Goodbye California - Alistair [106]
‘On what grounds?’
‘You’re no longer a judge. He’s under arrest.’
LeWinter forgot he was no longer a judge. ‘On what grounds?’
‘Bribery and corruption. You know, blackmail, taking dirty money and dishing it out to dishonest cops. Kept most of it for himself, though.’ He looked reproachfully at LeWinter. ‘You should have taught him the basic tricks of the trade.’
‘What the devil do you mean?’
‘How to stash away illegal money. Did you know he had half a million in eight accounts? He should have been sophisticated, shouldn’t he? The clown stashed it away in local accounts. Switzerland’s the place. Your numbered account in Zurich. We have it. Bank’s been co-operative.’
LeWinter’s attempted look of outrage fell just short of the pathetic. ‘If you’re insinuating that I, a senior judge of the State of California, have been involved in any illegal financial transactions –’
‘Shut up and save it for a real judge. We’re not insinuating. We know. And perhaps you would care to explain how come that ten thousand dollars found in Donahure’s possession had your prints all over them?’
LeWinter didn’t care to explain. His eyes were moving restlessly from side to side but it couldn’t have been because of any thought of escape in his mind: he could not bear himself to meet the three pairs of coldly accusing eyes.
Parker had LeWinter on the hook and had no intention of letting him get off it. ‘Not that that’s the only thing that Donahure’s been charged with. Oh, no. Unfortunately for you. He also faces a rap and certain conviction for attempted murder and murder, witnesses and confession respectively. On the murder rap you will be charged as an accessory.’
‘Murder? Murder!’ In the course of his legal practice LeWinter must have heard the word a thousand times, but it was long odds that it had ever affected him as it did now.
‘You’re a friend of Sheriff Hartman, aren’t you?’
‘Hartman?’ LeWinter was caring less and less for the line the conversation was taking.
‘So he says. After all, you do have an alarm connected from your safe to his office.’
‘Ah! Hartman.’
‘Ah, as you say, Hartman. Seen him recently?’
LeWinter had actually started wetting his lips, that indication of corrosive anxiety to which he had succeeded in reducing hundreds of suspects over the years. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘But you can remember what he looked like, I hope. You’d never recognize him now. Honestly. Back of his head blown off. Downright uncivil of you to have your friend’s head blown off.’
‘You’re mad. You’re crazy.’ Even the most newly qualified intern would have disapproved of LeWinter’s peculiar complexion which had acquired all the healthy vitality of a corpse. ‘You’ve no proof.’
‘Don’t be so original. No proof. That’s what they all say when they’re guilty. Where’s your secretary?’
‘What secretary?’ The latest switch in attack seemed to have a momentarily paralysing effect on his thought processes.
‘God help us.’ Parker lifted his eyes upwards in temporary supplication. ‘Rather, God help you. Bettina Ivanhoe. Where is she?’
‘Excuse me.’ LeWinter went to a cupboard, poured himself some bourbon and drank it in one gulp. It didn’t seem to do him any good.
Parker said: ‘You may have needed that but that wasn’t why you took it. Time to think, isn’t that it? Where is she?’
‘Gave her the day off.’
‘Whisky didn’t help. Wrong answer. When did you speak to her?’
‘This morning.’
‘Another lie. She’s been in custody since last night, assisting police with their enquiries. So you didn’t give her a day off,’ Parker was quite without pity. ‘But it seems you gave yourself a day off. Why aren’t you down in the courts dispensing justice in your usual even-handed fashion?’
‘I’m not well.’ His appearance bore him out. Jeff looked at his father to see if he would stop the ruthless interrogation but Ryder was regarding LeWinter with what appeared to be an expression of profound indifference.
‘Not well? Compared to the way you’re going to feel very soon – when