59
WHAT’S GOING on with your favorite lawyer?” Costello asked Candace.
“I didn’t know I had one,” Candace replied, looking up from her computer screen. She’d spent the last two hours combing through campaign finance records for corporate donations, so a break was welcome. She’d hoped that Pellettieri’s going on the lam would give her a renewed license on the Aurora, but it’d ended up being a one-day story. There was a money trail suggesting that Pellettieri had made his way to the Cayman Islands by way of Mexico. The authorities were searching for him, but so far it didn’t seem like his capture was imminent. Candace had feelers out, hoping the story would grow legs, that it would extend into some clear connection with the other goings-on at the Aurora, but for now she wasn’t pursuing it until something broke.
“I was referring to Duncan Riley.”
“What’s going on with him?”
“That’s what I just asked you.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one of us who knows what it is you’re talking about.”
“He’s dropped the Nazario case.”
Candace was taken aback: while she still wasn’t sure if she fully trusted Duncan, she couldn’t see him quitting a case, especially one where he was doing so well. Unless, she thought, his doing so well was the problem. “First I’ve heard of it. How’d you find out he’d quit?”
“There was a court appearance today, just a regular status conference. But lo and behold, Steven Blake himself shows up. Blake immediately asks to speak to the judge in chambers regarding some sealed motion. Off they go, and when they came back an hour later the judge announced that the case was being continued over until a new defense lawyer could be found.”
“That does seem weird,” Candace said, having no idea what to make of it. “You try to talk to Blake?”
“He gave me the dirt-off-the-shoulder treatment. Wasn’t your whole thing before that Riley had taken the Nazario case to do Roth’s bidding somehow?”
“Something like that, yeah, though I never put it all together,” Candace said.
“You’ve spoken to Riley a lot more than I have. Think he’d talk to you now? I’ve called three times and can’t get past his secretary.”
“If he’s not taking your calls, what makes you think he’ll take mine?”
“Guys feel like they have to call a girl back,” Costello said. “It’s just one of those things.”
“I’ll reach out, let you know.”
“Cool; thanks. And, hey, congrats on Serran’s resignation. Big scalp.”
Candace felt a little awkward accepting congratulations for Serran’s resignation, part of a plea agreement with the AG’s office to avoid jail time. Not that Candace thought Serran had been railroaded: it seemed clear that she’d laundered money through the ACCC into her campaign chest. But Candace suspected it was little more than the tip of the iceberg of the corruption connected to changes at Jacob Riis. “Thanks,” she said. “Hey, while I’ve got you: ever hear anything linking Fowler to the accident at the Aurora?”
“Nada, why?” Costello said, looking surprised by the question. It wasn’t the sort of thing Candace normally would have shared, but she figured since she was at a dead end with it there was nothing to lose.
“I’ve heard rumblings that he might have been involved in the embezzling that went on there.”
“This is solid?” Costello asked.
“Can I get it in the paper? No. Do I believe it? Yes.”
“Any reason to think it connects to his murder?”
“That’s where I was hoping you might have heard something.”
Costello shook his head. “I’m not really working the story, other than following the court proceedings a little. I figured it was pretty much dead.”
Candace shrugged. Perhaps it was, she thought.
BUT AFTER Costello had left and Candace was facing the prospect of spending the rest of her day cross-checking campaign finance documents, she found her mind drawn back to Fowler and the Aurora. She’d obeyed orders and put it off to the side in order to focus on the political story, but now Candace brooded over her conversation with Leah Roth, how Leah had not only known what Nelson had told her but seemed confident he would retract it. Candace decided she needed to find out if Leah was right.
Finding Nelson’s home number proved easy: she knew he lived near McGee’s, and there was a listed number for a Thomas Nelson on West Fifty-second Street. Sure enough, Nelson picked up on the second ring.
“Tommy, hi, it’s Candace Snow from the Journal. Listen, I heard you were off the Aurora for medical reasons, and I—”
“I can’t talk to you,” Nelson interrupted.
“I just had one quick—”
“I can’t talk to you. They know we talked.”
“The Roths?” Candace said, wanting to keep Nelson on the phone. She figured it was a good sign that he hadn’t hung up on her.
“I told you before, my career’s over if I cross someone like them,” Nelson said. “I may be blackballed already.”
“Completely off the record, Tommy. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Nelson sighed into the phone, Candace feeling her heart pound as she waited. “Couple of guys paid me a visit after we spoke. I pegged them for cops at first—before they beat the shit out of me.”
“You go to the police?”
Nelson laughed harshly. “Right. That’s not how things work.”
“Why not?”
Nelson ignored the question. “They claimed to have seen the two of us at McGee’s. I can’t imagine they were watching me; any chance they were watching you?”
Candace hesitated before replying. “Actually I’ve been feeling a little weird out on the street lately. And my apartment was broken into recently.”
Nelson offered a faint snort. “You start hearing alarm bells in your head, believe them,” he suggested. “No offense, darling, but this is the last time we’re going to speak.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“If they’d wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. But I’m not going to give them any reason to think twice about it. Good-bye, Candace. Watch yourself.”
Candace sat for a moment listening to the dial tone, her heart still racing, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.