Remain Silent E-Book

Robyn Gigl

• Herausgeber: Verve Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

** 'A groundbreaking series poised to become a definitive one' - New York Times **

Fans of The Good Wife and Anatomy of a Scandal will devour this edgy page-turner, as a Jersey Shore murder puts Erin McCabe's own freedom in the crosshairs...
Erin McCabe's years as a criminal defense attorney have prepared her for almost anything, except being on the opposite side of the interrogation table. A new client-a successful financial adviser-was found stabbed to death on the beach near his palatial Jersey Shore home. The time of death is estimated to be during Erin's one and only consultation with him, during which he revealed that he was secretly transgender. As the last person to see him alive, Erin's now the prime suspect.
If the evidence were simply circumstantial, Erin is sure she and her law partner, Duane Swisher, could prevail. But there are entanglements that can't be easily explained, and connections to powerful unscrupulous politicians who hold a lot of grudges. While the investigation unfolds, Erin and Duane are called on to represent a mother charged with abducting her child-a hot-button case that has both private and public implications for Erin.
As she battles one prosecutor who wants to see her charged with murder, and another determined to send her to jail for refusing to divulge her client's location, Erin also faces a devastating family tragedy. With her career and her relationship on the line, and her life being targeted by a desperate nemesis, there has never been more at stake-or fewer places to turn...
The third instalment of Joseph Hansen Award-winning Robyn Gigl's 'ground-breaking' (New York Times) legal thriller series featuring ripped-from-the-headlines plots and a singular protagonist who, like the author herself, is a transgender lawyer.

'Trans attorney Erin McCabe, the star of Gigl's terrific New Jersey-based legal thrillers, finds herself in the crosshairs of suspicion for the murder of a politically connected financier... When Erin does end up behind bars, we see just how kick-ass a woman she is' - CrimeReads

'Gripping... Gigl brings authenticity and depth to her characters, gracefully presenting LGBTQ issues to a mainstream audience via a satisfying mystery plot. This series deserves a long life' - Publishers Weekly

Leseprobe

Praise for Remain Silent

‘Trans attorney Erin McCabe, the star of Gigl’s terrific New Jersey-based legal thrillers, finds herself in the crosshairs of suspicion for the murder of a politically connected financier… When Erin does end up behind bars, we see just how kick-ass a woman she is’ – CrimeReads

‘Gripping… Gigl brings authenticity and depth to her characters, gracefully presenting LGBTQ issues to a mainstream audience via a satisfying mystery plot. This series deserves a long life’ – Publishers Weekly

‘Gigl’s legal thriller is an enjoyable read with a likable protagonist, and one who represents an important and underrepresented perspective’ – Library Journal

Praise for Survivor’s Guilt

‘Robyn Gigl’s Survivor’s Guilt is so good that it may end up counting among this year’s standouts. A groundbreaking series is poised to become a definitive one’ – New York Times (Best Crime Novels of 2022)

‘Stunning… Gigl delightfully flips the usual terms of the genre with a murder victim readers are quickly drawn to hate and a murderer whom they will be rooting for. Her takes on big questions of justice, revenge, and the nature of victimhood will resonate with many’ – Publishers Weekly(Starred Review)

‘Another great merger of legal mystery and psychological thriller’ – CrimeReads

Praise for By Way of Sorrow

‘Legal eagle Robyn Gigl clearly writes from bitter personal experience. The result is an authentic and powerful thriller’ – Times & Sunday Times Crime Club

‘Emotionally resonant… Gigl is too astute and compassionate a writer to create cartoon villainy out of anti-trans attitudes… quietly groundbreaking’ – New York Times

‘A powerful legal thriller that brims with authentic detail. Intricate, intelligent and wholly compulsive, it is part classic page-turner and part complex portrayal of gender, race, privilege and prejudice. Like all the best fiction, it will start a thousand conversations’ – Kia Abdullah, author of Take It Back

‘This enthralling series debut features a twisty plot full of surprises and a cast of exciting characters – most notably tough, relatable defense-attorney Erin McCabe – all while diving into the mud of corrupt local politics. An original legal thriller that is sure to be among the year’s best’ – Edwin Hill, author of The Missing Ones

‘Robyn Gigl has delivered a compelling, provocative legal thriller like no other… Topical and fast-paced, By Way of Sorrow grabs you on the very first page with a brutal murder, and then sends you on a twist-filled thrill-ride that doesn’t let up until the startling finale. Gigl introduces a new kind of heroine with attorney Erin McCabe – she’s brilliant, resourceful, a little vulnerable and completely unique. Bravo!’ – Kevin O’Brien, author of The Bad Sister

‘A taut, engaging, page-turner with a lot of heart… A good read. McCabe’s a protagonist with a lot of depth. Two thumbs up for Gigl’ – Tracy Clark, author of What You Don’t See

For Abigail, Alice, Caroline, Gwendolyn, and Madison

1

Wednesday, May 27, 2009, 10:30 am

Erin eyed the camera in the corner of the ceiling. After almost twelve years as a criminal defense lawyer, she had been in enough interrogation rooms to know that it probably wasn’t the only one focused on her.

She brushed her copper-colored hair back off her face, willing her expression to conceal the emotions roiling inside. She glanced to her left at her law partner, Duane Swisher, hoping to find solace in his commanding appearance, but as she studied his face, she found it inscrutable. Duane, who had spent seven years as an FBI Special Agent, had mastered many tricks during his time with the Bureau, one of them being the art of hiding whatever he was thinking.

The door to the room suddenly swung open, and a man swaggered in, followed closely by a woman.

‘Ms McCabe, Mr Swisher, I’m Detective Adam Lonza with the Cape May County Prosecutor’s Office. We spoke yesterday. And this is Detective Emily Carter with the Avalon Police Department,’ he said, extending his hand and shaking Duane and Erin’s hands in turn, with Carter then following suit.

Lonza looked to be in his early thirties, with close-cropped black hair and brown eyes. His broad shoulders and barrel chest certainly looked like the by-products of many hours in a gym. Carter appeared older – mid-forties perhaps – her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Despite the fact that Carter was there to interrogate her, Erin was immediately curious about Carter’s backstory. It wasn’t easy for women in law enforcement, so if Erin’s guesstimate of Carter’s age was close, it meant she had gone through the police academy when there were very few women recruits.

