A Thin Veil

by Jane Gorman

  “Me? Yes?” McFellan’s phone hit the ground with a clatter. He fumbled as he leaned over to pick it up, then tucked it into his pocket as he stood.

  “We’ll need to talk to you as well, so please be patient.”

  “I see.” McFellan nodded and sank back onto his chair, his hand moving into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

  Collins stepped back to allow the senator, Assistant Director Burnett, and Special Agent in Charge Hennessy to pass. Collins glanced once more at Sam, then followed the group out of the room. Sam heard the office door close as he turned back to the others who were still waiting. He headed across the room toward the two drivers, but McFellan stood again, blocking his path.

  “Yes, Mr. McFellan?”

  “It’s just… well…” He glanced at the ambassador. “Do I really need to wait? I don’t think I should be part of this. Your boss said this was about the senator or…” He drew a circle in the air with his finger, pointing toward Ambassador Saint-Amand. The Frenchman harrumphed and shifted in his seat without responding.

  “It will be necessary to get your statement as well, Mr. McFellan. I appreciate your patience.”

  “I don’t see…” McFellan’s voice trailed off as he frowned and stepped back to his seat, the fingers of his left hand still gripping his phone.

  Sam watched him sit, then turned back to the drivers. “He’ll need to talk to you both as well, once he’s finished with the senator, the ambassador, and Mr. McFellan.”

  Both men nodded and one said, “Of course, but I didn’t see anything.”

  “I know,” Sam said. “Agent Hennessy will ask you a few questions, and you can get home.”

  “Would be nice.” The other man spoke under his breath as if making a blessing or a wish. When Sam raised his eyebrow, he added, “I only get paid when I work. I can’t afford to go home. I need to call in and get my next assignment.”

  “Well, hold off calling until Agent Hennessy is done with you. I don’t know how long this will take.”

  The man frowned but said nothing more, and Sam returned to his post at the door. The blood on his hands had dried long before and now lay caked in the tiny crevices and wrinkles across his palm and around his fingers. He rubbed his hands together, trying to wipe off the blood, trying to shake the feeling that he owed more to Jay Kapoor.

  “Hey, li’l sis, how’s it going?” Detective Adam Kaminski intentionally kept his tone light, ignoring the mess and noise surrounding him. His temporary workstation in the Philadelphia police headquarters affectionately known as the Roundhouse was the opposite of the organized desk he and his partner Pete Lawler shared in the homicide unit. And would be sharing again once this detail in dignitary protection ended in a month.

  “Adam? What’s wrong?” Julia wasn’t fooled by his voice.

  “Nothing, I’m fine. I’m fine.” Adam ran a hand across his forehead as he spoke, rubbing away the tension gathering there. “Just calling to check in, see how you’re doing.”

  “Same as I was when I saw you at Mom and Dad’s two days ago, you know?” Adam heard the question in Julia’s voice, knew he’d never been able to hide things from his little sister. “What’s wrong, really?”

  “A kid got shot this morning.”

  Adam thought of Jay, only a year out of college, his whole life ahead of him. He hadn’t known him well, had only spoken to him a few times on the phone in preparation for this visit. But that didn’t change the distress he felt over Jay’s death.

  “Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry.” She paused for a moment, and Adam was struck by how silent it was on her end of the phone. No conversations going on around her, no sounds of people going in and out of doors, phones ringing, sirens in the street. Nothing like the desk Adam sat at.

  “I know how much that must hurt you,” Julia continued. “Were you there? Want to talk about it?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It was down in DC, I wasn’t there. A young man who was part of the delegation I’ve been preparing for. It’s just…” He heard Julia take a breath to speak, so added, “I’m fine, really. I guess I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “That’s sweet, but you know I’m good. I see you every week, big brother. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into with you watching out for me? So are you going to focus on solving your latest murder, or spend all your energy worrying about me?”

