prints on it?”
“So it was suicide then?”
“We don’t know all the facts yet. You said you didn’t know him that well, but did he ever appear depressed, suicidal?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Was he a good father to Viggie?”
Alicia’s expression softened. “A very good father. They’d play ball in the front yard for hours. He even learned to play the guitar so he could accompany her on the piano.”
“So you spent a lot of time with them?”
“Not with Monk, but I did with Viggie. Sort of the daughter I never had.”
“And Monk was okay with that?”
“He worked long hours, not that I don’t. But our schedules were different, so it worked out that I could be with her sometimes when he couldn’t.”
“I see. And the mom?”
Alicia shook her head. “No idea. Never knew her.”
Sean suddenly thought of a question that he probably should have asked Rivest. “Did Monk take any trips recently?”
“No, not recently. You don’t get a lot of vacation time down here.” She paused. “He did go out of the country about eight or nine months ago, I think.”
Sean perked up. “Do you know where?”
She shook her head. “He never told me.”
“How do you know it was out of the country then?”
“I remember him mentioning that he had to get his passport renewed. I guess that would tell you where he went. His passport.”
Which is in the hands of the FBI. “How long was he gone?”
“About two weeks.”
“Who watched Viggie?”
“I helped. And Babbage Town hired some people to look after her.”
“And Viggie was okay with a bunch of strangers around her?”
“I guess Monk had talked to her. If he told her it was okay, she’d believe it. They had that kind of relationship.”
“Can you get through to Viggie at all?”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Because I might need your help when I talk to her.”
“What could Viggie know that would help you in your investigation?”
“She may know something about her dad that might explain what happened.”
“If she does talk to you, it might not be a language you understand very well.”
Sean smiled. “Good thing I’ll have a world-class linguist assisting me.”
She said in a condescending manner, “You couldn’t care less whether Monk Turing committed suicide or was murdered. You’ll get paid regardless.”
“You’re wrong. I do care whether the killer is caught.”
“Why?”
“Technically, I’m a PI. But I’m really a cop and cops just think that way. That’s why we do a job most people can’t. You said there were some things you wanted to tell me? I’ve only heard one.”
She stared at him curiously. “I’m really tired so I’m going to bed. I’m sure you can see yourself out.” She reattached her prosthetic and slowly moved up the stairs.
Sean locked the door on his way out. If there was a murderer on the loose, you could never be too careful.
As he walked back to his room at the mansion, Sean only had one thought marching through his head: What the hell have I gotten into?
CHAPTER
19
AFTER WALKING OUT ON HORATIO, Michelle skipped lunch. Instead she did such an intense workout in the gym that there wasn’t a dry thread on her. She was feeling better, she told herself. The endorphins were obviously doing what Horatio Barnes couldn’t. She was slowly convincing herself that what had happened in that bar was one moment of bad judgment probably triggered by too much booze. Soon she would be out of here, back with Sean solving other people’s problems. Horatio could go leech on someone else’s misery.
She returned to her room to shower. After combing out her wet hair she wrapped a towel around her and stepped out of the bathroom. She sat on her bed, and started moistening her legs with lotion. Then she whirled around so fast her towel fell to the floor.
Barry had been standing behind a bureau in one corner of the room.
He had stepped out so she could see him, a broad smile on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she cried out.
“Cheryl didn’t show up for her session. They sent me to get her,” Barry said quickly, his gaze squarely on Michelle’s naked body. She snatched a sheet off the bed, wrapped it around her and stood.
“She’s not here, so get the hell out!”
“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Barry said, the smile still playing across his lips.
“I’m going to report you for this, you son of a bitch,” she said furiously. “I know exactly what you’re up to.”
“I was told to come here to see about a patient. It’s not my fault you were walking around naked. Didn’t you read the section of the facility’s information packet that said during the day patient rooms are treated as public spaces and staff may come and go at all times? It also goes on to say that all patients should therefore dress in the bathroom if they desire privacy.”
“You seem to have focused on that particular section. Let me guess why, Mr. Pervert.”
