“Everybody tells me not to take any of this personally.” I smile a little. The ominous feeling strengthens. He will continue to support me, as if to imply there are reasons he shouldn’t.
“Edith, my kids, staff, all tell me the same thing,” he is saying. “And I still take things personally. I just don’t let on that I do.”
“Then you had nothing to do with Bergerwith this rather remarkable change of venue, so to speak?” I have to ask.
He sharpens his ash to a point, slowly rolling the cigar, puffing, buying time. He did have something to do with it. He had everything to do with it, I am convinced. “She’s really
good, Kay.” His nonanswer is an answer.
I accept this. I resist prying. I simply ask him exactly how he is acquainted with her.
“Well, you know we both went to UVA law school,” he says. “Then when I was AG, I had a case. You should remember since it had to do with your office. The socialite from New York who took out a huge life insurance policy on her husband one month before she murdered him in a Fairfax hotel. She tried to pass it off as a suicidal shooting.”
I remember all too well. She later named my office and me in a lawsuit, accusing us of racketeering, among other things, for allegedly colluding with the insurance company to falsify records so no claim was paid to her.
“Berger got involved because it turns out the woman’s first husband had died under suspicious circumstances in New York some years earlier,” Mitchell says. “Seems he was an older man, frail, and drowned in the bathtub just one month after the wife had taken out a huge life insurance policy. The medical examiner found bruises that might have indicated a struggle, and pended the case for a very long time, hoping the investigation would turn up something conclusive. It didn’t. The D.A.’s office just couldn’t make the case. Then the woman sues the medical examiner there, too. For slander, emotional duress, baloney like that. I had numerous conversations with the people up there, mostly Bob Morgenthau, the D.A., but also with Jaime, comparing notes.”
“Guess I’m wondering if the feds might try to make Chan-donne flip and snitch on his cartel family. Let’s make a deal,” I say. “And then what?”
“I think you can bank on that,” Mitchell replies solemnly.
“So that’s it.” Now I know. “He is guaranteed not to get the death penalty? That’s the deal.”
“Morgenthau’s not known for putting people to death,” he says. “But I am. I’m a tough old bird.”
The governor has just clued me in on the negotiations that have gone on. The feds get to work on Chandonne. In exchange, Chandonne is tried in New York, where he is assured he will not get the death penalty. No matter what happens,
Governor Mitchell doesn’t look bad. It is no longer his problem. It is no longer Virginia’s problem. We won’t incite an international incident by sticking a needle in Chandonne’s arm. “That’s a shame,” I sum it up. “Not that I believe in capital punishment, Mike, but it’s a shame that politics have gotten into the mix. I just listened to several hours of Chandonne’s lies. He’s not going to help anyone take down his family. Never. And I’ll tell you something else, if he ends up in Kirby or Bellevue, he’ll somehow get out. He’ll kill again. So on the one hand, I’m glad there’s an excellent prosecutor on the case and not Righter. Righter’s a coward. But on the other hand, I’m sorry we’ve lost control of Chandonne.”
Mitchell leans forward and places his hands on his knees, a ready position signaling our conversation has ended. He isn’t going to discuss the matter further with me, and that also speaks volumes. “Good of you to come, Kay,” he says. He holds my stare. This is his way of saying, “Don’t ask.”[“_Toc37098921”]
CHAPTER 19
AARON LEADS ME BACK DOWN THE STAIRS AND gives me a slight smile as he opens the front door. The trooper waves at me as I drive through the gates. There is a sense of closure, of finality as I wind through Capitol Square, the mansion disappearing in my rearview mirror. I have left something. I have just walked away from my life as I have known it, and I have discovered a wrinkle of distrust for a man I have always admired so much. No, I don’t think Mitchell has done anything wrong. But I know he hasn’t been forthright with me, not totally. He is directly responsible for Chan-donne’s leaving our jurisdiction, and the reason is politics, not justice. I sense it. I am sure of it. Mike Mitchell is not the prosecutor anymore. He is the governor. Why should I be surprised? What the hell did I expect?