Chapter 2

Ria Torres and Gillian Foster sat side by side at the large table in the Lightman Group's conference room. Opposite them sat Paul Santino, a middle-aged white man with a balding head and a growing stomach. He was casually dressed, wearing blue denims and a white polo shirt with a crest in red displaying the head and arms of a cartoon velociraptor and the words "Richmond" arced above and "Raptors" arced below.

This was the man who had been stumped on the side-lines two days previously while his soccer team fumbled time and time again in between bouts of sickness. The Richmond Raptors were favorites to win the match, and therefore the tournament. They had been unbeaten in one and a half seasons, and nobody had foreseen a change to that record. Their opponents, the Chester Cheetahs, had essentially lucked into the final as far as the rest of the competition was concerned. They had fumbled some unlikely lucky goals, and against all the odds had made it into the final.

"What makes you think your team was deliberately poisoned, Mr Santino?"

"It makes no sense, the way it happened. My boys, they know to take care of what they eat and how they live before a big game. And for that team to just come along, with the luck they had? And the odds against them? It doesn't add up. You really think it's a coincidence that my boys ended up with some kind of bug or food poisoning or whatever on the day of the biggest game of the year?"

"Do you have any evidence?" Ria asked.

"What more do you need? My guys were throwing up on the side of the field while their guys were running rings around them. You really think that's not suspicious?"

"What do you hope to achieve from hiring us, Mr Santino?" Asked Gillian.

"If you can show that they did it, then we can appeal in court to have them disqualified."

"Ok. We'll need you to file an appeal with the tournament's governing body and get us permission to interview the other team and any of the officials that took part."

"I did that yesterday."


"You're kidding?"

Cal was fascinated by the case. His mood had improved dramatically when he found out they would be investigating a cheating accusation with no stakes and big money. That someone was willing to pay the kind of fee that they were charging to investigate an amateur football match where no money was awarded, the prize was a trophy that could be easily purchased by anyone and nobody but the players and coaches seemed to actually care.

"Nope. These guys take their sport really seriously, and this team is backed by some serious money," Ria explained

"It's a non-league amateur tournament. It's a bit much, isn't it? Taking it to court? There's not even any prize money or promotion to a league at stake here."

"You think this is bad, you should see little league," Gillian joked.

The knock on Cal's office door followed by Heidi poking her head through, interrupted the conversation

"Dr Foster, there's a judge in the lobby asking to see you. No appointment, but he insisted that you'd be willing to see him if I just asked. He's in the waiting area."

"He give a name?"

"He signed the visitor log as 'Judge Neil Taylor'," she answered.

Gillian sat more upright in her seat, looking uncomfortably surprised. Cal looked to her with mild concern, and Ria observed the two responses with interest.

"Uh, tell him to wait in my office, please. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Heidi gave a nod of acknowledgement and retreated back, closing the door once more behind her.

"Torres, why don't you go set up the first interviews with the dirty 'Cheetahs'," Cal said, "And we'll head out shortly and see what we can find."

"OK. Sure. Who's Judge Taylor?" she said as she stood, understanding that their meeting was over and she was being dismissed, but unable to resist her curiosity at the new development.

"Torres. Go on. Mind your own," Cal rebuked.

Ria nodded her head reluctantly, taking a good look at Foster's distracted face. She knew whoever this 'Neil Taylor' guy was. By the look of her, she knew him well and was a little unsettled to hear that he was here now. She looked concerned and confused, but in a way that Ria couldn't quite put a label on.

Torres did as instructed and left them alone. Taking a lengthy detour to her own office, she decided to stop by the front desk, meaning she would have to pass by the glass walls of Foster's office. Sitting in one of the armchairs in the middle of the huge office space was a man, roughly in his early to mid sixties. He was average height, wearing a good quality suit as you might expect from a judge. He had lightly tanned white skin, silver hair, and incredibly blue eyes. As she passed by the office, the man glanced up towards the movement expectantly. His bright eyes dulled ever so slightly when he realised that the movement he had spotted was not Gillian Foster, smiling politely instead at Ria when he met her curious gaze. Torres smiled in return and moved towards the front desk to grill Heidi on her interaction with the stranger.


Back in Cal's office, Gillian remained distracted and pre-occupied.

"I'll take care of the football team interviews. You go on."

Frustration took over Gillian's features for a second.

"You weren't expecting him?"

"I would have told you if I was."

"I know. I know you would," he soothed. He took a couple of steps forward to close the distance between them and rubbed his hand up and down the length of her arm. "What do you think he wants?"

"I have no idea. Why would he not just call?"

"I don't know, sweetpea. You haven't spoken to him recently?"

"No. Nothing. Not even a call to say he was coming to D.C." she said, keeping her focus on that one point. "Something must be wrong. Don't you think?"

"Maybe he was just passing through and thought he'd stop by and check in, see how things are?"

"From California?"

