Page 34 of The House of Cross

“Oh, yeah, where was that?” I asked, thinking I would have remembered the pompadour.

His eyes cleared a little. “At Quantico. I heard you lecture when I did a six-week course for people working for various U.S. attorneys around the country.”

Mahoney said, “You’re with the U.S. attorney here in San Francisco, Sheldon?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I quit that five years ago. You can’t live here on that kind of bread. I am a wrongful-death litigator.”

I took out my phone to check on Sheldon Alvarez, wrongful-death litigator, as Mahoney said, “Care to explain why you broke a federal crime scene seal, snuck in here, and started looting the judge’s stash?”

He frowned, winced, said, “What looting? The seal was broken. I thought it was another dodge from Bitty, so I came inside.”

“You picked the front lock.”

Alvarez rolled his eyes, winced again, and said, “Bitty forced that issue.”

I looked up from my phone. “Bitty?”

“Bitgaram Pak.”

“And how did he force what issue?”

“He changed the locks on me. Said he was walking the straight and narrow.” Something seemed to sag in him then. “My head really does hurt.”

“We’ll get it looked at after you answer my questions,” Mahoney said.

Alvarez shut his eyes for a moment, and his head lolled slightly. It made me think he might indeed have a mild concussion.

“Wait a second,” he said, opening his eyes sleepily. “What’s this all about? Where’s Bitty?”

“Don’t you read the papers, Counselor?” I asked.

“I’ve been up at a friend’s cabin, nursing my wounds and plotting my revenge after finding the doors locked. What is this then? The gambling? Finally?”

Mahoney said, “Judge Pak is dead, Mr. Alvarez. He was stabbed to death last night in front of the symphony hall.”

He didn’t seem to understand, because he just looked back and forth from Ned to me for several moments before shaking his head. “He can’t be dead.”

“He is, though, I’m sorry,” Mahoney said. “His body’s at the morgue, awaiting autopsy.”

That cut through the fog, and Alvarez broke down sobbing.

CHAPTER 25

BREE TRIED TO ABSORBwhat the retired Idaho police detective had just said about the Wheeler twins being adopted twice, at least once on the black market.

Sampson said, “Mr. Oakes? How did you find that out? About there being a black-market deal?”

“Came in as a tip, I don’t know, fifteen, twenty years afterward?” he said. “Near the end of my days on the job. Not much on specifics, other than Patricia could not conceive, they were having trouble adopting in California, and she decided to become an Idaho resident and try. But just as she started that whole rigamarole, she got word about twin boys being born. She heard about it through some lawyer here in Idaho.”

Bree said, “And, what, she bought them?”

“The way the tipster had it, she got around all the years ofbureaucracy with a quick signing of a check. I followed the lead a bit but could never prove it. And I really couldn’t figure out what bearing it had on the case, so I let it drop.”

“Did the boys know they were adopted?”

“Hundred percent no. They were told they were born at the cabin on Alice Lake. That’s what the birth records show too.”

After they thanked Oakes, Bree and Sampson hung up, not knowing what to think of the unproven tip about the origins of Ryan Malcomb.

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