by Jane Gorman
“How? Who knows?” Marshall looked down at his hands, now folded neatly in his lap. “It was an accident, they said. She was accident prone. That didn’t explain why she got hurt so much. Other kids, they fall…” Marshall paused for a moment. Swallowed. “Other kids fall off the swing set, they get right back up. Debbie would have a broken leg.”
“She had some kind of disease?”
Marshall nodded, still looking down. “That’s what the doctors said. They didn’t know what. They couldn’t figure it out. She kept getting hurt. And it got worse.” He breathed in hard through his nose and held his breath, then let it out in a long exhale through his mouth. “And then it killed her.”
Sam looked at the grieving father before him. No way he was faking that kind of grief. That deep, abiding sorrow that only a parent who had lost a child could know. He looked away.
Marshall took a few minutes to compose himself. When he looked back at Sam, all the anger had faded from his face. He was pale. Exhausted.
“What can I do to help, Agent? I want this case closed. I want this nightmare to end.”
Sam watched him as he asked his next question. “Why were you at the hospital yesterday? To see Towne?”
Sam saw the surprise register on Marshall’s face. “How did you know? Never mind.” He shook his head and held a hand up to stop Sam from answering. “It doesn’t matter. I was there because of this.” He poked at the newspaper. “Because Lisa knew this was coming. She asked me to go.”
“What did you hope to accomplish? Didn’t your presence there lend more fuel to this fire, make it even more likely her name would be linked to this?”
“Hmm.” Sam was getting familiar with Marshall’s grunts, and this one seemed less definitive. More questioning. “I don’t know.” Marshall sounded defeated. “Lisa wanted me to talk to Towne. Find out what had really happened.” He looked up at Sam. “If that Philly friend of yours really had beat him up for no good reason.”
“There was a reason, Mr. Marshall. Towne tried to kill himself. Do you know why he would do that?”
“Do I?” Marshall stood. “He didn’t say anything about that to me, that bastard. Just said he was concerned about Lisa, warned me to stay away from the Philly cop. Said he was out of control.” Marshall started pacing in front of Sam. “Tried to kill himself? That bastard. It all fits.”
“What fits, sir?” Sam stood eye to eye with Marshall. “What do you know?”
“I know he’s pissed, Agent Burke. I know he’s pissed at Lisa. And isn’t guilt one hell of a good reason for suicide?”
33
Sam’s dark blue sedan pulled into the curved drive in front of the hotel. Adam watched as Sam rolled to a gentle stop in front of him. The medications were keeping the pain in his arm to a low burn, but he felt a jolt with every move. He did his best to let his arm hang loose in the sling as he slid into the car. His best wasn’t quite good enough. He grimaced as the door slammed shut beside him.
“Getting a late start today? What, you think one bullet wound is enough to get you off a regular schedule?” Sam didn’t smile as he spoke, but his raised eyebrow gave him away.
Adam grinned. “Thanks for picking me up, I appreciate it.” He shifted as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest and grimaced again. “I am really not in the mood for dealing with Metro today.”
“No, I guess not.” Sam waited until Adam was settled, then pulled out into the road. “You shouldn’t be working today at all.” He glanced at Adam as he spoke. “You’re not carrying your weapon, are you?”
“No, but thanks for checking, Mom.” Adam frowned. “What were you doing last night while Ramona and I were chasing actual criminals?”
Sam laughed. “I was chasing my own ideas, I guess.” He paused as he pulled into the flow of traffic heading over the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge into the District, then continued, “I called the Sheriff’s Office of Clarion County, Pennsylvania.”
“The Marshalls’ home town?”
“Been doing your homework, too, huh?” Sam smiled at Adam. “Yeah, I’m still looking into the Marshalls.”
“You really have a bug up your butt about John Marshall, don’t you?”
“Nice. Is that a Philly expression? Remind me never to use that one. I was going to fill you in last night, but the way you looked at the hospital, man, I figured I’d be wasting my breath trying to tell you anything. Plus I got a little more from Marshall this morning.”
