by Jane Gorman
“What she had done,” Ramona pointed out.
Marshall dipped his head. “I tried asking her about it once. To see if it had been an accident.” He laughed softly to himself. “Of course she was furious. Denied even having pushed her. Accused me of making things up, of trying to blame her for Debbie’s death.” His voice trailed off as he added, “She told me to never bring it up again. If I did, she would leave me.”
Ramona’s voice startled Adam. “And you did what she told you?”
Marshall shrugged. “I always do. Then it came back, and I saw that she would…” He shuddered. “She would do it again. She needed it to be public, she enjoyed the attention, the condolences. And soon she’ll be even more powerful.”
He stopped talking. He had said everything he had to say.
He slid back on the sofa as if exhausted. Adam felt his own tension ebb, then Marshall jumped up. Adam tensed again, stepped toward him. Marshall was pacing, back and forth in front of the colorless sofa. Talking with excitement now.
“I kept the reports. From the doctor. Lisa never knew.”
“You kept the reports?” Adam tried not to let his surprise carry through in his voice.
Marshall smiled. He looked at Adam, then laughed. “I always kept them. They were nothing at first, something I shoved into a drawer and forgot about.” He turned and strode across the room, grabbing at a small drawer tucked into one of the low shelves that bookended the marble mantlepiece. “Then they were a connection. To Debbie, don’t you see?”
He pulled out an envelope, turned to Adam, grinning. “I kept the reports. She never knew.” He stood grinning like a child. Happy. Hopeful.
Adam had no problem crushing his spirit. “So why did you kill Jay?”
His words had the anticipated effect. Marshall frowned, dropped his hands, the envelope hanging loosely by his side. “Jay knew. I don’t know how. He figured it out.”
“Jay knew the senator well enough,” Sam suggested. “Knew she was the type who would enjoy the attention she got when her child was injured. When her child died.”
Marshall looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “Knew her? Not well enough, I guess. He really thought he could blackmail her and get away with it.” He turned to Adam, pleading. “I had no choice, you see that, don’t you? I had to do what she asked. I love her. With these, can it end? Can it stop now?”
Marshall might have wanted to say more, but he shut his mouth and turned his eyes to the living room door when the banging started. Someone was going to break down the front door if it didn’t open.
Adam glanced at Ramona and she turned and left the room. She was back within seconds, trailing behind a team of men in dark suits. The lead man took one look into the room and held up a hand. He crossed to stand in front of Marshall.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.” He turned to Marshall. “Don’t say anything else.”
Marshall looked down at the envelope in his hands, holding it up as if at a loss as to what to do with it. A second, younger man stepped sideways across the room, coming up to Marshall crablike. Marshall handed him the envelope, and the young lawyer slid it into his briefcase.
The older man turned to glare at Adam, Sam, and Ramona in turn. “Nothing he said here can be used against him. You understand that, right?”
Adam shrugged. “I don’t know who you work for or who’s paying your bills, Marshall or his wife. You might decide to let him speak after you’ve heard what he’s got to say.”
The lawyer shook his head. “Leave. Now.”
Ramona was the closest to the door and the first out of the room, Sam not far behind. Adam stepped into the hallway, then glanced back at the man who was John Marshall. He sat again on the silk sofa, his hands loose on his lap, his eyes downcast. He said nothing, simply shook his head as the team of lawyers surrounded him, talking down to him.
A man who was a killer. A man who was a victim.
Adam blinked and followed Sam and Ramona back to their car.
43
Rain would have been nice. For the senator, at least. An umbrella or two to block the view. Adam looked up at the blue sky and smiled. Not a cloud in sight.
He turned his gaze back to the front of the Marshalls’ home, just visible from where he sat in Sam’s car. He was happy staying where he was. The others could jostle over vantage points.
John Marshall’s lawyers had taken him to FBI headquarters that morning. Apparently they did work for him. Not for her.
Faced with the evidence of Debbie’s abuse and possible murder, the Bureau’d had no choice but to invite the senator to speak with them. At her convenience, of course.
He glanced at his watch. They would’ve made the call forty minutes ago. He did the math, calculating how long it would take for her to contact her lawyers. For them to advise her to deal with this right away. For them to get here.
As if on cue, a black SUV turned into her driveway.
The cameras went crazy. Nothing to see but a bunch of lawyers in dark suits, but it set the photographers off.
Adam chuckled to himself. Forty minutes to get a crack legal team on site. Only twenty minutes for the news about Marshall’s accusations to leak and for the paparazzi to set up in front of their house.
The lawyers scuttled into the house, the door shutting the cameras out. The group clustered on the lawn fell silent. Even from where he sat, Adam could sense the anticipation. There was definitely blood in the water now.
It wasn’t blood he could smell. It was the scent of freshly turned earth exploding into the air as it hit the top of a simple wooden coffin. Adam shut his eyes. Remembering. Accepting.
This was justice. If not for his students, then for another child who had been killed. This was what mattered to him.
Only a few minutes later, the door opened again. At first she was hidden, tucked behind a well-formed wall of gray and black suits. But they couldn’t hold their formation as they moved toward the car. First one stepped out of line. Then another.
