Let Justice Descend. Lisa Black

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СКАЧАТЬ sit. Stanton dictated, and several other people gave their input. Kelly would write a few words, say something, there would be more discussion, and finally she would write some more. No one seemed to be arguing, not too bitterly, but they all seemed very, very stressed.

      The polite girl offered them coffee, told them the police were all heroes, and added with a pink-smearing sniff how they reeled in devastation by the loss of Diane, a great American who cared deeply about—but someone called her away to deal with poll results so they never learned what Diane had cared so very deeply about. They were left to cool their heels on a worn leather sofa next to a woman Jack tended to avoid when possible—the intrepid Cleveland Herald reporter, Lori Russo.

      Not that there was anything unpleasant about Lori Russo, a beautiful blond mother of two, other than being the only member of the news media who hadn’t given up on the vigilante case. The series of murders earlier in the year had claimed the lives of some of the city’s worst offenders, murdered by the same person.

      That person had been Jack.

      So he wasn’t crazy about Lori Russo’s admirable work ethic.

      “Detectives!” she greeted them. “Care to make a statement to the press?”

      “Sorry,” Riley said, sounding genuinely regretful. “Not yet. Too early. What about you? Find out anything you’d like to share?”

      “Only that she’s dead. That’s all I’ve been able to get out of anyone here so far. They told me they’ll have a release in less than a half hour. I gather that’s what they’re working on, and maybe a further statement on who is going to take her place in the election.”

      Inside the conference room, Kelly opened an electronic tablet and showed it to Stanton. Its screen made him blanch. “Before her body cools?” Riley asked.

      “The election is the day after tomorrow and we’re in a heavily Democratic area. I’m surprised they haven’t burst into tears of frustration.”

      Riley sat next to the reporter—and why not, currently down a girlfriend as he happened to be—but she patted the sofa on the other side of her. “Have a seat, Detective Renner. Rick Gardiner tells me you’re taking over the vigilante killer investigation.”

      He said yes, he was, then looked away and hoped she would be more interested in political assassination than months-old unsolved murders.

      “He told me that was because you had some sort of history with the case. Followed the guy from Chicago and maybe some of the cities I had researched before that—Atlanta and Phoenix.”

      “Thank you for your help.”

      Flattery didn’t distract her. “Not that you needed it if you already knew all that. He says you’ve been working on it for years. Obsession is the word he used.”

      “I’m not the obsessive type,” he said, knowing that of all the lies he had told, that one had to be the most egregious.

      Riley pointedly left Jack on his own. He couldn’t have felt much obligation to run interference for a partner who hadn’t even told him he had something going with the hot forensics girl.

      Jack watched the conference room door, hoping someone—anyone—would emerge to distract Lori Russo and then tell him something helpful about Diane Cragin.

      But Lori pressed: “How’s that investigation going? Anything new you can tell me?”

      “No.”

      “Nothing?”

      “When I do”—he forced a smile—“you’ll be the first to know.”

      Her eyes widened, and she didn’t seem the least reassured. Even Riley looked at him strangely. His reassuring smile must need work, because Lori Russo froze and perceptibly shrank a bit, like Red Riding Hood recognizing wolf teeth under her grandmother’s cap.

      An uncomfortably apropos analogy.

      “What’s that?” he asked in desperation, pointing to the large dry-erase board. A list of names ran down one side of a casually drawn grid, followed by a column for district numbers. After that, a column labeled only with a dollar sign listed numbers. These had obviously been sponged off and rewritten until neatness no longer counted. Round dollar amounts only, no cents, ranging from $2,681 to $800,000 plus. Next to the name Cragin someone had written 769,422.

      Riley ignored him, but Lori said, “Money. It’s how much each member has raised and provided back to the party.”

      “They keep that on a board?”

      “Fund-raising is a huge part of each candidate’s job,” she told him with slightly mocking sincerity, her equanimity restored. “How can they effect any change in this country without funding to get the right people elected?”

      “How indeed?” Jack tried a more relaxed smile, and since it didn’t seem to horrify anyone, he continued: “Ohio has two senators and, what, fifteen representatives?”

      “Sixteen,” Riley said, and blushed when Lori rewarded this apt reply with a smile. “But four are Democrats.”

      “There’s more than thirteen people up there.”

      Lori said, “Those are the people who, in some way, represent the citizens of Cuyahoga County—from the governor to the state auditor to county councilmen to common pleas court judges. Basically anyone who lists a Republican Party affiliation on their campaign literature.”

      “The amounts vary quite a bit.”

      “Well, what a candidate can reasonably do depends on their district’s socioeconomic makeup, the percentage of party members in their populations, how long the person’s been in office, how many national or local events they have. And some simply don’t need a lot of money. When Cuyahoga used to have a coroner instead of a medical examiner system, our coroner never spent a penny to run for the office, because she never had an opponent. But a campaign for governor can run into the millions, easy.”

      “So you’re on the political beat now?” Riley asked her. “I thought you were on crime.”

      “Everybody’s on everything in today’s world of journalism. It’s the new cruelty.”

      Riley, the guy currently down a girlfriend, took over the conversation, which suited Jack fine. At least it had gotten Lori Russo away from the vigilante murders. The activity in the conference room had cooled physically but not emotionally. A few members of the group had sat down but appeared to be throwing mental daggers at each other over the chipped Formica. Kelly’s expression of desolate worry hadn’t changed. Stanton had turned his back to them all and now watched Jack watching him through the glass.

      Riley said, “Why do they post it like that? I mean, why would the common pleas judge care how much the state auditor has raised? They’re in completely different races. And why is Smith up there? His term isn’t going to be up for another four years.”

      “Ah, you’ve hit on the heart of it, my friend,” she said, glowing with the thrill of a good tale. “That’s the dirty little secret that the parties never talk about, because this board isn’t for the politicians to keep track of each other. It’s to remind the politicians that the party is keeping track of them. That isn’t СКАЧАТЬ