Adam laughed, then coughed to cover up the gasp of pain that shot through his arm as he moved. “You talked to Marshall again? So what’d you find out?”
“Hmm.” Sam shrugged. “Not sure. Sheriff was friendly enough. Happy to talk about his town’s most famous couple. Most beneficent couple, too, apparently. Senator Marshall’s made sure to use her position to bring home the pork.”
“A lot of well-funded projects in town?”
“You got it. Going on about how much the senator’s done for their town. As soon as I started asking about some of the stories Jay was looking into, he warned me off. Told me I was heading in the wrong direction.”
Adam let his mind wander back over everything they knew about the Marshalls. And about Jay. “Jay found something, didn’t he? Something in those news clippings, I bet. Any story in particular get his goat up?”
“Hard to say. He turned cool as soon as I said I was looking for something in her past that would be a motive for someone to take a shot at her. Said she had been great to that town, and if I was looking for someone who wanted her dead, I’d have to look elsewhere.”
“Makes sense. You can’t blame the guy.”
“Yeah. I pushed a bit. I can’t be sure, but…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he edged his way through three lanes of traffic to get to the left turn lane. “I think it was questions about her home life that finally shut him up. Told me we were done talking.”
Adam frowned, considering. “Look, I’m sure he’s a good man, trying to do what’s best for his town. If she brings in the bucks, he’s not going to spill the dirt on her. Just because he didn’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean he’s keeping a secret. Maybe he didn’t want to gossip.”
“I agree. And I’ll tell you what else.” He looked at Adam. “It’s just a feeling, mind you.”
“A feeling based on years of hard-earned experience,” Adam pointed out.
Sam nodded and smiled. “True. I’m pretty sure as soon as he hung up with me he was making another call. To let someone else know I’d been asking.”
“Okay, tell me again why your commander wanted to see us?”
“We’re not waiting for the commander, Kaminski.” Ramona glared at Adam. “We’re waiting for the assistant chief.”
“I thought you said your commander—”
Ramona cut Adam off. “I said my commander called. He called to tell me the assistant chief wanted to see us. That’s all I know.” She held up a hand as Adam started to speak again. “You know as much as I do. I got the call. I called you. Sam dropped you off here.”
Adam looked around the station. From the outside, the red brick building of the MPDC Patrol Services looked more like an old school. In fact, that’s probably what it was. This building and the one across the street. Though at least that one had added the stained glass windows to give people passing by a clue that it was now the home of the Seventh Day Adventist Church.
From the inside, this was all police station, from the uniforms stationed behind the main counter, to the lines of benches inside the front door, to the rough looking customers who occupied those benches. Along with Adam and Ramona.
“Can’t we wait in your office?”
“What the hell world do you live in? You think I have an office?” Ramona’s glare could have cut through steel. “Besides, this isn’t my district.” She shook her head. “I was hoping for a chance to see the assistant chief, to talk about getting transferred to the Investigative Services Bureau, but somehow I don’t think that’s what we’r
e here to talk about.”
“Great, fine. I’m all for talking about where we’re directing our focus next, too. But how long is he going to keep us waiting?” Adam checked his watch for the third time, then sighed and looked around again. Finally turning back to Ramona, he asked, “How did the interrogation go last night? You haven’t said anything about it.”
“Yeah…” Ramona shrugged and looked at her hands. “We got nothing. They’re trying again this morning.” She grinned. “I sure wish I was there instead of wasting time here with you.”
“Thanks. I take a bullet for you, and this is what I get?”
She leaned to her left, gently nudging Adam’s good shoulder. He bit his lip, refusing to let her see that even that caused him pain.
This was taking too long. Waiting. And for what? He had no idea why they were being called in, hanging out in the lobby with the thieves, dealers, and lowlifes he spent his days chasing.
