Double Jeopardy (35 page)

“So you decided to sell out to a bunch of mobsters looking for a place to launder their loot.”

Dan drew himself erect. “I told you, I had no idea they were connected with the Gattuso mob.” His voice grew quieter. “At first. After a while … well, strange things began to happen. Inexplicably large amounts of money started pouring into the corporate coffers, money that wasn’t tied to any of Elcon’s business activities. And when I asked them about it, they told me to sit back and enjoy the ride. That’s when I began to suspect that … they were something other than legitimate businessmen.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“I thought about it, Travis. I really did. But somehow … I don’t know.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Perhaps I’m just not as strong as I’d like to be. Somehow, I never made the call.”

“They bought you off,” Travis said. “And now they own you.”

Dan didn’t bother with a denial. “It would be difficult now … after all these years … to claim that I didn’t know what was going on …”

Travis looked away. His eyes were beginning to sting. “Even if you let yourself be bought off, why the hell did you drag me into it?”

Dan’s head tilted to one side. “Of course, the mob is the reason I gave you your job in the first place. I felt … responsible.”

“Responsible?” Travis brushed the dampness from his eyes. “For what?”

Dan seemed genuinely surprised. “Haven’t you guessed? That robbery you interrupted four years ago. The disturbance created by Jack Gable. That was a mob operation. They were robbing a building—I owned—for a reason. They had to create a cover story for the disappearance of some key corporate documents. To protect the integrity of the merger.

“You see, the IRS was after Elcon. They didn’t know about the mob ties—but they knew there was something suspicious about the merger, and if they plowed around in the records long enough, they would’ve figured it out. We couldn’t allow that to happen. So we created a robbery, to excuse our failure to produce the requested corporate documents. We told them they were all stolen. It worked.”

Travis stared back at him, his head trembling. “Angela died … so your goddamn corporation could duck a tax audit!”

“Believe me, Travis, I had no idea you and Angela would be there that day. It was just a simple robbery. No one was supposed to get hurt. When it all went bad, I felt awful. Don’t you see? That’s why I put you through law school. That’s why I gave you a job. I owed you.”

Travis didn’t know what to say. His heart felt as if it might pound its way out of his chest. “Did you know,” he finally managed, “that your …
partners
were trying to kill me?”

“I found out. After you disappeared. From Mario Catuara, the acting head of the corporate entity. He was president, I was the CEO. That’s how we set it up.”

“You could have told me!” Travis shouted. “When I called you, you could have told me what was going on! You could have told me who was trying to kill me!”

“That would have been very difficult for me, Travis. Very difficult.”

“No wonder you kept trying to get me to drop the Moroconi case. You knew all along.”

Dan looked away.

Travis’s teeth set on edge. “I’m turning you in, Dan.”

“I … don’t think you mean that, Travis.”

“I do. I’m telling the FBI everything about you and Elcon.”

“No.” Dan rose suddenly from his chair. “No, you’re not. Let me show you something.” He walked to the rear door from which he had entered.

Travis saw a light click on. He pushed himself out of the chair and slowly walked to the other room. Before he entered, he removed his gun from his shoulder.

When he entered the library, his eyes were immediately focused on two persons just to the side of a large oak desk. The first was Staci. She was tied to an armchair; a gag was taped across her mouth. The second was Dan. He was pointing a small revolver at her head.

“You couldn’t possibly fire before I put a bullet in this little girl’s head,” Dan said. “I want you to drop the gun, Travis. Now.”

Travis hesitated. Police training told him never, under any circumstances, to relinquish his weapon.

“I’m serious, Travis!” Dan’s hands were shaking. His finger was curled ominously around the trigger. “I want you to drop the gun!”

Travis bent down and placed the gun on the carpet.

“Thank you.” He wiped the perspiration from his brow. “You can’t imagine how sorry I am about this, Travis. I never wanted this poor girl to be taken. It was all that sadist Kramer’s idea.”

Travis took a careful step toward them. “Let her go, Dan. You don’t need her now. You have me.”

