"She must be wrong. He would have said something the night Morty and Jackson were shot."
"Vicki, Cooper identified the man. Didn't even stop to think about it. Knew Bale right off. Said she remembered him because he was a very nice dresser. Fancy suit and tie. Mustache. Handsome. Looked like a rich man. Like a lawyer, she said."
My God. It sounded exactly like Bale. Could it have been him? Did Bale know Jackson? Why hadn't he said anything?
Vicki asked, "How good are her eyes? You said she was old."
"Not that old. Sixty."
"She wear glasses?"
"No."
"Is she nuts?"
"No, she's cranky."
"Does she drink or do drugs?"
"Vicki, give it up. She saw Bale and a white guy, and she never got her Taco Bell dog back. She'll never forget that night, she says. She loved the dog. She cried when she told me the story. I spent all afternoon with her."
"What were they doing in the room, Jackson and the two men?"
"Talking."
Something was very wrong at the office. Bale. The forgeries. Montgomery and Jackson. Were they connected? How?
Vicki asked, "Then what happened?"
"Cooper left. She felt all guilty when she found out Jackson was murdered. I think she feels worse about the dog, though."
"Why didn't she tell this to the cops?" Vicki asked, but she knew the reason.
"They didn't interview her, and she was ashamed to admit she spied on the girl, anyway."
"You have her address?"
"Sure."
"I'll have to talk to her. I want to verify it."
Reheema scoffed. "Whatever, she'll tell you the same thing."
"Where are you?"
"On Jackson's street, in your car."
"Come home now. Keep moving. Montgomery's out there somewhere."
"It'll take me two hours to get back to Center City, in this snow."
"Good, call me when you're close to the restaurant and you can pick me up. I'll keep Dan's phone with me, or try the restaurant."
"Got it."
"Reheema? Good work," Vicki said, then hung up. She flipped the phone closed, her thoughts and emotions in a tumult, and looked up. In the dining room, they were all laughing, joking, and launching into a chorus of "Danny Boy," with Dan singing loudest of alclass="underline"
" ‘From glen to glen, and down the mountain side, The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying, 'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.' "
Vicki couldn't go back into the room yet. She couldn't believe it. She had always trusted Bale; she liked him the best of all the brass, and now he was going to be U.S. Attorney. What had he been doing in Jackson's house? Who was the white guy? What, if anything, did any of it have to do with Montgomery? Had Bale forged those signatures, and why? Vicki didn't have any answers, but she couldn't get them standing here. She steeled herself and went back into the party, with Chief Bale and a roomful of white guys.
They were all singing with Dan, " ‘But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, 'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow, Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.' "
Ouch. Vicki met Dan's eye, then looked away.
So be it.
FORTY-SIX
Vicki took her seat and faked a smile as Bale rose and started singing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," which brought more laughter from the crowd. Beer and wine flowed freely, and the entrees were forgotten. The waitresses arrived with acute triangles of cherry cheesecake and set the desserts in front of each seat, whether occupied or not; obviously the staff wanted to end this meal quickly and close the restaurant because of the storm. Vicki wished them luck; she had seen this floor show at the Christmas party. It started in Ireland and ended in Motown.
Bale led the singing, into a knife microphone, " ‘Sure 'tis like the morn in Spring, In the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing.' "
Vicki plastered her smile in place and sipped the Coke that had been put beside her plate. Rum. Ugh. She sipped it because she felt thirsty and watched the action, thinking. She couldn't bring herself to accept that Bale knew Jackson, but she couldn't imagine why else he'd be there, only a month ago. Did Bale have something to do with framing Reheema? And who was the white guy? Could it be someone else from the office? The thought stunned her. But what was the connection to Montgomery and the forgeries?
While Bale sang, Vicki reasoned it out, thinking aloud to herself, if such a thing were possible. Bale could have been the one who gave Montgomery the sweet plea deal and forged the other signatures. He still handled some cases himself, so it was at least possible. That would mean that he knew Montgomery. But it didn't mean that he had anything to do with Montgomery killing Reheema's mother, or Reheema, did it? Of course not. But why forge the signatures? Why hide the plea agreement in the To Be Filed bin? Why lose the rest of the federal file on Montgomery?
At the front of the room, Strauss looped an arm around Bale, and they segued into their Motown medley, though instead of "Ooh Baby Baby," they went with "My Guy," to surging laughter.
Vicki analyzed the events separately, to determine if they were connected. One, a month ago, Bale was meeting with the only witness against Reheema, who would frame her on the straw purchase case, and two, almost a year ago, he gave a plea deal to a man who would eventually kill Reheema's mother and maybe Reheema.
Vicki blinked. The nexus could be Reheema. Did Bale have something against Reheema? Some reason to want her convicted for a straw purchase, and later, even dead? What was going on? Vicki resisted the conclusion. What was she thinking? That Bale put Jackson up to framing Reheema and he hired Montgomery to kill her?
Am I nuts? Vicki felt suddenly light-headed and sipped her watery rum and Coke, watching the crowd get rowdier and sing their way through the entire Motown catalog. They tried to get her to join in, but she waved them off, aware that Dan was watching her from the front of the room. She had his cell phone in her purse; she'd give it to him later. She picked at the cheesecake, but it didn't help. She shouldn't have had the rum, and pushed the drink away.
She tried to plan, despite her attack of nausea and/or disillusionment. The most prudent thing would be to wait until she interviewed Cooper, then after she had all the facts, to approach Bale to see if he lied, then trap him. A typical cross-examina-tion. What was it Justice Holmes had said? Cross-examination was the engine of truth. But she couldn't think of Justice Holmes, Bale, or Mystery White Guy right now. Her stomach was iffy. She needed to wash her face, to feel better.
She got up, left the room, and went to the bar. On TV, the Flyers were losing and the bartender wasn't there, and Vicki walked past the barstools and downstairs to the ladies' room, which was a grimy single bathroom in the basement. She washed her face and dried it with toilet paper, because Angelo's had only those stupid air hand driers, then she assessed herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a tired blue, her hair was finally dry but hung in black waves, and her lip gloss was long gone. But her stomach felt a little better. She went back upstairs and crossed the bar area. The bartender was still gone and the TV was on, and Vicki glanced back at the screen. And gasped.
On the TV, the familiar red banner read LIVE-BREAKING NEWS, under a dark shot of a snowy city backstreet and a white Cabrio, cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. The Cabrio's driver's-side door hung open, and dark stains splattered the beige interior of the door. Blood. The screen switched to a view from the back of the Cabrio. In the back window was a crimson H and an Avalon bumper sticker. Vicki felt as if her heart stopped. It was her car.
Reheema.
The voice-over said, "An attempted carjacking leaves one dead on a side street in the Greater Northeast tonight. Chopper Six was first on the scene with this exclusive footage."