The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1) (14 page)

“Hell no. A sitting governor? That’s a
good one. We do have a motive, but we don’t have anything
concrete to connect the governor to the girl’s death,”
said Rafferty. “Without more, there is no way I can go after
the governor.”

“And, you won’t find anything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. By the
way, I’m starting to think you are holding out on me.”

“It’s not like that, Tommy. There is a
real pro at work here. No crime signature, no loose ends, no
evidence.”

“That’s why I’m giving this
information to you. You have more leeway. Maybe you can make use of
it.”

“I will. I need a favor. I’m getting
worried about Clarice Hope. Any chance you could send someone to
check on her? I sent her to lie low at her ranch outside Santa
Barbara. But she’s not the type to stay put for long.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Tommy.”

After the phone call, Raja paced back and forth on
the sidewalk. The governor was deep in the middle of this whole mess.
But Raja still didn’t know what or who or why. It was time to
up the ante. He called Vinny.

“Hey, I’m sorry I had to intrude on your
date, dude,” said Vinny. “It seemed important.”

“You did the right thing, Vinny. Sharon had to
leave anyway.”

“And I was sure you would get lucky.”

“We had a nice dinner.”

“Sounds boring. So, what did you find out from
Detective Rafferty?”

“I’ve decided it’s time we go see
the governor.”

“You are kidding, right? You do remember that
the last visit almost got you killed.”

“The governor has motive. He was sleeping with
Jennifer slash Cherry Long. It looks like Charlie Sheen is not the
only one who favors porn stars as bedmates.”

“That is amazeballs.”

“Perhaps, but now we go to see the governor.
We should ask him about his relationship with Cherry Long.”

“This should be ripe.”

“You doubt my tact?”

“Doubt? No. You have absolutely no tact. It’s
your tactic, I question.”

“Just tell me where to find the governor,
please.”

Vinny went to work with her computer. “That
won’t be hard. The governor will be in downtown Los Angeles
tomorrow at noon giving a speech at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon.”

“Perfect. I’ll be home in fifteen
minutes. I’m going to need my beauty sleep. Tomorrow is going
to be a big day.”

Chapter Twenty: Operation All In

Raja woke to the smell of his favorite French roast
coffee brewing in the kitchen area. He closed his eyes and touched
his lips, recalling the kiss with Sharon from the night before, and
almost drifted back to sleep.

When the image faded, he opened his eyes and saw the
clear blue sky through the extensive skylight that ran the entire
length of the twenty-foot arched ceiling. Space was the valued
commodity. Despite covering over three thousand square feet, the
expansive loft had almost no interior walls anywhere. Raja had a
thing about that. He considered walls as unnecessary barriers between
people. There was one switchable glass partition for bathroom privacy
that could be turned nearly opaque. The bedrooms were nothing more
than raised platforms without walls, and were accessed by spiral
stairs.

Vinny came up the staircase holding a cup of coffee
and singing, “You got to get up, you got to get up, you got up
this morning,” all to the tune of reveille.

What usually annoyed Raja only made him smile.

When she got to the top she said, “Rise and
shine. Time to get up, soldier.”

“Have you been playing Soulcaliber again?”
asked Raja. Soulcaliber was a fighting video game featuring bad-ass
female warriors, and it was one of Vinny’s favorites.

“Too easy. I hacked into a new game still
under development in Korea that features special forces combat teams.
Much more fun, warts and all.”

“Hooo-rah,” said Raja.

“True dat.”

Breakfast gave Vinny a chance to tease Raja about
his date.

“So, you and Sharon,” she said.

“What’s wrong with that?” Raja had
been expecting a tease.

“Nothing. She is nice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s nice.”

“Well, I think so.”

Vinny laughed. “You are just too easy.”

“Let’s go,” said Raja. “You
drive.”

Vinny drove them to the Westin Bonaventure Hotel in
downtown LA.

“So, what is the governor’s speech
about?” asked Raja.

“He’s giving an award to the Chamber of
Commerce, and a pep talk to key SoCal business leaders. It’s a
celebration of the first two consecutive quarters of growth from the
business sector in SoCal in the last five years.”

