FRAMED, page 10
Chapter 20
Saturday morning, in the conference room at Holmes, Kirkland, and Anderson, Jo sat across from Tori, waiting for Brian to appear. Tori looked as if she hadn’t slept and was twisting a strand of blonde hair around her finger. In the drive over, Jo had absorbed Tori’s tension and now was fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
The door opened, and Brian appeared, striding to the head of the table and pulling a notepad from his briefcase.
“How are you holding up, Tori?”
“So, so.” Tori’s voice shook slightly.
“I understand. The grand jury’s indictment wasn’t a total shock,” Brian said. “Despite the potential for error, the courts still rely on eyewitness testimony in bank robbery cases. But so far, they have not revealed any physical evidence to tie you to the robbery.”
He took a VHS tape from his briefcase. “I was able to get a certified copy of the bank surveillance tape from the prosecutor’s office. Shall we have a look?”
Tori’s eyes widened, but she nodded.
Jo uncrossed her legs and sat up straight, her interest piqued as Brian pushed the tape into the VCR and turned on the television monitor.
The surveillance tape flickered to life, its grainy, soft focus making it almost useless. Almost. Jo narrowed her eyes to see the images better, and her pulse quickened as a woman approached the teller. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Tori—same height, same strong, elegant jawline, and hair color—but sunglasses obscured her eyes, and a rounded belly protruded under the oversized blue shirt.
This can’t be Tori. She’s slim. Jo wondered for a moment if she was relieved or protesting.
Tori sat in what appeared to be stunned silence as the tape came to an end.
“I know the facial resemblance is a bit of a shock,” Brian said. “But this woman looks a bit heavier than Tori.”
Jo shifted in her chair, rushing to Tori’s defense, “Can we hire an FBI photo identification expert to examine the surveillance tape and photos? The woman on the tape looks like Tori superficially, but we all recognize that the robber doesn’t have the same body type as Tori.”
“Yes, we are thinking along the same lines,” Brian said. “But since we’re going to trial, I want to get more background today to ensure I haven’t missed anything important.”
He took out his pen and poised it over his notepad.
For the next half hour, Brian inquired about Tori’s parents, her brother, her college and medical school education, her medical residencies, and her academic work and employment history.
Tori appeared still shaken by the video and answered mechanically.
“Have you ever had a drug problem?”
Tori looked away. “No.”
Jo wondered what that glance away meant. She watched as Brian jotted a note.
“Do you have any active medical problems?” Brian asked.
Tori met Brian’s eyes. “Not really,” she said. “Migraine headaches, occasionally.”
“Do you take any prescription medication?”
Tori hesitated, and, again, her eyes slid from Brian’s momentarily.
“Um—I was taking an antidepressant, amitriptyline, for about six weeks, but it didn’t agree with me, so I have tapered off it.”
Jo sat back in her chair, crossing her arms, surprised to hear of Tori’s depression for the first time.
“Are you seeing a psychiatrist?” Brian tipped his head.
“Yes. I was. Dr. Janet Novak. She prescribed the amitriptyline.”
Brian straightened his reading glasses. “Tell me more about the depression.”
Tori sighed. “My life was in upheaval—my husband and I have separated and will soon divorce. I’m questioning my life choices, and I hate living in Houston. But I’m staying because I have important work to do here. It was all getting on top of me.”
“I see.” Brian wrote on his legal pad. “Tell me again about your work?”
Jo watched the tension ease from Tori’s face as she entered familiar territory and became more animated. “Every week, I see patients in my clinic suffering from chronic asthma, chronic obstructive lung disease, and various cancers that are likely caused by living near petrochemical plants that spew a toxic soup of respiratory irritants and carcinogens into the air, soil, and water. No one has systematically studied whether these medical conditions are associated with their environmental exposures, despite indirect evidence from animal and occupational studies suggesting a link.”
Brian nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ve nearly completed a study of cancer incidence in the neighborhoods surrounding the country’s largest concentration of petrochemical plants. It confirms that cancer rates are elevated. Occupation, smoking, or stage of diagnosis can’t explain the excess.”
“Who’s funding this effort?” Brian asked.
Tori’s face fell. “No one, really. I received some funding from the University of Texas, which is allocated from the overhead of other grants, and I use their large computer for data analysis. However, my study is primarily self-funded through my clinical work.”
“Have you published this study?” Brian asked.
“Not yet.” Jo noticed Tori twisting her fingers in her lap. “I’m also setting up a toxicology laboratory. It’s a small lab near the clinic, where I will test blood, urine, and tissue samples for toxic substances.”
“Who are you testing?” Brian asked, his face showing curiosity.
“Initially, I’ll test only my patients, with their consent,” Tori said.
Brian made another note. “What’s the cost of setting up the lab?”
“The analytical equipment is expensive. As you know, I’ve already bought some. However, I’ll also need a gas chromatography-mass spectrometer, which costs approximately $50,000 to $75,000, along with other basic equipment such as refrigerators and fume hoods. Then, there are reagents, consumables, and rent for the laboratory space. Not to mention staffing, quality control, and accreditation.”
