Terminal Secret

by Mark Gilleo

  The young country club employee in the red golf shirt gasped. “Is he okay?” he asked.

  “For now,” Dan replied. “Go inside and call the number I gave you. Tell the woman who answers the phone exactly what I told you to say.”

  The young man nodded, feet frozen.

  Dan dragged Angel’s unconscious body to the passenger side of the car and put him in the passenger seat. Shutting the door and walking around the car to the driver’s side, Dan looked over at the young man, still unmoving near the bag drop and said, “Make the call. Just like we talked about.”

  *

  Dan parked the Mercedes in the furthest space of a sparsely filled lot, a hundred yards from the clubhouse. His own car was several places away, among a smattering of more expensive automobiles. Through the windshield, he had a clean view of the main entrance to the club, the guard booth sitting at the crest of a small hill.

  In the seat next to Dan, after a series of incomprehensible groans, Angel began mumbling. A pair of handcuffs attached Angel’s right hand to the door armrest. A golf cap and sunglasses rested on the floor of the passenger’s side.

  Dan reached over and patted the man on the cheek. “Time to wake up, pudding.” Dan flipped through the contents of the man’s wallet and eyed the new driver’s license issued by the DMV in the name of Luis Gomez.

  “Wake up, Luis,” Dan teased.

  Angel grumbled. “Fuck you.”

  “Not this time,” Dan said. “You had your chance. Twice, if I’m right. Once with the baton in Georgetown. I’m also guessing you were the one who took a shot at me last week on the sidewalk outside my apartment. I was on to you and you were probably trying to eliminate me so you could finish off the jurors. A job you’re being paid for.”

  “You were lucky,” Angel said, cobwebs clearing.

  “Or you’re not very good. You used three guys posing as muggers to set me up for the shot on the sidewalk. You did the same for Frank the kitchen manager. You used Amy to position Frank just how you wanted him. At a table, near the window.”

  “Rifle shots in urban environments can cause a lot of potential collateral damage.”

  “Only if you miss.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want anyone innocent to be killed.”

  “I don’t believe that. You kill innocent people for money,” Dan said. “Worse. You train innocent people to kill other innocent people.”

  “Whether they are innocent or not is up for discussion.”

  Dan considered the statement for a moment and then said, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t just let the muggers finish me off on the sidewalk. Give them a gun and let them do the work for you.”

  Angel smiled. “I can’t let others have all the fun, all the time. I actually hit you from nearly five hundred yards out.”

  “Well, you shot a good man last night. A good detective. Fortunately for you, he’s going to live. Unfortunately for you, he is a police officer and shooting him alone will likely put you in jail for life. Add another ten murders to that and, well, you will never see the light of day.”

  “I wasn’t shooting at the police last night. I was aiming for Frank. The second shot was for your client. The hotel housekeeper.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She broke one of our rules.”

  “And that makes her guilty enough to kill?”

  “Rules are rules.”

  “It’s a good thing you like rules, because there are a lot of rules where you’re going.”

  “I don’t think so. I assure you, I won’t spend my life in jail. I won’t spend a single night in jail.”

  “And I assure you that you won’t spend your life free.” Dan looked down as Angel’s left hand slipped between the passenger seat and the center console of the vehicle. “Don’t bother. I removed the guns from the vehicle. One in the glove box. One under the driver’s seat. One in the crack between the passenger’s seat and the console. One in the pocket on the back of the passenger seat.”

  “Very thorough,” Angel replied without emotion.

  “As are you,” Dan replied. “I also relieved you of the gun on your person. All of the weapons, save one, are in the trunk, unloaded. A little arsenal sitting back there with the golf clubs and the golf bag.”

  “You can keep the clubs,” Angel said. “I hear they are top-of-the-line.”

  “They may be top-of-the-line, but the bag is where the real money is. I figure there’s a couple million in the false bottom of that bag. Not a bad sum at all. But you won’t be taking it with you.”

  “How did you know I would be here?”

  “It was hard to imagine why Mr. Porter wanted a set of new clubs with such little time left to live. I mean, he already has a set of clubs. Two sets, in fact. Both of them are stored here at the country club. What would a man on his deathbed need a third set of clubs for?”

  “I never liked the idea of coming here.”

  “You should have stuck with your gut.”

  “What now? If you wanted to kill me, you could have. And if you wanted to arrest me, the police would be here already. What now?”

  “Well, I assume you aren’t the talking type, but I thought I’d give you the opportunity just the same. I’m pretty sure your name is not Luis Gomez. That driver’s license was issued last month and it’s not you in the picture, though there is a resemblance.”

  “You were right in your assumption. I’m not the talking type.”

  “This is your last chance to say something that may not be used against you in a court of law. Hell, you could even hire me as an attorney.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “Then we have nothing to discuss. The police are on their way. Your fate is sealed.”

