Betsy turned the page and started reading a profile of Raymond Colby.
Betsy knew Colby would would be confirmed and it upset her. There was no more diversity of Opinion on the Court. Wealthy white males with identical backgrounds and identical thoughts dominated it. Men with no concept of what it was like to be poor or helpless, who had been nominated by Republican Presidents for no reason other than their willingness to put the interests of the wealthy and big government ahead of individual rights. Colby was no different. Harvard Law, c.e.o. of Marlin Steel, governor of New York, then a member of the United States Senate for the last nine years. Betsy read a summary of Colby's accomplishments as a governor and senator and a prediction of the way he would vote on several cases that were before the Supreme Court, then skimmed another article about the economy.
When she was finished with the paper, she went back to the dining room.
The divorce case was a mess. Betsy's client and her husband didn't have children and they had agreed to split almost all of their property, but they were willing to go to the mat over a cheap landscape they had bought from a sidewalk artist in Paris on their honeymoon. Going to court over the silly painting was costing them both ten times its value, but they were adamant. it was not the painting that was fueling their rage. It was a case like this that made Betsy want to enter a nunnery. But, she sighed to herself, it was also cases like this that paid her overhead. She started reading the divorce petition, then remembered something she had read in the article about Raymond Colby.
Betsy put the petition down. The idea had come so fast that it made her a little dizzy. She walked back to the living room and reread Colby's biography. There it was.
He had been a United States senator for nine years.
Hunter's Point Chief of Police John O'Malley retired to Florida nine years ago. Frank Grimsbo had been with Marlin Steel, Colby's old company, for nine years. And Wayne Turner was the senator's administrative assistant.
The heat was on in the house, but Betsy felt like she was hugging a block of ice. She went back to the dining room and reread her list of important facts in the Darius case. It was all there. You just had to look at the facts in a certain way and it made perfect sense. Martin Darius was the rose killer. The Hunter's Point police knew that when they announced that Henry Waters was the murderer and closed the case.
Now Betsy knew how Peter Lake could walk away from Hunter's Point with the blood of all those innocent people on his hands. What she could not imagine was why the governor of New York State would conspire with the police force and mayor of Hunter's Point to set free a mass murderer.
Chapter Sixteen
The sun was shining, but the temperature was a little below freezing.
Betsy hung up her overcoat. Her cheeks hurt from the cold. She rubbed her hands together and asked Ann to bring her a cup of coffee. By the time Ann set a steaming mug on her coaster, Betsy was dialing Washington, D.C.
"Senator Colby's office."
"I'd like to speak to Wayne Turner, please."
"I'll connect you to his secretary." Betsy picked up the mug. Her hand was trembling.
She wanted to sound confident, but she was scared to death.
"Can I help you?" a pleasant female voice asked.
"My name is Betsy Tannenbaum. I'm an attorney in Portland, Oregon. I'd like to speak to Mr. Turner."
"Mr. Turner is very busy with the confirmation hearings. If you leave me your number, he'll call you when be gets the chance."
Betsy knew Turner would never return her call.
There was only one way to force him to get on the phone.
Now Betsy was convinced she knew what had happened in Hunter's Point and she would have to gamble she was right.
"This can't wait. Let Mr. Turner know that Peter Lake's attorney is on the phone." Then Betsy told the secretary to tell Turner something else.
The secretary made her repeat the message. "If Mr. Turner won't talk to me, tell him I'm sure the press will."
Turner's secretary put Betsy on hold. Betsy closed her eyes and tried a meditation technique she had learned in a Y.W.C.A. yoga class. It didn't work, and she jumped when Turner came on the line.
"Who is this?" he barked.
"I told your secretary, Mr. Turner. My name is Betsy Tannenbaum and I'm Martin Darius's attorney. You knew him as Peter Lake when he lived in Hunter's Point. I want to talk to Senator Colby immediately."
"The senator is extremely busy with the confirmation hearings, Ms.
Tannenbaum. Can't this wait until they're over?"
"I'm not going to wait until the senator is safely on the Court, Mr.
Turner. if he won't speak to me, I'll be forced to go to the press."
"Damn it, if you spread any irresponsible "Calm down, Mr. Turner. If you thought about this at all, you'd know it would hurt my client to go to the papers. I'll only do it as a last resort. But I won't be put off."
"if YOU know about Lake, if you know about the senator, why are you doing this?" Turner pleaded.
Betsy paused. Turner had asked a good question.
Why was she keeping what she knew to herself? Why hadn't she confided in Reggie Stewart? Why was she willing to fly across the country for the answer to her questions?
"This is for me, Mr. Turner. I have to know what kind of man I'm representing. I have to know the truth. I must meet with Senator Colby.
I can fly to Washington tomorrow."
Turner was silent for a few seconds. Betsy looked out the window. In the office across the street, two men in shirtsleeves were discussing a blueprint. On the floor above them, a group of secretaries were working away on word processors. Toward the top of the office building, Betsy could see the sky reflected in the glass wall, Greentinted clouds scudded across a green-tinted sky.
"I'll talk to Senator Colby and call you back," Turner said.
"I'm not a threat, Mr. Turner. I'm not out to wreck the senator's appointment. Tell him that."
Turner hung up and Betsy exhaled. She was not used to threatening United States senators or dealing with cases that could destroy the reputations of prominent public figures. Then she thought about the Hammermill and Peterson cases. Twice she had shouldered the burden of saving a human life. There was no greater responsibility than that. Colby was just a man, even if he was a United States senator, and he might be the reason Martin Darius was free to murder three innocent women in Portland.
"Nora Sloane is on one," Ann said over the intercom.
Betsy's divorce client was supposed to meet her at the courthouse at eight forty-five and it was eight-ten.
Betsy wanted to concentrate on the issues in the divorce, but she decided she could spare Sloane a minute.
"Sorry to bother you," Sloane said apologetically.
"Remember I talked to you about interviewing your mother and Kathy" Do you suppose I could do that this weekend?"
"I might be out of town. My mom will probably watch Kathy, so you could talk to them together. Mom will get a kick out of being interviewed.
I'll talk to her and get back to you. What's your number?"
"Why don't I call you? I'm going to be in and out."
"Okay. I've got court in half an hour. I should be done by noon. Call me this afternoon."
Betsy checked her watch. She had twenty minutes to prepare for court and no more time to spend thinking about Martin Darius.
Reggie Stewart found Ben Singer, the attorney who handled Samantha Reardon's divorce, by going through the court records. Singer had not heard from Reardon in years, but he did have an address near the campus.
Most of the houses around the University were older, single-family dwellings surrounded by well-kept lawns and shaded by oak and elm trees, but there was a pocket of apartments and boardinghouses that catered to students located several blocks behind the campus near the freeway.