Amanda was frowning at this part of conversation, as was I. I tossed out, “Was the rifle also mentioned in the tip?” If it was, Simon never told us.
“No,” Simon said. “We’re only trying to preclude the possibility that someone might try and link the rifle to Colonel Kelly. Frankly, I’m curious why they didn’t do so; it would have sealed the case against Kelly.”
A valid concern.
Simon asked Hal if Kelly had an alibi for 8 P.M. tonight.
“Uh-uh.” The detective gestured across the street, toward Quigley’s bar. “He was over at that bar from nine to ten. Other than that, he was in his room.”
“No visitors?”
“Only Coller.” He hesitated, as if to add something.
“Yes?”
Hal shrugged. “Probably nothing. Colonel Kelly had just returned from the bar, when Coller knocked on the door. Kelly thinks he was waiting for him.
Simon digested this with a nod. “You have the arrest warrant?”
Hal patted his jacket.
“Let’s go,” Simon said.
39
We entered through a side door, to avoid the reporters. Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, we emerged into a quiet corridor. Midway down, we saw an open door, a cop the size of a house standing outside. As we approached the room, two female forensic technicians materialized, carrying evidence boxes and bags of clothing—items they would check for blood or fibers, anything that could connect Kelly to Talbot’s killing.
When Simon asked, they shook their heads no. They’d found no other weapons.
We filed inside the room to find Colonel Kelly seated on an unmade bed. He was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and slacks. A tough looking female detective and another uniform hovered over him. In contrast to his arrogant demeanor at Quigley’s, Kelly appeared docile, almost frightened.
The colonel knew he was in trouble.
He watched us enter with blinking eyes. Seeing me, he sprang to his feet, his voice containing more than a trace of panic.
“Collins,” he said. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Talbot. What you saw on the video. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only trying to scare him—”
“Don’t say another thing,” I said. “Not one word until you get a lawyer.”
Hal and the female detective glared at me, but Simon nodded his approval.
“I didn’t do it.” Kelly’s voice rose shrilly. “Someone had Coller set me up. That person must have killed him. Why can’t you guys see it? I’m being set up. Someone is setting me up.” His eyes darted around, searching for a face who believed him. Everyone gazed back with practiced, detached expressions.
Including me.
Simon came forward with the warrant and formally placed Kelly under arrest. As Kelly was being cuffed by the female detective, he continued to protest his innocence.
“I told you,” he said to me. “I told you I was the easy choice.”
His eyes locked on mine accusingly, implying that this was somehow my fault.
I wasn’t going to respond, but couldn’t help myself.
“Yes,” I said. “You told me.”
He continued to stare at me, as if he expected something more. But there was nothing else I could tell him. No reassurance I could provide.
However, there was something I could do.
“Simon, can I talk to you for a minute?”
As we moved to the area by the wash basin, I whispered my request to him.
He studied me for a long beat. “Your superiors will be angry. They wanted the arrest telecast.”
“Screw them. Kelly doesn’t deserve to be humiliated.”
A tiny smile.
As he stepped away, I saw Kelly’s eyes focused on me. I told myself to ignore him, but his eyes remained on me.
I turned my back on him and walked out.
It wasn’t my fault.
If anything, Kelly bore much of the responsibility for his predicament. He was the one who left the threatening message, waved the knife into the camera. He’s the one who made himself the perfect patsy.
It wasn’t my fault.
But as I took the elevator to the ground floor, I kept going back to what Amanda said to me, after we’d learned that my daughter Emily had gotten drunk.
Someday you’ll wake up and realize life is a lot more enjoyable when you’re not laying guilt trips on yourself.
It better happen soon because I wasn’t having much fun now.
I was leaning against a wall by the elevators, staring blankly at the lobby entrance. Through the glass doors, I watched the cops position themselves into a human wall before the podium. One spoke on his radio. He said something to the others and everyone looked in the direction of the reporters. Moments later, the first surge of media appeared, running.
The elevator dinged and I pushed upright.
Hal and the female detective emerged first, leading a sullen Colonel Kelly. Instead of continuing into the lobby and the waiting dog-and-pony show, the trio hung a left into a hallway that funneled to the side exit. Kelly would be slipped into an unmarked car and quietly driven away.
Enrique and Amanda appeared next. He acknowledged me with a grim smile, but Amanda blew by without a glance. Simon brought up the rear and eased on over. “Ready, Martin?”
I looked at him as if he were crazy.
His expression turned sympathetic. “If it helps, Colonel Kelly won’t be in custody long.”
The confirmation I’d been seeking. I went with it and said casually, “How much do you know?”
He shrugged. “It’s still not clear who was responsible for the murders.”
“It isn’t?”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “But I know where to find the answer.”
“The gay club?”
He tried not to show surprise and almost made it.
I explained, “Enrique told me you believed the club might be crucial to the case. I didn’t understand why until I put that together with Talbot’s videotapes.”
