Part 26 (1/2)
”Do you know how easily it can be proven that they weren't?”
Drummond let several beats pa.s.s. ”Is that it?”
Hugh shook his head. He had saved the best for last. ”It seems that at the moment of o.r.g.a.s.m, the senator shouts a name. I have two women, plus my client, willing to testify to it. That's three women citing the same name.”
”What women?”
”Nicole Anastasia and Veronica Duncan.” Nicole was the actress that Lakey had found first, and though photos of her with the senator remained unpublished, rumors of a liaison continued to surface in the tabloids. Veronica was a lobbyist for the health care industry; she had worked closely with the senator for years.
Understanding the implications of that, Drummond s.h.i.+fted direction. ”What name do they say he calls?” He was wide awake now.
”Dahlia.” Hugh let it sink in. ”Not the name of the senator's wife, is it? Nor of his mother.”
”Dahlia? Not Dial Ya? Or Dah-ling?”
”Dahlia. Of all the names in the book, three separate women could not have made up the same one. Who do you think Dahlia is? His first lover? A longtime paramour?”
”I think the name is irrelevant. Do you have direct evidence that your client-what's her name? Crystal Kostas?-was in a motel room with my client?”
”I have no picture of them in bed together.”
”What about entering or leaving the room?”
”No.”
”Then, my friend, what you have is purely circ.u.mstantial.”
”But damaging if this goes to trial,” Hugh replied without missing a beat, because he worked with circ.u.mstantial evidence all the time. Some was flimsy; some, like this, was not.
”You said you didn't want a trial,” said Drummond.
”I don't. But if Hutchinson does, I'm ready.” Turning a page in the folder, he unclipped a small photo from the next page and pa.s.sed it across the desk. ”Here's the boy.”
Drummond looked at the photo. He couldn't quite hide a moment's surprise before he tossed it back to Hugh. ”I'll bet I could walk into any school in the country and find a boy who looked like the senator.”
”Maybe you could,” Hugh granted, ”but would any of them be born nine months to the day after the senator was seen in a tavern being served by the mother, a woman who can prove she spent two hours at a motel with him?”
”Prove? You said yourself there are no pictures of them together at that motel. Who's to say they weren't each with other people?”
”There's that,” Hugh said, glancing at the photo, which lay halfway between them. He knew it was his ace in the hole. ”He's a sweet kid, Dan. His mother says he could kick a ball around pretty good. She was going to start him in peewee soccer next spring. But he may never be able to play now. His whole future's in jeopardy. Given the many pieces of circ.u.mstantial evidence that I have, a judge would have trouble looking the other way.”
Drummond sighed. ”How much does she want?”
”Not want,” Hugh corrected him. ”Need. And we'd like it in a trust fund. She has no interest in anything from Hutchinson except what her son will require to make sure he can walk. She isn't looking for personal gain.”
”So that makes her n.o.ble? She still slept with a married man.”
”A married man still slept with her. She knew he was a senator, because people at the tavern called him that, but did she know he was married? I doubt it. She isn't exactly a political wonk.”
”How much does she want?” Drummond repeated.
”Need,” Hugh corrected. ”A million.”
Drummond stared.
”In trust,” Hugh added. ”With the option of more if the medical situation warrants.”
”Or she'll go public? That's blackmail.”
”No. It's a medical reality.”
Drummond drained his coffee. ”A million bucks.”
”He has it. He has hundreds of millions.”
”And that makes him an easy mark? A million bucks, just on her say-so?”
”If he doesn't trust her word, a DNA test will do.”
Drummond laughed in disbelief. ”Do you seriously think my client will go for that?”
Hugh shrugged. ”We have compelling evidence that'll make for several days' worth of testimony in court. Either a quiet admission or a DNA test will spare everyone involved the time, effort, and humiliation of a hearing. The test is quick. Your client is in Boston a lot.” Hugh sensed he was in the driver's seat. He could afford to be agreeable. ”I know you can't commit to anything without talking to the senator. Take this folder. It lays out the evidence. At this stage, we'd simply like a written admission of responsibility and the establishment of a preliminary trust so that we can start planning the boy's treatment. I'd just as soon settle this civilly, as I'm sure the senator would.” He pushed the boy's picture back toward Drummond. ”Take this, too. It may help.”
Drummond stared at the picture. ”I like your father, Hugh. And I like your uncle. So I just want to be sure you understand that the senator hates being accused of things like this.” He held up a hand. ”I'm not threatening you, just letting you know that if you go ahead with this accusation and it doesn't pan out, there could be repercussions.”
There had been times in his career when Hugh had sensed that a client was lying to him. Crystal wasn't one of those clients. And he had met the boy.
”It's worth the risk,” he said. Rising, he clipped the photo back to the medical report, closed the file, and held it out. ”Thanks for coming, Dan. Will I hear from you by the first of the week?”
Drummond took the folder. ”Don't push it.”
”The senator will be in Boston next Friday for a fundraiser.”
”I didn't know that.”
”Then you must not be on his big-donor list. I could arrange for the test at whatever time he wants.”
”And if he decides to fight this?”
”Does he want headlines?”
”Does your client?” He gave a man-to-man chuckle. ”Hey, any woman who leaves work at a tavern to have a quickie in a local motel isn't a sweet, innocent thing.”
”She comes close. She's a good mother, and a good person, and right about now, she's over in that hospital room, beat after working until midnight trying to dress her son over his cast, and wondering what a four-year-old ever did to deserve this. He's being discharged later today, and she has no babysitter who can handle him with his casts, so she's going to have to miss work. That means zero pay. Next Friday will be none too soon.”
”Next Friday may not work.”
”It has to, Dan. We can't wait. You've saved me the effort of filing papers by meeting with me today, but the more time pa.s.ses, the more urgent it becomes. If I don't hear from you by Wednesday, I'll call Harkins's clerk to set a hearing for Friday.”
”Harkins?” It wasn't a question, more an expression of dismay.