  Dan opened the door to the driver’s side and stood next to the vehicle. He reached into his waistband and removed the weapon that Angel had attempted to defend himself with minutes before. Dan ejected the empty magazine and threw it on the driver’s seat. Then he checked the chamber of the weapon to ensure it was clear before placing the pistol on the seat next to the empty magazine.

  Angel looked at the handcuff on his right hand and then down at the weapon and magazine on the seat next to him. Nodding slowly, he looked up at Dan. “Do you like dogs?” Angel asked.

  “I do,” Dan said. “I do like dogs.”

  “I have a sweetheart of a Rottweiler named Peso. A three-year-old with a perfect temperament. See to it that she gets a good home.”

  “You have an address?”

  “591 Quarry Pine Road. Warrenton.”

  “I’ll see to it that she is taken care of.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dan pointed in the direction of the police lights coming over the hill near the guard station. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a single bullet casing, wiped it on his shirt, and threw it onto the driver’s seat.

  “I figure you have enough time to load the weapon and get one shot off, if you hurry. Don’t waste the shot on me. I’ll be out of the line of fire before you can aim.

  “See you around,” Dan said, shutting the door and jogging for cover.

  *

  Dan sat in Detective Fields’ unmarked police car in the last parking spot of the far lot as the FBI, state, and local police swarmed the scene. He stared through the windshield as Emily worked the officers on the scene, letting them know she was available for briefings on the case. Dan watched as Emily pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear and flashed her dimples to the men in blue who were just as mesmerized by Emily’s looks as they were by the crime scene. Moments later, Emily joined Dan in the car.

  “What’s the word?”

  “This is Maryland. I’m a DC detective. I’m in the queue.”

  “I imagine if you keep flaunting your dimples, they’ll bump you up in the line.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Dan smiled. “Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t.”

  Emily returned the smil
e, dimples on full display. Then her demeanor turned serious. “What you did was dangerous.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “This isn’t a joke. You gave a professional killer a gun and ammunition while you were standing there.”

  “He only had time for one shot and he said wasn’t going to spend his life in prison. It was an educated guess he would use the bullet on himself.”

  “Well, he did,” Emily replied. “But what you did was still dangerous.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Good,” Emily said. “And there may be some question as to why the man was handcuffed to the door of the vehicle.”

  “I did what I thought I had to do to ensure the safety of the members of Potomac Hills Country Club. He was secured in his vehicle and we were waiting for the arrival of the authorities. I think I can handle that inquiry.”

  “You think you have an answer for everything.”

  “And yet, the law allows me to not answer any question I’m not interested in answering.”

  “See what I mean about having an answer for everything?”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  There was a long pause and then Emily asked, “Now that this case is over, what’s next for you?” she asked.

  “What makes you think this case is over?” Dan replied, reaching for the door handle on the car. “There’s one more murder to solve.”

  Chapter 58

  Dan pulled the chair out and sat down at the wooden table in the back of Sherry Wellington’s shop in Georgetown. An open bottle of wine rested in the middle of the table. Two glasses stood next to the bottle. Sherry Wellington leaned back in her chair and Dan could see her eyes were slightly bloodshot.

  “Are we drinking tonight?” Dan asked.

  “I didn’t have any champagne to celebrate. You want a glass?” Sherry asked.

  “Sure.”

  Sherry poured and Dan swilled the red wine in the glass.

  “You said you located the person I hired you to find. The man who killed Marcus?”

  “I located the man responsible for the murder.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Dead. He chose to take his own life, as opposed to going to prison.”

  “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know his name yet. All indications are that he was hired to kill the jurors from the Tyrone Biggs trial. You are the only one left.”

  Dan stared at Sherry, waiting to see some kind of reaction.

  A moment later Sherry stoically answered, “Should I feel lucky being the last one?”

  “I would.”

  “Are you sure he’s dead?”

  Dan thought back to the scene in the parking lot of the country club and the unsightly mess in the dark Mercedes. “Pretty sure.”

  “And you said he was hired. What about the person who hired him? The person responsible?”

  “He’s still alive. But not for long. He’s receiving end-of-life hospice care. He’s bedridden. The end is near. He is of no concern to you. He is not a threat.”

  “Unless he hires someone else.”

  “Possible, but unlikely. There was a lot of planning involved with what he did.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Someone you might recognize,” Dan said, pulling a folded picture from his pocket.

  Sherry glanced at the photo and recognition washed over her perfectly symmetrical face. “He’s one of the family members of the deceased. The dad of one of the girls killed at H2O.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You know, I always felt bad for the families.”

  “Just not bad enough to overcome fear. Fear and a really big bag of cash.”

  Sherry paused mid-drink. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I know everything, Sherry. I know you were paid off in the Tyrone Biggs trial. That you received payment to let Tyrone Biggs walk.”

  Sherry stared into a dark corner of her store. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sherry, don’t.”

  Sherry gulped the rest of her wine and refilled her glass.