‘Thank you for coming in,’ Lonza said, dropping a folder on the table in front of him before sitting opposite them.

Thank you for coming in, Erin thought. Not like you gave me much choice.

Lonza folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re both experienced lawyers, so let me be clear. Ms McCabe, you have the right to leave anytime you’d like. This is not a custodial interrogation. We’re just trying to gather information on the murder of Bradford Montgomery.’

Duane leaned forward in his chair, narrowing the space between himself and Lonza. At six-two, with broad shoulders and a hard body, Duane’s size was imposing, a fact he wasn’t afraid to use to his advantage.

‘Since we are, as you said, experienced lawyers,’ Duane said, ‘I will likewise presume you and Detective Carter are experienced detectives. So, let’s lay our cards on the table, shall we. We’re in the county prosecutor’s office in one of your interrogation rooms, meaning this is all being video-recorded and probably monitored by others sitting in another room. Your preamble about Ms McCabe being free to leave is just your way to avoid providing her with her Miranda rights. That way you can always claim it wasn’t a custodial interrogation. Which means that if you so choose, you can cherry-pick her words and use them against her.’ Duane stroked his goatee and leaned back. ‘Do you think Ms McCabe is somehow involved in Mr Montgomery’s death?’

‘Let’s just say she’s a person of interest,’ Lonza responded.

‘Let’s just say,’ Duane said, feeding Lonza’s words back to him, ‘legally there is no such thing as a person of interest, Detective. Either Ms McCabe’s a suspect or she’s not, and we both know there are different ramifications.’

Erin watched her partner, still trying to adjust to her unexpected role in this unfolding drama. She was supposed to be the one fencing with the detectives, parrying the lunges at her client, but not today. In this morning’s performance, the part of Erin McCabe will be played by Duane Swisher, she thought. And yet as much as she hated being the understudy, there was no one she trusted more than Duane. He was not only her partner, he was her best friend. When he left the Bureau six years ago, he could have gone anywhere, but to Erin’s surprise, he agreed to become her partner, and together they started the firm of McCabe & Swisher. Of course, at the time, Erin was still living as Ian McCabe. A year after they formed the firm, Erin had come out as a transgender woman, and even though some of Duane’s friends had given him a hard time for staying partners with the ‘trannie,’ Duane hadn’t wavered, and the firm, and their friendship, had flourished.

‘Mr Swisher, we can put Ms McCabe in Mr Montgomery’s home around the time he was murdered. Perhaps Ms McCabe has an explanation for that, perhaps she doesn’t,’ Lonza said, his tone pleasant, but his eyes betraying his suspicions. ‘But since you and Ms McCabe were kind enough to drive all the way down here, I presume it wasn’t to turn around and drive right back. So is Ms McCabe willing to talk to us or not?’

Duane gave Lonza a sly grin. ‘Why don’t you talk to us first, Detective? I was with Erin when she spoke to you on the phone yesterday. Based on that, you already know that she met Mr Montgomery for the first time Monday evening. She also told you that she met at his request for a consultation. I would add that Mr Montgomery was very much alive and healthy when Ms McCabe left him. You’ve said Mr Montgomery was murdered. How did he die?’

‘Ms McCabe… and Mr Swisher,’ Detective Carter interjected softly, allowing herself to fall smoothly into the role of ‘good cop,’ ‘I’m sure you can appreciate that at this stage of the investigation we cannot divulge the cause of Mr Montgomery’s death. We’re just looking for information that might be helpful.’ Turning to face Erin, Carter continued, ‘Mr Montgomery’s surveillance videos show you arriving at his house around 7:30 pm on Memorial Day and the two of you walking down toward the beach about thirty minutes later. There’s no video of either of you reentering the house at any point. From a security camera on Fiftieth Street, we see your car leaving around 8:20 pm. Mr Montgomery’s body was discovered in the dunes between his house and the beach yesterday morning. The medical examiner estimates his time of death to be between 7:00 pm and 10:00 pm on Monday. In other words, right around the time you were together. It certainly would be helpful if you could explain why you were there.’

‘Detective,’ Erin responded, ‘as I told Detective Lonza on the phone, I can’t reveal why I went to see Mr Montgomery. As you know, I’m an attorney, and despite the fact that Mr Montgomery is deceased, I’m not relieved of my obligation to maintain his confidence as a client. All I can tell you is that he called my office on Friday while I was at home, packing to head to the Shore, and left a message that he needed to speak with me as soon as possible. When I called him back, he asked me to meet him at his place in Avalon for a consultation. At our Monday meeting, we talked about why he wanted to see me. Afterward, he showed me his house, and then we walked down to the beach to continue our discussion. While we were talking, he received a phone call on his cell that he ignored. It then appeared he received a text message, followed by a second call, which he did answer. When he hung up, he told me he had to go and showed me where to leave the beach at Forty-eighth Street. When I looked back, he was standing by the water, watching me leave. That’s the last I saw or spoke to him.’

‘Do you know what number you called him at?’ Carter asked.

Erin removed her BlackBerry from her purse and scrolled through her recent calls. ‘973-555-0100.’

As Carter jotted the number down, Lonza opened the file in front of him and slid several photographs across the table to Erin.

‘Do you recognize these?’

Erin looked at the photographs. The first group of photos appeared to be dated, having an almost vintage quality to their appearance, perhaps copied from some website or a publication of some sort. The others were more recent. Erin had seen law-enforcement surveillance photos in any number of cases, and these had the same feel – surveillance photos taken using a telephoto lens. They were all of a woman. And as Erin studied them, she realized all the photos probably depicted the same woman, each group separated by several decades.

‘I’ve never seen these before,’ she answered.

‘Do you recognize the person in the photos?’ Lonza asked.

Erin glanced down at the photos. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this person before,’ she replied, looking up at Lonza.

‘What if I told you they were all pictures of Bradford Montgomery dressed as a woman?’

She looked down at the pictures again and then back to Lonza. ‘OK,’ she said.

‘OK, what?’ he said accusingly.

‘OK, nothing,’ she responded. ‘I met Mr Montgomery once, for less than an hour. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen him. He was dressed in khakis and a golf shirt. If you’re telling me these are pictures of him dressed as a woman, I’ll accept your representation. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never seen these before.’

‘Don’t you find it strange that Mr Montgomery is found dead after meeting with you, a well-known transgender, and pictures of him dressed as a woman suddenly surface?’

