One female caller said she thought Victoria and Simon Fontaine got what they deserved.

  “That drug will only help sinners fornicate,” she said. “The act of procreation between husband and wife is sacred. It’s not a recreational sport. God bless you, and I hope you explore this in your next story.”

  William Fontaine called, too, but with praise. “Great headline. I’m surprised you quoted me so accurately,” he said, a sentiment she’d heard before and always found amusing.

  Who are these reporters who keep their jobs after misquoting sources?

  He also gave her an encouraging tidbit about the autopsy reports.

  “My source at the ME’s office says the police chief has asked for expedited toxicology reports, so they might be ready by Friday.”

  Katrina was pleased that her weekend story was getting dressed and ready to go.

  In the meantime, I’d better get on that campaign research before Linda tries to send me in a different direction.

  Thirty minutes later, she was greeted by a most unpleasant paper plate smeared with chocolate frosting and cake crumbs, a wadded-up napkin, and half a paper cup of cold coffee on her desk.

  Why was someone sitting at my desk?

  Worse still, she was shocked to see her personal email account was open on her screen, where anyone could have read them, and probably did.

  What the hell? I didn’t leave my emails open like this. Was this Jerry, snooping? I don’t have time for this shit.

  She put the napkin on the plate and walked it over to Jerry’s desk, where she dumped it into his bin and poured the coffee on top.

  That will send a message. If it wasn’t him, he probably won’t even know the difference. Nosy slobs.

  Before she dug back into the campaign donations, she made a quick call to Goode to make sure they were okay.

  “Oh, it’s you, the investigative reporting star,” he said in an unexpectedly passive-aggressive tone, his words hitting too close to the threatening note for her liking.

  “I’m confused. Last I heard, you were apologizing,” she said.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I was trying to make a joke. Too soon? I’m trying to take my mind off the hook my chief poked through my ass this morning.”

  “Sounds painful.”

  “No kidding,” he said, half-heartedly. “I’m sorry, again, for not checking on you yesterday. I know you’re doing your job, but Chief Baxter took my head off in front of my whole team this morning. He’s one of those Christian conservatives you mentioned, and he took offense to your story, even though you mention that the Vitaleron marketing strategy was to keep marriages together.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Weird.”

  “But the bottom line is that the brass doesn’t trust you now, because you’ve printed details about the investigation that we would never release. As you probably know, we don’t do that because we need to assess whether people are lying or know more than they’re admitting.”

  Katrina felt no remorse. She was under attack as well. Had he forgotten that? But she still needed him as a source.

  “Not sure what I can do about that. On your other point, I can try to give you a heads-up earlier in the day, but I don’t always know. Maybe you should check your phone more often?”

  “Easier said than done. Yesterday was a shitshow for reasons I can’t disclose, but if things don’t turn around in the next day or so, I’ll tell you about it.”

  That sounds promising.

  “I’m all ears. But if I’d reached you sooner, what would you have said? Was William wrong about anything?”

  “We’re off the record, right?”

  “I’d rather not, but why stop now,” she said sarcastically.

  “Okay, well, the answer is yes and no. It’s not a simple death scene. We still don’t know what exactly went down or how. It’s possible that what we saw wasn’t caused by one person or even done at the same time.”

  “Huh?”

  “We think someone messed with the scene.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As in, purposely staged it to throw us off.”

  “So, William was right. Simon was shot in the right temple even though he was left-handed, so he couldn’t have shot himself.”

  “I didn’t know he was left-handed, so thanks for that tidbit. But it’s gotten even more complicated. I was off the grid last night because I spent the day running around in ten different directions, slamming into political and legal roadblocks from the top down.”

  “When can you tell me about that?”

  “That’s the shitshow I was talking about,” he said. “Give me until tomorrow.”

  “Unless I can find something on paper before that.”

  “I doubt it, but more power to you. This will all become clearer once I get more toxicology tests back.”

  “By Friday, right?”

  “Friday? I doubt it. We had to use an outside lab.”

  “So the reports won’t be done by Friday?”

  “No, because they can’t finish the autopsy report before the tox screens come back. Is this William talking again? Please don’t do this to me a second time.”

  “I can’t reveal my sources.”

  “Let’s put it this way, if you quote a draft report or the investigator’s notes with preliminary results, and you know the cause and manner of death are still undecided, that will be misleading, if not plain wrong. This usually takes weeks, Katrina.”

  But I bet there’s some good stuff in there about what the death scene looked like. So, I’m not agreeing to anything.

  “Good to know.”

  “If you do get ahold of something—unofficially—please call me so we can discuss it, okay?”

  “Yes, of course. Just like I did last night.”

  “Point taken. There’s one other thing I’ve been wanting to tell you, but you didn’t get it from me—in fact, you can find it yourself in the property records.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Look up the original corporate formation of Vitaleron with the secretary of state and the history of the building and its owner, Lexicon Group LLC. You need to be careful, Katrina. There’s a whole hornet’s nest in there.”

