Rittenhouse told his boss as they left the clubhouse.
“The Schumans?”
“Right. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.”
Rittenhouse walked to the country club entrance to wait for the valet to get his car moments before another valet parked the senator’s Range Rover near the bag drop. The valet put Travis’s clubs in the back of the Rover then jogged away after the senator tipped him generously. Travis smiled as he walked to the driver’s door. Everything was going so well. A recent CNN poll showed him fourteen percentage points up on the favorite to win the Democratic nomination in a head-to-head race, and the money for his campaign kept on pouring in.
The screech of tires tore Travis from his reverie as Jon Dupre’s Porsche squealed to a stop next to him. Dupre threw open the door and hopped out, leaving the motor running.
“Lori’s dead,” Dupre shouted.
“Lower your voice,” Travis answered, alarmed that someone might hear them.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut just like I did when I was indicted. I could have caused a lot of trouble by telling the DA what I know about you.”
“I appreciate that, Jon,” Travis said, desperate to calm down Dupre. He could not afford to be seen having an argument with a pimp.
“I bet you do. And I’m certain the DA would be very interested in knowing about your relationship with a woman who’s just turned up beaten to death.”
“Lori was fine when she left me. I don’t know what happened to her later.”
“You know goddamn well what happened to her,” Dupre said, jabbing a finger at the senator. “Look, I’ll make this simple, Harold. I need money.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me ?” Travis asked incredulously.
“Blackmail?” Dupre answered with a smirk. “That’s illegal. I’d never do something like that. No, Harold, I’m asking you to help me out, just like I helped you. The cops are all over me. I can’t run Exotic right now. I took a huge risk bringing Lori to you and supplying those other girls.”
“This is not the place to discuss this,” Travis answered, his voice tight with anger.
“It’s the only place I can talk to you, since you’re not answering my calls.”
“Phone me tomorrow,” Travis said as he looked around anxiously. “I promise we’ll settle this.”
“You’d better, and don’t even think about siccing Manuel or another of Pedro’s boys on me.”
Dupre handed him a copy of the cassette Ally had given him when he’d delivered Lori Andrews into Travis’s hands.
“What is this?”
“A tape of your buddies talking about the biotech slush fund you used to crush the anti-cloning bill. They really loosen up with a pair of lips on their dick.”
Travis paled.
“Keep it,” Dupre said. “I’ve got copies. I want to settle this fast. If you’re not interested in this tape I’m sure 60 Minutes will be.”
Suddenly, Travis saw Carl Rittenhouse walking toward him.
“Get out of here. That’s my AA.”
“I’m not messing around here,” Dupre said as he jumped into his car. Rittenhouse arrived as Dupre drove away.
“You okay, Senator?” he asked, watching the car as it sped down the driveway.
“I’m fine,” Travis answered, but his voice was shaky.
“Who was that?” Rittenhouse asked.
“Forget about it, Carl. It’s not important.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
The incident bothered Carl, and after saying good-bye to the senator he jotted down the license number of the Porsche on the back of one of his business cards. In the meantime, Senator Travis left the Westmont. As soon as he could, he parked on a side street and punched in a number on his cell phone. He was sweating badly and his fingers trembled. When the person on the other end answered, Travis said, “We’ve got a problem.”
eight
----
Two years ago, Amanda had represented Alan Ellis, a banker who’d been falsely accused of sexual molestation by a foster child. Eventually, the charges had
“The Schumans?”
“Right. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“See you then.”
Rittenhouse walked to the country club entrance to wait for the valet to get his car moments before another valet parked the senator’s Range Rover near the bag drop. The valet put Travis’s clubs in the back of the Rover then jogged away after the senator tipped him generously. Travis smiled as he walked to the driver’s door. Everything was going so well. A recent CNN poll showed him fourteen percentage points up on the favorite to win the Democratic nomination in a head-to-head race, and the money for his campaign kept on pouring in.
The screech of tires tore Travis from his reverie as Jon Dupre’s Porsche squealed to a stop next to him. Dupre threw open the door and hopped out, leaving the motor running.
“Lori’s dead,” Dupre shouted.
“Lower your voice,” Travis answered, alarmed that someone might hear them.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut just like I did when I was indicted. I could have caused a lot of trouble by telling the DA what I know about you.”
“I appreciate that, Jon,” Travis said, desperate to calm down Dupre. He could not afford to be seen having an argument with a pimp.
“I bet you do. And I’m certain the DA would be very interested in knowing about your relationship with a woman who’s just turned up beaten to death.”
“Lori was fine when she left me. I don’t know what happened to her later.”
“You know goddamn well what happened to her,” Dupre said, jabbing a finger at the senator. “Look, I’ll make this simple, Harold. I need money.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me ?” Travis asked incredulously.
“Blackmail?” Dupre answered with a smirk. “That’s illegal. I’d never do something like that. No, Harold, I’m asking you to help me out, just like I helped you. The cops are all over me. I can’t run Exotic right now. I took a huge risk bringing Lori to you and supplying those other girls.”
“This is not the place to discuss this,” Travis answered, his voice tight with anger.
“It’s the only place I can talk to you, since you’re not answering my calls.”
“Phone me tomorrow,” Travis said as he looked around anxiously. “I promise we’ll settle this.”
“You’d better, and don’t even think about siccing Manuel or another of Pedro’s boys on me.”
Dupre handed him a copy of the cassette Ally had given him when he’d delivered Lori Andrews into Travis’s hands.
“What is this?”
“A tape of your buddies talking about the biotech slush fund you used to crush the anti-cloning bill. They really loosen up with a pair of lips on their dick.”
Travis paled.
“Keep it,” Dupre said. “I’ve got copies. I want to settle this fast. If you’re not interested in this tape I’m sure 60 Minutes will be.”
Suddenly, Travis saw Carl Rittenhouse walking toward him.
“Get out of here. That’s my AA.”
“I’m not messing around here,” Dupre said as he jumped into his car. Rittenhouse arrived as Dupre drove away.
“You okay, Senator?” he asked, watching the car as it sped down the driveway.
“I’m fine,” Travis answered, but his voice was shaky.
“Who was that?” Rittenhouse asked.
“Forget about it, Carl. It’s not important.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
The incident bothered Carl, and after saying good-bye to the senator he jotted down the license number of the Porsche on the back of one of his business cards. In the meantime, Senator Travis left the Westmont. As soon as he could, he parked on a side street and punched in a number on his cell phone. He was sweating badly and his fingers trembled. When the person on the other end answered, Travis said, “We’ve got a problem.”
eight
----
Two years ago, Amanda had represented Alan Ellis, a banker who’d been falsely accused of sexual molestation by a foster child. Eventually, the charges had
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