  Adam smiled for the first time that morning. Calling Julia had been a good idea. “I’m not involved in this investigation, not this time. And you know I worry about you. That neighborhood you live in isn’t the best in the city.”

  “I know, I know.” Her voice held mock anger. “You tell me every time you come over. But you see the potential for crime everywhere, thanks to your job. It’s a great neighborhood. I love it, I love my neighbors, I love my loft. I’m not moving, Adam. Redirect, please…” She drew out the last word with a smile in her voice. “There must be something else you can focus on.”

  This was a conversation they’d had so many times it had become routine. But he wouldn’t stop worrying about her. He knew she was stubborn, but he also still knew her as the little girl who’d adored her big brother. Even when he’d tickled her until she’d peed in her pants. Even when he beat up the boy who’d made fun of her in the eighth grade. Well, maybe especially then.

  “I know you’re okay, Jules, I just like to hear you say it.”

  “I love you, too. Now go do your job. I always love to hear from you, but I’m fine. I promise.”

  Adam hung up the phone and turned his eye to the worn leather-bound appointment book open on his desk.

  “Hey, Kaminski, how’s it going?”

  Adam looked up to wave at a fellow member of the Dignitary Protection unit across the room. “Not great today, McDonnell. My VIP got shot at this morning.”

  “No kidding?” McDonnell worked his way over to Adam’s cubicle, almost knocking over a stack of papers piled precariously on a low bookshelf along the wall. “That’s not good. Any news on it yet?”

  “No, nothing yet, the locals are working on it. With FBI, I think.”

  “Probably.” McDonnell nodded, leaning against the narrow strip of solid wall that formed one side of Adam’s gray, square work space. A space that hammered home the fact there was nothing dignified about working in Dignitary Protection. “With a senator involved, they would take the lead.”

  He looked like he was about to say more when a shout from across the room drew his attention. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he called back, then turned to Adam. “Sorry about that, Kaminski. And here you’d thought you’d gotten out of homicide for a while, huh? Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  He tapped Adam’s shoulder as he headed back out across the room.

  Adam watched McDonnell weave through the mess of desks, shelves, and walls that crammed the room, patting colleagues on the shoulder as he passed, sucking in his gut occasionally to squeeze through the narrow aisles created by the line of cubicles.

  He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and let himself drown a little in the raucous noise that filled the squad room. Finding solitude in the controlled chaos. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and brought himself back to the task at hand.

  He had taken it upon himself to call the venues that were part of the planned trip. To let them know the VIPs wouldn’t be coming. It wasn’t his job, but it was something useful he could do from this end. Plus it gave him a chance to connect one more time with the people involved in the visit, now that the situation had altered so radically. He had one more call to make.

  The phone was answered on the second ring, a young woman’s voice, sharp but not unfriendly. “Barton McFellan, Advocacy Consultants.”

  “Detective Adam Kaminski, Philadelphia Police Department,” Adam introduced himself. “I’m calling about Senator Marshall.”

  “Yes, we heard about the attack this morning,” the woman replied. “One of our partners was there.”

&nb
sp; “I see.” Adam realized belatedly that he shouldn’t be surprised. A company like Barton McFellan, shelling out thousands of dollars to cover the costs of this weekend jaunt, would want to get some face time with the senator as part of the deal.

  “I wanted to make sure that someone on your end was doing whatever you needed to do to cancel the trip,” Adam continued. “You know, calling the hotel, things like that?”

  “I’m sure someone else on the senator’s staff will be taking care of that, Detective.” There was a flicker of a pause, as if the woman’s cool cracked briefly. But only for a second. “Since Jay won’t be able to do it.”

  “Right, of course. Did you know him? Jay, I mean?”

  The woman paused before responding. “Not personally, no. I believe our partner, Mr. McFellan, worked with him on a number of projects that involved Senator Marshall. In fact, he planned to talk with Jay at the residence this morning, that was one of the reasons he was there.”