“Doesn’t sound like much to party
about.”

“In the desert, an old wet rag tastes
delicious. In this economic climate, the governor needs any good news
he can muster.”

“Yes, I suppose it is a rare chance for him to
make some political hay on the economy.”

Vinny pulled up to the hotel on South Figueroa
Street. Outside, press photographers crowded the entrance, held back
by private security men. The governor’s attendance made it a
major event. There were already rumors floating of his possible run
for president in the next election cycle. A valet took the car and
handed Vinny a ticket.

Inside the building, temporary metal detectors hid
behind tall potted plants on either side of the doorway to the hall.
Raja and Vinny breezed through. Serious men in tight suits and
military cuts watched the crowd from the wings. Once inside the hall
at the luncheon, Raja looked for the governor. He had already given
his speech and was circulating among VIP tables in that perpetual
campaign mode politicians are in most of the time these days. Close
to the front dais, Raja spotted the governor’s aide, Stanley
Bryce, hovering and watching the governor’s every move. Vinny
hung back, while Raja worked his way over to Bryce.

“Mr. Williams. I see you are still in town,”
said Bryce. He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.
“I was glad to hear you walked away from your automobile
accident unharmed. Mulholland Drive can be treacherous, especially at
night.”

If there was any treachery, it was staring Raja in
the face. Raja was still mad about his car. He wanted to smack the
little weasel, but checked himself. Somehow keeping it together, Raja
said, “There is a short story I’d like to share with
you.”

“As you can see, we are busy.”

“Too busy for a tale of romance and intrigue?”

“What are you talking about?” asked
Bryce.

“I’m talking about the governor and
Cherry Long exchanging body fluids.”

“Who?”

“Cherry Long. You might know her as Jennifer
Gowan.”

“Never heard of either one.”

“Nice try, but the email traffic tells a
different story.”

“That’s ridiculous. Anyone can fake
emails.” The vein in Bryce’s neck throbbed.

“I just thought you should know that the girl
was murdered.”

“The governor will deny any connection,
period. And, you better watch your step. You don’t know who you
are messing with.” Bryce was losing it.

“A threat. Attaboy.” Raja smiled and
waved to the governor who looked up from glad-handing patrons at
another table. Then Raja walked away, leaving Bryce to fume alone.

Raja found Vinny by the dessert table, sampling the
strawberry cheesecake. “I just dropped what I hope is alarming
news on the governor’s aide,” he said. “Now we find
out who has the most to lose. Let’s go.”

“I don’t like it when you play chicken,
boss,” said Vinny.

“And I don’t like when you call me
boss.”

“Calling you boss won’t get either of us
killed.”

“You’ve made your point. Let’s
move on.”

The two left the way they had come in. Neither
noticed the attractive blond who snapped both their pictures while
they waited for the valet to bring around their car.

Chapter Twenty-one: Red Riding Hood

As was her habit since being at her ranch outside
Santa Barbara, Clarice took a morning ride on one of her stallions.
Today she chose Mister Ed, a gorgeous purebred cream palomino much
like the one from the original television series, and trotted onto
the path in the woods that ran along the north edge of her property
and up into the foothills beyond. Once out in the open, Clarice urged
the beautiful horse into higher speed. With the hooded red riding
cape flying behind her, the scene could have been from a fantasy
story.

Clarice certainly needed some escape. The rhythm of
a steady canter soothed her soul, and Clarice imagined that the wind
in her face could blow away her troubles. After a refreshing ride,
she slowed her gait on the return trip, and dismounted near the edge
of the woods to check one of the horse’s hooves for a burr. A
loud snap startled Clarice, and the palomino snorted and began
side-stepping nervously.

“Easy, boy. Easy, now,” said Clarice,
her own nerves jangling as she surveyed the terrain. Despite the
feeling she had of being watched, there was no one in sight. Once the
horse settled down, Clarice swung up into the saddle and galloped out
of the woods and back to the barn. She wished the ranch manager Joe
was there, but he was still visiting his daughter in San Diego for
another few days. Clarice put the horse into his stall, quickly
dumped oats in his feed bucket and hurried down the stone path to the
house.

