The Puppet Master

by Ronald S. Barak

  PETER FOSTER ENJOYED HIS job as executive director of NAIB, the National Association of Investment Bankers. And all the perks that went with it.

  That damn Lotello has jeopardized everything I worked so hard to accomplish. On the one hand, it might seem like the worst of this threat is behind me. Norman has been acquitted without Lotello having to out me. On the other hand, Lotello still has the goods on me and could expose me. At any time. Too bad Lotello wasn’t killed in that shootout with Hollister and Ayres the other night.

  The problem is all this growing public unrest. All these damned cries for reform. The Norman case seems to be the catalyst for much of this activity. The case may technically be over, but somehow it seems to have a life of its own. In addition to my NAIB responsibilities to discourage all this ongoing and growing interest in political reform, I now obviously have an added personal incentive to see the aftermath of this Norman crap die down and go away.

  “MADAM SPEAKER,” JAMISON’S RECEPTIONIST announced, “Pete Foster on line one. Are you in?”

  “Hi, Pete, what’s up?”

  “Madam Speaker, I think it may be time for a summit meeting of sorts between the two of us. Perhaps as well as a select group of our respective colleagues.”

  “Great minds think alike, Pete. I was about to call you to suggest the very same thing. Let’s see if we’re also thinking about the same agenda. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, Madam Speaker, NAIB is becoming quite anxious about all of this public unrest and interest in political reform. We don’t think you and your colleagues want to see this notion pressed. Neither does NAIB. How we defuse all this political unrest is the agenda we have in mind.

  “We think a strong opposition PR campaign is going to be essential. It needs to be well funded and strategically implemented. NAIB is prepared to provide the funding.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that, Pete. I am prepared to lead such a national campaign, willing to conduct town hall appearances and the like as speaker of the House. What do you think?”

  “That’s a great idea, Madam Speaker. I wonder, though, if we don’t want to get President Tuttle involved in these appearances as well.”

  And rain on my parade? Share the spotlight? No way! The president thinks he is a shoo-in for the next election. I have some different thoughts about that. I haven’t been hanging around as speaker just for the hell of it. Building my base for nothing. I think the country may finally be ready for a woman president. “I don’t know, Pete. I think we need to think this through very carefully. It’s a matter of momentum. The president’s popularity on Main Street is dropping. All of the polls are showing this. I just had to advise him that he’s also losing House support in his own party for many of his pending proposals. People are starting to distance themselves from him. The president may not be the right poster boy for this campaign.”

  “Very perceptive, Madam Speaker. You know I’m there for you. And will do whatever you need.”

  “In the coming months, I think we’re going to be working very closely together, Pete.”

  “I’ll look forward to that, Madam Speaker. An extra bonus for me.”

  “This has been a very productive conversation, Pete. Let’s each pursue this a bit further on our own with our respective people and then get back together for the first of a series of planning sessions. Have a good night, Pete.”

  “You too, Madam Speaker.”

  * * *

  FOSTER THOUGHT HE WAS going to vomit. Spending a lot of time with Jamison? This could drive me to drink. More than I already do. Or even back to my wife, God forbid!

  CHAPTER 141

  Wednesday, September 16, 1:45 p.m.

  LOTELLO WAS FIFTEEN MINUTES ahead of the appointed time. As he waited for her to arrive, he thought back on how busy things had been over the last couple of weeks. While he was supposedly still on personal leave recovering from the bullet that remained lodged in his lower shoulder. Too close to his heart for the doctors to remove.

  First had been the formal meetings with Metropolitan Police hierarchy. He had managed to survive that. Barely. But it had proved almost as painful and unpleasant as the gunshot wound itself. He’d been chastised every way imaginable for all the corners he had cut and the rules he had broken. And that was only the ones they knew about!

  The meeting with Reyes was different. That was a meeting Lotello had wanted. And had to be on his best game to pull off.

