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“I’d sit if I were you,” I called to Martin. “My friend Albert knows five different martial arts. In three moves, he can break four different bones.”
Martin scurried to the side and pulled out his phone. “I’m dialing 9-1-1. You guys are crazy.”
With speed that surprised even me, Albert snatched the phone away. “The lady said sit.” His growl was ferocious.
I motioned to the chair. “I have a few more things to show you. Then we’re done.”
Martin took his chair again and gulped.
I pulled out the second piece of paper and tapped the bottle with it. “You served this bottle to Evan the night of the fountain incident.”
“I did not. The bar supplied it.”
I gave him the paper. “Fingerprints don’t lie. Yours are all over it, and I checked with the bar. They don’t stock this brand.”
Tiny beads of sweat were growing on his forehead.
“You drugged him, and Myra Cotts got him to splash naked in the fountain.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Why do you rich assholes believe people like me can’t do their homework?” I pulled out the pictures of him kissing the redhead on the street. “Myra Cotts, your girlfriend.” My leg was jittery from the adrenaline.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Maybe not anymore.” I laughed. “Her fingerprints were on the bottle as well, by the way.” I added two more pieces of paper to the pile.
He shoved the pile away.
“You might want to read that top one. It’s her sworn statement that you put her up to it, and confessing the whole plot to have Evan photographed in a compromising position. It also includes that you paid her.”
He glanced at the paper and then away. “So what? Nobody got raped or anything. It was just embarrassing pictures.”
“What about the girls in Chicago, Dallas, Albany, Jacksonville, and Seattle?”
The blood drained from his face.
“Yes, she admitted in writing to joining you on those business trips where you paid her good money to help you drug women and take them to your hotel room. You thought limiting it to out-of-town trips would keep you safe.”
“That’s a lie,” he sputtered.
He could thrash about all he wanted, but he was trapped. “I’ve got your travel schedule.” I pulled that from my bag and added it to the pile of evidence. “And I’m sure your expense reports will match up. Plus Myra wrote down their names. If we call the women, what are they going to say?”
“It was Myra’s idea, all of it. I only helped her.”
“Albert, did you hear that clearly?” I asked.
“Certainly did.”
I lowered my voice. “Martin, Martin, you do realize you just confessed to participating, don’t you? That’s a federal conspiracy charge, because you and Myra crossed state lines.”
He slumped, defeated. “What do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked.”
When I looked over, Albert had a smile a mile wide.
“First, you’re going to come to a financial arrangement of at least two million dollars with each of these women.” I tapped the paper stack.