“Nothing to worry about,” she said out
loud, trying hard to convince herself. “You’re just a
little stir crazy, that’s all.” The truth was, she was
lonely without Randy. The thought of never seeing him again brought
tears to her eyes. She sat by the front window staring out at
nothing. Too absorbed in her grief, Clarice never saw the faint red
glow from the end of a cigarette at the edge of the woods only twenty
yards from the front of the house.

Chapter Twenty-two: Underdog

Raja loved the Tampa Bay Rays baseball team. He
never missed a home game when he was in Clearwater. He had box seats
right behind the home dugout. Despite a total payroll budget equal to
that of one Yankee star, the Rays were making waves, even getting to
the World Series one year. For Raja, it was all about the underdog,
all about leveling the playing field for the decent people who played
by the rules. Sometimes they needed a helping hand.

That’s why Raja liked baseball so much. The
batter is a decided underdog each and every time he steps into the
batter’s box. The odds are 2 to 1 against him getting a hit,
but when he does, sweetness reigns.

“I’ve been thinking about the case,
Vinny,” said Raja.

“No doubt.”

“We know these deaths are not random, despite
appearances. We also know that whoever is behind them is leaving no
stone unturned to cover his tracks. There must be a linchpin.”

“A what?”

“A linchpin. Something or someone to tie
everything together. This whole time I’ve been thinking we have
too many deaths. Too many dead bodies confusing the issue. What if
that’s not the problem at all? What if it’s not enough
deaths?”

“I don’t follow.”

“What if there’s another death we don’t
yet have on our grid.”

“You already had me look for other deaths at
the time Randall Hope died. We didn’t find any.”

“Yes, but perhaps we did not look early
enough. I’m betting we need to go earlier.”

Vinny re-configured her search program to scan all
the news site archives going another two months earlier. After
eliminating the obviously unrelated deaths, she still had more than
two hundred for Raja to review.

Raja studied the glass screen as Vinny flipped
slowly through each one. There were plenty of violent deaths, but
this guy liked subtle. Something grabbed Raja’s attention.

“Hold on,” said Raja. “Go back.”

Vinny reversed direction.

“There. The bombing.”

Vinny pulled up a major story on a suspected
terrorist bombing of a Starbucks in LA over a month ago.

“Clever boy, hiding your work in plain sight.
Who died in that explosion?” he asked Vinny.

“There were six people killed.” Vinny
pulled up the list of names.

Raja studied it. The CEO from a solar tech company
piqued his interest momentarily, but he might just have liked the
Starbucks Breakfast Blend. Nothing else stood out.

“What about injured?” asked Raja.

Vinny worked her computer. “Says twelve people
were injured, but nowhere do I see the names.”

“We need to find those names.”

Chapter Twenty-three: Meet the Press

When the tall brunette climbed out of the small
Honda to stretch her legs and walked into the corner Seven Eleven
store for a bathroom run, every pair of nearby male eyes noticed.
Several minutes later she came out and climbed back into her car. The
eyes were waiting, and followed her every step, but she was too tired
to notice. She had already spent a week sitting on a very thin lead
to a story that probably would never get aired.

As she watched the Starbucks cafe across the street,
her thoughts drifted to how she had ended up there. She knew she was
perfect for television reporting. Her attractive and intelligent face
worked well in front of the camera in the studio. And, at five-eight,
she was leggy enough to look good during the full-body,
reporter-in-the-street shots, as well as being the perfect height to
interview either gender. She just needed to be taken seriously. Her
problem had always been her name. She had even considered changing
it.

Sue Storm got a lot of ribbing about her name for
multiple reasons. When she had started doing weather at Channel 9 in
Cleveland everyone assumed she had made up the name for the job.
However, after three years of pointing at a green-screen map and
predicting rain or sun, she finally got a break. Once she had moved
on to serious reporting, her name became a nonissue. When an
opportunity opened up in the bigger Los Angeles market, she jumped,
despite having to start at the bottom on the back lines in research.
Ambition could be a bitch.