Jo’s eyebrows shot up. A glance at Brian revealed his surprise as well. She had no idea the lab was such a massive and expensive endeavor. She should have been more curious about the pressure it might be putting on her friend and delved into it further.
“Are you funding this on your own?” Brian said.
Tori scoffed. “I can’t. I’ve secured the space and purchased some basic equipment. The setup will cost over $1 million. Then there’s the ongoing maintenance and operating costs. It’s a long-range project. I’ve applied for funding from various government agencies and even selected venture capitalists, but none have come through yet.”
Brian jiggled his pen between his fingers and frowned. The silence hung heavily. Jo guessed he was thinking about how the prosecution would view this if it came out at trial. And then Tori brought it into the open.
“I’m seeking legitimate funding through grants,” she said. “Not by robbing a bank. Anyway, how much money do you think the tellers have in their drawers?”
Brian regarded her, his expression inscrutable.
“Right.” He snapped the lid on his pen. “Shall we take a brief break?”
*
In the restroom, Jo whispered to Tori, “I didn’t know you were depressed.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not as depressed as I was several months ago. That’s ironic, isn’t it? Plus, the medication didn’t agree with me, and I’m completely off it now.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?”
A shadow crossed Tori’s face. “I was in no shape to speak with anyone—even you,” she said before ducking into a stall.
When they were washing their hands, Jo said, “You’ve taken on mammoth undertakings all by yourself: the cancer study, the new laboratory, and the divorce. No wonder you felt overwhelmed and depressed.”
“Yes,” Tori said. She met Jo’s eyes in the mirror. “Not overwhelmed enough to rob a bank, though.”
“No, of course not,” Jo said. On impulse, she said, “We should tell Brian about that guy following us.”
Tori turned to look Jo directly in the eye. “How can we be sure Brian’s trustworthy?”
Jo’s eyes widened. “I believe he is, but why do you ask?”
“He’s a local Houston guy in a big law firm with other attorneys who might work for Big Oil.”
“Yes, but he’s your attorney and bound by attorney-client privilege.”
She suddenly felt frustrated with Tori, frustrated by the need to defend the attorney who was trying to help her get out of this mess, and frustrated by Tori’s reluctance to lay all her cards on the table. The shock of finding out about her depression and how much the lab would cost Tori still galled her.
“He’d have to disclose to you if he has a conflict of interest. And he can’t effectively defend you if you don’t tell him about being followed and your concern about your phone being tapped. It could be relevant to your defense. Surely, it’s not only me thinking that you might have been framed for the bank robbery. And that your cancer study and whatever information you’re getting that you can’t tell me about threatens Big Oil because they’re worried about being exposed as environmental criminals.”
Tori sighed. She pulled down a towel and wiped her hands slowly. Then she met Jo’s eyes.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him.”
Chapter 21
Back in the conference room, Brian continued his questions.
“Based on your statements, your finances appear in good shape. You’ve managed to save despite your investment in lab equipment and rent. What about your husband? You said he was working for a start-up, building personal computers. How are his finances?”
Tori shrugged. “I don’t know now. He no longer shares his finances with me, and we have separate accounts, except for the joint one for household expenses and the mortgage. He told me a few weeks ago that he’d gotten a temporary contract job he hoped would turn into a salaried position.”
“Have either of you ever declared bankruptcy?” Brian asked.
“I haven’t, but Rick started the process of declaring it individually around the time of our separation, and I was notified. Our joint ownership of the house put me at risk, but my financial assets are in my name.” Tori said. “Fortunately, he got this temporary IT contract job that apparently pays well, so he didn’t go through with the bankruptcy.”
Brian checked his notes, and in the pause, Jo thought it might be a good time to allay Tori’s concerns. She slipped her hand across the table to attract Brian’s attention.
“Do any of the attorneys in your firm defend corporations accused of wrongdoing?”
Brian’s head snapped up, and he looked taken aback. “Yes, we have two attorneys who specialize in corporate criminal defense. Why do you ask?”
“Will you please assure Tori that you will not share details of her case with your corporate defense attorney partners or associates?”
Understanding flickered in his eyes, and Brian turned to Tori. “I assure you that details of your case will remain confidential, and I’ll only share them with my paralegal. The same attorney-client privilege also binds him. And I keep my files in locked file cabinets.”
Tori stared at Brian as if deliberating. Then she nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Tell him about the stalker,” Jo urged.
Brian’s face registered surprise.
“I’m being followed. A big, muscular, bald guy is watching me—watching both of us. In the last few days, he showed up at a restaurant, the gym, and a bar. He looks menacing and doesn’t bother to hide that he’s spying on us. Also, I’m sure my phone is being tapped.”
Jo watched Brian’s reaction. His eyes widened, his brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together. Not the response of a man privy to a plot. Unless he is an excellent actor.
“This is disturbing indeed,” he said. “I’ll look into whether the FBI might be tapping your phone, though I doubt they would have a reason to.”
Jo stepped in.
“As Tori said, she’s working on a study of cancer in neighborhoods where petrochemical plants are concentrated and setting up a lab to test for toxins in the body fluids of some of those same people. What does this suggest to you?”