  “Really?” Adam frowned. “Did they get to talk?”

  “I wouldn’t know, Detective, you’d have to ask Mr. McFellan.” Her voice dropped again. “This really is a tragedy.”

  Adam nodded, though she couldn’t see him. “Yes, it is. I hope they catch the guy who did this, and fast.”

  “Yes, Detective, we all do. If nothing else so that the senator and ambassador can sleep at night, without worrying someone is coming after them.”

  3

  The sun was higher in the sky but still low enough to cast a sharp shadow over the tiled roof of the ambassador’s residence. It drew a stark line on the drive in front of Sam and Agent Collins as they walked toward their cars. A demarcation Sam was reluctant to cross. He stopped short of stepping over the line and turned to Collins.

  “You sure you want to leave this with Hennessy and the Bureau?”

  “Drop it, Sam.” Collins gave him a look that left no room for argument. “It’s the Bureau’s case now, you know that.”

  “I know.” Sam shook his head as he looked back toward the gloom of the front yard, the technicians still at work. “I just want to do more, sir, that’s all.”

  “I get it, I do.” Collins offered a small smile. “Let the FBI do their job. You know they’re good at it.”

  “It’s our job, too, isn’t it? Protecting the ambassador, ensuring his security while he’s a guest in our country?”

  Collins shrugged. “I know there’s overlap in our missions. I don’t need you to lecture me on the inefficiencies of the system.” He turned and kept walking, crossing the line into the light. He spoke to Sam over his shoulder. “If you’ve got any bright ideas, let me know, I’ll pass them along.”

  “What about MPDC? Will the they be involved?”

  Collins stopped again, gave Sam a look whose meaning was clear. “If the Bureau needs boots on the ground, they’ll call the police department, like they always do.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “What are you after, Sam? What’s bugging you?”

  “Not sure.” He looked down at his hands, now scrubbed clean. “I feel like I owe Jay more, an effort to find who did this to him.” He took one more look back at the scene. “The shot was clean… why not take another?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The shooter. If he missed his target, why’d he stop? Why not take another shot?”

  “He only had one chance, he knew we’d be coming for him within seconds.”

  “It was such a clean shot.” Sam shook his head. “Could it really be a miss?” Collins gave him another look, but Sam persisted. “And you know as well as I do, you need to keep it simple in an investigation. In any shooting, the dead guy is most likely the victim.”

  “Don’t lecture me on how to conduct an investigation. When a madman shoots into a crowd, we don’t look into why he shot the people he shot, we just try to catch him.”

  “Well, maybe we should. Maybe we’re missing something.”

  Adam shivered as he hung up the phone, glad to be done with those calls. It felt too much like stepping into a dead man’s shoes. He jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, partner, didn’t mean to scare you.” Pete smiled as he leaned into Adam’s cubicle, his arm running along the top of the low wall. Even as he relaxed, his fingers kept rhythm along the top of the wall, tapping out some drumbeat only Pete could hear.

  Adam laughed and stood, leaning against the opposite side of the cube and crossing his arms in front of him. “Good to see you, partner. What brings you over to the Roundhouse?”

  “Just checking things out.” Pete looked around the disorganized room and smiled again. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too comfortable up here. I guess I had nothing to worry about, huh?”

  “Very funny.” Adam bowed his head, accepting his partner’s observation that this wasn’t the sort of environment Adam would have chosen for himself. “It’s been a good detail. Up to today, that is.”

  “Why, what’s up?”

  “A murder, of all things.” Adam looked back at his partner. “I thought I had gotten away from that for a while, coming over here, but I guess not.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Not much to tell at this point. Someone took a shot at Senator Lisa Marshall and the French Ambassador to the U.S. They were planning to come up today. They’re both fine. But the senator’s aide got hit. He didn’t make it.”