Erin cringed at Lonza’s misuse of the word ‘transgender’ as a noun, but she knew this was not the right time to be pedantic. ‘Detective, I find it strange that Mr Montgomery has been murdered, period, full stop. But I can assure you, these pictures have nothing to do with me.’

‘We have reason to believe that you, probably at the behest of others, were trying to blackmail him with these photos because of his involvement in Arnold Welch’s campaign for governor. What do you say to that?’

Erin stared at Lonza, suddenly aware of what it felt like for her clients. She’d lost count of the number of times she had watched an interrogation video in disbelief as a client, sitting in a room just like this one, tried to talk their way out of the jam they were in. And each time, she’d scream at the screen, ‘Shut up and take the Fifth, you idiot!’ But they rarely did. And on those rare occasions when they did, it was usually too late. Now she understood the temptation – the feeling that all she had to do was explain what happened; then they’d understand their mistake, and she’d be done with all of this. But that was a fool’s errand.

‘What do I say? I say I think you’re crazy, Detective,’ she finally said. ‘That, and I think it’s time for me to go.’

Duane pushed his chair back from the table. ‘Unless you have a warrant for Ms McCabe’s arrest, we’ll be leaving now.’

Erin held her breath, waiting to see if they had a warrant. She didn’t think so; otherwise, they would have Mirandized her. But Lonza struck her as someone who didn’t always color inside the lines, making the sudden appearance of a warrant possible.

‘If you leave now, you’ll be missing your one and only opportunity for Ms McCabe to come clean and work out a deal,’ Lonza snapped at Duane. He then turned to Erin. ‘Your story doesn’t hold water, McCabe. The only cell phone found at Mr Montgomery’s was in his living room, and there were no incoming calls or text messages between 6:00 and 9:30 pm. So, where’s the phone you say he got these calls on?’

Don’t engage, she thought. As crazy as it seemed, Lonza appeared to truly believe she had killed Montgomery, and it was clear from his demeanor that nothing good was going to come out of any further conversation.

Lonza pointed his finger at Erin. ‘Prison life can be really tough on people like you. If you cooperate, tell us who you’re working with, we can make it easier. Make it so you do your time at Edna Mahan, the women’s prison. But if you walk out the door, all bets are off. Who knows, maybe you’ll wind up at Northern State or East State. The guys there will have a lot of fun with you.’

She glared at him, trying to ignore his comments and focus on what was important. They didn’t have a warrant, so they weren’t arresting her. She moved her chair back from the table and stood.

Lonza’s smirk quickly morphed into a scowl, the veins in his neck pulsing noticeably. ‘Remember, McCabe, this train is leaving the station. This is your one and only opportunity to get on board. The next time I won’t call and invite you down for a talk; I’ll show up with cuffs. You understand that?’

She tried not to roll her eyes at the number of clichés being thrown at her.

‘Have a nice day,’ Duane said, then gently took Erin’s arm and steered her around the table, heading toward the door.

Lonza shot out of his chair and hurried over to block their way. ‘I meant what I said, McCabe. I’ll have fun watching you sit in the men’s jail. I have to admit that, for a guy, you’re pretty attractive. I’m sure all the guys in state prison will be happy to see you.’

‘It’s Ms McCabe to you, Detective,’ Erin said. ‘And as far as your threats…’

She walked around him, opened the door, and looked back over her shoulder.

‘… You can go fuck yourself.’

2

Two days earlier, Memorial Day, May 25, 2009

As Erin headed south on the Garden State Parkway, she couldn’t help but notice the traffic crawling north. Sooner or later, that was going to be her fate. There was no way to avoid it. It had been a glorious Memorial Day weekend, and the beaches up and down the Jersey Shore had been packed. She and her boyfriend, Mark Simpson, had enjoyed the weekend at the condo she owned in Bradley Beach. They had been dating off and on for about two years, and Erin had finally begun to feel confident that their relationship was going to last. Somehow, Mark had gotten over the fear that many heterosexual men had when they found themselves attracted to a transgender woman: What did it say about their own sexuality? There had been a few bumps in the road, but Mark had come to see her as the person she was – a woman – and not the person she had once forced herself to be. Of course, his mother and brothers were a different story. His relationship with them since he’d started dating her was strained; her relationship with them was nonexistent.

Normally, after a weekend at the Shore, she would have headed north to Mark’s house in Clark, where they lived together, but today she was driving to Avalon to visit a new client, Bradford Montgomery. They had spoken for the first time on Friday. He told her that he needed to meet as soon as possible and gave her the address of his place in Avalon. Since he didn’t want anyone to know they were meeting, he asked her to park on Fiftieth Street and follow the path that led from Dune Drive to the beach. Then, about fifty yards down the path, she’d see a smaller path on her left, marked with private property no trespassing signs. She should take the smaller path, which snaked about thirty yards through the dunes and ultimately led to his backyard. Aware that he was asking her to make a four-hour round trip on Memorial Day weekend, he had offered her a $3000 fee, which, after Erin had agreed, he wired to her firm’s account.

After their call, she had done a quick internet search on Montgomery. Apparently, he was the owner of a financial services company located in Hoboken, but what had startled her was that he was a financial adviser to Arnold Welch’s campaign for governor. Welch, who was running against Senator William Townsend to be the Republican nominee for governor, was, in Erin’s opinion, a little bit to the right of Attila the Hun. Unfortunately, the racist and xenophobic undertones of his rhetoric seemed to be striking a chord with a segment of the electorate.

It was almost 7:30 pm when she parked on Fiftieth Street, walked across Dune Drive, and followed Montgomery’s directions. When she stepped into the small clearing behind his house, she was overwhelmed by the size of his home – it was enormous. Montgomery was sitting on a deck that wrapped around the entire second storey; when he saw her, he immediately jumped up and came down to meet her.

Based on the little she had found on the internet, she guessed Montgomery was around sixty. Up close, however, his unwrinkled face made him look like he was in his early fifties. Clean living or a good surgeon, she thought. He was dressed casually in khakis, a Lacoste golf shirt, and Top-Siders. After introducing himself and offering her a drink – she accepted a Diet Coke – he led her back to the deck.

‘May I call you Erin?’ he asked, as they sat across from one another.

She smiled politely. ‘Of course.’

‘I guess you’re wondering what this is all about?’

‘I am,’ she replied.

