Chapter Twenty-One
Gabby Wright was sitting at a table in the back of the Lucifer’s Disciples’ clubhouse with five other gang members.
He was holding three sevens and was deciding whether to raise after another Disciple had just raised him when his cell phone started playing “Bad to the Bone,” his ring tone.
Gabby glanced at the caller ID and saw Walter Zegda’s name.
“Hold on a sec, Walt,” Gabby said. “Felix and me are doing battle.”
Felix was a terrible poker player, and Gabby was certain he was bluffing.
“I’ll raise, Felix,” Gabby said.
Felix stared at the pot, hesitated, then called.
Gabby laid down his cards, and Felix swore. Gabby pocketed his winnings and walked to a place where he could talk to Zegda without being overheard.
“What’s up?” Gabby said.
“I have a job for you. There’s a deputy DA I want you to follow. I’ll text you her picture. Let me know what she does and who she meets. Just shadow her. Don’t make contact.”
Gabby disconnected. Moments later, Zegda sent him a photo of Muriel Lujack.
Muriel Lujack closed her eyes and sighed.
Two hours ago, her jury had brought in a guilty verdict in a sex abuse case that she was not sure she was going to win.
Adrenaline had kept her going while she was in trial, but that stimulant had disappeared as fast as bathwater swirling down a drain as soon as she closed the door to her office, leaving her completely exhausted.
The smart thing to do would have been to go home and veg out, but Muriel was genetically programed to be conscientious, so she had worked up her case summary and notes about possible appellate issues as soon as she was in her office, a task she’d just finished.
Muriel was about to go home when the door opened and Ellen Kaufman walked in with a big smile on her face.
“Congratulations! The detectives just told me that you won Foster. You must be over the moon.”
Muriel gave her boss a tired smile. “I’m just relieved.”
“The detectives said you were terrific. They thought your closing argument nailed it.”
“I’m glad they liked it.”
“Hey, don’t go all modest on me. There are several attorneys in this office—who I will not name—who I don’t think could have pulled this off.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m going to go home and celebrate by taking a hot bath and going to bed.”
Ellen laughed. Then she looked serious. “There was something I wanted to ask you. Whenever someone checks out a closed case file, everyone gets a text from the clerk.”
Muriel felt a jolt of fear. “Why does that happen?”
“If someone else in the office knows about the case, they might be able to help,” Kaufman answered. “Anyway, I understand that you’ve been looking into old files about the Baer case. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Why do you care that I was reading those files?”
“Come on, Muriel. You handled Karen Wyatt’s post-conviction hearing.
The Baer case and its aftermath were devastating for this office and the PPB.
And it was personal for me. I mentored Donna Ridley.
” She shook her head. “When I found out that she was being bribed by the Disciples, I felt like a complete failure. So, I’m asking you: Why were you looking at the files?
Because I want to know if there was something we missed, like another person who was also on the take. ”
Muriel tried to fight through her fatigue and think about her answer. She didn’t know who she could trust, so she lied.
“Ever since I handled Wyatt’s case, I’ve been intrigued by what happened as a result of the raid on the Demon Slayers, so I’ve been reading up on it to try to get a handle on what happened.
So far, I haven’t found anything that everyone else doesn’t know.
If I do find anything, I’ll definitely tell you. ”
“Thanks, Muriel. There’s one more reason I wanted to talk to you. How much do you know about Terrance Cogen’s murder?”
“Not much. Mostly what I’ve read in the paper.”
“We’ve charged a person named Jack Blackburn with the crime.
Oscar Vanderlasky has the case. Billy Kramer and Cynthia Woodruff worked as Cogen’s chauffeur and maid.
They disappeared right around the time that Cogen was murdered, and we just found them hiding out in Arizona.
They’re back in Portland. Woodruff has immunity and is cooperating, but Billy Kramer lawyered up. I want you to handle his case.”
“Is it a murder case? I don’t have the experience to handle a homicide.”
“I know that. The situation is confusing, because Kramer may or may not be involved in the murder. You’re basically going to be a placeholder while we figure out what we want to do.
If we decide to charge Kramer with murder, I’ll substitute someone in, and you can ride shotgun.
It will be good experience for when you get your own homicide cases. Is that okay?”
“I guess.”
“I’m giving you this case to show you what I think of your talent. Keep up the good work. You have a real future in this office.”
The door closed behind Ellen. Muriel was thrilled that her supervisor thought enough of her to give her the Kramer case, but Kaufman’s questions about the Baer case had unnerved her.
She didn’t know that the clerk notified everyone in the office when a closed case was taken from the files.
That meant that the traitor in the DA’s office knew that she was looking into the case.
Muriel was too tired to think clearly. She grabbed her coat and left the office. It usually took her twenty-five minutes to walk to her apartment. She was sitting at a desk or in court most of every day, so walking to and from her apartment was usually the only exercise she got during the week.
There was a chill in the night air, and Muriel turned up her collar to ward off the cold wind that was racing down the streets that led from the river.
At this hour, there were few people on the streets.
Most of downtown was well lighted, but there were short stretches that were cast in shadow.
She was still spooked by her conversation with Ellen about the Baer case, and she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder or peering into the dark spaces whenever a sound on the deserted streets startled her.
She was just crossing Burnside to go from the Southwest area of the city to the Northwest when the clank of a can rolling along the street brought her up short.
She turned toward the sound. There was someone in a doorway at the end of the street.
Was it a homeless person seeking shelter or someone following her?
Powell’s City of Books, Portland’s world-famous bookstore, took up a block. There was a reading tonight, and she hurried across the street to mix with the crowd. She turned at the entrance and looked down the street. There were people at the crosswalk, but no one who looked suspicious.
Muriel worked her way through the store and left by a back entrance.
She had five more blocks to navigate before she was home, but there were loading docks for warehouses on some of them and very little foot traffic.
One street boasted two popular restaurants, and she angled toward them, casting glances over her shoulder as she went.
Her heart was racing by the time she arrived at the front door of her apartment house.
It was on a poorly lighted side street, and there was no one walking along it.
Muriel saw a man standing in the shadows at the end of the street she had just crossed.
Was he staring at her? He was shrouded in shadow and too far away for her to tell.
Her hand shook as she tried to fit her key in the front door.
Once she was in the lobby with the door shut behind her, she tried to calm down.
When she was inside her apartment, she locked the door but didn’t turn on the lights.
She peered through the window that looked out on the front of her building.
When she didn’t see anyone lurking on the street, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
Had someone really followed her, or was her stalker a product of her overactive imagination?
Muriel turned on her lights. She put the teakettle on to boil and fixed dinner.
She was reading a good novel, and she distracted herself by getting into it while she ate.
After dinner, she took a hot bath and went to bed.
The warmth of the bath had soaked out a lot of her tension, but thoughts started to swirl when she was under her covers, and it took a while before she could banish them and fall asleep.