Missing Justice sk-2 Read online

  development licenses from Wessler and had given money to the hospital

  wing. Clarissa had helped

  Gunderson get a license to build in the Railroad District and had kept

  a copy of his appeal in the same safe deposit box as the hospital wing

  records. But if there was a connection between donations to the

  hospital wing and licenses to develop the Railroad District, how did

  Gunderson manage to win his appeal without donating to the cause?

  I turned back to the screen and accessed the news files. Then,

  starting at the top of the list of Townsend's donors, I ran search

  after search for any Oregonian articles containing the word gunderson

  and the name of each donor. Somewhere there had to be a link.

  The work was tedious, but it finally paid off. A couple named Thomas

  and Diane Curtin had made a generous donation of $50,000 to the

  hospital wing. According to the announcement of the Curtins' marriage

  two years ago, the generous wife was the daughter of Portland developer

  Larry Gunderson.

  Having grown up in Portland, I know the place can be incestuous. People

  joke that it's more like a big room than a small city. But my head was

  beginning to hurt from the points of connection among Gunderson, MTK,

  the Railroad District project, the urban growth boundary, and

  Townsend's new hospital wing. I did my best to keep track of them,

  drawing lines and making notes until I finally gave up and threw my pen

  at the wall of my office.

  After I apologized to Vinnie for the disturbance, I took another look

  at my list of players and the various lines between and among them. If

  Clarissa had sold her ruling on Gunderson's appeal in exchange for the

  donation, what, if anything, did she have to do with the MTK Group?

  I jumped back to the corporate registrations to see if either Larry

  Gunderson or Carl Matthews, the president of MTK, was registered as an

  agent or officer for any other corporations. It wouldn't be unusual

  for a small businessman to be associated with more than one company

  over his lifetime.

  My search for Gunderson's name turned up only the listings for

  Gunderson Development and Gunderson Construction, but Carl Matthews s

  name also yielded two results: one for the the MTK Group and one for a

  company called Columbia Holding Company. I clicked on the hypertext of

  the company name.

  The first few lines of the entry showed that Columbia Holding Company

  was an inactive Oregon corporation, with a corporate filing date nearly

  twenty-five years ago. When I scrolled down farther, I had to reread

  the text twice to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. The

  secretary of the now defunct company was Carl Matthews, current

  president of the MTK Group. The president was none other than Herbert

  Kerr.

  I had found my connection.

  Susan Kerr's Mercedes was parked in her driveway. I had risked a

  complete waste of time by driving up without calling ahead, but I knew

  from experience that surprise confrontations were my best chance of

  getting information from the uncooperative. Susan was the link. She

  was Clarissa's best friend. She was connected to Carl Matthews and the

  MTK Group through her husband. And she had been helping Townsend raise

  money for the hospital wing. It couldn't be a coincidence. She had to

  know more than she was telling. But, once again, she was protecting

  her friends and maybe even herself.

  I circled the block to steel my resolve. I wasn't going to accept any

  lame stories about shielding Townsend in his grief or defending

  Clarissa's memory. It was time for someone involved in whatever this

  scheme was to flip, and the someone was going to be Susan. If I had to

  haul her into a grand jury tomorrow, I'd find a way to do it, Duncan be

  damned.

  I'd gotten myself good and pumped up and was ready to home in for the

  kill when I registered a faint buzzing sound. It stopped, then started

  again. My cell phone. I must have forgotten to turn the ringer on

  after I had silenced it during court.

  It was Chuck.

  "Hey, sweetie. Can't talk right now. I'm in the zone."

  "The zone for what? Ignoring everyone close to you?"

  I looked at my watch. How did it get so late? "I'm sorry. I

  completely lost track of time."

  "I've been trying to call you all afternoon. I think I scared the be

  jesus out of your father. I called him freaking out about where you

  were, but I guess you'd just left there before I talked to him. You

  all right?"

  I looked at the tiny screen on the face of my cell phone and, sure

  enough, saw a little envelope indicating unchecked messages.

  "I'm fine. The day's just been a little crazy."

  "More than a little crazy, babe. I was running around all day on a

  rape out in Rockwood, but when I got back the guys were in a tizzy

  about something that happened at the Jackson prelim."

  "Really, it's fine. Roger got pissed about something that happened,

  Duncan took me off the case "

  "What? No one told me that. You're not fighting it?"

  "No. Look, Chuck. I promise I'll explain everything to you later.