‘I’m not sure what you know about me.’

‘Honestly, not too much,’ she said. ‘I presume you know that there’s very little available about you through an internet search.’

‘That’s good,’ he said with a small grin. ‘Unlike some of my flashier contemporaries, I like to fly under the radar. But as you can see,’ he continued, allowing his hand to sweep around in front of him, ‘I’ve done OK. I give people investment advice and, if they want me to, invest on their behalf. The folks I invest for are part of a very select group of high-end investors, including Arnold Welch, who, as I’m sure you know, is running against William Townsend in the Republican primary for governor. I will confess, I’m not a huge fan of Arnold’s politics, but he has been a client for years, and I want to keep him happy. Candidly, I didn’t think he had a chance, but apparently there are a lot of people out there whose politics are as crazy as Arnold’s. I now find myself in a very awkward place. I’m not sure I want him to win, but I’m even less of a fan of Senator Townsend.’

‘Have you ever thought about voting for a Democrat?’ she interjected with a broad smile.

‘Good God, no!’ he said with a chuckle. ‘My father would haunt me.’

‘Can I ask why you’re not a fan of Senator Townsend?’

He took a deep breath, and Erin sensed he was weighing his words. ‘I’ve known Will Townsend for many years. We don’t exactly run in the same social circles – I’m more New York, he’s more Philly – but we both have money, so we know a few of the same people. Let’s just say I find some of his business practices… unsavory. He’s got enough lawyers and accountants that I assume he never breaks the law, but he certainly knows how to bend it, and it seems like it’s the little guys that do business with him who often wind up getting screwed.’ He shook his head. ‘I know I’m not the poster child for altruism,’ he said, gesturing to their surroundings, ‘but I’ve tried my best to avoid taking advantage of people.’ He grew silent. ‘But to each their own.’

‘I’m sorry, I interrupted,’ she said. ‘You were telling me about Mr Welch.’

He shook his head as if waking himself from a trance and ran his hand along the back of his neck. ‘On Thursday, Arnold called me. His research team had been doing oppositional research on Townsend, and a case you were involved in came up.’ He hesitated. ‘The case involving the death of Townsend’s son.’

Erin nodded. ‘OK?’

‘There was a settlement of a civil case with Ocean County. It appears that money was paid to your firm’s attorney trust account and that simultaneously there were nondisclosure agreements entered into by you, your partner, and a Tonya Tillis, the guardian ad litem for Sharise Barnes. Although the criminal case against Ms Barnes received a lot of notoriety, this settlement received no press. Any idea why no one knows about it?

Erin snorted. ‘Probably because there’s a nondisclosure agreement.’

‘Arnold believes that the nondisclosure agreement is hiding dirt on Townsend’s son and perhaps on Townsend too.’ He stopped, his look betraying his hope she would add to his statement.

‘Mr Montgomery…’

‘Please, call me Brad,’ he interrupted.

‘Brad,’ she repeated, ‘there’s nothing I can say. There’s a nondisclosure agreement, so legally there’s no information I can provide other than what’s already part of the public record.’

‘Erin, I understand that if you breach the agreement – or I guess if your firm and Ms Tillis breach the agreement – you may all be required to return whatever amounts you were paid. But suppose I were to say that, in return for the information, I’d be prepared to pay your firm, and Ms Tillis, double whatever it is you have to return.’

Erin was momentarily stunned, and she could tell by his expression that she had not done a good job of masking her reaction. After considering her options, she finally said, ‘I’d say that would be very generous of you, but it’s an offer I couldn’t accept.’

‘And why is that?’ he asked, matter-of-factly.

‘A number of reasons, I suppose. First, I have no desire to help Mr Welch get elected. In my humble opinion, he’s a racist, a xenophobe, and a misogynist – no offense,’ she replied.

‘No offense taken – he certainly can sound that way at times. Although, on some issues of importance to you, you’d be surprised to know that he’s more nuanced than you may think.’

‘Nuanced is not something I associate with Arnold Welch,’ she said. ‘Not to mention the fact that I’m supporting Marie Honick for governor.’

‘Fair enough,’ he replied, his tone gracious.

‘As for my other reasons not to accept your offer, there is the little detail of researching whether the payments you propose would be in violation of campaign-finance laws. But, most important, I signed an agreement, and my firm is ethically obligated to honor its commitments. Besides,’ she added before he could respond, ‘based on my experience, William Townsend is a dangerous man, and I honestly don’t want anything to do with him.’

Montgomery stood and walked over to the railing of his deck, leaning against it as he looked at her. ‘I appreciate your principled position. Not too many people, especially lawyers’ – he flashed a grin – ‘would turn down an opportunity to double their money, no questions asked. I also agree that Townsend is a dangerous man. As for Ms Honick…’ He let out a small laugh. ‘I hate to break it to you, but the Democratic bosses will never let a woman beat Henry Nestor in the primary. I suspect it will be Nestor against Townsend, and as much as I don’t like him, it’s in my interest if Townsend wins. My taxes are high enough now.’

She got up and walked over, so she was standing next to him at the railing, gazing out at the ocean. ‘I don’t know, as I drove around Avalon, it didn’t look like there were too many people being taxed into the poorhouse,’ she said, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

He turned so he too was facing the ocean. ‘Touché,’ he replied. ‘Is there any information you can give me on Townsend?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she replied.

‘I will confess I’m disappointed, but I respect the position you’re in.’ He cupped his hands over his mouth, as if weighing what to do next. ‘Perhaps I could interest you in taking a walk down to the beach before you leave? There are a few other questions I’d like to ask you.’ His tone seemed cautious, almost apprehensive.

‘Sure,’ she replied.

He led the way inside and showed her around the house before they made their way along the path to the ocean. They stood looking at the waves crashing on the shore when he turned to her. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but the questions I’d like to ask are personal.’

‘Like?’ she replied.

‘I know you’re a transsexual – I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a beautiful woman, there’s nothing about you that gives you away – but I did read about you on the internet, and, well… I was wondering if you’d had the change?’

‘The change?’ she repeated, unsure of what he meant and struggling with his reference to her passing and his use of ‘transsexual,’ a term she didn’t use.

‘You know, the surgery?’

‘Um, yeah, I did,’ she replied, trying to figure out where this was going.

‘Are you happy as a woman?’ he asked.

‘Very,’ she replied.