  “Thank you, I think,” Katrina said hesitantly. “I already know Lexicon is the owner, although it’s listed as one of Vincent’s holdings. I didn’t go any deeper.”

  “Well, dig in and call me back. I’m here if you want to talk some more about it.”

  As soon as they hung up, Katrina took Goode’s advice and almost fell off her chair.

  What the hell? Daddy and Franny were both involved in this Vitaleron deal three years before Franny died?

  Katrina wondered why no one had mentioned this to her when her parents’ murder investigation was still fresh. But thinking back, the only reason she knew about the hotel deal on Mission Bay was the Advocate article.

  Holy effing shit. Did they go into business together because they were all in that family drug-treatment group? Could Vincent Battrelle have been involved in the deaths of my family and now the Fontaines’ too?

  She called Goode back right away. “Do I need to call security? I thought being threatened by the Polish mafia was bad, and then I come home to this? Do you think that’s what the rock and the note were about, trying to scare me off this story?”

  “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, because I don’t see any direct relationship to this case or any immediate danger. Your father and brother got out of this deal long before either of them died, but their involvement does raise questions. So, all I can say is, be careful. I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “I didn’t need this today,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Try not to worry. If I find any deeper connection, I’ll let you know, and you do the same, okay?”

  Katrina felt a tightness in her chest. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

  She signed out of her computer to keep the spies away, then made her way to the stairs that led to the rooftop.

  I can’t breathe. I need some air.

  The muscles in her neck and shoulders felt like sheets of metal, and her heart was pounding so hard she could hear her blood pulsing.

  I can’t tell anyone about this, because Joanne already suggested I give up this story after the death threat. But it seems even more likely now that that was Vincent’s plan all along.

  Up on the roof, the sky was gray toward the coast, but the marine layer was starting to burn off. Vitaleron board members speaking at a police department news conference, legal and political roadblocks at the SDPD, and now this.

  What paper records might connect the mayor, the police chief, Vincent, Simon, and anyone else at Vitaleron? A man’s penis can be a powerful, and sometimes irrational, motivator.

  Neither the mayor nor the chief showed up on the list of donors who gave directly to Winchester’s political campaign. The question she needed to investigate was whether a separate donation stream masked their identity or added a layer of protection. Some, if not all, of the donors could also be Vitaleron investors.

  Once she settled on a plan of action, Katrina ran down the stairs as fast as she could. Whirling her swivel chair around, she signed into her computer and typed the chief’s name, Tom Baxter, into the OpenSecrets search bar.

  The chief getting upset at the Christian-conservative reference could be misplaced anger or fear of being exposed for something more than that.

  But nothing came up. She did the same for the mayor, Jack Norton. Still nothing. Thankfully, she was able to reach William.

  “Quick question: I’m trying to track the campaign donations as you suggested, but I hit a wall. Did Simon ever mention a particular campaign committee that was set up to funnel money but to also give cover to local officials like the police chief, or anyone else who wanted to donate, so they wouldn’t be easily identified?”

  William laughed. “You are one smart cookie. I was wondering the same thing after the chief called me this morning.”

  “Really, what did he say? Was he mad?”

  “Not overtly. He expressed his condolences, then said, ‘I’m sure you’d agree that your brother’s work is very important to the community. I would ask that you not speak any further to the media. This kind of coverage interferes with our death investigation.’”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I appreciated his position, but as a private citizen, and more importantly as a lawyer, I would say and do whatever I saw fit.”

  “Good for you. I heard that he chewed out the lead detective this morning too.”

  “He was probably even more pissed after talking to me. But his odd request prompted me to go back into my emails with Simon. I found one that mentioned Christians For Everlasting Marriage, a group that has its own political action committee. Try searching for it. It’s a 527, which is under IRS purview.”

  “That’s a great tip, thanks. I did some checking too. The guy you mentioned, Congressman Brandon Winchester, is on the committee that oversees the FDA, so he’s the most likely recipient. I found some direct donations to him yesterday, but nothing from any public official. Maybe this will turn up some more.”

  “One thing I should point out. This is all legal, you know, unless there’s a promise of action or quid pro quo in exchange for receiving the donations, in which case they would be considered a bribe. I don’t think that’s something my brother or Victoria would have authorized, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t done without their knowledge or with plausible deniability.”

  “Okay. One other question. Did you know my father, Peter Chopin? Or did Simon ever mention him or my brother, Franny?”

  “No, I’m sorry, although your father’s name does sound familiar. Should I know him?”

  “He and my mother were judges, and they were murdered six months after my brother allegedly died by suicide. I just found out that they went in on Vitaleron and also the building where it’s headquartered, with Vincent Battrelle. Vincent is Vitaleron’s largest investor now that Simon is gone. How’s that for motive?”

