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“So you were deliberately trying to scare me.”
“I was.”
“What do you know about the old accusations against Cole Wright?” I ask. “The rape of a freshman girl at Dartmouth? The disappearance of Suzanne Bonanno? Did you know that on the day Garrett was murdered, he was coming from a private meeting with Wright?”
Dr. Graham sits up a little straighter. “A private meeting with the First Gentleman? Where?”
“I never found out. Garrett mentioned an airport near Hanover.”
I can see that Dr. Graham is wrestling with a decision. Eventually, he says, “Brea, there are two groups who’ve been following your investigations. One group wants very much to stop you. The other wants very much to help you.”
“And it was the first group that had Garrett killed?”
Dr. Graham nods. “I’m sorry. Looks that way. I have information that might help you track down his killer—and keep you alive.”
“Information from where?”
“From Seymour Washington.”
I shake my head. Him again. “You know Seymour Washington?”
Dr. Graham smiles. “Brea,everybodyin the FBI knows Seymour Washington.”
“So what does he have for me now?”
“He has the name of a Mafia button man who’s dying.”
“Did he kill Garrett?”
Dr. Graham shakes his head. “No, no. This man is my age. He’s been out of the game for a long time. But he knows things. And apparently, he’s feeling some remorse about his life choices.”
“So give me his name. I’ll call the police. Let’s have him picked up and questioned.”
“Brea, think. This man has been dodging the law his whole life. Now he’s dying, and he’s not about to talk to the police on his way out. But he might talk to you.”
Dr. Graham pulls out a folded piece of paper and puts it in my hands. I open it.
The page has a single handwritten name:Leo Amalfi.Underneath that isCranston, RI.
I look up at Dr. Graham. “Never heard of him.”
“That means he was good at his job.”
CHAPTER
75
Concord, New Hampshire
Deputy attorney general Hugh Bastinelli has faced down tough judges and ruthless criminals in court, but nothing intimidates him more than sitting across the desk from his boss, New Hampshire attorney general Jennifer Pope.
Pope is in her mid-fifties with a stylish haircut and even smarter clothing. The AG is known for driving hard on homicide investigations and clamping down even harder on leaks. But what she’s hardest on is evidence.
Or the lack of it.
Pope is reading through a rough draft of Bastinelli’s prosecution memo, the framework of the case against Cole Wright. It’s the core of the argument that will be made to a grand jury when the AG’s office seeks an indictment of the First Gentleman for the murder of Suzanne Bonanno.
Pope finishes the last page and purses her lips. She looks up at Bastinelli. “Hugh, just between us—are you shitting me?”