"Fair point. Do you want me to go with you? To your office, I mean. Torres and Turner can take this case easily."

Gillian smiled at him, finally recognising how much she was overreacting to the unexpected visitor in her office. It would be fine. "No, I'm good. Thank you though," she said, squeezing his hand and kissing him lightly on the cheek as she headed for the door.


Cal and Ria stood waiting in the lobby of an office building in Chester, Virginia. Cal was bored and making no effort to hide it. They had been waiting for no more than five minutes, but he was keen to get these introductory interviews over with so that he could get back to their own offices.

Torres was equally eager to get back given that there was apparently something a lot more interesting than a petty amateur sporting squabble going on back there. She could tell that Lightman knew whatever it was with this judge that was taking up Foster's time. There was no surprise there. In the two and a half years that she had known them, it had been made perfectly clear that they were first fiercely protective of one another and second, they knew almost everything about one another. Lightman was more agitated than his standard and looking to get back. He wanted to be there rather than out snooping into the scandalous lies of strangers. This must be a big deal, whatever it was. That meant that Ria Torres had to know. Cases with judges and politicians were always the best. A case with a Judge that Foster would see without appointment and recognised by name? Washington D.C scandal at it's most juicy. She just knew it. And if her boss was involved somehow, she wanted to be there to support.

After a few minutes of Lightman fidgeting and Torres trying to figure out a way to ask about the other case without earning a rebuke from him, they were interrupted by a smiling Latino man in a suit.

"Dr. Lightman?" he asked.

He was about 5'10", probably in his early forties, with black hair that was beginning to grey around the temples. He was slightly overweight, with dark brown almond shaped eyes and he looked as though he hadn't stopped smiling in two days. He had the look of a man who had the best weekend of his life. Exhausted, hungover, and exceptionally happy about it.

Cal moved to greet the man with an outstretched hand. "That's me."

"Pat Ramirez," he introduced himself, meeting Cal's handshake while politely nodding to Ria. "I understand you wanted to speak with me about the game on Saturday?"

"That's right. The coach and sponsors of the Raptors want us to look into what happened. I know they called ahead to let you know this was coming. I hope this isn't a bad time?"

"It's not a great time, I do have work. But I can take a little time to hopefully clear things up. Nobody on my team would ever interfere in a game like that. I don't know what happened, but I know my guys had nothing to do with it."

The man was very open in his posture and his tone. His face was relaxed, and he didn't seem upset or offended in the slightest at the accusation. He looked entirely unperturbed.

"Did you intentionally poison members of the Richmond Raptors team in order to win that match on Saturday?" Cal decided to take the most blunt approach.

Ramirez laughed lightly and shook his head, "No. Dr Lightman, I had nothing to do with whatever was wrong with that team. I certainly wasn't too upset to see it though. It was probably the only way we could possibly have won."

"We'd like to schedule some time with you, your players and your coaching team today and tomorrow."

"Of course. Some of the guys have jobs where they can't take breaks too easy, but we can work something out."

Ramirez invited them into a meeting room that was free and answered the questions they wanted to ask. Questions about his own activities before the game and their extraordinary run of luck throughout the season. Questions about what he knew about his team, the other team, and their personalities. He answered questions about whether he had taken bribes, if he thought anyone else on the team would have, whether any of them had ever been involved in any such controversy before.

He was open and forthcoming on every issue. Finally, they asked about where they might find each of the team today so that they could ask them about the accusations. And therein they determined their first prime suspect.

"Russell is a chef down at Cassidy's. He should be there today on an early shift."

"That's where the Raptors had dinner on Friday night," Ria commented.

"Russ wasn't working on Friday. He was given the night off because the game was on early the next day."

They thanked Ramirez for the information and his cooperation, finished out the interview and left him to return to work. He had given them half an hour of his time on a Monday morning. Most of the people they investigated were far from welcoming, so it was a nice change and a good start to the week, but both Cal and Ria left the room thinking that Pat Ramirez was an unlikely suspect, but he was also a very naïve man.


Cassidy's was a big family-owned restaurant on the outskirts of South Richmond. It was popular and unpretentious; specialising in huge grilled steaks but with a range of options on the menu to suit anyone.

The Richmond Raptors had gone to the restaurant for an early bird meal on the Friday evening before their big game. It had been arranged by the team's sponsors, a successful business who happened to be owned by the father of their central midfielder.

By the time Lightman got there, they were just starting to set up for the day. Torres had been sent off to speak with a couple of other players and coaches from the team. Turner and Loker were out doing the same. By splitting up and conducting the interviews individually and recording them they would cover far more ground in a short space of time. Lightman was taking on the more likely suspects and the higher profile ones. The others were covering the rest.

All they were looking for at this point was a foundation. They would review the tapes later and decide then who they should speak to in more depth, if anyone.

Russell Cooper was a junior chef at Cassidy's. He was on the early shift today, and when Cal entered the kitchen, the young man was elbow deep in dough.