Again, she noticed him staring at her, but this time there was a different quality to it. His look appeared wistful.

‘Is our conversation confidential?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ she responded.

He turned back to the horizon. ‘I’ve been a cross-dresser for years. Back in the seventies, I was part of a sorority for cross-dressers. Most of us were married, or were at the time, and it gave us a chance to dress up and have some fun. We’d have events in different places, and sometimes our wives even joined us. In the beginning, my wife tolerated my “little quirk,” but she eventually tired of it, and we divorced in 1982. At the time, it cost me a pretty penny to buy her silence. But I have to give her credit; she never betrayed me. After we were divorced, I thought about going through the change, but my career on Wall Street was really starting to take off, and I knew my father would disown me.’ He stopped and slowly turned back to her. ‘So I just stayed in the closet.’

He fell silent, and Erin was at a loss as to what to say.

‘Was it hard for you – I mean your transition?’ he asked, ending the awkward silence.

Now it was her turn to look wistfully out to sea. ‘I lost most of my friends, but the hardest thing was losing my marriage. I loved my wife, Lauren, very much, and I hoped we could stay together. But she’s not a lesbian, and she wanted to be with a man. I get it. I just didn’t fit the bill anymore. My dad and brother struggled with it. But my brother and I are OK now, and things with my dad are getting better. My mom has been very supportive, and that’s been really helpful. My law partner has been great, so at least I didn’t have to start over again professionally. There were some bumps, but things have definitely gotten better.’

‘I’m glad to hear that. I’d like to hope that things are getting better for transgender people. Back in the seventies, when I thought about going through the change, being transsexual was almost unheard of. I saw what happened to Renée Richards, and I decided I wanted no part of being in the limelight.’ He inhaled. ‘I don’t know; it just wasn’t an option for me. I did what I needed to do to survive.’

The sound of a phone ringing startled both of them. He reached into his pants pocket, took out a cell phone, looked at the display, and hit ignore. Before he could even return the phone to his pocket, it vibrated. Again, he looked at the display, his face contorting with confusion. Then the phone rang again.

‘Who is this?’ he demanded, spinning around to peer over the dunes at his house. She could hear a muffled voice on the other end but had no idea what they were saying. After several seconds, Montgomery disconnected.

‘I apologize,’ he said. ‘But I was just reminded I have to meet with someone. I think it’s best if you leave by going off the beach at the Forty-eighth Street exit,’ he said, pointing in the direction of the exit. ‘Please don’t take it personally, but it’s best if my company doesn’t see us together.’ He looked at her, his eyes conveying his disappointment. ‘I was hoping to take you out to dinner and continue our discussion. Perhaps we could meet for dinner one night up near my home in Short Hills. I think we’d have a lot to talk about.’

‘I’d love that,’ Erin replied.

He shook her hand. ‘Until then.’

‘Until then,’ she replied with a warm smile.

3

Tuesday, May 26, 2009, 1:30 pm

‘Put all this shit in English for me,’ William Townsend demanded as he paced behind his desk.

Milo Corliss, Townsend’s campaign manager, looked down at his laptop, making it clear that he expected his assistant, Sarah Meadows, to deliver the bad news. Corliss was no fool. He knew it was hard to deal with Townsend when all they had was good news – and this was decidedly not good news.

After an annoyed look at him, Sarah sighed. ‘Will, what our polling is showing is that four weeks ago you had a ten-point lead over Welch among likely Republican voters, with a margin of error of plus or minus three points,’ Meadows hesitated. ‘Unfortunately, as of our last polling, which was tabulated on Friday, you are only holding a four-point lead. Given the margin of error, that means it’s now an extremely close race.’

‘What the fuck!’ Will exploded. ‘How can that little shit be catching up to me? Damn it, Milo. I’m paying you good money. What the hell is going on?’

Corliss, who had handled all six of Townsend’s successful campaigns for state senator, took a deep breath. Will Townsend was one of the wealthiest and most powerful politicians in the state. He could literally make and break careers, which meant he was not someone you wanted to piss off.

‘Will, you are a middle-of-the-road conservative Republican. Welch is far to the right, but some of the things he’s saying are appealing to a vocal minority of the party who are now calling themselves Tea Party Republicans. They love the guy. He probably doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning a general election in New Jersey, but folks are paying attention to him. And Terry is considered even more liberal than you are,’ he added, referring to Theresa Posten, who was Townsend’s running mate.

‘They’re right, Will,’ Michael Gardner said from where he was sitting in the back of the room. Reed-thin, and with tufts of salt-and-pepper hair on either side of his bald dome, Gardner had a well-lined face, square jaw, and thin lips that appeared unfamiliar with the concept of smiling.

Corliss turned in his chair to face Gardner. He had known Gardner since he had become Townsend’s personal lawyer about nine years ago. Exactly what that role entailed, Corliss didn’t know, and he was happy to keep it that way. Gardner’s eyes were cold and dark, devoid of emotion, and as much as Corliss found Will Townsend intimidating, there was a different air about Gardner. He scared Corliss. But for now, to have Gardner on his side was a plus.

Townsend stopped pacing and stood next to his chair. ‘For Christ’s sake, Welch is nothing but a fucking bigot who’s never been elected to anything. He couldn’t even win a seat on his town council. I’ve been a state senator for twenty-two years and control just about every Republican county chair – certainly, everyone south of the Raritan. And now you’re telling me I could lose to this… to this idiot.’ Will plopped down into his desk chair. ‘This is fucking crazy.’

‘Will, Miles and I have talked about a strategy for you,’ Sarah began.

‘That’s right,’ Miles interrupted, sensing that, with Gardner on their side, this could turn into good news – no sense letting Sarah get credit for that. ‘My thought is that all you have to do is track to the right a little bit on some social issues to take the steam out of Welch,’ Corliss continued, drawing a glare from Sarah. ‘You’re not going to lose any votes from the people who know you, and you can win back some of the social conservatives that Welch has been syphoning off from your base.’

‘What? What do you want me to do, suddenly come out against abortion? You do realize that sixty percent of New Jersey voters favor abortion rights, don’t you?’ he asked dismissively. ‘That’s the only fucking reason I picked Terry – to have a fucking woman on the ticket. Well, that and the fact that she’s from Somerset County and I need votes out of Somerset.’

‘No, Will. We weren’t thinking abortion rights. We were thinking about the homosexuals. You know maybe you start by criticizing the homosexual lifestyle, or the attempts to allow gay marriage.’