  “Are you going to turn me in? Hand me over to the authorities?”

  “I had something else in mind. How about you tell me everything and we both walk away.”

  “Walk away? I don’t think you’d allow that to happen.”

  “I will, on one condition. You tell me everything.”

  “Everything, what?”

  “Everything.”

  Sherry Wellington didn’t speak.

  “I’ll start,” Dan offered. “You should know I stole one of the bullets from your gun. The gun you had under the table, here, the first time I came to see you.”

  “I noticed one was missing later.”

  “I’m sure you did. I learned a lot digging through Marcus’s background. The Arlington police learned even more. As it turns out, a couple of Marcus’s old Army buddies recalled that you were a pretty good shot with a pistol.”

  “Did they?”

  “They did.”

  “They must have had me confused with someone else.”

  “Probably not. They were pretty detailed in their description. I never really thought about it before, but one of the downsides to being gorgeous is that people remember you. For better or for worse. Good when you are talking about tips as a waitress. Bad when you want to kill someone without anyone noticing.”

  Sherry’s breathing momentarily stopped. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “I think you did. And if you want me to keep your jury bribery incident quiet, we’re going to finish this conversation like two adults. Then we are going to part ways and never speak again. Agreed?”

  Sherry Wellington’s eyes welled up ever so noticeably.

  Dan continued. “You stated the gun you had the first day we met was your husband’s gun, correct?”

  Sherry Wellington nodded.

  “Well the bullet in that gun matched the same make and model as the casing used in the Tyrone Biggs shooting. The bullet that killed Tyrone Biggs. The bullet was a Black Saber.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “I believe you. On that point at least, I believe you. I don’t think you would have known that the ammunition your husband owns is specialty ammunition from a company that is no longer in business. The company was acquired by a larger ammunition company several years ago. It no longer sells a product under its own name. You probably wouldn’t have known this.”

  “I wouldn’t have. So what?”

  “Indeed, so what. Ammunition does little without the gun that fired it. And the police investigating Tyrone Biggs’s murder never had a weapon. Virtually impossible to prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt with only a sample of ammunition.”

  “So they say on TV.”

  Dan paused before the next step in proving his theory. “Where were you the night Tyrone Biggs was killed?”

  “I was in Pittsburgh.”

  “You want to think about that?”

  “No, I was in Pittsburgh.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Because I’m not sure where I was on Saturday night three weeks ago, much less a couple of years ago. But you had the answer like that,” Dan said, snapping his fingers.

  “It’s something I remember.”

  “How did you find out about Tyrone Biggs’s death?”

  “Marcus told me. He loved to read those obituaries.”

  “Apparently,” Dan said. “What did you do in Pittsburgh?”

  “I went sightseeing.”

  “In Pittsburgh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, I know you’re lying.”

  “I was in Pittsburgh. I stayed at the Embassy Suites near the river.”

  “And I’m going to guess you have a receipt from the hotel.”

  Sherry nodded. “I’m pretty sure I have the receipt.”

  “Bravo, Mrs. Wellingto
n. Bravo.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Lord.”

  “Pittsburgh. It’s perfect. Four hours from DC. Not too far. You could leave your son with the nanny and drive up for a day or two. You could check in to the hotel, one without valet parking, and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Then you could slip out of the hotel. Drive back to DC, pop Tyrone Biggs, and drive back before breakfast. No toll roads between here and Pittsburgh. It would probably require more than one tank of gas to pull it off, but you could work that out. Pay cash at a gas station outside of town. As long as you don’t have an accident, or hit a deer, or have a mechanical breakdown, you could make it work. And heck, if you do hit something, you could say you decided to come home early or take a drive.”

  “That is an interesting theory, Mr. Lord.”

  “More importantly to you, and our conversation here, is that it’s a theory I haven’t discussed with anyone else. But I think with enough time and digging, someone could find a hole in your alibi. Nothing is executed perfectly.”

  “So you say,” Sherry responded. “Then again, who knows, maybe my husband did it.”

  “I thought about that. But I couldn’t really see the motive for your husband. In fact, I had a real hard time coming up with a motive for you. So help me out. Let me help you sweep the past into the past. Pull the carpet over the ugliness of years ago.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “What choice do you have?”

  Sherry Wellington gritted her teeth.

  “I’ll take a guess if you want me to begin,” Dan said.

  Sherry didn’t respond so Dan continued. “Somehow, someone figured out you took money during the Tyrone Biggs trial. And someone threatened to use that past indiscretion against you. A past you were desperately trying to keep hidden from your congressman husband.”

  “Not exactly,” Sherry said, taking another healthy sip from her wine glass. “No one figured out I had a past. Someone figured out I had a future. And that this new future could come with a payout.”

  “Tyrone Biggs.”

  Sherry nodded again. “He saw my face next to my husband’s in the newspapers. Then he figured he could blackmail me.”