The conference room, like the rest of the Tribune Building’s seventh floor, had been renovated. Yet, the room still smelled of cigar smoke from the days when newspapermen occupied every inch of the building. One wall of the conference room was lined with books. A Rockwell-like painting of a Tribune paperboy hawking newspapers hung on another. Three windows peered down onto the grayish streets seven floors below.
Corbin spread Beaumont’s file out across the oak conference table. Being a fraud case, a so-called “paper case,” the file contained significantly more evidence than the typical criminal file. Not only were there the usual witness statements and forensics reports, but the file also contained a vast array of bank and credit card documents, copies of checks, and dozens of receipts, along with a raft of evidence related to Beaumont’s prior run-ins with the law. Corbin took copious notes. After an hour of digging through the file, Corbin emerged from the conference room to find Beckett. Beckett’s office was small, but relatively modern. His personal effects were scattered throughout the room.
“I know how they caught our boy,” Corbin stated.
Beckett closed the file he was reading.
“It looks like Beaumont operated an identity theft ring,” Corbin continued. “He was stealing credit cards and checkbooks from mailbox stores. Then he used the checks and credit cards at local stores. Sadly for us, he robbed one of our boxes.”
“I thought you cleared all those out?”
“We did at first. We emptied every box completely, and I accounted for every check and credit card we were expecting. But we never went back to collect monthly statements. It’s possible Beaumont used those to order more checks or maybe some bank sent free checks without telling us? I don’t know. We used the starter checks, and we never ordered regular checks. If a whole new set of checks showed up a few weeks later, we never would have known.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter how he got them?”
“No, not really,” Corbin agreed. “At this point, they’ve charged him with about a dozen bad checks on our accounts and about two dozen bad checks on accounts that aren’t ours. They also charged him with stealing three identities we used to open the accounts and with a weapons charge.”
“They’re up to something with the weapons charge,” Beckett suggested.
“Could be. It seems out of place and there’s not much about it in the file. What’s interesting is they could have charged him with a lot more. I’m not sure why they didn’t. If he’s convicted on all counts, he’s only facing five years max if they run everything consecutively, two if they run everything concurrently. With time off for good behavior, he’ll be free in either three years or one year. That’s not a lot of time for a guy like Beaumont. He can do that standing on his head.”
“The prosecutor wants him to plead to three years.”
Corbin furrowed his brow. “That seems a little optimistic on their part. Do you think they’d take two years?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Beckett blurted out. “I’m not letting Beaumont plead guilty to anything we did.”
“What if he wants to?!” Corbin retorted.
“Forget it. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Beaumont brought this on himself and our crimes are only tangential to his. I don’t accept that.” Beckett rose and stared out the window. “I’m not letting him go down for our crimes, even if they’re mixed in with his own. He’s innocent, and if you’re just here to talk me out of this, then you should leave now. I’m serious about doing the right thing.”
“He may not be guilty, but he’s hardly innocent. Have you read his file?”
Beckett shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he’s done in the past. I’m only concerned with what he’s accused of now.”
“It does matter. If you’re going to throw your life away for the guy, then you need to understand who he is.”
“I know he’s a bad guy, but right and wrong don’t depend on who gets hurt.”
“Sometimes they do, Evan,” Corbin growled.
“No, Alex, they don’t.”
Corbin flipped through his notes. “Did you know your friend Beaumont deals crack to school kids?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell that to the parents. Did you know your friend Beaumont killed two women, at the same time?” Beckett opened his mouth to speak, but Corbin cut him off. “He raped one before killing her. The other one, his girlfriend, he brought along to watch the rape. Then he shot her, right after he shot the woman he raped.”
“Then they should have charged him with murder.”
“Oh, they did. They’ve charged him with all kinds of things, but witnesses have a habit of vanishing before they can testify against him. Take Manuel Lopez. Manuel, a day laborer, had the misfortune of seeing Beaumont leave the scene of the aforementioned double homicide. Two days after his name became known to Beaumont, Manuel disappeared. Manuel reappeared in the river a week later. They’d broken most of his bones with a lead pipe before dumping him into the river to drown.”