“I’m afraid I disagree. My life here in Dallas is shot. Just at the time when I was planning to settle down, I’m going to have to uproot myself. But I’m not going to be penniless. I—” His voice became high-pitched and strained. “I’ve worked too hard for that. I’m going to take all the money out of my personal bank accounts—and the Elcon corporate accounts—and disappear. But I can’t do that until the banks open Monday morning. That means I have to prevent you from going to the police between now and then.”

Travis bit down on his lower lip. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“This is so hard,” Dan said. “So, so hard. You do see the dilemma I’m in, don’t you, Travis? I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I can’t stand by and watch my life fall apart at the seams.”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you, Dan?”

“I—don’t see that I have much choice.”

Travis nodded. The two men stared at one another from opposite sides of the room. There seemed to be very little left to say.

“At least let Staci talk to me for a minute before you kill me,” Travis said finally.

“I—I’m sorry, no. I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Then let me talk to her. Let me kiss her goodbye.”

“I—I don’t know—”

“I won’t even remove her gag. All I’m asking for is one minute. Surely you owe me that.”

Travis could see the confusion and despair in Dan’s face. He was tearing himself apart, unable to decide what to do. “All right,” he said finally. “One minute.”

Travis approached Staci in calm, measured steps. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. He could see her eyes tearing, her hands shaking. She was scared to death.

“Sure I can’t loosen her gag?” he asked Dan.

“I guess—I don’t—” He swallowed. “No, I don’t think I should let you do that.”

“Suit yourself.” Travis moved closer to Staci and crouched down to her level. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he said to her quietly. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Staci rocked back and forth. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t get free.

“When you get out of here, Staci, I want you to look up a friend of mine. Her name is—well, Cavanaugh. That’s her last name. She knows who you are, and she’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I think you’ve been with Aunt Marnie long enough. Cavanaugh will help you make other arrangements. I don’t think Marnie will protest much.”

Tears spilled over the rims of Staci’s eyes and trickled down onto her gag.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Really.”

“Thirty seconds,” Dan said.

“All right, all right.” Travis winked at Staci. “How about one last trick, just for old times’ sake?” He reached into his pocket. “Don’t panic, Dan. These are just marbles.” He slowly removed the marbles from his pocket, then opened his palm so that Dan could see that was all he had. “Two harmless oversize aggies. That’s all.”

He placed the marbles in his left hand, then held out his hands before Staci, knuckles up. “All right now. Watch closely.” Travis’s hands were a blur. They crossed, crisscrossed, turned upside down and right side up, one palm over the other, faster than the eye could follow.

“All right, Staci. Which hand are the marbles in?”

She shrugged. Travis knew her eyes were so blurred with tears she could barely see.

“What about you, Dan? Which hand do you think the marbles are in?”

“The left,” he said, his voice squeaking. “They never moved.”

“Well, let’s just see.” Travis extended his left hand to its farthest point and slowly unfurled his fingers, one by one.

The second he saw Dan’s eyes divert to his left hand, he swung his right arm around and hurled the marbles at Dan’s face. Dan instinctively raised his hands to block them. The gun fired; the shot went high. A second later Travis tackled him and knocked him onto the parquet floor.

Travis sat astride Dan trying to wrestle the gun from his hand. Dan did everything he could to aim the gun in Travis’s direction. Neither was making any progress; it was a stalemate.

Suddenly Dan raised his knee into Travis’s chest. The impact was not that hard, but it struck Travis exactly where he had been pounded by Kramer. The numbing pain returned, worse than ever. If his rib wasn’t broken before, it certainly was now. Travis gasped, and in that moment Dan rolled away from him.

Travis grabbed at Dan’s arm. He didn’t stop him, but he did knock the revolver out of his hand. It skidded across the floor and under the desk. Dan ran for the front door.

Travis hauled himself to his feet. Every movement increased his pain a thousandfold. He forced himself to block it out, ignore it. Staci’s life depended on him. Gritting his teeth, he lumbered across the room after Dan.

When he was almost through the room, Dan stumbled over the weapon Travis had left on the floor. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. Travis grabbed Dan by the collar and slung him forcefully down on the floor.

