical was becoming a
major force in the pharmaceutical world, with the potential of
introducing a vast line of cancer drugs. A new cancer cure was big
business. But why would this PI, Chester Lynch, feel the need to smuggle
the seeds out? Especially when we had it on authority that the seeds he
had were nothing? Made someone switched them? Made Lynch think they were
the rare rain forest seeds?

"I think we need to talk with Evan Hilliard again," I said.

"Good luck," she responded. "You're deluding yourself if you think the
Hilliards are gonna let you within ten feet of their office building."

"It's not his office building I want. We need to get into the
warehouse."

"Warehouse?" Rocky asked.

"Hilliard Pharmaceutical's storage facility. Patricia must have found
some properties in those seeds. I have a feeling that she stumbled on
them accidentally." I explained about the conversation overheard between
Josephine Hilliard and Patricia, and how Josephine was upset at what
Patricia had found pertaining to the seeds. "A cleaning lady heard them
talking about seeds, and you wanna look at files?" Rocky asked. "What
files' "

"Project Green files."

I held up the paper. "Someone tried to erase this from the doctor's
computer. At first glance, it looks like nothing. Another look at the
documentary making the news." They all sat at attention. "Go on,"

Torrance said.

"Until now, we could never tie the evidence together.

Chester Lynch, Montgard's PI, gets a hold of these seeds, learns
something's up at Hilliard Pharmaceutical that maybe goes with his
investigation, maybe not. Whatever. He was killed with these seven seeds
in his possession, then dumped on the other side of the warehouse.

The very thing we pulled up on Patricia's computer. When we were at
Hilliard's office, both he and Dex alluded to information being leaked
out about some major pharmaceutical secret. They even confirmed it had
happened in the past. I'm wondering if this Chester Lynch wasn't the
source of the leak. What if Montgard Pharmaceutical hired him to
investigate Hilliard before the merger was finalized?" "And someone at
Hilliard Pharmaceutical finds out about it, and has him taken out?"

Torrance asked. "Exactly." I looked at Shipley. "Have you found anything
out from your sources at Montgard Pharmaceutical yet? "No. I'm still
waiting to hear from the head honcho, who's due back from the Bahamas
this afternoon. Second honeymoon, or something like that. His secretary
told me she'd have him call the moment he gets in."

"How does your PI tie into Patricia's death?" Rocky asked.

"He's killed. Patricia does his autopsy. She finds the seeds, maybe
knows what they are, maybe not. Even so, she ends up dead a few days
later. I, for one, have a hard time believing her death is a
coincidence. Which makes me think we've been looking at this thing from
the wrong angle all along."

"So you're saying Scolari killed the PI and his wife?" Rocky asked.

For all Rocky's investigative skills, he could be dense at times. "Let's
pretend for one minute that Scolari's innocent. If so, then someone
killed the doctor for what she knew," I said, picking up the Holistic
Herbs book from the box it sat in. I flipped through the index and found
Pokeweed, then turned to that page. "Or what they thought she knew. And
what we do know from the cleaning lady is that she was talking about
those seeds the night she died."

"So what'dya suggest?" Shipley asked.

"We search Hilliard Pharmaceutical's file storage. See if we can find
something to back up this paper," I said, slapping the book to the
table. "Then we confront the Hilliards."

"Christ Almighty," Rocky said, sinking into his chair.

"You got any idea how many files there are in that warehouse?" Torrance
pulled his pager from his belt, pressed the button, read it. "They've
just arrested Scolari." Everyone looked at me. I stared at Torrance in
disbelief My throat tightened, but somehow I managed to speak anyway.

"Where? What happened?" "I don't have all the details, except that
they're bringing him into the jail now. Scolari looked like hell. His
short gray hair hung limply over his forehead. Dark circles framed his
eyes, and his unshaven cheeks were sunken as though he hadn't eaten in
days. He didn't seem to notice us as we entered the booking area. I
recognized the transporting officer, Robertson, from the afternoon we'd
found the John Doe out at the warehouse. He was the one who reminded
ilie of Inv brother. He looked up from his paperwork, saw Torrance, and
said, "We read him his rights like you asked, but he said he wants to
talk to his attorney."

"Thanks," Torrance said.

Not sure I heard correctly, I glanced at Torrance. "You knew they were
bringing him in?" I asked in disbelief. The fact he was IA-and I was
not-spread clear and wide like a chasm between us.

"Hey, you mind getting' these cuffs off me?" I heard Scolari order.

I stormed past Torrance to the jailer, a short woman, heavyset, with
blond hair. "I'll handle the booking," I said.

She opened the cell door, and I stepped in.

"Gillespie," was all Scolari said. As I looked at Scolari, I wasn't sure
who I was more angry at. Scolari for running off at the height of the
investigation and putting me through this, or Torrance for neglecting to
tell me Scolari was about to be arrested.