“I’m sorry the system doesn’t always work, but maybe if the cops did their jobs a little better, he would already be behind bars. Our suspicion that he’s bad doesn’t give us the right to let him take the fall for our crimes. No matter what he did or what we think he did, this, what’s happening now, isn’t right.”
“Wait a minute,” Corbin protested.
“No. Allowing him to be punished for our crimes is wrong, and we can’t hide behind his prior actions to justify our failure to take responsibility for our own.”
Corbin took a deep breath. “Has it dawned on you that sometimes, maybe just maybe, doing the right thing means letting something wrong happen?”
They stared at each other silently.
“You can’t do good by doing evil,” Beckett finally said. “Right is right. Wrong is wrong. Right and wrong depend on what you do, not who you do it to.”
“Sometimes it does, Evan,” Corbin replied bitterly.
“No, Alex, it never does. We don’t have the right to judge this man.”
“The hell we don’t!”
Both men glared at each other until Beckett turned away.
“Alex, I want you to understand, this isn’t about Beaumont. This is about reconciling ourselves to our consciences and to a higher power.”
“Fair enough,” Corbin replied. “But I want you to understand who you’re protecting.”
“I do.” Beckett picked up the file from his desk. “Are you ready to meet Beaumont? He should be back at jail by now.”
“Can’t wait.” Corbin rolled his eyes. “Before we meet him though, tell me this: what if Beaumont pleads guilty to the other crimes and the charges related to our crimes get dismissed. Will that satisfy you?”
Beckett put his fingers to his lips and stared at his desk. “Yes.”
The visitation room, like the rest of the jail, smelled like a high school locker room. The room itself was small, six feet by six feet, with a door at the front and the back. The walls were cinderblock, except the front wall, which was Plexiglas to allow the guards to observe what happened in the room. Crammed into this room was a small plastic table and three tiny plastic chairs which looked like they belonged at a middle school.
“This is fucking bullshit! I ain’t pleadin’ to no deal,” Beaumont said emphatically, dashing any hope he would take a plea deal. He plopped down in the plastic chair. His wrists and ankles were shackled.
“That’s fine,” Beckett replied. “I had an ethical obligation to let you know they offered a deal. They want you to serve-”
“No! Fuck no! No deal. I said ‘no deal’,” Beaumont barked in cadence.
“All right, you have the right to reject their deal.”
“’Course I got the right. I know my rights.” Beaumont frowned at Corbin. “You still here?”
“Where else would I be?” Corbin replied indifferently.
“Back at yo’ foundation.”
By this time, Beckett had warned Corbin to expect Beaumont to question his story about belonging to a foundation which represents people who are unfairly targeted by the police.
“I’m here to help you,” Corbin said without conviction.
“I ain’t never heard of no foundation.”
“You’ve never heard of the Magna Carta either, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You want us to leave?” Corbin’s tone made it clear he didn’t care whether or not they continued to represent Beaumont.
“They’ve got a lot of evidence against you,” Beckett interjected, trying to change the topic before Corbin changed Beaumont’s mind about letting them represent him. He spread the file out across the table.
“Yeah, well that’s bullshit,” Beaumont replied with great hostility.
“Drop the act, partner. We’re here to help you,” Corbin shot back.
“Whoa! Everybody calm down,” Beckett commanded, placing his hand in the air between Corbin and Beaumont. “Beaumont, we’re here to help you. Just tell us your side.”
“There ain’t no side, man! Cops set me up.”
“Give me a break,” Corbin said, rolling his eyes.
“Give you a break?! You ain’t the one got the man kickin’ down yo’ door, waving his standard issue in yo’ face. Cops been on me for years.”
“Oh bull! I’ve seen the evidence. You’re guilty as hell. The jury’s gonna beg to convict you.”
“Calm down guys, this isn’t helping,” Beckett said. “I believe you, Beaumont.”
“Don’t gimme that!” Beaumont exploded again. “I ain’t no fool. You don’t believe me. You just here to punch some ticket.”
“That’s not true. I honestly believe you. That’s why we’re here.”
Beaumont stared at Beckett for several seconds. Then he lowered his voice and said, “The cops set me up. I did not do this thing.”
“Tell us what happened.”