  Tonight, even, if you're willing to come over." I realized as I was

  extending the invitation how nice it would be to curl up with him and

  finally relax tonight. "I'll call as soon as I'm out of here. I

  promise."

  "And where exactly is here?"

  "Nothing important. Just an interview, something I've been meaning to

  take care of." I didn't have time for the riot act he'd surely read me

  if he knew my errand related to the Jackson case. I could tell him the

  full story after I saved the day.

  "Fine," he conceded. "It'll give me time to call your father and

  apologize for getting so freaked out."

  "One quick flip of a witness, and I'll be done in time for Mexican take

  out and margaritas?"

  "Ooh, now that sounds good."

  "It's a plan. I'll call you in probably thirty minutes."

  I flipped the phone shut, turned the corner, and parked next to Susan's

  Mercedes, still in the zone.

  I rang the doorbell, and Susan peeked out through a small window at the

  top of the door before opening up.

  "Samantha," she said, looking at her watch, "what a nice surprise. Come

  on in." She stepped aside so I could enter.

  I started to turn right toward the sitting area where we'd met last

  time, but once the door was shut she led me in the other direction,

  through the kitchen at the back of the house. "Have a seat," she said,

  gesturing toward the padded stools surrounding a generous island at the

  center of the room. "Can I get you something? I'm terrific with

  take-out leftovers."

  "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

  "You sure? Tuna nicoise salad from the Pasta Company. It's my

  favorite, and there's still half a salad left."

  "No, I'm sure."

  "Suit yourself," she said. "So what happened in court today? I tried

  talking to Townsend a few hours ago, but he wasn't saying much, and

  quite frankly what he had to say wasn't making much sense. The defense


  is arguing that Clarissa took a bribe?"

  "More than just an argument. The Attorney General's Office is going to

  look into the possibility."

  Her dismay appeared genuine. "Townsend didn't say anything like that.

  He said something about a continuance on Jackson's case because of what

  happened today in court, but nothing about an Attorney General

  investigation."

  "Did Clarissa ever mention Larry Gunderson or Gunderson Development to

  you?"

  She shook her head.

  "It looks like Clarissa had some kind of arrangement with Gunderson on

  an appeal he had before her."

  "I can't believe Townsend didn't tell me this. He probably knew I'd go

  ballistic at the mere suggestion of such a thing."

  "I think you might know more about this than you've been willing to

  admit, Susan."

  She looked at me as if I were kidding. Then, in case I missed the

  look, she said, "You're kidding me, right?"

  "Nope. No more kidding, Susan, and no more protecting Townsend and

  Clarissa or even yourself. I know what's been going on, and it's time

  for people to start owning up. If you were involved somehow, we'll

  work something out. I can help you. But you'll be a lot better off

  telling me what you know before someone else beats you to the punch."

  "Samantha, honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Well, I do. I know, for example, that a woman named Jane Wessler was

  helping developers get special-use permits for projects in the Railroad

  District. And I know that when Wessler left and Gunderson found

  himself without a permit, Clarissa made sure he got one. And I know

  that in exchange for all this help, developers were contributing to

  Townsend's hospital wing, the project you were helping him with."

  "If Townsend convinced Clarissa to do something like that, he certainly

  didn't tell me about it."

  "Come off it, Susan. I know how much you've helped him with the

  fund-raising. You told me you'd never heard of Larry Gunderson, but

  who's Diane Curtin? And what's the MTK Group?"

  She clearly wasn't used to being confronted this way. I was reminded

  of days back in law school, when students would come under fire by a

  probing professor. But like any good student, Susan regained her

  composure and presented a rational, coherent response.

  "That's what this is about? The MTK Group? That's a company run by

  some of Herbie's old business buddies. And, yes, I did hit them up on

  Townsend's behalf, and, yes, they responded generously. I'm good at

  fund-raising. That is, after all, why I was helping Townsend."

  "And what about Diane Curtin? And what about the MTK Group's Railroad

  District projects?"

  She laughed. "If you think I have any idea what Herbie's friends

  actually do to earn the money I help them spend, you are terribly

  mistaken. As for Diana Curtin "

  "Diane," I corrected.

  "Whatever. It sounds familiar, but you're going to have to give me

  more information."

  "You told me you hadn't heard of Gunderson "

  "And I hadn't until just now, that is," she said.

  "Diane Curtin's his daughter, and she and her husband, Thomas, are also

  among your generous contributors."

  "Well, that explains where I've heard of her, then."

