Ricochet

Chapter 28

CATO LAIRD FELT SO GOOD IT WAS DIFFICULT TO KEEP HIS posture stooped and his expression aggrieved.

“Work is my tonic,” he’d said to those who expressed shock and concern when he returned to his office so soon after the tragedy that had befallen him.

He explained that aside from the healing he would derive from plunging back into work as soon as possible, he had a responsibility to the community. The criminal justice system was backlogged enough. He wouldn’t allow his personal tragedy to create a heavier workload for his colleagues.

Yada, yada. People ate it up.

Leaving the Chatham County Judicial Center, he waved good-bye to the security officers and, for their benefit, made it appear as though he had barely the strength to push open the heavy glass door.

But his footsteps were light as he made his way across the parking lot. The sun was low. He noticed what a tall, trim, and impressive shadow he cast on the pavement. Then another shadow joined his, equally tall, trim, and impressive. Simultaneously he was addressed from behind by a friendly voice.

“Hello, Judge.”

He turned just as Duncan Hatcher closed a strong hand around his biceps. The detective was smiling, but it was a cartoon character’s smile-that of the wolf up to no good. “How’s it hanging, Your Honor?”

“As well as can be expected, thank you.”

“When’s the funeral?”

“Under the circumstances, I’ve decided to forgo the customary service. I’m keeping the observance private.”

“Are you having the body cremated?”

“Your concern is touching, Detective. But, as I said, I’m keeping these matters private.”

Hatcher’s lupine leer vanished. “Get in the car.”

During their exchange, Hatcher had practically been dragging him toward his Lexus sedan, where Detective Bowen stood waiting, door open, motor running. “Good evening, Judge.”

“You broke into my car?”

“Part of the extended service now provided by the police department,” she said. “Driving home VIPs after a hard day at the office.”

“A judge who’s tough on cops and soft on criminals gets special treatment,” Hatcher said.

Cato tried to wrest his arm out of the detective’s grip, knowing before he even tried that it would be futile. He looked around for help, but the parking lot was deserted. “Let go of me.”

“As soon as you get in the car.”

“I’ll have your job for this, Hatcher.”

“Possibly. Probably. But not before I sing loud and clear for all to hear the sad ballad of the late Mrs. Laird’s alliance with professional criminal Robert Savich.”

So far, that had been kept out of the media. The judge wanted to keep it that way. He stopped struggling.

“Ah!” Hatcher said. “I see you know that tune.” He tightened his grip. “Now get in the car, or I’m going to break your arm, and actually nothing would give me more enjoyment.”

Hatcher’s eyes said he wasn’t bluffing. Obviously DeeDee Bowen thought the same. She was looking at her partner with consternation, and maybe a little fear.

“You’ll go to jail for this.” Despite the threat, Cato got into the backseat of his sedan. Hatcher scrambled in behind him. Detective Bowen got into the driver’s seat, conscientiously buckled her seat belt, then drove them out of the parking lot.

Cato didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned by the direction she took. He would have expected them to go toward either his home or the police station. Rather, they were going toward the river.

Within blocks of the courthouse, the trendy eateries and shops of the Market Square area gave way to run-down project housing, warehouses, and failed industries, most of them vacated and derelict. Boulevards narrowed into rutted streets lined on both sides with chain link fences topped by concertina wire. The car jounced over railroad tracks.

On their left the Talmadge Bridge loomed large. Beyond it was the Georgia Port Authority’s sprawling complex. Cato knew there were armed guards at those gates, but little good they could do him at this distance.

No one spoke until Hatcher said, “Here.”

Detective Bowen pulled the car to the side of the street and stopped, but left the engine idling.

The judge looked at their surroundings, then turned toward Hatcher beside him. “Very effective.”

“You think so?”

“Deserted. Laden with menace and implied threat.”

He wasn’t so much afraid as irritated. For all his bullying, Hatcher wasn’t going to harm him. But how dare he think he could get away with subjecting Judge Cato Laird to such roughhousing. The detective wasn’t only brash, he was also a fool.

In any case, it was time to turn the tables. He gave Hatcher a knowing smile. “Tell me. Assuage my curiosity. Did you fuck my wife? Or did you just want to?”

It was amusing to watch the detective’s features tighten and nearly solidify. Cato laughed softly. “Don’t castigate yourself too harshly, Detective Hatcher. Elise had that effect on most every man she met. Even a decorated officer of the law like yourself wasn’t immune to her charms. You’re not at all unique. And you’re not nearly as tough as you pretend to be.”