“I didn’t do nothin’. First I heard about this identity shit, that cop come blastin’ into my place, jam his piece into the back of my head, and start beatin’ me while his buddies laughed. Then they drop all this evidence and haul my ass off.”
Beckett picked up Corbin’s notes and flipped through several pages. “Where were you on June 14?”
“Let me check my day planner,” Beaumont replied sarcastically. “How am I supposed to know where I was on June 14th? Do you know where you was on June 14th?”
“I do,” Corbin said, followed by a short cynical laugh. June 14th was the day Beckett and Alvarez opened the accounts.
Beckett shot Corbin a nasty look before refocusing on Beaumont. “Have you ever been in Penn Bancorp?”
“No.”
“The manager claims you opened an account there on June 14th.”
“Never happened. Never been in that bank,” Beaumont said rhythmically.
“How about First Regional. The prosecutor claims you opened an account at First Regional Bank on June 14th as well.”
“Never been there neither.”
“They have a teller who claims she can identify you.”
“She’s lying.”
“They have a video from First Regional with you on it.”
“Let me see the video and I can tell you.”
“This is a waste of time!” Corbin declared. He rose from his seat and reached for the file, causing Beaumont to pushed his chair away from the table.
“Everybody hold on!” Beckett commanded. He signaled Corbin to step outside.
“This is a waste of time,” Corbin repeated to Beckett, as Beaumont watched them through the glass. “He may not have done this, but he’s lying to us about being in these banks. How are we supposed to help him if he lies to us?”
“That’s what you get in the system. Every one of these guys lies through their teeth. They want to control the story. They come up with something they think they can sell and they stick with it. They lie to the cops. They lie to the jury. They lie to the judge. They even lie to their lawyers.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. We’re his lawyers. We’re here to help him.”
Beckett shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms. “Not in his world. I’ve met hundreds of guys like him. Every one of them lied. Not one of them trusted me, at least not at first. Every one of them thinks they can control what happens by lying. They all think they’re the cleverest liar on the planet and the story they’ve come up with is a better story than the truth.”
“Well this guy is lying himself right into a conviction. You’ve seen the file. You know they can put him in those two banks. If he sticks with his story that he’s never been there, then he’s doomed.”
Beckett swayed back and forth, something he did whenever he was deep in thought. “We need to rattle his confidence. We need him to realize he’s out of his league this time, that his lies won’t work. I hate doing that though, because it can ruin the attorney-client relationship.”
“I’ll do it. I deposed witnesses for my uncle when he was busy.” During law school, Corbin worked for his uncle’s law practice.
Beckett nodded his head. “Ok. Hit him with everything in the file, twist him around as much as you can. You need to shake him. I’ll play good cop when the time is right. Don’t worry about the rules of evidence or admissibility, he won’t know the difference, so I’ll let you get away with more than you could at trial.”
Returning to the visitation room, Corbin reviewed his notes as Beckett explained that Corbin would go over the prosecution’s case with Beaumont. Beckett would observe.
“You claim you’ve never been in First Regional Bank?” Corbin began.
“That’s what I said.”
“And you don’t have an account there either?”
“Of course not, I never been there,” Beaumont replied condescendingly.
“The prosecutor has a video that disagrees with you. It shows you in First Regional.”
“Let me see the video.”
“You’ll see the video at trial. I’ve seen it, and there’s no mistaking you,” Corbin lied. He’d only seen a description of the video at this point.
Beaumont glanced at Beckett. “This is all attorney-client shit, right?”
“Yes,” Beckett responded.
“You can’t tell nobody what I say?”
“No one.”
Beaumont folded his arms and returned his attention to Corbin. “I was there with a friend.”
“You’re alone on the video,” Corbin countered.
Beaumont shrugged.
“If you don’t have an account at the bank and you weren’t there with a friend, why were you there?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was it because you have a fake account there in some other name?”
“No.”
“So you just like hanging out at First Regional?” Corbin asked snidely. When Beaumont refused to answer, Corbin continued. “Do you have an account at Penn Bancorp?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember if you have an account there? You know that’s an easy one to look up?”
“I ain’t got no account.”
“Then what were you doing there?”
Beaumont again didn’t respond.