  "So why don't you tell me why Gunderson's daughter just happens to

  write a fifty-thousand-dollar check to Townsend days before Clarissa

  rules in his favor?"

  She looked at me incredulously. "I like you, Samantha, I really do.

  But you are seriously pissing me off right now."

  I shook my head and had to laugh. It was hard not to like her back.

  "Not a nice feeling, is it?"

  "No, it's not," she said, laughing as well. "I don't know what you

  think I know, but you're totally off base. And you're lucky I'm not

  easily offended."

  "And you're lucky I'm not either. There are too many coincidences

  here. I think you knew Gunderson through Herbie and his friends, and

  that you might have thrown Clarissa and Town-send his way when

  Gunderson didn't get the license he needed. If we get this squared

  away, it doesn't need to be messy. But if it drags out, you can bet

  that Jackson's defense attorney will do everything he can to haul each

  and every one of you into court."

  She looked at me, mulling over what I'd said. "There might be

  something, but it's not what you're suggesting, at least not my part of

  it. In fact, I didn't even realize the possibility of it until just

  now when you were talking about MTK."

  "So explain it to me."

  "What about Townsend? He'll lose everything. His hospital

  appointment, his reputation. He could even lose his license."

  "And all that's still going to happen if this comes out at Jackson's

  trial. But if we take that road, Jackson might go free."

  She swallowed before she spoke next. "Gunderson," she said. "You say

  there's some connection between him and MTK?"

  I nodded.

  "About a year ago, Carl Matthews he's the president of MTK "

  I nodded again.

  "You have done your research," she said. "Carl Matthews and Herbie

  were friends from way back, and when Carl and his wife had a party

  about a year ago, I took Townsend and Clarissa so Townsend and I could

  talk up the new hospital wing to Carl. There were a ton of guests

  there. Maybe Gunderson was one of them. Townsend could have met him

  then."

  I pulled the photograph of Gunderson from my briefcase.

  "Maybe he looks familiar," she said. "It was quite a while ago, and I

  really wasn't paying attention, but he might have been there."

  So much for a conclusive ID. "Was your husband involved in MTK?" I

  asked, tucking the photo away.

  "Sure," she said, seeming to assume that I'd already known. "He was

  the K. Matthews, Tykeson, and Kerr. The boys made lots of money back

  in the day. Tykeson's retired, and Herbie s gone, of course, but the

  letters live on through Carl."

  "So are you part of the company then?"

  "Oh, God, no. The estate handled all that stuff, but Carl essentially

  bought Herbie's interest in the company after he died."

  "Did you know that MTK had a judgment against Gunderson's old company

  'back in the day," as you say?"

  That seemed to take her by surprise. "Like I said, I've never heard of

  Gunderson. But I can see why you said there were so many coincidences

  here. Maybe I was wrong about that dinner party, then. I can't

  imagine Gunderson would pal around with someone who sued him, right?"

  "Not unless they've put the bad blood behind them. The judgment was

  taken right before Gunderson filed bankruptcy. I guess he's worked his

  way up since then."

  "Well, that makes a little more sense. I mean, if a guy's going to

  file bankruptcy, it doesn't hurt if his partners are at the front of

  the line."

  I hadn't thought about it from that perspective before. If someone

  knew he was about to go under, high-dollar civil judgments against him

  would help soften the blow for his business buddies by helping them

  recover at l
east some of the money through the bankruptcy court.

  "I can give you Carl Matthews's phone number," Susan offered. "I'm

  sure he wouldn't mind talking to you about Gunderson."

  "Susan, I just got done telling you Matthews might also be part of

  this."

  "Or maybe he's not," she said. "You won't know until you ask him, will

  you?"

  No longer on the defensive, Susan Kerr was back to taking care of

  everybody. She was jotting down a phone number from the Rolodex on her

  kitchen counter. "I can also print out a list of all of the donors I

  know about for the hospital project."

  "Sure," I said. "I've got one already, but yours might be more

  up-to-date."

  "And I've got a bunch of Herbie's old files and books and things

  downstairs if you've got any interest in them. Who knows, maybe he's

  got something on Gunderson, right?"

  She started toward the basement, and as I trailed behind her down the

  stairs, I wondered when the tide had shifted. Talking to Chuck, I had

  been convinced that I would be leaving this house with a cooperating

  witness, armed with the substantiated facts I'd need to build a case

  against Gunderson and whoever else was involved. Now, I was tiptoeing