“Somebody hired by those companies is keeping an eye on her,” Brian said.
“Right. We need to keep Tori safe. They may not just be watching. Do you remember the case of Karen Silkwood? She was killed on her way to report Kerr-McGee’s environmental crimes.”
Brian’s expression was solemn. “Yes, I agree, we have to find out who this guy is working for. I can offer a private investigator. Though there’d be an additional charge.”
Tori’s eyes widened, and Jo wondered what she was thinking. Her expression looked very much like alarm.
“That won’t be necessary,” Tori said. “I may already have to take out a second mortgage on my house to pay your fees.”
So that was it. Tori was naturally worried about paying even more legal fees. Just the same, Jo’s suspicions were raised. She felt it was unreasonable not to take protective steps against a threat like the large, muscular stalker. Second mortgage? Or secrets? She clocked her friend’s averted gaze, the tremor in her coffee cup.
“I’ll be fine,” Tori said. “I have friends to call if I feel unsafe.”
Brian looked unconvinced but didn’t press the issue. He was silent for a moment while he checked his notes.
“You said no one can vouch for your activities at the time of the bank robbery. Were you using your computer?”
“Yes, in my home office,” Tori said.
“Can you check if there is a time stamp on any documents you worked on and saved during that time?” Brian said.
Tori nodded. “I’ll check, but I’ve worked on the documents since then, so they will probably show only the latest one.”
Brian was silent for a moment, apparently thinking, before he said, “The woman you were to meet for lunch on the day of the robbery. do you now recall her name?”
Jo noticed how Brian had abruptly changed the tone of his questioning. He was suddenly more intense, more determined to get a straight answer.
“Uh, no,” Tori said, looking away.
“This is important, Tori. Did you remember her last name, where she worked, or how we might contact her?”
Tori’s fingers pleated the hem of her blouse, and Jo recognized the nervous tic from when they’d crammed for finals in their cramped dorm room.
She hesitated before answering. “Like I told you, her first name is Jude. She’s a casual acquaintance I met at a dance.” There was a catch in her voice. “I don’t have a way to contact her.”
More words poured out, and Jo got the impression Tori was covering something by explaining too much.
“She suggested lunch, but as I said, I threw away the piece of paper on which she had written her name and phone number in a fit of pique when she didn’t show.”
What is Tori hiding about this woman?
Brian didn’t let it drop. “I want details about your activities in the hours after the robbery to show that you were behaving normally. Let’s go through it again.”
*
They left Brian’s office and headed into Houston’s heat and humidity. As they approached the car, Jo said, “Do you trust Brian now?”
Tori unlocked the door. Her back was to Jo. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Do you trust me?”
Tori turned and held her gaze. “You’re the only person I really trust, Jo.”
As they drove through Houston’s shimmering skyline, Jo was silent. She cataloged discrepancies: Tori’s nervous pleating of her shirt fabric, the hitch in her voice when she’d said, “casual acquaintance”. The way her eyes slid away when Brian asked if she took medication. Tori’s life was no longer the open book it’d been when they were in college or when Tori lived in Boston, and they’d talked on the phone every few months.
Jo’s stomach rumbled, demanding attention.
“How do you feel about Mexican food?” she asked.
Tori smiled. “Nothing gets in the way of your appetite.”
They grabbed lunch at a Mexican restaurant so Jo could have the green corn tamales she craved. She savored every bite, washing it down with Dos Equis lager. When Tori finished her enchiladas verde, Jo decided to probe.
“Who is this woman you met at a party? Your lunch date on the day of the robbery?”
Tori played with her empty beer bottle, twisting it around, not meeting Jo’s eyes. “I met her at The Lodge one night, dancing. She gave me her phone number and said we should meet for lunch. I called her, and we set up a lunch date. As I told Brian, she never showed.”
“Why didn’t you want to give Brian her full name?”
Tori lifted her beer bottle to drink, but, upon noticing it was empty, lowered it. Jo had the impression she was playing for time. She met Jo’s gaze. “I don’t want him to contact her and involve her in my legal problems.”
Jo wanted to ask more, but the server came with their check, and Tori grabbed it to pay. The moment for tactful questioning was lost.
When the server left, Tori said, “I need to drop by my clinic before they close at 2:00 p.m. It’s best if I tell the medical director in person that I’ve been indicted and that my case is going to trial. Of course, he knows of my arrest, but I haven’t heard anything from him. I’ll drop you off at home first so you can pack and call your office. Then we’ll have a free evening on your last night.”
Tori’s face was strained, though she gave Jo a brave smile. A wave of empathy compelled Jo to say, “This is so hard, Tori, so unfair. I hope your director knows you’d never rob a bank.”
Tori shrugged, looking despondent. “We’ll see.”
She’d look for a chance to ask about the mystery woman later. In the meantime, she needed to focus on the plaintiffs in her case. She had to decide whether to interview more potential plaintiffs in Oilton, as David had requested.
Would their lawsuits even be viable now that their prime medical expert was indicted for bank robbery?
Chapter 22