The cameras were on fire once again. Photographers jostled for the best angle, shoving their equipment as close to the shuffling group as they could before getting pushed aside by one of the legal defense team.
The senator seemed unfazed. She shuffled forward in the middle of the scrum, her eyes fixed on some distant point. A smile pasted on her face. A vacant, wild smile.
Adam shook his head. She was enjoying this. Enjoying the attention. He nudged Sam and nodded. Sam started up the car and pulled away.
Sam’s grip was firm. The two men nodded at each other as if sharing an inside joke.
“Hope we get a chance to work together again soon, Sam.” Adam grinned as he released his grip. “This was fun.”
“Hah, right. It was a pleasure, Detective Kaminski. Surprisingly.” Sam laughed. “It was good to be back on the street, investigating again, you know?”
Adam understood. “I got a call from my deputy commissioner congratulating me. For showing off the skill of the PPD down here with the big boys.”
“Lucky you. My involvement got me in the doghouse with my DAS. He is not happy with me… not that I care.”
“Isn’t that funny… I don’t really care either. It’s not about the title or pay grade, is it?”
Sam glanced to his left as Ramona jogged up to them. “Now here’s someone whose career may actually have been helped with the case.”
“Glad I caught you.” She smiled at them both, though her eyes lingered on Adam.
Sam stretched his arm out to expose his wrist, tapping on his watch with his other hand as he spoke to Adam. “Don’t forget you have a train to catch.” He gave Ramona a look before turning and walking away.
Adam watched Sam go before focusing on Ramona.
She stood haloed in bright sunlight from the grand entryway behind her. Marble arches soared overhead while a broad staircase swept in a graceful curve to her right. She touched her tongue to her lips as
she looked at him, and Adam thought, just for a second, of tearing up his ticket.
A passing traveler came too close, his rolling suitcase bumping up against Adam’s leg. Adam stepped to the side, and the light changed. Ramona still stood in front him, but now looked merely mortal.
That morning had been as crazy as the previous evening. Lisa Marshall’s image was splattered all over the front page of websites around the world. One in particular had already become a favorite of social media, a shot of the senator holding a hand up in front of her, her head held high, a madman’s smile pasted to her face.
Adam cleared his throat and looked at the ground.
“Thanks for everything.” Ramona spoke first.
“You got it.” Adam looked up at the vaulted ceiling. “The Marshalls both being arrested for murder should make for some interesting reading in the news cycles for the next few days.”
Ramona shrugged. “I guess.” She shrugged again and moved her head. “She was arrested an hour ago... it’s probably already old news on social media.”
Adam laughed. “You’re right about that. The trial will bring it back.”
Ramona’s smiled broadened. “Sam’s right. I did get everything I wanted out of this case. You’re looking at the new external liaison officer for the MPDC.” She tilted her head to one side. “At least, almost everything. I know you’ve got your own life back in Philly…”
Adam didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. “I’m sorry, but I do.”
“I get it.” She smiled but it didn’t carry to her eyes. “I guess… well… good luck with that.”
“It’s not just Sylvia.”
Ramona shrugged. “I know… I think I get it.”
“I do want to make it work with her.” Adam looked around the station as he spoke. At the crowds passing by them heading toward the train tracks. At the business men lunching in the Tex-Mex restaurant that opened up into the station as if it were a street-side cafe. He looked everywhere except at Ramona.
“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Adam.” She looked confused. “You’re a good man. And if things don’t work out between you two, you know where I am.”
Adam turned his eyes to her. Fixed his gaze on hers.
“I do. It’s Julia, too. After what she went through this week, I want to be there for her. To take better care of her.”
Ramona grinned. This time she looked away. “I have a feeling Pete might be taking care of that for you, buddy.”
“What? Nah, he’s a good guy,” Adam waved away her comment. “He watches out for her when I’m not around, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, if you say so.”
“He did a great job on her case, even though he wasn’t even officially on it.”
Ramona turned her lips down. “No kidding. You said they caught the guy within 24 hours, right?”
“Yeah, and got most of her stuff back.”
“That’s great. The way it should always work.”
Adam nodded, no longer watching the crowds, only watching Ramona. “I know that, and you know that, and Pete knows that. Julia… she’s still bummed about the one statue we didn’t retrieve.”
Ramona laughed. “Not grateful enough for you, huh?”
Adam shrugged and smiled. “She goes on about how it’s one-of-a-kind, made just for her, a stylistic rendering of some Norse god.” Adam’s voice took on a stilted tone as he described the statue, recalling Julia’s description as best he could.
“Well, someone else will be praying to that god now, I suppose.” Ramona grinned. “Good luck to you, Kaminski. With Julia. With Sylvia.”
He took her hand. “Thank you. For being a great partner. And for understanding.”
He leaned toward her, took a quick breath as he felt himself surrounded by the scent of her vanilla perfume. He let his lips linger a little too long on her cheek before pulling away.
“Thank you.”