"Put him in an interview room I told the jailer.

She shrugged, drawing Scolari, still handcuffed, from the cell, then
heading down the hall to an interview room.

I started to follow them when Torrance stopped me.

"I didn't think you needed the added worry. I didn't tell you because I
felt it best." "An another thing, undoubtedly," I said. "And for your info, I
have never stopped worrying about him. But that's beside the point. We
had a deal. You reneged on your promise."

"I made a mistake."

"So did I, Lieutenant." Then I walked off. In the interview room, the
jailer had removed Scolari's cuffs, and Scolari rubbed at the red
indentations on his wrists. I knew that Torrance was seated outside,
watching and listening through the two-way mirror. I suppose I should
have been grateful that he at least gave me this much leeway.

I pulled up a chair opposite Scolari's. He eyed me.

"You didn't hear the officer? I invoked," he said, referring to his
right to remain silent. "Really? Well, let me tell you something,
Scolari. I don't have time for your games right now, so cut the crap and
tell me what's going on." He tapped a cadence on the scarred table.

"There's nothing to tell." "Nothing to tell?" I laughed. The stress of
the past two weeks finally took its toll on me. I slid my chair back,
and stood so that I looked down at him. "If you want to rot in prison,
that's your problem, but how dare you bring me into this. How dare you
put me in danger, then sit there and have the gall to tell me that there
is nothing to tell."

"Look, Kate, I'm sorry. I made a mistake."

"A mistake? What is that? A catchall phrase for guys that screw with my
life?" I said it before I thought better of it. Iftorrance got extra
meaning out of it, then so be it. "Who're you pissed off at?" Scolari
could always read me so well. Not that I was being subtle. "Right now,
you," I replied. I wasn't about to go into my troubles with Torrance. Not
while he watched. And not that it was any of Scolari's business.

"I said I was sorry."

"I don't want your apology. I want an explanation.

You can start with whatever is going on at Hilliard Pharmaceutical."

"What about the Slasher?"

"What about him?"

"That's why I sent you to the Ox. I was trying to prove I wasn't the
Slasher. Figured since no one else was looking for him, and the press
was pointing fingers, I better clear my name." "Silly me. And here I was
twiddling my thumbs the whole time. I can't believe you-" "Eric Lange,"

he interjected. "The bartender at the Gold Ox had a thing for McAllen's
roommate. I think he killed McAllen by mistake."

"And you're sure it's Lange?" I recalled the name.

The owner had mentioned him. "Positive. I got it straight from Trish.

Her neighbor gave me the number she'd left." I looked at the mirrored
window, unable to make out the vague images past our reflections.

"Someone want to call Zim and give him that info?"

"Zim?" Scolari asked. "I thought you were handling the Slasher cases."

"I was. I'm investigating your wife's murder." He turned away, stared at
the wall. A vein in his temple pulsed. "My lawyer's enroute to post
bail." When he wouldn't meet my gaze, it suddenly occurred to me what
he'd done. What he'd been doing all along. "I don't believe it," I said,
my temper flaring. I paced the room, trying to calm myself. "You've been
spoon-feeding me this Soma Slasher stuff, stringing me along just like
everyone else. I expected you of all people to be different."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gillespie."

"Oh, bull, Scolari," I said, stopping in front of him, the table between
us. "You could have picked up the phone any time, told me that
information. All of it. But you didn't." He looked at me, his expression
guarded. "You don't know what you're talking about." I leaned over until
I was inches from his face. "You were trying to distract me from your
wife's murder. The question is, why?" His gaze held mine for several
indeterminable seconds. Finally he uttered, too soft for the microphone
to pick up, "Because I want to kill the son of a bitch that killed my
wife." "Forget it, Scolari." I remained where I was, still leaning on
the table. "I'll put a hold on your booking. I'll call the judge, get
your bail raised. I'm not going to let you screw up what's left of your
life. Now tell me what the hell is going on." He crossed his arms over
his chest, closing himself from me. I waited. Nothing.

I turned away, walked toward the door, and pulled it open.

"Fine ... " he said.

His pause told me a caveat was next. I remained where I was.

"Me and you, Gillespie. No recording equipment.

No witnesses behind the window."

"I don't know if they'll let me do that."

"No deal, then."

"I'll ask." I closed the door behind me. Torrance stood as I approached.

Andrews had joined him, and I nodded in greeting. "Well?"

"There's no confidentiality here," Torrance said.

"You'll be ordered to report everything he tells you." "I'm sure Scolari
is well aware of that." He looked at Scolari through the window, and
nodded. "All right. We have to meet with the DA anyway for the search
warrant at Hilliard's warehouse." He handed me a small notebook and pen.