  “Oh, God, of course. Yes, I remember now. I’m so sorry for your loss, Katrina. Simon went to their funeral. He said he knew them through Victoria’s rehab program, but now I remember he said that Vincent Battrelle was in love with your mother during law school. Simon seemed very conflicted about their deaths, and I never knew why. But I see where you’re going with this. It sounds messy, but I think you’re on to something, so keep going. I’ll let you know if I remember anything else.”

  “Thanks.”

  Who gets Simon’s and Victoria’s shares of the company now, Simon’s estranged wife and their son, Cal? Maybe that’s why the divorce was still not finalized. Could the wife be a suspect?

  The IRS website wasn’t particularly user-friendly, which forced her to wade through tedious searches to find the information she wanted. But her persistence paid off.

  In the most recent election, the Christian group’s 527 committee—which had no legal donation limits—received a whopping $5 million from 350 people. Katrina stifled a squeal of excitement as she scrolled down the donor list, which included the police chief, the mayor, every Vitaleron board member and employee she’d met, the entire Battrelle family, and many socialites she recognized from the newspaper archives.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  She also recognized names from her previous day’s search for donations to Winchester, including Milton Biggs. When she also saw John Palmer’s name, her heart sank.

  Are you effing kidding me? What kind of horror show did I come to work for?

  If the group was prohibited from contributing to or coordinating with a specific federal candidate, how did the money get to Winchester? After checking the rules, she learned that the groups were allowed to funnel money to federal candidates as long as they established political committees to transfer the cash.

  After reviewing all the group’s expenditures, she concluded that the committee had contributed the entire $5 million sum to the Committee to Reelect Brandon Winchester, which was allegedly run “independently.”

  This is gold. It may be legal, but it sure doesn’t look good for the mayor and police chief to openly mix their own personal interests with city business, let alone a special death investigation. Same for the newspaper’s executive editor, even if the donations predate this death case. Ack.

  When Katrina relayed her findings to Joanne, the editor almost spit out her coffee. “This is so awful, but it’s also tremendous work, Katrina. I’m very proud of you.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be told to bury these names in the story, if we include them at all, but I will fight for you. If we don’t do it, some other media outlet will scoop and embarrass us,” Joanne said. “Plus, it’s the only ethical thing to do.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Katrina said. “I don’t want to get tainted by this. We could all be written up by the Poynter Institute. I’d say it’s high time to get Michael and Vincent Battrelle on the record about the Fontaines’ deaths and those donations, too, don’t you?”

  “I wish we could wait until we had more of this nailed down, but my gut says yes. This is a huge development, Katrina. By the way, I wanted to ask, how are you doing? And how did your detective take today’s story?”

  “I’m fine, but Goode is not so good. The chief’s on the rampage, which is what prompted all this new research.”

  “If you let your detective know what’s coming this time, maybe we’ll get a quote from the chief.”

  “Definitely.”

  “But I need to warn you about one other minefield, Katrina. Milton Biggs’s firm not only represents Vitaleron, Biggs is the Battrelle family’s lawyer, and he also does work for the paper. He often vets our investigative stories, so that’s going to be a tall pile of dung to crawl through today. He’ll have to choose his priorities and assign other lawyers to the rest.”

  “Yeah, I already checked his client list. But it didn’t mention the whole family, only Vincent Battrelle Enterprises. Does this town have only one major law firm?”

  “No, but it sure seems that way sometimes. To avoid an appearance of conflict, I’m going to suggest we bring in our First Amendment attorney, a fireball named Natalia Gonzales.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “You’d better make sure Vincent understands that you have officially quit his side job. And don’t forget to call Winchester to give him a chance to argue that this is all legal, like William Fontaine said.”

  “If I go to Vitaleron right now and interview Michael Battrelle, maybe I can find out who coordinated all of these campaign donations before Linda and John Palmer try to pull me off the story.”

  “Good idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if Palmer is having a breakfast meeting with the mayor and the chief as we speak.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Once you get back, he and Linda will be mad that you disobeyed their orders, but it will be a done deal, and I’m sure you’ll have more ammunition than just these donations by then. Don’t worry, I’ll back you up. We’re going to the mattresses today. No matter what the cost.”

  Katrina was pleased that she’d chosen to confide in Joanne. Other than meeting Goode at Piatti, this was the first personal and professional connection that had felt right since she’d arrived. She grabbed a notebook from the supply closet and pushed past Jerry as he tried to stop her for a chat in front of the elevator.

  Chapter 34

  Goode

  Wednesday

  Goode heard Stone yelling into the phone all morning, dealing with the media fallout of Katrina’s story.

  “I wasn’t lying to you, she found this out on her own,” Stone screamed at Ready Rhona, one of the few reporters he actually liked.

  Goode put in his earbuds to block out Stone’s voice so he could deal with more pressing matters. He didn’t want to scare Katrina, but he meant it when he told her to be careful, and he wasn’t exaggerating when he’d mentioned her as a “potential victim” to Agent Wattshispants.