D.C. Dead

by Stuart Woods

  Stone followed Dino’s gaze to where a woman had set down a large handbag and was rummaging through it for something. This went on and on, with objects being removed from the bag, until she finally came up with a tiny camera. She took a photo of the DC-3, then tossed the camera back into her bag, along with all the things she had removed.

  “Can you believe it?” Dino asked. “Why do they carry all that stuff around? Shelley has one just as bad.”

  “Holly, bless her heart, takes a more male attitude,” Stone said. “She actually has pockets in some of her clothes.”

  They moved on to another exhibit.

  They were standing in front of the first American spacecraft when Stone’s cell phone buzzed.

  “Hello?”

  “Stone, it’s Kerry Smith, at the FBI.”

  “Hello, Kerry.”

  “I wonder if you and Dino could come and see me tomorrow morning? I’d like an update on your investigation, if you have the time.”

  “Actually, Kerry, tomorrow morning might be an ideal time to brief you. What time?”

  “Eleven o’clock, in my office?”

  “See you then.” Stone hung up and turned to Dino. “Kerry Smith wants a briefing on our investigation tomorrow at eleven.”

  “Sounds like a good time to pull the rip cord and bail out of this mess,” Dino said.

  “And maybe by that time Holly will have been able to brief Kate Lee, and she, the president.”

  “I like it,” Dino said. “We can burn all our bridges at once.”

  “Yeah, then we can beat it out of town before another body turns up.”

  “I’m not going to be responsible for explaining any more corpses after that,” Dino said.

  Stone’s phone went off again. “Hello?”

  “It’s Holly. I went back to the cell phone locator program, and Fair Sutherlin’s phone is alive again and on the move.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Let’s see: it’s moving right past the Smithsonian Institution right now. Seems to be stuck in traffic outside the Air and Space wing.”

  “Holy shit! That’s where we are!” Stone grabbed Dino’s arm and ran for the door. “Come on!”

  Dino was trying to keep up with the longer-legged Stone. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “It’s Fair’s cell phone!” They hit the front door running, attracting the notice of a uniformed security guard. Stone stood on the front steps of the museum, looking up and down the street.

  “Will you please tell me what you’re doing?” Dino asked plaintively. “Maybe I can help.”

  “Fair Sutherlin’s cell phone has come to life, and it’s right here in front of us!” Stone put his phone to his ear. “Are you still there, Holly?”

  “Yes, what do you see?”

  “A bunch of traffic, stopped by a traffic cop. There’s a fender bender down the street. What am I supposed to look for?” “How should I know? It could be in one of those cars. It could be in somebody’s pocket. It could be in the gutter!”

  The cop was waving traffic on, now, and the line began to move. “What do you see, Dino?”

  “Traffic and pedestrians, what else?”

  “Fair’s cell phone is here somewhere.”

  “Stone?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “The phone is moving again and picking up speed.”

  “We’re talking about fifty cars, at least,” Stone said. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Are there any unusual vehicles?”

  “No, there are half a dozen of those plain vanilla government sedans with government seals you see all over town. There’s a moving van, a tow truck, one Rolls-Royce, and a zillion assorted cars.”

  “Shit,” Holly said. “Where is your car?”

  “Illegally parked down the street. Don’t worry, you’ll get the ticket.”

  “Run for it. I’ll keep an eye on where it’s headed and direct you.”

  “I’ll call you back when we’re on the move.” He ended the call. “Come on, Dino, we’re going to chase that phone.” The two of them sprinted a block and a half down the avenue, got into the car, and got it started. Stone called Holly’s cell number.

  “I’m here. Go straight ahead for four blocks and turn right on Fourteenth Street. It’s about ten blocks ahead of you.”

  “There’s a lot of traffic,” Stone said.

  “You’ve got flashers on that car,” she said, “use them, but don’t use the siren.”

  “Dino, find the switch for the flashers!”

  Dino found the switch. “Have we got a siren?” He found the switch, and the noise began.

  “Damn it, Stone,” Holly yelled, “I told you not to use the siren!”

  “What? I can’t hear you! Dino, turn off the damned thing!”

  Dino found the switch again, and now Stone could hear Holly screaming.

  “You don’t have to yell, now,” he yelled. “It’s off.”

  “All right. When you get to Pennsylvania Avenue, turn right. The White House will be to your left.”

  Stone muscled the car in and out of lanes and began to make headway. “I’m turning right on Pennsylvania!”

  “Tell Dino to call out the landmark buildings as you pass them, that way I’ll know whether you’re catching up,” Holly said.

  “Dino, call out the names of buildings as you see them!”

  “Okay, we’ve got the IRS on the right,” Dino said. “Hoover Building coming up, now the National Archives, now the Federal Trade C

  ommission. I can see the Capitol up ahead.”

  “Hold it!” Holly shouted. “I’ve lost it.”

  “Where?” Stone asked.

  “I don’t know—somewhere on Pennsylvania Avenue. It just vanished.”

  “I’m pulling over and waiting until you locate it again,” Stone said, then did so. He sat for fifteen minutes.

  “Nope, it’s gone,” Holly said. “Nice try, though.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Stone said.

