“He had the support of a lot of wealthy people, book offers, so it was worth a shot.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said the same thing you did: he ain’t got the money.”
Keller looked at him, waited for him to go on.
“I thought that was it, you know. We had other things in the fire, selling some legislative bills to lobbyists and whatnot, trying to get Turner his retirement fund.”
“But…”
“Then I get a call. My encrypted business line I only give out to select people. You had to be in the know to get it.” The guy sounded almost proud of all this.
Keller bit the inside of her cheek as he went on.
“So I get this call, and the guy—he won’t tell me who he is, but I think I know—says he wants to be connected to someone who does wet work.”
“A contract killer?” Keller asked.
“Yeah. I said I don’t do that stuff. I’m a businessman. But for a fee I might be able to liaise. Friend-of-a-friend kind of thing.”
The man was sleazy, but he made the job sound almost corporate. Keller was literally on the edge of her seat. She wanted to shake the guy to get to the point. But she had a sinking feeling she knew the trajectory of this story. That the person who called Flanagan hired a pro to kill Evan Pine. That Maggie had gotten a photo of the hitman, so he killed them all and staged the scene to look like an accidental gas leak. That he went after Matt to retrieve the photo.
“Let’s get this straight,” Keller said. “You get a call out of the blue asking you to connect someone with a contract killer and you just say, ‘Okay, no problem’？”
Flanagan gave a one-shouldered shrug. “The caller knew things about my business.”
“And you connected him with a contractor,” the prosecutor chimed in, as if trying to speed things along. “A hitter no one seems to be able to verify even exists.”
Keller was realizing why this story hadn’t gone anywhere. The AUSA thought Flanagan was full of shit. And why wouldn’t he? Flanagan was desperate, and the story crazy.
“I was just the go-between. I had no idea the man was gonna…”
The prosecutor waved him quiet. “We get it. You were a choirboy.”
“So the contractor—I’ve never met him, just heard of him by rep—he doesn’t talk directly with clients. He told me to get one hundred K and the name and photo.”
“How did you reach him?” Keller asked. “And what do you mean you’d heard of him by rep? What had you heard?”
“If you’re in my line of work, you hear stuff. The contractor, he had a rep as someone who did clean work, specialized in making things look like an accident.”
“Did he have a name?”
“No, people just called him the Lip.”
Keller felt goose bumps crawl up her arms. She thought of Maggie’s photo of the man with the cleft lip scar.
“The caller drops the money, plus my cut, at a locker in the statehouse. And I take the cash and envelope to another drop for the Lip.”
“Why not just wire funds or send encrypted files?”
“Because that’s not how he wanted to do it,” Flanagan said, as if it were the dumbest question he’d ever heard. Keller presumed that cash, paper, was the only way to ensure no digital footprints. The hit man was old-school.
“But, you know, I’m a curious type,” Flanagan said.
Keller understood. The weasel not only hid to see who dropped off the envelope at the statehouse, he looked inside. No honor among thieves. “Who was the mark?”
“That guy on the news. From the TV show. Evan Pine.”
“Who hired the Lip?” Keller said, tired of Flanagan holding her in suspense.
The lawyer put a hand on her client’s arm, stopping him from responding. “He gets time served,” she said to the AUSA.
Flanagan offered a greasy smile that Keller wanted to smash in with her fist. The prosecutor looked at Keller. He must’ve been able to tell from her demeanor that Flanagan had said something that resonated. The Lip. It corroborated his story, connecting the man with the cleft lip scar Maggie had photographed. It wasn’t a coincidence. Flanagan was telling the truth.
“Make the deal,” Keller said.
“This is above my pay grade,” the prosecutor said. “I’ll be back.” He stepped out of the conference room.
When he returned fifteen minutes later, he looked at Flanagan’s lawyer and nodded.
The lawyer looked at her disgusting client and said, “Tell her.”