He backed toward the door, his gaze on her long, bare legs. “And if you file a report against me I’ll have to defend myself.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Michelle said furiously.
“It means that other female patients have stooped to seducing male staff in order to get preferential treatment, small favors, drugs, smokes, candy, even vibrators. I mean the way I look at it I was standing right here and you started showing off your body to me. Do you want a vibrator, sweetie? But being the good staff member that I am, I can’t treat you any differently. Sorry.”
Michelle’s fists were clenched she was so angry. “I didn’t see you, you bastard! You were hiding over in that corner.”
“You said I was hiding, I say I wasn’t. Have a nice day.” He gave her one last, penetrating stare and then turned and left.
Michelle was so upset she was trembling. She took several calming breaths, grabbed her clothes and finished dressing in the bathroom. The door didn’t have a lock for obvious reasons, so she stood with her back pressed against it in case the man came back for something more than a peek at her ass and boobs. She felt violated beyond belief. She was deciding whether to report Barry when another staff member walked in after Michelle had finishing dressing.
“I’m here to take you to the session,” the woman said.
“What session?” Michelle asked.
“Horatio Barnes has scheduled you for a group session this afternoon.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“Well, it’s on your chart. I’m just here to make sure you go.”
Michelle hesitated. Damn him. “How many people in the group?”
“Ten. I’m sure you’ll get a lot out of it. And it’s only thirty minutes long.”
“Fine, let’s just get it over with,” Michelle said sharply.
“That’s not the proper attitude to have,” the woman said in a scolding tone.
“Lady, right now it’s the only attitude I’ve got.”
A male doctor Michelle had never seen before was leading the session. The only saving grace for Michelle was that Sandy was there. She made a beeline for the woman and sat next to her. As soon as Michelle did so the door opened and Barry came in. He stood in the back against the wall.
Every time Michelle felt his gaze on her, her skin prickled. That jerk had seen her naked. It was killing her. Even Sean had never seen that much of her.
While the doctor was handing out some materials, Sandy looked over at Michelle and saw her expression of misery. “You okay?”
“No, but I’ll tell you about it later. How does this session work?” she whispered.
“Just follow my lead. It’ll be okay. This shrink isn’t bad. He means well, but he’s
totally clueless to what goes on in the real world.”
“That’s inspiring,” Michelle said.
After the session was over, Michelle pushed Sandy’s wheelchair past Barry.
“You ladies have a nice day,” Barry said, holding the door for them and smiling broadly.
“Go fuck yourself!” Michelle said loud enough for him and everyone else to hear.
Sandy screwed up her face. “Oh, honey, please, that conjures up such a nasty vision and I just had my lunch.”
Barry stopped smiling.
On the way back to Sandy’s room Michelle filled her in on Barry’s actions.
“I’ve heard he listens for the showers to go on and off in the good-looking women’s rooms and then slips in for a little peek.”
Michelle looked outraged. “If the bastard has an MO that people know about why hasn’t he been fired?”
“People are afraid to speak up. Face it, most folks are here because they’re messed up, vulnerable. They’re not in the best position to defend themselves against assholes like that.”
“I’d love a few minutes alone with the guy. His face would be even uglier than it is now.”
“That would be hard to do,” Sandy replied.
Michelle wheeled Sandy into her room and saw the large bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. “You have a secret admirer?” she asked.
“Don’t all women?” Sandy fingered a rose petal. “Speaking of admirers, who was that tall, gorgeous man I saw you talking to when you first got here?”
“Sean King. We’re partners.”
“Partners? So no ring yet?”
“No, we’re partners in a detective agency.”
“You’re a detective?”
“And ex–Secret Service.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for being a fed.”
“Why, are we supposed to have a certain look?”
“No. But I’m usually pretty good at telling the goodies from the baddies.”
“You’ve had a lot of experience with both?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had lots of experience period.” She patted Michelle’s hand. “So this Sean King and you? Anything happening outside of work?”
“Now you sound like my shrink.”
“Is he as good inside as he looks on the outside?”
“Even better actually.”
“Then honey, can I ask why you don’t have a ring on your finger?”