  Reyes hadn’t wanted to meet, offering up every excuse in the book: too busy, not appropriate, so on and so forth. It took a little help from Bobby Harrelson to pull it off.

  Lotello just “happened” to be at the Congressional Country Club having lunch with his good buddy Harrelson one day when Reyes arrived to host a foursome. Making it difficult for Reyes to say he was too busy for a brief exchange before his tee time.

  Applying his most ominous conspiratorial tones, Lotello told Reyes “they” knew the president and Reyes had turned Thomas loose on Bernie Abrams. Even if they couldn’t prove it. Yet. Lotello was obviously still quite prone to exaggeration whenever it served his purpose.

  Of course, Lotello didn’t disclose who “they” were. He didn’t think that was his prerogative. It also seemed advisable not to allow Reyes to think he could make his problem go away by making Lotello go away. Lotello’s approach must have been effective, because Reyes didn’t offer much in response. Harrelson later told Lotello that Reyes had not shot his handicap that day.

  As Lotello’s mind continued to review what had recently kept him so occupied, he saw her walk into the dimly lit hotel bar. Tall, thin, and blond, she appeared anxious, harder than the online pictures of her he had studied. He glanced at his watch. She was right on time. He stood and gestured to her.

  * * *

  “I’M FRANK LOTELLO, MRS. Ayres. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  They shook hands. Tentatively. As if testing one another. He motioned to one of the seats. She accepted it. He chose to sit opposite rather than next to her. Less threatening than pinning her in. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. As for meeting, I didn’t see how I could avoid it. I figured it was just a matter of time. But I am surprised that you’re alone. And that we’re meeting in a restaurant bar. By the way, I’ve decided to start using my maiden name again. Bradley. Linda Bradley.

  “How did you figure out that my deceased husband was the killer, Detective?”

  “It was a combination of nose to the grindstone and luck.

  “While he playacted that he felt sorry for Norman, Mr. Ayres was nonetheless unfaltering in initially pointing the finger at him. Only when public support for Norman grew so strong, did he begin pointing me toward Hollister.

  “Not content just to tell me what he learned about Hollister from Wells’s calendar, he also went out of his way to make sure I had a copy of the calendar to strengthen his finger-pointing. He couldn’t just give me the calendar, because certain members of Congress were afraid that they might be embarrassed by calendar entries about them and Wells. They insisted that congressional privilege prevented him from giving me the calendar. He didn’t want to offend them.

  “So he conjured up an intricate arrangement to anonymously deliver to me a secret copy of the calendar that he had made before delivering the original to congressional lawyers. From some slips he inadvertently made, it became clear to me that he was the source of the copy. This made me suspicious as to why he would go to such painstaking efforts to get the calendar into my hands. It seemed as if he was somehow more invested in all of this than just championing justice or his victimized former boss.

  “This caused me to circle back to the notes I had been compiling over the course of my investigation. It became much clearer when I looked at them all at once. In one sitting. This was sometime around the first week of August. During the Norman trial. This was the first time I recall becoming seriously interested in Ayres as a possible suspect in the killings.r />
  “At the time of Wells’s murder, there had been two inexplicable breaches of the lobby entrance security system of the townhouse complex where she lived. First one, then another. Fifteen minutes apart. Not only was the security guard required to leave the lobby each time to investigate the problem, but the lobby door lock and surveillance cameras had also mysteriously been deactivated each time.

  “This was a strong indication that Senator Wells’s killer had entered and left the complex through the lobby. And didn’t want to be caught on the security camera because his or her face was not the familiar face of an owner or an occupant at the complex and would have stood out.

  “This also suggested that the killer was very tech savvy. From my research, I learned that Mr. Ayres was an engineer before he moved into the political sphere. So, indeed he could have been the person who created this elaborate scheme to penetrate the lobby undetected.