‘How the hell is that supposed to help me? Besides, I do pretty well with gay voters. I’d probably wind up losing more votes than I’d gain.’

‘Will, this is just for the primary. Once you win the nomination, you can soften your rhetoric again,’ Corliss offered. ‘Look, you’re an incredibly successful businessman, and one of the most powerful politicians in the state. You’re not going to lose the well-educated voter on this issue. But you need to find an issue to appeal to those who are… well, how should I put it? A little bit more socially conservative.’

Gardner rose from his chair, causing Corliss to momentarily fear he had overplayed his hand.

‘Sarah, Milo,’ he began. ‘I think what you’re saying has merit, but rather than going after the gays, I say we go after the trannies. Will’s right; he has some really good backers who are gay men. We don’t need to alienate them, but even a lot of the gays have no use for these trans characters.’

Corliss, relieved Gardner was still on his side, stole a glance at Will, whose scowl at Gardner conveyed his displeasure with Gardner’s suggestion. Shit, Corliss thought, the last thing he wanted to do was wind up in the middle of a disagreement between Gardner and Will.

‘Milo, let me speak privately with Will. I have some thoughts. After Will and I chat, I’ll give you a call to discuss messaging.’

‘Of course,’ Milo agreed, happy to get out of the room in one piece.

It was all Townsend could do to hold back his temper until Milo and Sarah left. The memory that his only child had been stabbed to death was still fresh in his mind.

‘Do you mind telling me what the fuck you think you’re doing? I know I don’t need to remind you that some trannie whore killed my son and was defended by a trannie bitch of a lawyer. Drawing attention to what happened to Bill three years ago can’t help me. As it was, that case almost destroyed my political career. I’m not going there. You know better than anyone that there are secrets buried there that I can’t allow to be unearthed.’

Gardner took the seat Milo had previously occupied. ‘How was your Memorial Day weekend?’ he asked calmly.

‘What? What the hell does that have to do with anything?’ Townsend asked. ‘Have you been listening to me?’ Townsend glared at Gardner, his annoyance unabated. They had been through a lot together, all the way back to Vietnam, when Gardner had been Townsend’s executive officer and Townsend had saved Gardner’s career. After Gardner left the military, he had gone to law school and then went to work for the government, first at the CIA and then the NSA. Throughout, the two had stayed in touch, and when Gardner retired, Townsend hired him. Not only could Gardner be trusted, but his years at the CIA and NSA had taught him how to read between the lines, something Townsend needed from time to time.

‘Will, I don’t need to be reminded of what you went through with Bill, both his death and the fact that if McCabe had ever been able to expose him, it could have destroyed your political career. But for now, you need to be focused on your future, not your past.’ He crossed his arms across his chest. ‘So did you have a busy weekend?’

‘If you really must know, I spent most of it at fucking parades, shaking hands and kissing babies. Then I get here this morning and find out I’m in a horse race with a political nobody.’

‘Then I presume you haven’t heard about Bradford Montgomery yet?’ Gardner asked with a smirk.

Townsend’s forehead wrinkled. Normally, he wouldn’t give a damn about Montgomery, but the fact that he was a major financial supporter of Welch put him near the top of Townsend’s shit list. ‘No. What about Montgomery?’

‘He was murdered yesterday.’

Townsend’s head snapped back. ‘Murdered. Shit; how come you know this, and I don’t?’

‘Let’s just say I have insider information from a very reliable source,’ Gardner responded with a small chuckle.

Townsend looked at his former XO suspiciously. ‘And what other information did your source provide you with?’

‘It happened late yesterday. He was found stabbed to death in the dunes outside his house in Avalon after meeting with a lawyer.’ He paused. ‘A lawyer by the name of Erin McCabe.’

Townsend pushed his chair back from his desk, stood up, placed his hands on his desk, and leaned forward. ‘McCabe! Why the fuck was he meeting with McCabe?’ he screamed. ‘What the hell is going on, Michael? You know more than you’re telling me.’

Gardner gave Townsend a wry smile. ‘Of course, I know more than I’m telling you, Will. That’s my job – to insulate you. Let’s just say that based on some emails acquired from Welch’s campaign, I learned that Montgomery was trying to see if he could get dirt about Bill, his murder, and about you.’

‘What? They can’t do that. There’s a settlement with a nondisclosure agreement.’

Gardner’s look revealed he was enjoying himself. ‘The plan was to offer McCabe and Swisher more than double what the case settled for. That way, if the settlement had to be repaid, they’d still come out ahead.’

Townsend took a deep breath. ‘Do we know if McCabe gave him any information?’ he asked, a whiff of panic creeping into his voice.

‘Don’t know. But that’s why I handled it the way I did. Even if she did, it doesn’t matter because Montgomery met his demise before he even got back to his house. And,’ Gardner added, ‘this is the pièce de résistance – there were pictures of Montgomery in drag at the scene next to his body.’

‘Pictures of Montgomery in drag?’ Townsend asked, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Come on, isn’t that going a bit too far? Won’t the cops be able to figure out they were doctored?’

‘No, because they’re not doctored.’

‘Jesus, Michael. Are you telling me Montgomery was a drag queen?’

‘I don’t know what he was, but the photos of him dressed to the nines are real. I had someone start doing surveillance on him when he was in Avalon after he started backing Welch’s campaign.’

Townsend dropped back down into his seat and sat in silence, processing what Gardner had told him. ‘I never liked Montgomery, and I always thought he was a bit of a poof, but I would never have pegged him for a faggot like McCabe. Any chance we can set McCabe up to take the hit for the murder?’

Gardner’s sneer was evil. ‘Working on it. I’m assuming Montgomery’s house has security cameras, so the videos should show her as the last person to be with him when he was alive, making her a likely suspect. We’ll have to see how the investigation plays out, but perhaps there are ways we can help focus it on her.’

‘You know how much I want that bitch to suffer, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Will. I am well aware of your feelings toward Ms McCabe,’ Gardner said, placing added emphasis on the Ms. ‘I have no love for that faux bitch either. Remember, I was the one who suggested that she should be eliminated three years ago.’

‘You don’t need to remind me.’ Townsend ran his lower lip between his fingers as he mulled over his options. ‘Let me reach out to the first assistant prosecutor in Cape May. I suspect he’s interested in the top job, so maybe, as a favor to me, he can make McCabe’s life miserable.’ He nodded his head slowly and then said, mostly to himself, ‘This could be good.’