He didn’t see it coming. Hatcher moved with such speed that he didn’t realize what had happened until the blinding pain shot up from his groin and he heard himself scream.

“Is that tough enough for you?” Hatcher asked as he cruelly twisted the fist that was tightly squeezing the judge’s testicles.

In spite of himself, the agony brought tears to his eyes and he actually whimpered.

“Let me tell you what makes me both tough and unique, Judge,” Hatcher whispered, so close the judge could feel his hot, angry breath on his face. “I’m the guy that’s gonna rip off your balls right now if you don’t cooperate with us.”

From a distance, drifting toward him through a red fog of agony, he heard Detective Bowen say, “Duncan, don’t-”

“Shut up, DeeDee!” he barked. “I told you I was going to do this my way.”

“But you can’t-”

“I can. I am.” His grip tightened, gave another twist.

“What do you want?” Cato didn’t recognize the thin voice as his own.

Gradually Hatcher’s fist relaxed and then he let go. “Now that I have your undivided attention, you’ll do well to listen.”

Cato, trying to catch his breath and will away the pain, glanced toward the front seat. Detective Bowen was watching them with obvious anxiety. She didn’t agree with her partner’s tactics, but she wasn’t going to cross him by interfering.

“We think you’re dirty, Judge.”

“What?” He looked back at Hatcher, too quickly, he guessed by the smile that appeared on the detective’s face.

“We know you’re a crook, we just don’t yet know the extent of your criminal activity. And you know what? I don’t even care.”

Cato’s breathing had almost returned to normal, but, all the same, he thought it best to keep quiet.

“I’ve got nothing on you,” Hatcher said. “But I’ve finally got something on Savich, and it’s him I really want.”

The judge looked from him to DeeDee, then back to Hatcher. “We all want Savich.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. Because tomorrow he’ll be arraigned for doing Napoli.”

“Meyer Napoli?” Even if the judge said so himself, his exclamation of surprise sounded genuine.

“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that,” Hatcher said. “We’ve had an eyewitness come forward who saw Savich pop Napoli on the Talmadge Bridge.”

“You’re serious?” He addressed the question to Hatcher, then looked at his partner for confirmation.

She said, “Very serious, Judge. The witness also saw Napoli push Mrs. Laird over the wall into the river.”

“So Elise didn’t…didn’t jump? She didn’t end her own life?”

“It appears not,” DeeDee replied.

He ducked his head and dropped his voice to an emotional huskiness that also sounded authentic. “That’s good…good to know.”

“Savich came along just after Napoli did his dirty work for him,” DeeDee continued. “Apparently Napoli was blackmailing Savich with those photos of him and Mrs. Laird, same as he was blackmailing her and planned to blackmail you. Savich killed him.”

“And when the son of a bitch is brought into your courtroom tomorrow for his bond hearing,” Hatcher said, “you’d damn well better be in a hanging mood. That hearing should set the tone for his murder trial. Or we’re going to start looking for a reason why not.”

“I don’t understand why you felt it necessary to stage this…” He motioned out the window at the daunting surroundings. “Whatever this is.”

“Because I wanted to make it clear to you that I’m tired of being jerked around by the justice system-i.e., by you,” Hatcher said. “The last time we had Savich in your court, you let him walk.”

“I was compelled by-”

“Save it, Your Honor. But remember the conviction in your voice just now. That’s good. Very…judicial-sounding. Tomorrow, you deny Savich bond. He goes to jail and he stays in jail until his trial. You arrange it to preside over his trial, and you don’t give him or his lawyer Stan Adams a single break. Not on jury selection, not on any motions they may file, not on bathroom breaks. Nothing goes their way. Do we understand each other?”

“You’ve got no problem,” Cato returned smoothly.

“Actually we do,” DeeDee said, shooting a worried glance toward Hatcher. “Our eyewitness isn’t the most credible-”

“Credible enough.” Hatcher’s terseness effectively silenced her. “We have an eyewitness. We can nail Savich if for once you favor us instead of that murdering bastard. I don’t want a mistrial, not even if the jurors are reading the newspaper and watching a live broadcast of the trial on their cell phones while sitting in the jury box.

“I’m not going to be satisfied with anything other than a conviction and a sentence that will put him away for the rest of his life. I’ll leave whether or not he gets the death penalty to the jurors.”

The judge divided a look between them, ending on Hatcher. Although he despised the man, he felt like kissing him. The blustering idiot didn’t realize he was solving Cato’s problem: how to end his partnership with Savich without fearing retribution.