“Why were you at Penn Bancorp on June 14th?” Corbin pressed him.
“I don’t know, I forgot.”
Corbin laughed. “You forgot?”
“Yeah, I don’t remember. I’m not debatin’ wit’ chu.”
“Do you know what the manager says?”
“I don’t know no manager.”
Corbin flipped over several pages in his notepad. “That’s funny, she remembers you. She says you opened an account in the name of Scott Stevens.” Stevens worked with Corbin in the Washington office.
“I don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“Nothing?” Corbin asked with mock surprise.
“No, nothin’.”
“So you can’t refute her statement then.”
“I didn’t say that,” Beaumont blurted out. “You putting words in my mouth!”
“Where did the checkbooks and credit cards come from?”
“The cop planted them-”
“Which cop?” Corbin demanded even before Beaumont finished speaking.
“I don’t know, I didn’t see which cop,” Beaumont answered. He was becoming confused. Corbin had increased the pace of his questions, giving Beaumont less time to think. This was breaking down Beaumont’s prepared story.
“You told us earlier you watched him ‘drop the evidence’ before they hauled you to the cruiser.”
“So what?”
“So which is it? Did you see him ‘drop the evidence’ or did they do it after you left?”
“I saw ’em drop it.”
“Then which cop did it?”
“Man, I don’t know,” Beaumont replied angrily. He wiped the sweat from his brow against the upper part of his sleeve; the shackles kept him from lifting his hands to his head.
“Did they plant the gun as well?”
“Yeah, that ain’t my piece. I don’t own no piece.”
“Have you ever owned a gun?” Corbin increased the pace of his questioning again.
“Naw, man. I don’t need no gun.”
Corbin flipped to another page in his notes, and without missing a beat, asked: “Didn’t you make the same claim two years ago, that the cops planted a gun on you?”
“Yeah, ’cause they did.”
“And you made the same claim the year before that!”
When Beaumont didn’t respond, Beckett interrupted: “Beaumont, at trial, the judge will make you answer these questions.”
Beaumont shot an angry, doubtful look at Beckett. “I don’t got to answer nothin’. I got constitutional rights to remain silent.”
Beckett shook his head. “If you choose to testify, then you need to answer all questions. You can’t pick and choose which ones you want to answer.”
Beaumont visibly recoiled.
Corbin resumed his attack in the same aggressive manner as before. “What do you do for a living, Beaumont?”
“I make do,” Beaumont responded, as he glanced around the room.
“Where do you work?”
“What do you care?!”
“You sell drugs for a living, don’t you.”
“No.”
Corbin’s eyes bore into Beaumont’s. “You were arrested five years ago for selling crack cocaine.”
“Man, they arrested me, but I didn’t do nothing.”
“When they arrested you, they found $4,200 on you.”
“That ain’t no crime.”
“Those dollars were in fact marked, correct?”
“How would I know?”
Corbin reached for the file. “I have in this file, the sworn testimony of two officers, who state the money found in your possession had been marked as part of a drug sales sting.”
“Look, man,” Beaumont said, sitting up straight and trying to point at the file, though his shackles prevented him from raising his hands more than a couple inches from his lap. “I had nothing to do with that! That was some of my boys. They running low on cash. They owed their street tax. So, they sold a little dark idol. Ain’t no crack. They give me some money I was owed, that’s it. The cops try to make me part of some conspiracy, but that ain’t true.”
“‘Dark idol’?” Corbin asked.
“Heroin! Man, where you from?!”
“Do your friends normally give you the proceeds when they sell heroin?”
“Naw, he owed me money. I sold him a car.”
“I thought you said it was ‘street tax.’”
“No, it was a car.”
“What make and model?” Corbin demanded immediately.
“I don’t remember.”
“We can look that up at the DMV,” Corbin said in a tone that told Beaumont he could disprove Beaumont’s lie. “Car sales get registered, unlike guns,” Corbin added, trying to lead Beaumont to his next mistake. Beaumont took the bait.
“That’s what I meant, a gun.”
“I thought you’ve never owned a gun.”
“Fuck, I don’t remember what the money was for. The cops dropped the charges. That means it didn’t happen.”
Corbin shook his head at Beaumont. “What was the name of your friend?”