A woman passed by him heading toward the restrooms, her gray hair pinned in tight curls against her head, her body bent forward as she leaned heavily on her cane. Adam coughed and chided himself for jumping to conclusions.
Someone up the hall started shouting. Another angry voice shouted him down. Adam shook his head and glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Oh.” Ramona jerked her head up. “I did find something else out yesterday, I never got a chance to tell you.” She moved her foot back as a young man stumbled close to her, emanating a stench that made Adam think of dead fish and burnt rubber, then continued, “I talked to Elise yesterday. She backed up McFellan’s story that Towne was at the ambassador’s residence that morning.”
“Elise specifically ID’d Towne? Does she even know him?”
Ramona shook her head. “I brought along a few pictures from the Kendall reception.” She wiggled her phone in her lap and grinned. “To show her what a nice party it was, how nice of the ambassador to invite us. Happened to have a few shots of Towne, and she recognized him.”
“Smart.” He laughed as he thought about what this information might mean. “If Towne was there that morning, why wouldn’t the senator mention it? What would she have to hide?”
Ramona shrugged. “I think he came and went before the rest of the group arrived. At least, that’s the way Elise tells it. He wanted to see the senator. Elise shooed him away.”
Adam nodded. “I guess McFellan saw Towne leaving as he was coming in. The senator was there when McFellan arrived, so she must have known Towne was there. Why the hell didn’t she tell us? She’s got no reason to protect Towne.”
“Hmm… keeping secrets and not sharing information with local officials. That doesn’t sound like a US senator.” Ramona raised an eyebrow as she spoke, her tone making her sarcasm clear.
“Maybe so, but still.”
“I don’t get it either.” Ramona shook her head. She was about to say more when the clerk at the desk caught her eye and waved her over.
Adam waited, watching her leaning against the counter, her face calm, smiling at something the clerk said.
Ramona’s expression was grim as she returned to the bench. “The assistant chief’s almost ready to see us. Seems he had a long call this morning with your deputy commissioner.”
“White? That doesn’t sound good.”
Ramona shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough. So” — she tapped her fingers against her knee as she spoke — “if you’re still not happy with the drug dealer as the killer, tell me, could Towne have been the shooter? We know he was there that morning. After his performance yesterday, it’s possible he does have it in him.”
“Yeah, but what’s his motive? Opportunity, fine, but I still don’t get his motive.”
“Anger, pure and simple. Revenge.” Ramona shrugged again. “The senator sold his pet building and he wants her dead.”
Adam checked his watch one more time. His right knee started bouncing up and down. Ramona glanced at his knee and shook her head. “He told you himself while you were saving his life. His career’s shot. Maybe he’s lost all hope.”
“I don’t know.” Adam’s knee stopped moving as he spoke. “Threatening to damage a historic bell — and just threatening, mind you. I don’t believe for a second he would’ve actually done it. That’s hardly the same as killing someone.”
“He tried to kill himself,” Ramona pointed out.
“Maybe. Only when he knew I was there. Knew I’d stop him.”
The clerk’s voice carried across the room, breaking into their conversation. “Davis, Kaminski, you’re up. Assistant Chief Luess is waiting in his office.”
“Here goes.” Adam stood. “Let’s see what the day holds for us.”
34
Adam’s overnight bag landed with a thump on his bed, bouncing a little before settling down into a depression on the covers. Adam sighed and dropped down next to it. Reaching around with his right hand, he pulled up the pillows, then lay back carefully, lifting his legs onto the bed, pushing his bag out of the way.
Damn it, how could he get pulled off the case like this?
He closed his eyes, enjoying for a moment the familiar smells and sounds of home. Sylvia’s lavender scent from the pillow mixing with those from a hotdog vendor on the corner. A horse and carriage clopping by on the street. The hydraulics of a bus following along behind the carriage. The paradoxes and joys of historic Philadelphia.
He hadn’t been kicked off the case, not really, he told himself. It was closed. Criminal caught. And at least partly thanks to him. Him and Ramona.