He’d recently come to the conclusion that their arrangement had run its course. He’d made a fortune off it, more money than he could ever spend, although he would have a happy retirement trying.

Not that money was the reason he’d entered into the agreement. The initial allure had been the thrill of the secrecy, the danger of getting caught. He’d loved having an ongoing flirtation with disaster.

But it had become almost too easy. The excitement had waned. Their partnership was a vulnerability no longer worth the risks. But to end it would have placed his life in peril. Savich ended partnerships, his partners didn’t.

Savich would be imprisoned for life, if not executed. If he called foul and began telling tales about crooked judges, who would listen? All men on death row had a gripe and a grudge, and nobody paid any attention to them, especially when the gripes were aimed at the judges who’d sentenced them.

It was all he could do to keep his expression appropriately somber when he made his pledge. “Savich will get what’s coming to him. I’ll see to it.”

Hatcher stared directly into his eyes as though testing his trustworthiness. Finally, apparently satisfied, he glanced at Detective Bowen and nodded. Without a word, she made a three-point turn and drove back toward the courthouse.

Despite his throbbing testicles, Cato could barely keep himself from humming.

The anteroom was empty, Kenny nowhere in sight.

The door to Savich’s private office was ajar. The room was dark except for a small lamp that cast a disk of light onto his desk. His sleek head was bent over paperwork. The part in his hair was so precise it looked like an incision cut by a scalpel.

Sensing he was no longer alone, he reached beneath his desk, where a pistol was secreted, then raised his head and looked at his unexpected guest.

His brilliant eyes widened marginally, but the surprise was quickly shuttered behind the impenetrable blue gaze that was the last thing many had seen in this life.

He said, “I heard the elevator and thought you were Kenny.”

“I look nothing like Kenny.”

He smiled, his teeth glaringly white in his dusky face. “Your sense of humor is intact. A good commentary on the afterlife.”

Elise pushed open the door and walked into his office. “I’m all too alive.”

“So I see. And looking reasonably well. Although I can’t say I approve of the new hairdo, and the outfit leaves much to be desired.”

“You don’t seem all that shocked to see me,” she said.

“I deal in absolutes, Elise. The accounts of your death were sketchy, speculative, and inconclusive. Did Napoli push you from the bridge? Did you jump after killing him? All very muddled.” He raised his hands. “Who knew what to believe?”

They looked at each other for several moments. Finally she said, “You haven’t offered me a seat.”

“Forgive me.” He motioned her into the chair facing his desk. “I guess I am a trifle shocked. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Both were wary, curious, edgy in the presence of the other because neither could predict the outcome of this meeting. She alone knew the purpose of it.

“Is your husband still in the dark?” he asked.

“You mean, does Cato know that I’m alive? No.”

“I see.”

“You don’t see at all.”

He flashed a smile. “Too true. I suppose you have a good reason for remaining dead. I’m bursting with anticipation to know what that reason is. Where have you been?”

“For the last three days, with Duncan Hatcher.”

He was taken aback, then gave a burst of laughter. “Delicious. Positively delicious. The last time I saw him, he was at wits’ end. I teased him about his crush on you. I thought it was unrequited.” He arched his eyebrow eloquently. “I guess not.”

Laughing again, he said, “I can understand why he would want in your pants. But for the life of me, I can’t imagine what you find attractive about him. Granted, he has a certain animal magnetism. Those shoulders. The square jaw. But he’s so tiresomely good, Elise,” he said with a shade of pity.

Then his smile turned reptilian. “Or rather he was. Until he met you. No wonder he began behaving irrationally. He’d been waging war on his lust, and it seems lust won out over duty.” He licked his lips as though savoring the taste of Duncan’s fall from grace. “How does it feel, Elise, to have a man give up his soul for you?”

“Duncan didn’t give up anything for me.”

“A pint or two of his self-righteousness, surely.”

“Temporarily, maybe.” She lowered her gaze to her hands, which were clasped in her lap. “He wants you more than he wants me.”

Savich leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of his desk. “I’m not following.”

She raised her head and looked at him. “You are what he desires, Savich. No one holds a place in his heart like you do. There’s no room in it for anything or anyone else. He has devoted himself to destroying you…one way or the other.”

He studied her for a moment, then stood up and came around the desk. “Yes. One way or the other. Stand up, Elise.”

She did so with hesitation and, guessing the reason for the request, held her arms straight out to her sides. “You think Duncan sent me here? He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”

“Forgive me my suspicious nature.” He patted her down, then raised her top to check her brassiere for hidden microphones.

She stared at him coldly as he pressed his hands against her.