“Farrouk. . Farrouk Winslow.”
“Was he the only one?”
Beaumont remained silent.
“I can look up the arrest record if I need to.”
“David Carson. He gave me money too, and they busted him too.”
Corbin flipped through his notes before beginning again. “Do you know a CarrieFey Benz, aka ‘Santa Fey’?”
“What about her?” Beaumont asked suspiciously.
“She called the cops on you, didn’t she? She told them you sold crack to her son. He was twelve at the time.”
“Shit, she’s the crackhead.”
“And when the son didn’t pay, you beat him with a lead pipe while two of your friends held him down.”
Once again, Beaumont remained silent.
“So why does a big man like you need help to hold down a twelve year old kid?”
“I don’t need nobody to hold down no twelve year old!” Beaumont blurted out before catching himself. He turned to Beckett. “Look, that never happened,” he explained to Beckett, ignoring Corbin’s stare. “If I would’a beat a twelve year old kid with a lead pipe, he’d be dead. That woman, she used to deal, but she did her own product. When she did it, she did a lot. That’s why they call her Santa Fey? Cause Fey make it snow like Christmas.”
“If she was the dealer, why did she call the cops on you?” Corbin countered.
Beaumont turned to face Corbin again. “’Cause she got in trouble with child services. That woman was in serious need of a exorcism. She smacked her kid around, and they want to take the kid away. So she blamed me.”
“And the bruises on the child-”
“Was caused by her.”
“She vanished without a trace after calling the cops,” Corbin said in a calmer tone that implied less doubt about Beaumont’s tale.
“She disappear when her old man come looking for her. Left the kids and everything.” Beaumont matched Corbin’s calmer tone.
“Who is the old man?” Corbin asked, continuing to soften his tone.
“Don’t know, she used to call him Methadone Man, said he had an occasional girlfriend called Crystal, and that made him crazy.”
“He was on methadone or crystal meth?” Beckett interrupted.
“He done both.”
“She never gave you a real name for Methadone Man?” Corbin asked.
“Said his name was Roy, that’s all I know.”
“Do you know where we can find Roy?”
Beaumont smirked. “Roy got sentenced by Judge Colt and his jury of six. Shame too, right after he busted his paper.”
“Busted his-?”
“Finished his parole. Then the fool got hisself shot,” Beaumont explained.
“Who killed him?”
“I don’t know, we weren’t that close.”
“Do you know where he was killed?” Corbin asked.
“I ain’t got no idea. I never heard nothin’ about it.”
“Did they ever arrest anyone for it?”
“I said, I don’t know.”
“Where is David Carson today?” Corbin asked.
Beaumont froze for a second. “I don’t know.”
“Isn’t he in prison in Tennessee?” Corbin asked, pulling a court record from Tennessee from the file. It indicated that David Carson was convicted of the murder of Roy Jackson and an unidentified woman during, what Carson claimed, was a drug deal gone wrong.
“How would I know?!” he blurted out, stumbling over the words. He looked shocked.
“You said he was your friend.”
“No, I said he owed me money!”
“Do you know the name of the child services agent?”
“The what?!” Beaumont asked, completely surprised.
“What was the name of the child services agent who investigated CarrieFey?” Corbin sharpened his tone.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s easy enough to find out.” Corbin wrote something on his legal pad.
Beaumont’s face flushed. “They ain’t gonna remember,” he stammered.
“Child services keeps a record of all investigations,” Corbin said matter-of-factly, as he nonchalantly flipped through his notes.
“She might’a been lying.”
Corbin looked up. “Excuse me?!”
“When she said she was being investigated, she could’a been lying.”
“Let’s move on,” Corbin said, frowning and shaking his head. He paused to look at his notes, letting Beaumont sweat. It took about five seconds for Beaumont to break.
“Hold on, hold on! If that bitch lie to me, I don’t want you thinkin’ I did nothin’.”
“Are you telling me you want to change your story?” Corbin feigned surprise.
Beaumont looked around nervously, but remained silent. He bit his lip. Corbin took advantage of Beaumont’s nervousness to press harder.
“Tell me about Letricia Gittner.”
“What about her?”