  “A review of my notes also revealed two interesting things about Hollister. In response to my specific inquiry, my eyewitness said that Hollister did not appear to be wearing gloves when my eyewitness saw him walking away from Wells’s townhouse. The absence of any gloves would be inconsistent with the pristine crime scene.

  “My eyewitness also said that when Hollister left Wells’s townhouse, he took a path that went deeper into the interior of the complex. Opposite the path that moved in the direction of the lobby. Thus Hollister could not have exited the lobby during the fifteen minutes the security system was on the fritz.

  “Further, when I interviewed Hollister at his lawyer’s office, the lawyer mentioned in passing that Hollister happened to own a townhouse in the complex. If he was the killer, he didn’t have to leave the complex and he didn’t have to worry about being recognized coming or going through the lobby.

  “Seeing this in my notes, I checked with the management of the townhouse complex and verified that Hollister did own a townhouse there. And that it was located down the path from Wells’s townhouse. The path my eyewitness saw Hollister take when he walked away from Wells’s townhouse, rather than toward the lobby.

  “This information is admittedly only circumstantial. In the aggregate, however, it’s pretty compelling that Senator Wells’s killer was not Hollister. And more likely was Ayres.

  “I should mention that I haven’t shared any of this information with my superiors. After all, Ayres is dead. It’s not like he’s on the run. Nor have they pressed me. Yet. Probably because I’ve been on medical leave. I also have not decided how much of this I ever intend to reveal.

  “As for your observation that you find it strange that we are meeting one on one today in a restaurant bar, my superiors would not be pleased. Nevertheless, I wanted to first meet with you unofficially. Our next meeting—if there is to be one—will no doubt be in a more formal setting. With others in attendance.”

  “I understand, Detective. I’m sorry for what you’ve had to go through. By the way, I no longer consider the man you’ve been discussing with me to be my husband. Not just because he’s dead. But because the man who apparently did all this is a complete stranger to me. And has been for years.”

  “I appreciate that. Do you mind if I ask when you first learned about this Mr. Ayres? The one you don’t know. You don’t have to answer. And you may want to consult a lawyer before you decide.”

  “I have already hired a lawyer to advise me about any criminal exposure I may have. As well as whether I’m legally entitled to collect the proceeds of certain life insurance policies on James’s life that name me as the beneficiary.

  “To answer your question, Mr. Lotello, you came to suspect James before I did. I discovered the James I never knew only one week after he was shot and killed. When I received a diary he had been maintaining from a lawyer who had been holding it for him in confidence. With instructions to turn it over to me one week after his death other than from natural causes.

  “If he died of natural causes, then the diary was to be destroyed by the lawyer without anyone reading it. Including him. The lawyer said he had no idea about the contents of the diary until my lawyer contacted him after the diary had been furnished to me.

  “The two lawyers have carefully documented that I was unaware of the diary or its contents until I received it. The problem is how I demonstrate that I didn’t otherwise know what James had been doing. There is only my word for that.

  “Given that there can no longer be any continuing criminal activity on James’s part, my lawyer has advised me that if I had no knowledge of what he was doing, I am under no legal or moral obligation to voluntarily come forward with anything I’ve learned. But that I should—and will—cooperate fully with any inquiries I might receive from the authorities.

  “Apart from the news media, I have not been contacted by anyone other than you. I want to maintain my privacy as much as possible. I have consistently said ‘no comment’ to the media. They seem to have given up.”

  “I’m sure, Ms. Bradley, that the authorities are waiting on my return to official duty to determine what I know.

  “You’ve had quite an experience, Ms. Bradley. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s hard for me to describe my loss, Detective. It’s certainly not the death of my husband. I can only describe that as the discovery that the man I knew as my husband has been dead for several years.”

  “Would you be willing to tell me what you’ve learned from reading the diary? And whether I can take possession of it? Or a copy of it?”

  “Any request for the diary or a copy of it should be directed to my lawyer.” She handed Lotello her lawyer’s business card. “I’m sure he’ll make the diary or a copy available to you. Or at least to the proper authorities.”