An approving flicker in his eyes. “So you realize the blackmail went beyond Major Talbot and General Baldwin?”
I nodded. “You got a line on who owns the club?”
“Not yet. I asked Enrique to call his friend, the one who is a club member, to see if he could provide the owner’s name.”
“The friend wouldn’t, huh?”
“Enrique is reluctant to call him. His friend has a high government position and he doesn’t want to involve him.”
“Hey,” a voice called out, “you guys going to do this or what?”
We looked toward the lobby entrance. Amanda stood beside Enrique, her arms folded, one foot tapping.
As we started toward her, Simon observed, “She’s seems irritable.”
“She’s upset because I wouldn’t tell her about the club.” I gave him a sideways glance. “We can’t keep this from her.”
“I’ll talk to Enrique.”
We passed a timid looking woman at the reception desk. I threw her a smile. She stared back mutely, making no attempt to return it. I didn’t take it personally; it was probably the shirt.
I said to Simon, “You mentioned you don’t know who is responsible for the murders…”
“No.”
“But you believe Harris is involved?”
No response. Even now, he was still reluctant to commit himself. We were almost to the glass doors. I said, “C’mon, Simon. We both know he has to be—”
“An unwilling participant, Martin.”
Another suspicion verified. Congressman Harris, it appeared, was also being blackmailed.
We stepped onto the rubber pad and the automatic doors slid open. Instantly, we were greeted by a barrage of questions and the flash of cameras.
“What other evidence do you have besides the surveillance video, Lieutenant?”
“Did Colonel Kelly commit all the murders?”
“Was it a hate crime?”
Simon as
ked me, “How do I look?”
I gave him a once-over. “Fine. Perfect.”
Apparently my assessment wasn’t good enough, considering he was about to go on national TV. Simon began smoothing imaginary creases from his jacket. My phone rang and I knew it could only be one of two people. One I wanted to talk to; the second I didn’t. After checking the caller ID, I offered the phone to Amanda.
“Tell Charlie that Kelly is in custody.”
“So General Hinkle can read me the riot act because we didn’t arrest Kelly on camera. No thanks.”
“I haven’t got time to talk to him now.”
“So don’t.” She shrugged.
The phone kept ringing. Amanda ignored it and me. Simon said to her, “You can blame me for Kelly’s arrest.”
She just looked at him.
I said to her, “If I don’t answer, he’ll call you.”
That finally convinced her. She made a face and took the phone. I gave her a smile. “Wish me luck?”
“Break both legs,” she said, moving away. She sounded as if she meant it.
“I’ll take the lead,” Simon said to me. “Remember, we need to present a united front. It’s important that you support my conclusions.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He passed through the doors and continued down the steps toward the podium. I followed him, curious why he felt the need to tell me this.
Three minutes later, I had my answer.
40
That son of a bitch.
I could believe what I was hearing. Simon had no desire to convict Colonel Kelly in the public’s eyes. I knew he didn’t.
Yet, rather than simply tell the press what they already knew, that Colonel Kelly had been arrested for the murders of five people, Simon methodically laid out the case against him.
He told them about the threatening phone call and Kelly’s anger about being passed over.
He told them Kelly didn’t have an alibi for any of the killings.
He told them about the pistol found in Kelly’s room.
He told them Kelly was a former Army Ranger and a marksman.
He told them everything. He spoke for over twenty minutes. Afterward, he answered questions for another ten.
By the time he’d finished, I was steaming. When he drifted back from the podium, I growled under my breath, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Simon continued to smile into the cameras. To me, he whispered, “Tell them you agree.”
“Like hell.”
“Martin—”
“No.”
“They must believe we’re no threat.”
“Huh?”
“Do it.”
He stared straight ahead, the plastic smile stuck to his face. Beneath it, I saw his teeth were clenched.
I muttered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Moving up to the podium, I gazed out into the sea of lenses. As I introduced myself, I noticed several reporters sprout big grins. They were reacting to my seventies disco look and the bandage on my ear didn’t help. One guy asked loudly if I was working undercover. A second wanted to know if I cut myself shaving. They both got laughs and I could picture Charlie turning about five shades of red as he watched this.
To keep him from throwing something at his television, I began my spiel by mentioning the cover-your-ass items he’d wanted me to emphasize. I reminded everyone that this was a joint military and civilian operation, with credit for the arrest to be shared between the two agencies. I explained that Kelly’s arrest would never have been possible without the full cooperation of the military in general and the Air Force in particular. Next, I made the equivalent of a public service announcement, saying the military has a standing policy to vigorously pursue any alleged hate crime, whether it be based on gender, race, or sexual orientation. In light of the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy, the last item could be construed as hypocritical, which was why I blew past it without bothering to elaborate.
This was not the time to get into a debate over gays serving in the military.
Since Simon had covered the particulars of Colonel Kelly’s arrest, I wrapped up my remarks by stating that I, as the military’s lead investigator, fully supported the conclusions of my counterpart from the Arlington PD, Lieutenant Santos. My entire account took less than five minutes, which was two longer than I’d intended. When I finished, the questions began. I smiled politely and shook my head. “Sorry, I’m not taking questions.”
