Laura turned on Crease. "You want my husband to risk prison so you can win an election?"
"The decision to go public has already been made. The only question is whether Dick helps me. I'm sorry, Laura."
"I don't think you are. There's something very wrong here, something that I don't understand. I listened to the message that you left on our answering machine. You said that you tried to find Dick, but no one knew where he was."
"Yes?" Crease answered with obvious confusion.
"You couldn't find us because Dick and I didn't tell anyone that we were going to the coast."
Now Quinn looked confused, too.
"What are you getting at?" Quinn asked.
"How did Jack Brademas know that my husband was working at the courthouse on Saturday?" Laura asked Crease. "It was a weekend afternoon. No one would expect him to be there. The only person besides me that he told was you, Senator, when he phoned to tell you about the police report."
"Jack must have followed your husband," Crease said.
"That's possible, but it wouldn't explain why he was so desperate to kill Dick. Only one thing could have caused that urgency. Knowing that Dick had discovered his link to Jablonski and was going to tell the police. And you are the only person who knew about Dick's discovery."
"You think I sent Jack to kill your husband?" Crease asked incredulously.
"There were a few things that never added up. If Brademas was working with Junior so he could get a cut of the estate, it made no sense for him to tell your husband about the embezzlement scheme and run the risk that Lamar would go to the police or disinherit Junior. I think Jack Brademas was your accomplice all along, Senator."
"You've got it all wrong, Laura," Crease said without rancor.
"I don't think so. Jablonski was your sacrificial lamb. You hid in the bathroom while he murdered your husband. Then you ambushed him and became a grieving widow and a law-and-order avenger overnight. It was a terrific little coup that helped you to skyrocket in the polls and become a multimillionaire. Everything was going great until Gary Yoshida stumbled across the blood spatter pattern on the armoire and Gage bribed Fargo to go to the police. When you were indicted for Lamar Hoyt's murder, you lost everything you had gained. Now your priority was to escape death row. That's when you dreamed up your blackmail scheme. You knew that Dick was going to St. Jerome because he announced it at your bail hearing. I bet Brademas found out about Marie Ritter while he was investigating Junior. You used her to ensnare Dick, then you killed her when she had served her purpose."
"There's a problem with your theory, Laura," Crease said calmly. "If Jack and I were working together, why would we tell your husband that he would be ruined unless he did everything he could to see that I was sent to prison?" Crease flashed Laura a condescending smile. "That doesn't sound like a very good plan to me."
"That was the cleverest part of the plan, Senator, and it hinged on an excellent reading of the character of my husband. I could never understand why the blackmailers sent Marie Ritter to see Dick during the hearing. They were running an incredible risk that he would figure out that Claire Reston and Andrea Chapman were the same person. If that happened, the blackmail plan would be useless because Dick would know that Andrea Chapman was not murdered on St. Jerome. The blackmailers' leverage would be lost.
"On top of that, Reston let Dick know that she could go public with the fact that he was with Chapman in the cove. It was a ridiculous thing to do if the blackmailers wanted their plot to succeed, but it was a very clever thing to do if the blackmailers wanted their plan to fail."
For the first time since Laura arrived, Crease looked uncertain.
"You sent Reston to see Dick because you wanted him to do exactly the opposite of what Brademas ordered. You knew that my husband would never give in to blackmail if you told him to fix the case so that you would be acquitted. He would have gone to the police even if it meant his career. You used reverse psychology to get Dick to do what you wanted. You knew how decent Dick is. You gambled that he would sacrifice his career to save you."
"This is absolute nonsense," Crease said.
"Look at the evidence. Paul Baylor didn't say that Gary Yoshida's interpretation of the blood spatter evidence was wrong, he only gave a theoretical alternative to Yoshida's explanation. If Yoshida was right, you lied all along. You also profited the most when your husband died. You and Brademas go way back. Who does it make more sense for him to work with? And you were the only one who knew about the report that implicated Brademas, the only one who could tell him where to find Dick."
"She saved my life, Laura," Quinn said.
"No, Dick, she didn't save your life when she killed Brademas. She took care of a witness who could hang her. Brademas became a liability as soon as you found his name on that report."
"But why didn't she wait until Brademas killed me? With both of us dead there would be no way to prove that her case was rigged and she would be free of the murder charges."
"With you dead, there would be no one who could tell the voters about the conspiracy to frame her. She needed you alive to save her campaign. It all fits, Dick. She's been playing you since you were assigned to her case."
Quinn stood up. He should have been furious, but he was too stunned to be angry.
"Where are you going?''
"To the police."
"'Don't do that, Dick," Crease implored desperately.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'll make you a deal."
"'There's nothing you can offer me."
"But there is. I can offer you your career. In order to implicate me, you'll have to confess to fixing my case. No one can prove what you did if you don't go to the police. Keep quiet and you'll stay on the bench, you won't be disbarred, you won't have to worry about criminal charges and the disgrace."
Quinn suddenly saw Crease's real face. An image of Marie Ritter spread-eagled on the hotel bed flashed in his mind and he remembered the terror he felt in the garage and as he lay waiting for death on the cold marble floor of the courthouse.
"Not a chance. If I have to go to jail, I will, but you're not walking away from this."
Quinn turned his back to the senator.
"God damn it, Quinn, you'll ruin us both," Crease shouted.
Quinn and Laura kept walking. There was an end table at Crease's elbow. She opened a drawer and pulled out a gun.
"Stop," she yelled. When Quinn did not look back, Crease squeezed the trigger. Quinn's right/leg flew out from under him and he fell to the floor. Laura screamed. Quinn stared at Crease, dazed. Blood was spreading along his pants leg near his knee. Crease took a pair of handcuffs from the drawer and tossed them to Laura. She made no move to catch them and they fell at her feet. Crease cocked the gun and pointed it at Laura.
"Tick them up and cuff him," she ordered.
"I'm not . . . ," Laura started, but Crease smashed her across the cheek with the revolver, driving her to her knees. Quinn threw himself at Crease, but she stepped out of reach and he collapsed sideways, grimacing with pain. Crease pointed the gun at Quinn's head and spoke to Laura.
"Do as you're told or I'll kill him."
Laura looked at Crease wide-eyed. Crease cocked the revolver and Laura retrieved the cuffs.
"Get your hands behind you," Crease told Quinn. Laura snapped on the cuffs.
"Was it the money? Did you kill your husband for his money?" Quinn asked to stall for time.
Crease shook her head wearily.
"I didn't care about Lamar's money. I cared about Lamar and I killed the bastard because he was going to leave me."
Crease's voice caught and her eyes watered.