Chapter Seventeen
Thomas Horan’s campaign headquarters was located in a storefront office in the heart of the district he represented.
Volunteers manned phone lines that seemed to be ringing nonstop, and everyone in the campaign headquarters looked distracted and stressed.
The volunteers were supervised by a middle-aged woman who looked like she was an inch away from a nervous breakdown.
“Are you Julie Sunderland?” Audrey Packer asked.
“I am, but I’m too busy to talk if you’re with the press.”
“Damage control?” Audrey guessed.
“If you want a comment, you’ll have to wait for the congressman to hold a press conference.”
Audrey showed her credentials so only Sunderland could see them.
“I’m not a reporter,” she said quietly so that she wouldn’t be overheard. “I’m a homicide detective. Do you have somewhere private where we can talk? After Representative Horan’s tale of his space adventure, I can’t imagine you want any more stories floating about.”
Sunderland was clearly flustered. “Yes, certainly,” she said. “Let’s go to my office.”
Moments later, the women were seated in a claustrophobic office crowded with filing cabinets, a desk dominated by a computer monitor and piled high with campaign literature, and a wall covered with pictures of Thomas Horan shaking hands with the president, generals, and celebrities.
“I imagine your phone has been ringing like crazy ever since the congressman’s television appearance,” Audrey said as soon as the door was closed.
“Can you please get to the point? It’s been a madhouse, and I don’t have time for chitchat. What’s this about?”
“Was Terrance Cogen’s connection to Congressman Horan strictly as a donor to his campaign, or were they friends?”
“Does this have something to do with Mr. Cogen’s murder?”
“We’re just gathering background information,” Audrey answered.
“Mr. Cogen did contribute to Tom’s campaign, and he attended some of our fundraisers. They also socialized. The congressman has been friends with Mr. Cogen since high school.”
“Was Mr. Cogen a major contributor?”
“He did give the maximum that is allowed legally.”
“Just out of curiosity—and it won’t go any further—what’s been the reaction to the congressman’s TV appearance?”
Sunderland closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and took a deep breath.
“It’s been utter chaos in here. If he’d asked Eric or me about going on that show … I don’t know what Tom was thinking.”
“So, the reaction has been negative?”
Sunderland pursed her lips and her brow furrowed. “It’s been weird, but it hasn’t been all bad. We’ve had a lot of calls applauding Tom’s courage and making donations to his campaign. We’ve also had some donors asking for their money back. It’s too early to say, but right now, I’d say it’s a push.”
“Thanks for your help, Miss Sunderland. Is there anyone else I can talk to who might know more about the congressman’s relationship to Mr. Cogen?”
“You don’t think Tom had any involvement in Mr. Cogen’s death, do you?”
“We don’t have any evidence pointing that way. Like I said, this is just background.”
“Have you talked to Tom’s wife, Francine?”
“She’s the one who suggested I talk to you.”
“Eric might know something.”
“Eric Gilmore?”
“Yes, but he’s in Washington right now.”
“Do you have a phone number I can use to reach him?”
Audrey wrote down the number and left. Terrance Cogen had stolen a lot of money, and no one knew what had happened to it. Audrey wondered if some of it had been washed through Thomas Horan’s campaign.
While Audrey Packer was interviewing Julie Sunderland at Thomas Horan’s election headquarters, Chad Remington was eating lunch with Sol Krieger, an old acquaintance, at a Chinese restaurant a few blocks north of the federal building, where Krieger prosecuted financial crimes.
“Why are you springing for my General Tso’s chicken,” Krieger asked as soon as the waitress took their order.
“I was assigned the Terrance Cogen case, and I understand you were looking into his scams.”
“I was, and I still am.”
“What can you tell me?”
“Mr. Cogen was involved in a lot of bad shit. Have you been to his penthouse?”
“I have. And Mrs. Cogen told me it wasn’t his. She said that she owns the penthouse and the estate.”
Krieger smiled. “Rosemarie is one sexy woman, and way smarter than Terrance.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what she saw in him.”
“I saw some pictures before he put on all that weight. He was a good-looking guy, and he must be a smooth talker to pull off all those scams.”
“Everything he did was very stupid. There’s no question that he was going to be caught eventually.” Krieger shook his head. “A lady with her IQ should have seen through him. Did you know she was a math major at Stanford?”
“No.”
“She belongs to Mensa and used to be a rated chess player. And if you thought she was a trust fund baby, you would be wrong. She didn’t inherit much beyond the Dunthorpe place from her father. She made her dough through the stock market, and she did very nicely.”
“What was Cogen doing?”
“I’ll get you my reports so you can see the details, but he stole a lot of money from the condo after he got himself elected as the condo’s treasurer. There were unaccounted millions that were supposed to go to building projects that never happened.
“Another scam involved apartment complexes he was supposedly building. He would dupe people into investing in them. Then he would forge the investors’ signatures, secretly sell the properties, and pocket the profits. Some investors put their entire retirement accounts into his scheme.
“His stupidest scam involved borrowing money from banks, then forging documents that said he’d paid back the loan so he could get another loan from another bank.”
Krieger shook his head again. “It’s one thing to steal from your HOA or retirees, but you do not fuck with banks. They were the first to figure out what was going on. We started looking into the bank scams, and one thing led to another.”
“It sounds like he was stealing a lot of money,” Chad said.
“It was in the millions.”
“Has the money been recovered?”
“We’re searching for it.”
“Do you think he was acting alone?”
“No way. He wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to hide his ill-gotten gains. We’re pretty sure that he was laundering money through the Lucifer’s Disciples, but we don’t have enough to go after them yet.”
“Do you think Mrs. Cogen was involved? From what you’ve said, she would know how to hide the money.”
“It’s possible, but we don’t have any evidence that points to her.”
Their food came. Chad and Krieger talked about Cogen some more, then switched to sports and their private lives. Chad said goodbye and started walking back to police headquarters when his phone rang. He answered it and learned that they had gotten a hit on Cynthia Woodruff’s car.