  “Ah…” Pete screwed up his eyes and shook his head. “It’s always the bystanders, the ones who want to be near power, who get hurt, isn’t it?” Pete looked at his partner, knowing Adam’s background well enough to know how personally he took it when a young person was killed. “That’s why they need us. To give them a voice. To get them justice.”

  “I guess so. He was a nice kid, you know? Friendly, easy to work with, easy to talk to.”

  “I’m sorry, man. Are you going down there?”

  “Me?” Adam’s surprise showed on his face. “I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t been asked.”

  “Aren’t you interested, though? Could be fun working with the fancy brigade down in DC, couldn’t it?” Pete smiled, and even after all these years working together Adam couldn’t tell if he was being serious or sarcastic.

  “You know,” he said instead, “I do miss my old job. Babysitting VIPs isn’t as great as it sounds.”

  “You don’t say.” Pete looked overly perplexed and now Adam knew he was joking.

  “I know, I know,” Adam continued. “Look, it was worth doing. I met some good people, got to know the deputy commissioner. That can’t hurt, can it?”

  “I see you talking, partner, but I’m hearing Sylvia’s voice.”

  “All right, give me a break. A couple more weeks and I’m out of here and back to our old job. Doing our part to help the victims, stop the bad guys.”

  “And this murder in DC…?” Pete let the question hang in the air.

  Adam shrugged and toyed with some papers on his desk. “FBI is taking the lead, I think, and Diplomatic Security’s involved, because of the ambassador. And if they really need a cop, they can call on DC police. The best thing I can do is wrap up the details on this end, let the Bureau know of anything that doesn’t sit right…” Adam’s voice trailed off as he thought of what he’d learned about Jason McFellan.

  “And it looks like you thought of something to tell them. Okay, do your thing the way you want to do it, Kaminski. Better for me if you don’t go to DC, you know? I can’t wait for you to be done with this detail and back out on the street with me. Let me tell you.”

  Adam smiled. “What, things not working out with Slap-Happy Harry?”

  “Yeah, you can joke about it.” Pete tried to look serious, but a smile crept across his features. “He earned that nickname for a reason. I’m telling you, the man’s insane. I can’t believe the captain thought it would make sense to partner me with such a crazy bastard. I swear, he finds risks where there aren’t any, just
so he can take them.”

  Adam laughed out loud. “I think the captain thought you could teach him a thing or two about being a detective, Pete. You know, help him out a bit?”

  “As if.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to that guy. As far as I’m concerned, he shouldn’t be a cop. You either do your job, or you don’t. Don’t do it half-assed, for the kicks. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

  Adam put his hands up as if to stop Pete in his tracks. “I know, I know. Sorry I brought it up. Hey, I only have a couple more weeks here, then I’m back in the Sixth District with you. You can make it that long, can’t you?”

  Pete bit back whatever smart-ass retort he was coming up with when Deputy Commissioner White stepped out of his office.

  “Kaminski.” The deputy commissioner didn’t yell, yet somehow his voice carried across the busy room, stopping all conversation.

  “Yes, sir.” Adam winked at Pete as he turned to follow his boss into the corner office.

  4

  “Have a seat, Kaminski.” Deputy Commissioner White gestured to the chairs facing his desk as he closed the door behind Adam.

  Dust motes dancing across the office on rays of late morning sun floated over file cabinets filled with reports, each its own story of loss, of devastation. As Deputy Commissioner for Special Investigations, White commanded a number of different units, including dignitary protection. And including homicide. This was nothing new to him.

  White walked around to the other side of the desk. A shockwave of aftershave mingled with the musty odors already in the room as he moved. Adam inhaled deeply, recognizing those musty odors as hours upon hours spent poring over reports, analyses, and photographs, working day and night to catch those who would do harm to the people of Philadelphia.

  Adam respected this man and everything he stood for. If he could help, he would.

  “I have a request for you, Kaminski.” White surprised Adam by saying, “I need you to go to DC for me.”