Russell was in his early twenties, he was tall, he was handsome, and he was not pleased to be interrupted by Cal Lightman. His perfectly smooth brown skin was beginning to sweat. His deep brown eyes were covered by a furrowed brow upon seeing the short Englishman enter his kitchen, and his concentration returned almost immediately to his gigantic bowl of sticky dough.

"You can't be in here."

Cal gave him an up and down once over before focussing his attention on the man's face. It was hard to tell if his anger was at being interrupted in his job or by the idea of being questioned at all.

"Just need a minute. What's that you're making?"

Russell spared him another short, frustrated glance and returned focus to the bowl.

"It's supposed to be pizza dough. I think I did something wrong with it, it's not coming together right," Russell continued to work the dough as he answered.

"Did you poison the Richmond Raptors?"

Russell froze in his actions and after a beat of surprise he raised his head to look at Cal in unfiltered anger.

"I absolutely did not. I wasn't even working that night."

"Could have prepped something ahead."

"How? How would I know what they were going to order? Or how to get exactly the right dish to the right person?"

"You tell me."

"I can't. I wasn't there. Our team was eating in some cheap crappy diner and paying for it ourselves."

"All of you?"

"A couple of the guys couldn't get off work, but most of us, yeah."

"Do you know who poisoned them?"

"I don't think anyone did."

"Why not?"

"I think they made it up for an excuse as to why they lost to us."

"You didn't see them get sick?"

"I figure they drank too much. Probably assumed they could beat us hungover. But we showed them."

"You don't like them, do you?"

"Nobody likes them. If they really were poisoned, you'd probably have to investigate every team in the league."

"You would have liked to get at them, wouldn't you?"

"I'm just glad I didn't have to serve their sanctimonious asses."


Cal knocked lightly on Gillian's office door and leaned his body in through it with a questioning gaze.

"Come in. He's gone off to some meeting or something. He's coming back this afternoon for a late lunch."

"What does he want?"

"He hasn't said yet. Tons of deflections," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Cal fully entered the office then and took his slouched position in the chair opposite her desk.

"How's your soccer players?"

"Bog standard at best. I reckon I could beat them in a kick about."

Gillian stared at him.

"Oh, you mean the case. Nah, I see no signs of guilt, no signs of deception, and no sign that our client's team was intentionally poisoned at all."

"So case closed?"

"Brought the footage back to have a look, but yeah. Want to come and have a look? Take you mind off things?"

She smiled at him and stood, "sure," she said and passed him by, rubbing a hand lightly across his shoulders as he gazed up at her in mild concern.


Torres was in the lab loading up the interview footage when they walked in.

"Hey, how's your judge? More interesting than our soccer players?"

Gillian became tense and uncomfortable but answered, "Almost definitely."

"You need help? I'd love to help. Judges usually have way better scandals to investigate than amateur sports."

Gillian's discomfort increased and Ria was sure she'd somehow managed to put her foot in her mouth but had no idea how. She looked to Lightman for a clue and he looked a little pissed at her.

"You're on the football case. That's the end of it. Now leave it alone."

"Cal, it's fine. Thank you, Ria, but I've got this. It's not a case."

Ria was further intrigued but knew when to play it down. She needed to know who this guy was. Loker would know. Or if not, at least he'd help.


The five of them slouched more and more as the interviews played out one by one on the giant projector screen. The players and the coaching staff of the Chester Cheetahs all showed the same expressions, happiness and remnants of surprise. Some showed anger when talking about their opponents in general terms, but most were sympathetic when talking about their illness. But none showed guilt. None showed shame. None showed any sign that they were lying when asked about the poisoning. Some were outraged by the suggestion. Some found it funny. None felt that they didn't deserve to win, even though they had done so against all odds.

And then one stood out. One was angry, not at the general existence of their opposition, but at the fact that his team had won.

"You won, against all the odds, and because their team was barely able to stand up. You don't feel bad about that?" Turner had asked him.

"No. Why would I feel bad? We won. That's sport."

No. He didn't feel bad. But he was angry at the exact moment when Mark had said, "you won."

Gillian had asked them to freeze the playback. They played it back again. The anger was there in that fractional moment but covered by his general disgust at their bitter rivals. But when he answered, it was in his voice once again at the exact moment where he said the words, "we won."

Torres was sceptical that there was anything to it. "Maybe he's just angry about how they won?"

"Then the anger would persist through his pitch even after it disappeared from his face. And he would show signs of disgust or shame. None of that's there. Why is he angry that his team won?" Gillian asked.

Heidi poked her head into the lab for the second time that day at that moment.

"Dr Foster? He's back."

Gillian thanked her with a smile and took a deep breath in as she stood. She shared a look with Cal and said, "Gotta go. You should call that one in for another chat," pointing at the frozen image of the soccer player on the screen.

She walked from the room with Cal staring after her and Ria looking at him, waiting to quiz him as soon as an opportunity opened.