He turned and walked toward the train platform.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading A Thin Veil. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it. Of course, writing a book is never a solo effort. I am grateful for all the support I received from my early readers, mentors and friends who took the time to read, comment and critique, particularly Marty Peter for her review and comments and Nancy Weiss for putting up with me in DC. I also want to thank the Sisters in Crime and all the Guppies for sharing their wisdom, their experience and, when necessary, their commiserations. Most of all, I want to thank Chuck, for his unwavering belief in my writing.
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Adam Kaminski lives on, in my mind and in the later books in this series. If you liked this book and want to read more, please visit my website to see the other books featuring Adam Kaminski as he steps up to the challenge of catching the killer, no matter where in the world he is.
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To keep up on news about the Adam Kaminski books, sign up for my newsletter or follow me on Twitter or Facebook.
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Continue reading for an excerpt of All That Glitters, book 3 in the Adam Kaminski mystery series.
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www.janegorman.com
All That Glitters
CHAPTER ONE
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A glimmer of light caught the polished wood, highlighting the stylized body of a man. A curve of mahogany captured a stern face, features set in determination and pride. A shield and axe appeared out of a sharp angle on one side. Turned wood at the top created the sense of motion, of power.
No more than a foot tall, the statue carried the weight of skill lovingly applied. It was a thing of strength and beauty. It blended into the night surrounding it, its deep brown balanced against the darkness of the dimly lit path.
The man holding the statue aloft bore no resemblance to the mythical figure carved into it.
He brought the wood down with all his strength. The unsuspecting man in front of him fell to the ground with only one strike.
The sound of the dull thud accompanied by a low grunt didn’t carry far across the landscape, muffled as it was by the spray of water shooting up from the fountain in the middle of the square. A huddled figure on the ground next to a bench on the far side of the fountain shifted, then lay still. No one else appeared in the park, no other visitors at this time of night, no security patrol checking on the homeless.
The unconscious man fell sideways, landing at an awkward angle on a park bench.
The killer raised the wooden statue again. This time the glimmer of light caught the red wetness on the wood. He brought the wooden weapon down again. And again.
He held his breath, waiting. Still no one else appeared. Even the wind lay low, no telltale rustle from the branches overhead, no sprayed droplets of water falling on the ground around the limestone base of the fountain’s pool.
Only the flicker of yellow light from the eternal flame showed signs of life. A flame dedicated to the legacy of those who had died for this country.
He tossed the statue into the boxwood behind the bench. It rolled as it landed, leaving a dark, wet patch in the dry dirt.
With one more glance around, he padded away from the still form. A stain of wetness spread from its head, creeping out over the wood underneath it and dripping down to darken the pavement below.
CHAPTER TWO
“Adam, sorry I’m late.”
Detective Adam Kaminski turned when he heard his partner calling and watched him cut across the grass toward the memorial. Pete Lawler had to bend double to duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape that stretched around the perimeter of the paved area, but he didn’t let that slow him down. He hurried toward the crime scene, no more willing to waste his time while on duty than he was to waste police resources.
“No worries. Takes you longer to get here.”
Adam lived only a few blocks away in an apartment in the Society Hill neighborhood of Philadelphia. Once he got the call, it had been a matter of minutes for h
im to get dressed and walk over to Washington Square. Not counting the minute he had stolen to watch Sylvia sleep, to wish he could crawl back into bed with her, wrap his arms around her under the warm blankets. Then again, Sylvia had never been much for cuddling. He’d taken another minute to set the coffeepot on a timer for her instead, the morning paper folded neatly beside it.
As if dreaming about his own warm bed, Pete shivered and rubbed his hands together. “What do you know so far?”
Adam glanced over at a group of National Park Service rangers standing on the far side of the pavement as he answered. “Body found about an hour ago — about 5:30 — by a park ranger. Ranger Matt Thompson.”
Pete turned to follow his gaze. “Is Ranger Thompson still here?”
“Yep. He called it in, then stayed with the body. That’s his chief ranger with him, too, along with his colleagues.”
“So this is federal land?”
Adam nodded. “Part of a national park. But we have concurrent jurisdiction.”
Pete turned as if to approach the rangers, but Adam put a hand on his arm. “Let’s take a look around before we talk to them. Get a sense of the scene.”
Adam felt the rangers’ eyes on him as he and Pete moved across the pavement around the fountain toward the corpse, covered in a plastic sheet as it lay on the bloodstained bench. Technicians with the PPD Crime Scene Unit were just setting up to analyze the scene, and Adam and Pete stopped at a safe distance.
Adam stood with his hands in the pockets of his chinos, his eyes scanning the area. Even the bustle of the techs and the crackle of law enforcement radios couldn’t obscure the peacefulness of the square. Occasional drops of water splashed on the pavement from the grand fountain. The air was fresh with the scent of the last of the season’s Russian sage, still struggling in the corner flower beds. The falling leaves added their own mustiness, along with colors that almost glowed in the bright fall light that followed the sunrise. If the square hadn’t been cordoned off as a crime scene, he would already be seeing residents passing through, walking their dogs, enjoying an early morning jog. Instead, the only visitors this morning were law enforcement. And the dead.