He flashed a grin, then lowered her top and returned to his chair behind his desk. “It’s no news flash to me that Duncan Hatcher has wet dreams about my capture.”

“But now he has a way to make it happen.”

“Oh?”

“I survived Napoli and made it off the bridge that night…”

Since that much was obvious, he waited expectantly for the rest of it.

“But not before I saw you shoot him point-blank.”

“Ahh.” He leaned back in his chair, appearing not at all upset by the bold revelation.

“Based on my eyewitness, Duncan is on his way here to arrest you.”

“Is he?”

“He’s meeting with Cato now, threatening reprisals if Cato goes easy on you and lets you leave his courtroom a free man. Then he’s coming after you.”

Savich kept his gaze trained on her as he ruminated on what she’d told him. “By warning me, you’re betraying Duncan Hatcher.”

“That’s right.”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Duncan and I have different goals. He wants you.”

“And what do you want, sweet Elise?”

“I’m here to offer you a deal.”

“This conversation becomes more bizarre by the moment. I’m intrigued. What sort of deal?”

“If I testify to what I witnessed, you’ll be convicted of murder.”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll recant the story I told Duncan. I’ll claim that I shot Napoli in self-defense, as I did Trotter.”

“Hatcher didn’t believe the self-defense scenario then. He would find it even harder to believe you now.”

“I’ll say that’s why I made up this story about you, because I knew he wouldn’t believe me. In any case, without my eyewitness account, Duncan has nothing on you. No hard evidence with which to charge you. Without me, he can’t get you.”

He sat perfectly still, his eyes unblinking as he stared at her. Long moments passed. Finally he said, “This is an incredibly generous offer, Elise. By recanting, you not only make an enemy out of your new beau, you also risk incriminating yourself.”

“I’ll accept the risk, if you’ll accept my offer.”

He eyed her shrewdly, knowing that such an offer wouldn’t come free, or even cheaply. “What do you want in return? It must be something awfully important to you. Something you want very badly.”

“Yes. And it’s yours to give.”

“Ask.”

She leveled a look on him. “Give me Cato.”

As DeeDee relinquished the key to the Lexus to the judge, she avoided making eye contact, as though that would somehow distance her from what had taken place. On principle, she agreed with Duncan. But his rough handling of the judge was unacceptable. He had crossed a line. And Elise Laird was the reason.

They watched the judge drive away, then returned to her car. “That went exactly as planned,” Duncan remarked cheerfully as he got into the passenger seat.

“Have you lost all sense of what we’re about, Duncan?”

“We’re about getting Savich and then this asshole judge.”

“Getting them by any means, fair or foul?”

“We’ve tried fair. It didn’t work.”

“He could have you arrested for assault.”

“He could. He won’t. He’ll cover his ass and protect his reputation.” He checked his wristwatch. “We’re even ahead of schedule. We’ll easily make it to his office before he leaves. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Sure, now. What’d you think?”

“I thought you would follow procedure,” she exclaimed. “Get an arrest warrant. Consult our superior officer. Remember Captain Gerard? Worley? We’re not vigilantes. We’re police officers. We need backup and-”

“No,” he said, cutting her off emphatically.

They glared at each other across the car’s console. She was the first to relent and try another tactic. “You’ve lost your perspective, Duncan. Please stop and think about what you’re doing.”

“I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it until I’m sick of thinking about it. It’s time to act.”

“I agree, but we need to act responsibly and legally.”

“Fine,” he said curtly, “if you’re too squeamish for this, I’ll do it alone. If the shit comes down-”

“When the shit comes down.”

“Okay, when the shit comes down, you don’t want to be standing under it. I asked for this. You didn’t. Being a loyal partner only extends so far. I’m officially relieving you of any obligation to me. Leave and go with a clear conscience. But I’m going to do this, and I’m going to do it my way.”

He turned and reached for the door handle; she grabbed his sleeve. “Damn you, Duncan! You know I can’t let you barge in on Savich alone.”

He flashed her a brief smile. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

They drove in silence. When they were a block from Savich’s machine shop, Duncan unzipped a gym bag at his feet, took out a.357 revolver, and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers.

DeeDee looked at him with surprise. “Where’d you get that?”

“My house when I stopped to change clothes.”

“Where’s your nine-millimeter?”

“This fits my purpose better.”

“How so?”

He never answered. Instead he made a strangled sound of utter disbelief.

DeeDee followed his gaze.

His car, which he’d left with Elise Laird on Lady’s Island, was parked outside Savich’s building.