  Ms. Bradley did then summarize what she’d learned from reading the diary.

  It seemed that James was furious that Wells had beaten him out of her Senate seat. As the original Senator Wells’s chief of staff, he expected he would be next in line. The first step in his pursuit of the office of the presidency. He was outraged that his future was snatched right out from under him at the last minute. By the corrupt political machinery in Kansas, his home state, primarily due to the fact that Wells had apparently slept her way to Washington.

  When the new Senator Wells invited James to continue as her chief of staff, he turned the other cheek—outwardly—and continued in that position. He figured it would only be a matter of time until she self-destructed, and the Wells Senate seat would finally be his. However, when the corrupt Washington political scene only seemed to entrench the second Senator Wells, and when James learned of Norman’s tragic circumstances, he saw the opportunity. And struck. Taking matters into his own hands.

  He murdered Wells to vacate her Senate seat. To cover up what was actually going on, he then randomly murdered two more politicians to make Norman out as … a vigilante serial killer. James was out to dispose of all “corrupt” politicians who he believed had cost him his true calling. And to finally have his day in the sun.

  Ayres thought things were proceeding perfectly. Until the public began rallying around Norman. He hadn’t anticipated that. He became fearful that Norman might get off. And a resulting deeper investigation might ensue. And somehow find its way to him. He decided he needed a backup suspect.

  Enter Blaine Hollister. Ayres knew that Hollister had been trying to enlist Wells’s help in an unlawful program to enhance his influence over Washington politics. Wells ultimately balked. And shared her concerns with Ayres. He also had seen entries in Wells’s calendar that would likely incriminate Hollister.

  “That’s where you came in, Detective.”

  “Believe me, I get it. Your ex, however you wish to refer to him, set me up royally. Feeding me the clandestine copy of Wells’s calendar. Even telling me where to find the incriminating Hollister entries. Playing me for the sucker I was in order to point the finger at Hollister as a backup in case Norman was acquitted.”

  “I’m afraid so, Detective. It
’s all right there in his secret diary. Exactly how he manipulated you. Baiting you with little hints about Hollister and then anonymously providing you with the copy of Wells’s calendar. I’m really sorry about that.”

  “Ironically, if Ayres had not chosen to follow Hollister the night the two of them shot each other and were killed, I might have proved more valuable to him than his own plan. Ayres didn’t know it, but Hollister had coincidentally showed up at Wells’s townhouse at the time Ayres murdered her. In the wrong place at the wrong time, you might say.

  “An eyewitness saw Hollister leaving. My investigation led me to that eyewitness. There were some holes in what the eyewitness saw, but the odds are good that Ayres would have been home free if he had just hung back in the weeds.

  “There’s still something you’ve told me today, Ms. Bradley, that really does puzzle me. Why do you think Ayres was keeping these scrupulous notes? They would certainly have taken him down if ever found.”

  “I wondered the same thing. I’m not a psychiatrist, but of course I knew the man pretty well. I think I know the answer to your question. Actually, I think there’s more than one answer.

  “To a fault, James was always very organized and meticulous. He was a creature of habit. He always kept notes to show what he was doing. And how much he was in control. As he became more and more involved in his schemes, I think he went over the edge. Somehow turned into two people at the same time. One with all of his old narcissistic habits. One with all of his delusional, sick plans. I’m not honestly sure what was going on inside his head. This is all I can come up with to possibly explain why he made and kept those notes.”

  Lotello offered Bradley another possible explanation. “It doesn’t appear you were complicit in any of Ayres’s deviant plans. Perhaps he created his elaborate record in the hopes that it would insulate you from any exposure for his criminal misdeeds.”

  “Maybe so. Either way, while I would have preferred to maintain my privacy, and my dignity, and for this story to have died with James, he clearly used you. And you almost lost your life. I feel it’s only fitting that I share with you what I have.”