“We’re business partners.”
“There’re lots of ways to make a living. But it’s been my experience that handsome men with hearts of gold are as rare as a woman leaving a bar without getting her bottom grabbed. Find one like that, you better reel him in or someone else will.”
Michelle thought of Sean and Joan working together again while she was stuck in here having a fight for her soul with Horatio “Harley-Davidson” Barnes and getting peeped on by Barry the Dickhead. “It’s not that simple,” she finally said.
“Oh, women tell themselves that all the time. That’s partially because nothing for women is simple. It’s only simple for men and that’s because, God love the little bastards, they just can’t see any higher than they can grope.”
“Sean is different.”
“Then you’re just making my point for me. Screw the complex and keep it simple. A ring on the finger. That’s all it takes.”
“Assuming for argument’s sake that I’m willing, what if he’s not?”
Sandy ran her gaze over Michelle. “Then, frankly, he needs to be in here more than you. He might be a cut above most men, but I’m assuming he still has a zipper and something behind it.”
“Relying on physical attraction doesn’t work long term.”
“Of course it doesn’t! But you bait them with the curves, haul them in and use the time till your looks fail to train them properly.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“I was. For about ten minutes.”
“Quickie divorce?”
“No, I was shot on my wedding day and ended up like this. My husband of ten minutes wasn’t so lucky.”
“My God, he was killed? During your wedding!”
Sandy nodded. “The wedding planner was pretty much speechless. She’d been fussing about the shrimp and the ice sculpture. She didn’t have a clue how to do triage.”
“How did it happen?”
Sandy nimbly lifted herself out of her chair and onto the bed. She had on a short-sleeve shirt and Michelle saw the ripple of triceps muscles and the veins down both the woman’s biceps. Sandy sat back on the bed. “What it was, was a long time ago. I only had the love of my life officially for ten minutes. But let me tell you I wouldn’t have traded it for a lifetime with anyone else. So you think about your Mr. King. You think long and hard. And realize he won’t always be there. Because there are lots of women out there who could give a damn about complex. They just take what they want, sweetie. They just take what they want.”
CHAPTER
20
SEAN HAD SPENT HIS FIRST NIGHT at Babbage Town alternating between trying to sleep and looking out the window at the darkened grounds. His room was in the mansion on the second floor overlooking the side of the property close to where Champ Pollion’s house was and also within sight of Hut Number One run by the very blunt and very one-legged Alicia Chadwick. The mansion’s decorations had a European flavor, and each guest room, he’d quickly discovered, came equipped with its own computer and WiFi high-speed Internet connection.
Around two A.M. Sean saw some movement near Champ’s house. He thought it was the physicist he’d seen climbing the steps to the front door and going in, but the moonlight was weak and he couldn’t be sure. Then Sean heard a noise that took him completely by surprise. He flung open his window and looked out.
It was a plane coming in, and not just any plane. It was a jet, a large one judging by the sound of the engines, and from the level of noise, the damn thing was landing. He leaned out the window but saw nothing, not even a blink of lights against the black sky. He listened for a while longer and heard the plane’s engines being thrown into reverse to stop the aircraft after it touched down. Yet where had the plane landed? Camp Peary? The Naval Weapons Station? And what the hell was a large jet flying without lights doing landing across the river in the middle of the night?
Nearly two hours later he’d awoken again and taken a seat by the window. He saw two guards standing on the pebble path, talking and sipping coffee. Even from up here he could hear the squawks coming from their portable radios.
At five o’clock, Sean gave up on sleep, showered, dressed and headed down the stairs with a knapsack slung over his shoulder. In the broad, barrel-vaulted entrance hall, there was the smell of coffee and eggs and bacon coming from the dining room.
He ate breakfast and carried a Styrofoam cup of coffee with him as he stopped by the security desk set up near the mansion’s front door and showed the guard stationed there his badge. The stocky man nodded but said nothing as he took Sean’s card and swiped it through a slot on top of his computer screen.
Apparently they want to know where everyone is at all times, Sean thought to himself. Including their own hired detective.
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