  “Well,” Dino said, “that’s gotta be our last clue. The battery is going to run down eventually.”

  Stone struck the steering wheel with his open hand. “Shit! We’re not going to be able to claim the March Hare is dead while that cell phone is out there!”

  50

  STONE, DINO, HOLLY, AND SHELLEY DINED AT CLYDE’S, IN Georgetown, just to get out of the hotel suite. As they entered, Stone whispered to Holly, “Don’t tell Shelley about Fair’s cell phone. We’re meeting with Kerry Smith tomorrow morning, and we may not want to introduce that information into the mix.”

  “I’m invited, too,” Holly replied, “and don’t worry, I don’t want to bring it up either.”

  Everybody ordered a steak, and Stone ordered a bottle of a good California Cabernet. The mood was less festive than it usually was.

  A camera flash went off, temporarily blinding everyone.

  “Who the hell was that?” Dino demanded.

  “I can’t even see you,” Shelley replied, “let alone whoever pulled that trigger.”

  “My vision is coming back,” Holly said, “and I don’t see anyone with a camera, or even anybody looking at us.”

  “I didn’t know Washington had paparazzi,” Dino said.

  “Forget that,” Holly said. “Kate Lee got back this afternoon, and we had the conversation.”

  “What conversation?” Shelley asked.

  “The one where I told her that the investigation is over, that we all think Charlotte Kirby is the March Hare and that she killed herself.” She explained their thoughts about the lack of fingerprints on the magazine and ammo.

  “Is that what you’re telling Kerry tomorrow morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m on board with that. I’m as sick as you are of this whole business.”

  “Unanimity can’t hurt,” Stone said. “You think Kerry will back us?”

  “Stone, if you believe it, and if I believe it, we can make him believe i
t, too.”

  “That’s fine, unless Kerry suddenly comes up with some evidence we don’t know about.”

  “Kerry has been up to his ears with our new budget since you got here,” Shelley said. “He hasn’t had time to deal with anything else.”

  “Good. My son is opening his first play at Yale this weekend, and I want to be there.”

  “I want to be there, too,” Dino said, “since my boy is the producer. I’m counting on him to make a big success so he can take care of me in my old age.”

  “I want Kerry to issue a press release,” Holly said, “saying that the investigation is now closed. We need that.” “That’s problematical,” Shelley said. “Kerry is a cautious man. He’s not going to want to nail himself to that kind of statement. I think it’s better if the White House issues the announcement.”

  “I don’t think the president is the person to issue a statement about a criminal investigation,” Holly said, “and I don’t think the first lady will think so, either.”

  “The attorney general, then,” Shelley said.

  “He’s not involved in this,” Holly pointed out. “This should be done at Kerry’s level. I’m not suggesting that the director of the FBI put his imprimatur on it.”

  “You can try, but I’m beginning to get the feeling that I’m going to be the one to carry the water on this.”

  “Maybe an assistant director is good enough,” Holly said, “but Kerry is worth a shot.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Stone and Dino drove over to the Hoover Building, parked in the basement garage, and took the elevator up to the executive floor, where Kerry Smith received them. Holly and Shelley were already there.

  After offering them coffee, Kerry tossed a copy of the Washington Times onto the coffee table, open to an inside page. “You all look as if you’re enjoying yourselves,” he said.

  Stone picked up the paper and saw the photograph taken of them the previous evening. They were all named, except Holly, who had a menu in the way, and she was called “an unidentified woman.”

  Stone passed the paper around.

  “Why couldn’t I be the ‘unidentified woman’?” Shelley asked.

  “We were just having dinner, Kerry,” Stone said. “We can’t worry about some gossip guy with a camera.”

  “Of course not,” Kerry replied. “Okay, tell me where you are and where you’re going with your investigation.”

  “Where we are is at the end,” Stone said. “Where we’re going is back to New York.”

  “Have you told the president this?”

  “We thought we’d let the first lady do that.”

  “She told him last night,” Holly said. “He apparently took it well.”

  “And who’s going to explain all this to the media?” Kerry asked.

  “That would be you,” Holly said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “It shouldn’t come from the director, nor from someone any lower than you.”

  “Just what would you like me to say?”

  “Send a fax to the AP and Reuters, and to the big papers, if you want to, saying that an investigation has determined that the probable murderer was Charlotte Kirby, who then took her own life.”

  “The ‘probable’ murderer?”

  “All right, the likely murderer. Or just the murderer. You shouldn’t sound uncertain.” She explained about the absence of fingerprints on the gun’s magazine and the ammunition.

  “I guess that’s a decent theory,” Kerry said. “Where is the Arlington PD in all this?”

  “I took it away from them as soon as I heard about it, I heardt i” Kerry Shelley said, “on the grounds that Kirby was a federal employee. Dave King and his people own the case.”

  “Have Dave King write a memo to you, recommending that the case be concluded, and copy me.”

  “I’ll get it done this morning,” Shelley replied.

  “I’m going to have to run this by the director.”

  “Of course, Kerry, by all means,” Holly said. “Nobody’s trying to hang you out to dry. We’ve all bought into this.”

  “Is that true?” Kerry asked, looking at the group.