“Oh, I don’t know. . tell me why you raped her and killed her?”
Beaumont almost jumped out of his chair, but the shackles yanked him back down. “I ain’t never raped nobody, and I didn’t kill her!”
“Then I take it you didn’t shoot your girlfriend Mona Hampton either?”
“I ain’t never shot or raped nobody!”
Corbin laughed. “Do you know your accent changes when you get angry?”
“Fuck you, man!”
Beckett started to interrupt, but Corbin cut him off. “Ok, you didn’t kill her. Tell me what happened?”
“What do you want to know?!” Beaumont barked.
“Do you deny being at the scene?”
“No.”
“Then tell us what happened. It’s a simple question.” Corbin stared unwaveringly into Beaumont’s eyes.
Beaumont breathed heavily. Sweat visibly soaked his shirt. His eyes shifted around the room. “I got a text. It was Letricia. Me and her been going at it behind my girl Mona’s back. Letricia tells me, she wants $10,000 or she’s gonna tell Mona. I agreed to meet her.” Beaumont paused, waiting to see if Corbin would interrupt; he didn’t. “When I get there, she tells me she don’t care about the money, she just wants me.”
“Was Mona present?” Beckett asked.
“No. Not at first.” Beaumont eased back into his chair and relaxed his shoulders. “I start thinking, I can keep a good thin’ going. So I start talkin’ to her like we still lovers. Soon we’re gettin’ down.”
“Where did you do it?” Corbin asked.
“Right there on the floor.”
“Not on the bed?”
“Naw, she’s freaky like that.” Beaumont glanced at Beckett before continuing. “When I’m getting dressed, Mona shows up. She’s pissed. She read the text and she followed me. She’s got a gun. . big fuckin’ cannon. She starts rantin’ and shit. Next thing I know, she puts the gun to Letricia’s head and pulls the trigger. Bam! I’m across the room, but I get covered in blood and shit. I’m thinking, ‘Fuck, this bitch gonna do me next,’ so I doved behind the television.” He glanced at Beckett again.
“And?” Corbin prodded him.
“Next thing I know she starts screamin’ and cryin’. I look up and see her blow her own brains out.”
“Mona shot Letricia and then turned the gun on herself?” Corbin repeated skeptically.
“It’s true man.”
“And what did you do next?”
“I ran like a motherfucker. Man, I know the cops. They were gonna pin this on me, so I took off.”
“Where did you run?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did the police find you?”
“At home.”
“So you went straight home?”
“I don’t remember, it was all a blur.”
“Was Letricia sitting or standing when she was shot?”
“I don’t remember.”
Corbin took a deep breath. He pursed his lips and visibly ran his tongue over his teeth. He wanted Beaumont to know he didn’t believe Beaumont’s story. “A moment ago, you remembered every detail of everything that happened vividly. Now you’re telling me you don’t remember basic details from the critical moment, the moment that should be eternally seared into your brain?”
“Standing!” Beaumont blurted out. “She was standing. I was sittin’ on the couch behind her.”
“Other than the shooting, was there any fighting?”
“No, nobody touched nobody.”
“Did you ever touch the gun?”
“No.”
“Did you ever touch Mona?”
“No, man.”
Corbin closed his file and stared directly into Beaumont’s eyes. “Your index finger print was found on the trigger guard. Tell me how it got there.”
“I think we’ve gone far enough today,” Beckett suddenly interjected.
Corbin and Beaumont both looked at Beckett with surprise.
Beckett started collecting papers from the table. “We’re going to investigate what you’ve told us. Do you have any questions?”
Beaumont looked at Beckett suspiciously, then he looked at Corbin who still stared at Beckett. “No man, I don’t got no questions. When you comin’ back?”
“We’ll be back in about a week. We’ll talk about preparing a defense then.” Beckett shoved the last of the papers into the file folder. He rose. “Hang tight Beaumont, we’ll be in touch.”
Outside at the bus stop, a safe distance from the jail, Corbin spoke for the first time. “What the hell was that? Five more minutes and-”
“. . and you would have proven he killed two women. I know. But as an attorney, I can’t let him lie. So the less I know the better. That’s why I had to stop you. Plus, you did what you had to.”