“Agent Collins,” a nasal-voiced woman sang out. “Do you believe the military’s antigay policy bears any responsibility—”
I couldn’t get away from the podium fast enough. Simon and I hustled up the stairs into the hotel, the questions following us.
The lobby doors closed behind us. It was quiet.
Enrique and Amanda were waiting where we’d left them. She handed me my phone. “General Hinkle called again. He’s hot. He wants you to call him ASAP.” She sounded absolutely thrilled at the prospect of me getting my ass chewed.
I promptly stuck the phone on my belt.
“Hey,” she said. “Did you hear me? You’re supposed to call him.”
Ignoring her, I gripped Simon hard by the elbow to show him I meant business and guided him to the far end of the lobby. Lowering my voice, I said, “Start talking.”
He sighed. “I made a mistake. Harris might know about our interest in the club—”
He clammed up at the sound of clicking heels. I turned, saw Amanda coming over, her eyes stubbornly defiant.
“What club?” she asked Simon.
He didn’t reply.
Her face darkened. Her eyes went to me, then back to him. “I asked you a question.”
He still said nothing.
She began a slow burn and Simon and I braced ourselves for ignition. But rather than torching off, Amanda twirled and walked quickly toward the hallway leading to side exit.
Aw, hell—
I said, “Where are you going?”
She picked up the pace. She was almost to the hallway.
“Amanda, you don’t understand—”
She spun to me, her face flushed more with hurt than anger. “I understand that I’m tired. I’m tired of the bullshit. I’m tired of dealing with this boys’ club you got going. As far as I’m concerned, you two can go to hell.”
The woman at the reception desk stared at her in shock. When she glanced my way, I jerked my head. She took the hint and disappeared into the back.
No one spoke. Amanda shook her head disgustedly at us and turned away.
I grunted, “Simon.”
He said, “Wait, Amanda.”
As she swung back around, he said, “Enrique?”
All eyes went to Enrique. He gazed back with a pained expression. What he feared was about to happen.
While I felt sympathy for his inner turmoil, I thought his expectations were unrealistic. Did he really believe the club’s existence could remain a secret?
“It’s okay,” Simon said to him. “We can trust her.”
Enrique glanced at Amanda. “It’s not you. It has nothing to do with you.”
“What the hell is it then?” she shot back.
“It’s okay, Enrique,” Simon said again. “If we’re discreet, no one else besides Amanda will know.”
Enrique sounded tired. “Save it, Simon. Five people are dead. We both know you can’t guarantee—”
“I promise I will try.”
Enrique gazed at Simon, weighing his sincerity. “You called the state police about a search warrant.” His tone made it sound like a crime.
“So rather than compromise the club’s members, you would prefer the killers go free?”
Enrique stiffened at the insinuation. “Of course not. It’s just that I think a warrant should be a last resort. Something used only if—what?” He was puzzled by Simon’s sudden smile.
“We have no disagreement, Enrique.”
“No
?”
“A warrant is my last option. I’m hoping to enter the club without one.”
Instead of appearing pleased at this concession, Enrique’s handsome face knotted in a grimace. “That’s just it, Simon. I’ve been knocking myself out, trying to figure out a way inside. The security is damned tight. Even if we got cooperation from a member, I don’t see—”
Simon said, “There might be a way.”
“How?”
Simon went over and put an arm around Enrique’s shoulder. The two conversed in Spanish. Amanda scowled at this.
More secrets.
Enrique appeared startled by something Simon said. He stared at Simon as if he didn’t believe him. Simon nodded and Enrique actually smiled.
After another exchange of Spanish, Enrique hurried out the double doors. Most of the media were still hanging around. A number of the correspondents had dispersed and were talking into cameras, filing their reports.
“Amanda. Martin.”
Simon was motioning us over. As Amanda and I strolled up to him, she said, “You will tell me everything.” More command than question.
“What I can.”
She bristled at the condition. “Not good enough. I want to know—”
Simon shut her up by talking about the club. Her eyes widened in amazement, once she grasped its connection to the case.
“You’re sure about this?” she said. “There’s no possibility you could be mistaken?”
“None,” Simon said. “The videotapes and camera were planted. Major Talbot never videotaped his lovers.”
A phone suddenly rang shrilly at the front desk. Amanda didn’t react. We could almost see the gears spinning in her head as she tried to think through the implication of what Simon had revealed. Precisely what it meant.
Simon and I didn’t say anything. Amanda didn’t like to be spoon-fed, so we watched her and waited.
I looked outside, searching for Enrique. He was talking to an elderly gentleman with a distinctive mane of thick white hair. I recognized the man, having seen him on a number of cable news shows. He was a prominent investigative reporter for The Washington Times. I found it more than a little curious that Simon had sent Enrique out to talk to him.
A Slow Walk to Hell Page 24