Johnson picked up on the first ring. "I got a call from the husband's
lawyer. We fucked up big-time. I need you to sign a warrant on Melvin
Jackson."
Portland's one of those towns that shuts down at 10 p.m. My Jetta was
one of the few cars on the Morrison Bridge, and I walked into MCT ten
minutes after I left my father's.
Johnson was standing at the printer, proofreading pages as they
spooled. "This is just about done. The search is for his apartment,
and he's also got a Dodge Caravan registered to him."
"Back up. What the hell's going on?"
"The husband's people dug up something we missed. They're back there,"
he said, gesturing to an interview room down the hall.
"They're here?"
Then, with his usual spot-on timing, my ex-husband walked into the
room. "Detective, I oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. You're
looking well, Samantha."
"I know." My worn-out Harvard T-shirt and jeans didn't make the best
ensemble for our first post-divorce face-to-face, but confidence is the
ultimate accessory.
He, on the other hand, hadn't changed out of the suit he'd worn for the
press conference. And, sure enough, close up, I was able to confirm
it: the red power tie was the one I'd placed in his stocking on our
last Christmas together.
"No introductions necessary, I see," Johnson said.
"Samantha and I went to law school together "
"And were briefly in the same marriage," I added.
Johnson looked amused, and Roger seemed uncomfortable. Score.
"I'm at Dunn Simon now, Samantha. I wasn't sure if you'd heard."
"Saw it on the news, in fact, about half an hour ago." I couldn't
stomach letting him know I'd read about his move from Nike to the
Portland powerhouse firm in the Oregon State Bar bulletin a year ago.
"The firm made me an offer I couldn't refuse," he boasted.
"From what I remember, Roger, there weren't a lot of offers you could
refuse."
"Nice to see you haven't changed."
"Nope, but apparently you have," I shot back. I just couldn't help
myself. "I wasn't aware that Dunn Simon was in the criminal law
business."
"It's not, but Townsend Easterbrook's not a criminal. He's the
attending surgeon at OHSU, another one of our clients. He doesn't need
a defense attorney. He needs someone to dig for evidence, and no one
does that better than a civil litigator."
Johnson saved us from what was about to turn into a Dunn Simon
marketing speech. "Well, alright-y, then. Glad the two of you could
catch up. I was just telling Samantha that you preferred to wait until
the DA had signed off on the warrant."
"I'm sure you understand, Detective, that given the course of the
investigation, my client would feel better knowing for certain that the
warrant has been approved. I'll wait until it's finished."
I knew from experience that there was no point arguing with Roger. What
he lacks in personality he makes up for in tenacity. I was surprised
he didn't insist on reading the document over my shoulder. Instead, he
retreated back to the interview room.
Johnson's affidavit was nothing pretty, but it was a rush job and
contained what it needed: Melvin Jackson's pending appeal, his letters
to Clarissa Easterbrook, and this was the biggie the documents
confirming his recent employment as a part-time landscaper at the
Glenville office park.
"Jesus, Johnson," I said, signing the cover form on the DA review
line.
"I know. It's bad."
I didn't care if he knew. This was unbelievable. "How in the world
could we have possibly missed this? You have the employee lists; you
have Jackson's file. You're tracking down a crotch grabber, but you
need the husband to hire a fucking lawyer to find Melvin Jackson's name
sitting right there?"
"We were stupid, but we weren't that stupid. Remember I told you that
we got the list of workers from the unions?" I nodded. "Well, we did
it through the unions because when we asked the site's foreman for a
list, he told us which unions were doing the work. Apparently, though,
the contractor for the build is allowed to use some nonunion labor,
which he didn't exactly advertise at the site. Melvin Jackson was one
of the nonunion guys. Landscaping."
"So how did a bunch of Dunn Simon pencil-necks figure it out?"
"Luck." Johnson didn't know me well enough yet to know that I think
luck is for whiners. He did know me well enough not to leave it at
that. "When I talked to Townsend last night,
I told him we'd look into people who worked at the site as part of the
investigation. He probably mentioned that to his lawyer, but the
lawyer didn't start with the foreman to get a list of employees; he
started with the company that owns the property. Turns out Dunn Simon
represents them too. One big happy family."
"Well, it's signed now, so you can send them all home for the night. I
hope you'll understand if I don't stick around for the goodbyes. What
judges are on call duty tonight?"
"Maurer and Lesh."
"You should be all right with either one of them. Maurer's got kids,
but Lesh is probably still up. Loves the Daily Show. Call me if you
have any problems."
"Sure thing."
He stopped me as I was walking out. "Hey, Kincaid. Thanks for
understanding. We'll make up for it tonight."
"Sounds like it could've happened to anyone." In truth, I wasn't
convinced there hadn't been some sloppiness, but he was beating himself
up enough as it stood. Laying off felt like the right thing to do,
given our afternoon confrontation. "I'm just glad someone caught
it."
"Well, between me and you, considering the someone? That shows real
class. And, just to prove I know I got some time out in the doghouse,
that's all I'm gonna say about your old law school friend back there.
That could've been hours of material."
More like days, but he didn't know the half of it. "Much appreciated,
Ray. You be careful on that search. Jackson's desperate."
When I finally got home, it was too late to call my father. I checked
the machine; no messages.
Vinnie was waiting for me in bed with a note tied to his collar.
I recognized Chuck's scribble. "I couldn't fit through Vinnie's doggy
door so I guess it's another night alone. Sweet dreams."
The best I could do was no dreams, which was as good as it was getting
these days. Unfortunately, the slumber didn't last long. Five hours
in, Jack Walker called to fill me in on the search.