“I could have broken him.”
“You did break him, he just doesn’t know it yet. Let the memory of what happened in there sink in. He’ll be in a panic by the end of the week. It’s better to let this eat at him, than it is to break him on the spot and let him have the week to save his pride. Fear is strongest as a motivator before you know how things are going to turn out. It diminishes once the deed is done and all you have to do is suffer to consequences. Let him sweat.”
Corbin sat in the hotel chair with his feet resting on the bed and his cell phone against his ear. The room was cold and dark. He was tired from the long day, but Alvarez insisted on going over the entire day in detail.
“This guy sounds like a real turd,” opined Alvarez.
“He is.” Corbin rubbed his eyes.
“I can’t believe Beckett is willing to go down to save him. I mean, maybe I could understand if he was just some guy, but this guy deserves whatever he gets.”
“I know.”
“Has he given you any idea what he’s really thinking?”
“There’s no mystery to it. Beckett’s got it in his head that somehow this is wrong, no matter what Beaumont’s done.”
“Do you think you can get him off?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” Corbin said indifferently.
“It sounds like you could be in Philly for a long time. What did you tell your boss?”
“I told him I had a sick aunt.”
“Did he buy that?”
“Sure, he’s happy to have me not working. The less work I do, the bigger the backlog, the greater the justification for his budget.”
“He denied having the wallet?” Alvarez meant Beckett. He was jumping all over in his questions, but Corbin had little trouble keeping up.
“He denied even knowing about the wallet.”
“What do you think that means?”
“It means he has it.”
“Where?”
“Could be anywhere, but I suspect he has it nearby. I’m going to search the office tomorrow at lunch or in the evening. If I don’t find it there, I’ll search his hotel room.”
“How are you going to get into his hotel?” Alvarez asked.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t get caught. What do we do if you can’t find the wallet?”
“Just keep going.”
“What if he tries to turn you in?”
Corbin tapped his finger against the back of the phone. “I’m not going to talk about that on the phone.”
“He gave away the money?” Alvarez asked this several times already; he was having a hard time believing it.
“So he says.”
“Then how’s he supporting himself?”
Corbin shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s probably on a leave of absence, like I am. Kak still pays me every two weeks.”
“But I thought he was going broke? How can he add the cost of a hotel and living separately from his family? He’s got to be using the money we gave him.”
“I don’t know. Maybe his financial situation wasn’t as dire as he claimed. Remember, he used to commute by train every day. That’s not cheap. Maybe he’s using that money to pay for his hotel? Maybe he’s putting it all on credit? Maybe he lied about getting rid of the money? I don’t know.”
“When are you coming back to town?”
“This weekend.”
“All right, call me if something comes up.”
Corbin hung up and checked his messages. He had several including a message from Blue to call him back and a lengthy message from Penny. He listened to a few seconds of her message before calling her.
“Hello,” came Penny’s familiar voice.
“Hey there.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” Corbin heard a loud clank through the phone. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning my oven,” she said. “Oh shoot.”
“What?”
“This bottle says ‘avoid direct eye contact,’ and I’m staring right at it.”
Corbin snickered.
“How’s your aunt?” Penny asked.
“She’s fine.”
“Fine enough that you’re coming back soon?” Penny asked hopefully.
“I’ll be down this weekend, but I have to turn around and come right back Sunday night.”
“At least I can have you on Saturday. . unless you have another date?”
Corbin laughed. “No, no other date. I guess I’m available.”
“You ‘guess’?” Penny mimicked. “Oh good for me,” she laughed. “I’ll have to check my calendar and see if I’m free as well.” Penny closed the oven and turned on the clean function. “Did you talk to Blue?”
“No, I’ll call him next.”
“He’s got good news for you. I’ll let him tell you though. . I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he replied. “But listen, it’s been a really long day, and there are things I still need to do, so let me call you tomorrow?”
“Fine, blow me off,” Penny said in mock frustration.
Corbin laughed.
After they said goodbye, Corbin pulled up Blue’s number, but he didn’t dial it. Instead, he turned off the cell phone. He was tired. He rubbed his temples and stared out the window. Beneath the yellow street lights, he could see sheets of rain falling against the deserted street.