‘Shall we go back to discussing getting you elected?’ Gardner asked.

Townsend shook his head. ‘That would be nice. None of this matters if I don’t win. So why the fuck are you agreeing with Corliss?’

‘Because he has a point – you need to get to the right of Welch on some social issue, at least through the primary, and I think this trans thing has potential.’ He quickly held up his hand before Townsend could speak. ‘And do it without drawing attention to Bill’s case.’

Townsend snorted. ‘And just exactly how do we do that?’

‘We go after the kids.’

‘The kids? What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Do you know that a boy can now play sports as a girl with a note from a doctor that says they think they’re a girl?’ Gardner asked. ‘And if the name on the kid’s birth certificate is John, his parents can get a judge to change it to Mary – crazy, right? But that’s where we are in this state, Will.’

Townsend shrugged. ‘OK, so it’s crazy. But how does that help me politically? You were the one who said nobody gives a shit about these people.’

‘You know the American Liberty Defense Alliance?’ Gardner asked.

‘Sure. They’re a bunch of nutjobs who believe everybody should be free of government oppression, unless it’s something they want oppressed, like abortion or queers,’ Townsend replied.

‘I got a call last week from Dave Mallory, their legal director. He’s looking for financial and logistical support on a case they’d like to get involved in on behalf of a father to prevent the mother from changing their kid’s name.’

‘Why do we want to get involved in a family dispute?’ Townsend asked.

‘Because the kid is eleven years old, and Mom wants to change his name from Nicholas to Hannah. The American Liberty Defense Alliance wants to fight it and help the dad get custody to prevent Mom from turning him into a girl. Mallory wants money to help fund the litigation. He also wants you to speak out publicly about how what Mom is doing to the kid is child abuse and shouldn’t be allowed. He thinks the case could be huge for their national fundraising efforts. As to how this helps you,’ Gardner continued before Townsend could ask the obvious, ‘you do a couple of appearances, and in return, the American Liberty Defense Alliance endorses you over Welch, boosting your credibility as a conservative voice the Tea Party crowd can vote for in the primary.’

‘I don’t need to do this shit,’ Townsend replied. ‘Just about every Republican county chair in this state owes their position to me. All I have to do is squeeze them by the balls, make sure we have street money available for them come the primary, and I’ll be fine.’

‘Will, you dropped six points in four weeks. You picked one of the most liberal Republicans in the state as your running mate. The primary is three weeks away. You have to do something to stop the bleeding and turn things around. The Republican Party is changing – you can’t just be for lower taxes and against the public employees’ union and expect to win. These Tea Party folks would rather lose the election than compromise their principles, and they don’t give a shit what the county chairs say. You need to throw them some red meat to get them behind you,’ Gardner suggested. ‘And if some of the photos of Montgomery happen to leak to the press, along with the fact that he was working for Welch… I’m telling you, this could be a win-win for you.’

Townsend sat in silence, rubbing the back of his neck. He had plans – big plans. Other than Obama and the first Bush, every president since Carter had been a governor. But if he didn’t win the governor’s election, his plans would go down the toilet. ‘Get Mallory in here so I can talk to him,’ he finally said. ‘I want to know how crazy he is before I get in bed with him.’

Gardner gave a small snort. ‘I actually think you’ll like him. He doesn’t believe half the bullshit he says, and he knows the other half are lies.’

4

Wednesday, May 27, 2009, 11:00 am

‘Really? “Go fuck yourself”?’ Duane said once they were out of the prosecutor’s office and safely in his car. ‘You couldn’t stay quiet for another ten seconds?’

Erin cocked her head to glare back at him, her anger still on full display. ‘You heard what he said – his transphobic bullshit. Not to mention, he was threatening me.’

‘Yeah, and it worked,’ he replied. ‘He got under your skin. And if I hadn’t been there to steer you out the door, God knows what else you would have said.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He snorted. ‘It means that yes, he was goading and threatening you, but when you’re the client, and not the lawyer, you keep your mouth shut.’

‘You don’t understand what it’s like to–’

She stopped when she saw his sardonic smile appear.

‘Really, I don’t understand?’ he said. ‘I’m Black. Trust me, I get it, E,’ he said, using her nickname. ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s racism or transphobia; it’s infuriating, and it hurts. But there are times when you fight back and times when you just have to take it. Obviously, no one’s ever had to have the “talk” with you, but every Black kid learns at some point that sometimes, “yes, sir, no, sir” is the safest response. And when someone is looking to charge you with murder – well, that seems to me to be a pretty good time to hold your tongue and take it.’

She hung her head, embarrassment replacing her anger. ‘You’re right,’ she replied sheepishly. ‘It’s just all so bizarre. First, Montgomery being murdered and then Lonza thinking I’m involved.’ She sighed. ‘If nothing else, I now have a much better understanding of what it feels like for our clients.’

‘Any thoughts about what is going on?’ Duane asked as he backed out and headed toward the Parkway.

She rubbed the side of her neck. ‘I have a theory.’

‘We have a two-hour drive. I’m listening,’ Duane replied.

‘Actually, are you in a rush?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Good. Then when you get to the Parkway, go south and take the Stone Harbor exit.’

‘Why?’

‘I want you to see the scene of the crime, but I’m not walking around on the beach in a skirt and heels. We can stop at Wave Runner, a store where I can pick up some shorts and a top.’

He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘How do you know the stores in Stone Harbor?’

‘When I was in law school at Temple, a lot of folks from the Philly area would come to this part of the Jersey Shore – Ocean City, Sea Isle, Avalon, Stone Harbor – so I made it down here a few times.’ She hesitated. ‘And Lauren and I came here a few times when we were dating and after we were married.’

‘So you get shorts and a top, and I have to walk the beach in a suit and oxfords?’

‘They sell men’s clothes too,’ she replied with a wink.

He shook his head. ‘Fine.’