It didn’t matter, he’d screwed up. His supervisors might not realize it, but he did. Hitting Towne. Letting McFellan sneak away. Either of them could know the truth of what was going on, and he’d let them slip through his fingers.
He opened his eyes. A photograph Julia had given him years ago hung on the wall across the room, an image of him much younger. When he was teaching. Smiling, not thinking about death, or murder. Not yet, anyway. It was a welcome change from the paint blob in his hotel room, and he smiled and closed his eyes again.
Orange light filtered through the blinds, the sun low in the sky, when he heard the front door open. Heard the jangle of Sylvia’s keys as she dropped them in the bowl by the door. The sound of her feet moving toward the bedroom.
“Adam, are you here?” Her voice pulled him finally out of the haze of sleep. “I heard you’re a hero.” She perched on the edge of the bed next to him, leaning forward to run her hand across his face, through his hair. She touched a finger gently to his sling and pouted. “You poor thing, does it hurt?”
“Only a little. I’m fine. And I’m not a hero.” He shook his head as he reached his own hand up to touch her face. “I ran into a blind alley. I’m an idiot. I’m lucky this is all I got for it.”
She pouted again. “That’s all you got because you did everything right, I’m sure of it.” She touched the sling one more time, then leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. As he leaned forward to return the kiss, she stood, opened his bag and started pulling out the dirty clothes. “And now the case is solved, correct?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” Adam toyed with the bedcover under his arm. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Sylvia paused, a pair of boxer briefs dangling from her hands. “You arrested someone, didn’t you?”
“For drug dealing, sure.”
“And that was connected to the case.” Sylvia tossed the briefs into the hamper across the room, as if putting a closing remark on the conversation.
Adam smiled. “Connected, yes. That doesn’t mean he pulled the trigger. He wasn’t even in the house.”
Sylvia had turned to carry the now empty bag to the hall closet and stopped in the doorway, looking back at Adam. She frowned. “You caught him. The police are satisfied. So there must be a reason. Perhaps he was working with someone in the house?”
“Yeah, that’s possible. We know there was an unknown visitor that morning. Maybe the maid Beth is part o
f it….” He pictured Beth, thinking about her unnamed visitor. It’s true, she could be part of it. But he didn’t like it. It didn’t seem right to him.
Sylvia nodded and turned back to the hall closet. “So there is, as you say, motive, and the opportunity. And if he is a drug dealer, then I’m sure he has many guns, yes?”
Adam laughed. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s an end of it anyway. And tomorrow you go back to your detail at Dignitary Protection?”
Adam inhaled deeply before answering. “Nope, I’m done with that. Captain wants me back at the Sixth District.”
“Oh.” Sylvia frowned. “That’s too bad. Well” — she brightened up — “but you are a hero. Injured on the job, catching the bad guy. Everyone is happy, I am sure.”
“I guess.”
Sylvia turned to look at him. “Adam. I know you. Do not pursue this. Go chasing some imaginary bad guy. The case is closed.” She sat down on the bed next to him. “Isn’t the deputy commissioner happy with your work?”
He shrugged and looked away from her. “It’s not enough. Something’s not right.”
“No!” She pushed hard on his shoulder as she stood, and he flinched. “No. What’s not right is you not accepting that it’s over.” She threw both arms in the air as she paced their room. “You can never be happy. Take the credit, Adam. Take the credit for solving this case, and be done with it. If you push, who knows where this will lead?”
“I know, I know.” Adam watched her, shaking his head. God knew, she was probably right. He should just let it go.
“Where’s our hero?” Sam smiled as he slid into their regular booth carrying two slices and a paper cup. If nothing else, this case had brought him closer to Ramona. And back in touch with her dad. He looked up from his pizza and frowned at Ramona’s expression.
“Gone.” She took a bite of her slice and chewed.
Sam watched her jaws moving up and down for a moment before prompting, “And what does that mean?”