Travis grabbed his gun and pointed it at Dan’s chest. “Don’t move.”

Perspiration dripped from Dan’s face. He attempted a grotesque, unconvincing smile. “Travis, you—you wouldn’t shoot me, would you?”

“Why not? You were going to kill me.”

“Kill you? Oh, no—you misunderstood. I just wanted to delay you—”

“Save it, Dan. It’s over.”

“Over?” The smile faded from Dan’s face and was replaced by something else, something far worse. “Over? My life over? Just because some stupid fat policeman is holding a gun on me?” He began to laugh, a thin, nasty laugh. “You’re pathetic. This is Dan, remember? I know everything about you. And I know you don’t have the balls to fire that gun.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. He could feel the pounding of his heart, the aching of his chest. This was the man who had ruined his life, who had manipulated him from the start. The man who had lied to him, who had tried to kill him. The man who had terrified and threatened Staci.

This was the man who was truly responsible for Angela’s death.

Travis’s hands clenched the gun tightly. If ever he was going to recover his life, this was the time.

He wrapped his finger around the trigger and fired.

Henderson and Cavanaugh burst through the front door of Dan’s house barely a second after Travis’s gun sounded.

“What the hell …?” Henderson scanned the foyer, then led the charge into the library. He saw the door standing open and entered, Cavanaugh close at his heels.

“
Travis
!” Cavanaugh ran to him. He was leaning at a tilt, clutching his chest. His gun hung limply from his right hand. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” he said, oddly quiet. “Take care of Staci.”

Cavanaugh saw the young girl tied to the chair. Taking Travis’s pocketknife, she carefully cut the ropes that bound Staci to the chair and cut the gag off her mouth.

She planned to ask the girl how she was, but she never had a chance. Before she could speak, Staci leaped out of her chair and ran to Travis. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged tightly.

“He’s hurt,” Staci said.

“Travis,” Cavanaugh said, “no more excuses. You’re going directly to the hospital. Do not pass Go. Do not—”

She froze when she noticed Dan’s body lying motionless on the floor.

She approached slowly, dearly afraid of what she might find. “You … shot him.”

“Believe me, he deserved it,” Travis replied. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“But—you shot him. I mean—you pulled the trigger.”

The corners of Travis’s lips tugged upward. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” He threw one arm around Staci and the other around Cavanaugh. “Come on. Let’s go to Denny’s or something. I’d like the two of you to get to know one another. We’ll let Henderson buy, as soon as he finishes cleaning up here.”

Cavanaugh went along with him, but her eyes jack-knifed to the body on the floor. Dan’s body was splattered with red.

Red paint.

“A
ND SO, LADIES AND
gentlemen of the jury, despite what you may think of my client Alberto Moroconi, despite the desperate flight that interrupted this trial, and despite the great sympathy you and I share for Mary Ann McKenzie, the fact remains that the prosecution has not proven his guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Travis leaned against the jury rail. “The prosecution has failed to come forward with any positive identification linking Mr. Moroconi to this crime. They have not even proven he was in the neighborhood, much less that he was one of the vile perpetrators who tortured and abused Mary Ann McKenzie. With as little proof as that, can you sentence this man to a lifetime behind bars?

“No doubt about it—a cruel crime has been committed. An injustice. But let us not in our rush for vengeance compound the injustice. That will not help anyone. Indeed, that would only serve to make us as bad as the men who committed this foul deed.”

Travis paused, clasped his hands together, and gazed out at the jurors. “There is an old story about a young student and his elderly Oriental master. The master was very old and wise, and it was said that he could answer any question. But the student was young and brash, and he decided that he would trick the master. He captured a small bird and enclosed it in his two hands.”

Travis cupped his hands together in demonstration. “The student’s plan was this—he would ask the master if the bird was alive or dead. If the master said the bird was dead, he would open his hands and let the creature fly away.” Travis opened his hands and spread them across the expanse of the jury box. “But if the master said the bird was alive, then the student would crush his hands together”—Travis clapped his hands together suddenly, startling the jury—“and snuff out the poor creature’s life.