She and Swish, as his friends called him, both because of his last name and because he had such a sweet shot from three-point range on the basketball court, made an interesting pair. They had met while in college, Swish at Brown and Erin at Stonehill College, because the women they were dating at the time – in Swish’s case, his wife, Corrine, and for Erin, her ex-wife, Lauren – were college roommates at Brown. Swish, who was thirty-eight, with dark brown skin and a well-trimmed goatee, would probably still be at the Bureau if he hadn’t been forced to resign when he was set up to be the fall guy for a leak of classified materials involving the illegal surveillance of Muslim Americans after 9/11. Having been an All-Ivy basketball player at Brown, he kept himself in great shape by playing in various adult basketball leagues. Erin, on the other hand, even though only six months younger than Swish, was often mistaken for being far younger. At five foot five, with a dusting of freckles that ran across the bridge of her nose, a slim athletic figure, and girl-next-door looks, her youthful appearance belied a seasoned attorney with a unique backstory.

An hour later, they had exchanged their business attire for shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops. Duane parked his car on Fiftieth Street, just as Erin had done on Memorial Day.

‘That’s Montgomery’s house,’ she said, pointing to the top of a huge home that was visible over the pines.

‘Nice digs,’ Duane said.

‘It’s even better when you see all of it,’ she replied, leading the way toward the hard sand trail. Even though the scrub pines on either side of the path were stunted by the sandy soil, they were still tall enough to obscure the huge house off to their left.

About fifty yards down the path, they came to an opening blocked by several rows of yellow police tape emblazoned with crime scene do not cross strung between the pines, blocking access to a smaller path.

‘It leads to the backyard of Montgomery’s house,’ she said, nodding to the trail closed by the police tape.

They made their way down to the beach and turned so they could look back at Montgomery’s house tucked in the dunes.

‘That’s some place,’ Duane said.

‘It is. It has to be six or seven thousand square feet,’ she replied. ‘But check out the dunes between here and the house – plenty of places to hide.’

Once they reached the water’s edge, she pointed out approximately where she and Montgomery had stood talking. Duane glanced back over his shoulder at the house.

‘That’s a good distance between here and the dunes,’ he said. ‘If there was someone watching you from back there, I suspect they had binoculars.’ He squinted, then looked at Erin. ‘Kind of like the person watching us from Montgomery’s house now.’

‘What?’ she said.

‘There’s someone up on the second floor.’

‘How can you tell from here?’ she asked.

‘I saw the sun reflecting off the lens,’ he replied, then grinned. ‘FBI training. It’s got to be law enforcement. They’re the only ones who would be cleared to be at the crime scene.’

‘Or someone with enough juice to get the gendarmes to let them on the premises,’ she said with a sidelong glance in his direction. ‘Want to have some fun?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s turn around and wave. If it’s the cops, they’ll know we’ve seen them.’

‘And if it’s not the cops?’ he asked.

‘Then they’ll know we’re not going to be intimidated,’ she said with a mischievous smile.

They looked at each other and exchanged nods, and when Erin counted to three, they turned in unison and waved.

After their wave, they made their way toward the Forty-eighth Street exit from the beach, following the path Montgomery had sent her down two days earlier. Halfway down the path, Duane headed off to search the dunes, while she continued down the path to the street.

‘You find anything?’ she asked when they were back in the car and headed to the office.

‘Clearly lots of people have been walking around in the area between his house and the ocean, so it’s not a pristine site, and if there was anything there, it’s long gone.’

‘If it was a cop who was watching us from Montgomery’s house, they’ll probably send you a ticket in the mail for walking in the dunes,’ Erin said. ‘You know it’s against the law in Avalon?’

‘Yeah, I saw the signs,’ he replied dismissively.

‘Quite cavalier about breaking the law, aren’t we now?’

‘Says a woman who is suspected of murder,’ he responded.

‘Ouch,’ she said. ‘Maybe I need a new lawyer. One who believes in my innocence.’

‘Or maybe one who can prevent you from telling the lead detective to “go fuck himself.”’

She was about to quip about making one small mistake, when it occurred to her that if she was truly the target of the investigation, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes – not even small ones.

‘Let’s be serious. Do you think you should consult with someone not as close to you as I am?’ Duane asked.

She studied Swish’s profile as he drove. She knew there were lawyers who were more skilled than they were, but she didn’t know a better team than the two of them. She was confident this would blow over quickly, but if it didn’t, she wanted Swish at her side. ‘If you’d rather have someone else involved, yeah, let’s talk other options, but there’s nobody I want or trust more than you. If you’re OK handling it, I’d really like you to represent me,’ she said.

‘Whatever you need,’ he replied.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Where do you want to start?’

‘What do you make of the pictures and the missing cell phone?’ he asked as he merged onto the Parkway.

She thought for a moment. ‘His phone was just a basic cell phone, nothing fancy. I would have expected a guy like Montgomery to have either the latest BlackBerry or one of the new iPhones. And since they found a phone in the living room, I’m guessing the one that I saw on the beach was a second phone – maybe even a burner. I asked Cheryl to check our incoming phone logs from Friday, and the call that came in from Montgomery was on a blocked number.’

‘So there’ll be no number on our phone bill,’ Duane commented.

‘Correct.’

‘And you’re thinking that whoever killed him took the phone you saw?’

‘Yep,’ she said. ‘As for the pictures, I’m not sure. Some of the photos seem consistent with what Montgomery told me about being active in some of the cross-dressing events held back in the seventies. There were organizations founded by men who considered themselves heterosexual cross-dressers. Remember, this was way before the internet, so when they attended these events, they’d print up newsletters. Some of the photos look like they may have come from there. Other photos were more recent and looked like they were taken from the dunes with a high-powered lens while he was at the window or on the deck. Clearly, someone was surveilling him.’

‘But why leave them at the scene?’ Duane asked.

She took a deep breath. ‘Sounds weird since he was already dead, but my guess is it was revenge. One of the cruelest things you can do to someone in the closet is “out” them. So, in this case, it’s “not only are we going to kill you, but we’re going to out you and ruin your reputation too.”’

‘Sounds like you don’t think the pictures are related to why he was killed?’

‘I really don’t think they are,’ she replied.

‘Then what do you make of the phone calls he got when he was on the beach?’ he asked.

‘Whoever called him killed him – or was at least setting him up to be killed. When he took the call, he looked around, like he thought whoever had called him was nearby. He also didn’t look or sound happy, and based on him saying he had hoped to go to dinner, it wasn’t a call he expected.’

‘But the question remains, who killed him and why?’ Duane asked.

‘I don’t know the who, but I think the why was to stop him from disseminating the dirt on Townsend.’

‘But you never gave it to him.’