  Everybody nodded.

  “Okay. You all have a second cup of coffee while I take this down the hall to the director.” He put on his coat and left the office.

  “I thought that went well,” Holly said.

  “It went well only if the director buys it,” Shelley said.

  They chatted desultorily for the minutes before Kerry returned.

  “All right,” he said, “the director is on board. As soon as I get Dave King’s memo and Shelley’s written recommendation, we’ll get it on the wire services, probably around five. Everybody, and that includes all of you, will be unavailable for comment. Clear?”

  There was a murmur of assent, then everybody went their separate ways.

  BACK IN THE CAR, Dino drove out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. “I feel relieved,” he said.

  “I’ll feel relieved when we’ve got wheels up,” Stone said. “It’ll have to be in the morning. There’s a line of thunderstorms between here and New York that I’m not going to fly through, because I don’t want to die.”

  “Once again, we agree,” Dino replied. “I don’t want to die, either.”

  51

  STONE AND DINO GOT BACK TO THE HAY-ADAMS, AND HOLLY followed close behind. Holly called her office from the bedroom and then made several other calls.

  Stone went into the bedroom. “We’re ordering lunch. You want something?”

  “A club sandwich on rye with mayo and a Diet Coke,” Holly said, covering the phone. “Let me know when it comes.” She went back to talking on the phone.

  As Stone came out of the bedroom, Dino was hanging up the other line. “Shelley’s going to join us for a second farewell dinner. She insisted.”

  “Okay with me,” Stone said, “but I know this is because you just want to get laid one more time before we fly out of here.”

  “There’s that, too,” Dino said.

  Lunch arrived, and Stone went to get Holly, who was still on the phone.

  “Just keep a lid on the sandwich,” she said, covering the receiver again. “I’ll be there when I can.”

  Stone went back to the room service table and watched as the waiter served his pasta. He was ravenously hungry, he discovered.

  Dino took a bite out of his bacon cheeseburger, then switched on the TV to find the Yankees game.

  While Dino watched in silence, Stone ran over the whole of their s burger,tay there, looking for some glitch, some loophole they hadn’t covered. Apart from the missing cell phone, he could think of nothing.

  Holly finally came out of the bedroom, sat down, and uncovered her sandwich. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’ve been on a conference call with Tim Coleman at the White House and Kerry Smith. They finally hammered out a press release that we all agreed on. I represented the first lady in the argument.”

  “Was it all that tough?” Stone asked.

  “To get the White House, the CIA, and the FBI to agree on language? It doesn’t get any tougher than that.”

  “Are you happy with what they came up with?”

  “It’ll work, I think. The trick was to issue a statement that wouldn’t set off a wildfire of press questions. Everybody just wants this thing to die, now.”

  “How about the D.C. and Arlington PDs?” Dino asked. “Were they consulted?”

  “Are you kidding? I wasn’t about to open up that can of worms, and Kerry wasn’t either. He’ll call them and make sure they either decline comment or give bland answers, not disagreeing with the statement, if the media persist in going to them.”

  “God,” Dino said, “this whole business has made me appreciate how simple being an NYPD lieutenant is. Detect crime, solve crime, hand over to DA. That’s so nice, compared to what you have to go through in this town.”

  “I agree entirely,” Holly said. “I hate getting involved with police d
epartments. We’re not supposed to dabble in domestic affairs, and it always makes me nervous when I have to talk to them, and especially ask them for favors.”

  They finished lunch and watched the game for the remainder of the afternoon.

  SHORTLY AFTER FIVE O‘CLOCK Stone’s phone buzzed once on his belt, and a little chime sounded. “E-mail,” he said, pulling out the phone. He looked at the message. “It’s the statement from the FBI.” He read aloud: “‘Shelley Bach, assistant director of criminal investigation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, announced today that the investigation into the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Brixton Kendrick and the subsequent deaths of four women—Milly Hart, Muffy Brandon, White House Deputy Chief of Staff Fair Sutherlin, and staffer Charlotte Kirby—has been concluded. Mr. Kendrick’s death has been confirmed as a suicide, as has the death of Ms. Kirby. It has also been concluded that the murders of the other four women were committed by Charlotte Kirby, before she took her own life.

  “‘White House Chief of Staff Tim Coleman said that the White House concurs with the results of the investigation and will have nothing further to say on the subject. Assistant Director Bach said,”Our investigation is closed, and the FBI will have no further comment.”’”

  “So they hung it on Charlotte, after all,” Holly said.

  IT WAS NEARLY eight o’clock when Shelley bustled into the suite. “God in Heaven,” she said, dropping her large handbag on the desk, “my cell phone hasn’t stopped since the release hit.” As if to confirm this, a sound like an old-fashioned telephone was emitted from the bag. Shelley, rummaging inside, came up with the phone and switched it off. “Now,” she said, “the media can go straight to voice mail!”

  Dino poured a scotch and handed it to her. “I think you need this.ith she

  “Thank you, I certainly do,” she said, downing half of the brown whiskey in one gulp.

  “Let me give you the other half of that,” Dino said, taking her glass from her. He replenished it, then returned it to her fist.

  She downed half of that, too.