“I’m sorry Greg, you don’t need to be here right now,” and she pulled away almost as in disgust.
“Jorja, listen, I’m here for you, we’re friends.”
“I know, I know… I thank you for that but really…,” and she dried her eyes and changed gears like a formula one racecar, “Did you find out anything… I mean through GE?”
“I found a bunch of information on Blake Linge.”
“That was his name?”
“Not exactly, and by that I mean the police report now states Blake Linge, but his social is tied to a Blake Remus in the system, he was thirty-eight, single”
“A lot younger than my Aunt.”
“Worked at a company called Beta Group.”
“I heard of them.”
“Well anyway, he seemed to have had some sort of agenda, I found a bunch of gmails back and forth between your aunt and him… pretty personal stuff at times.”
“What do you mean hidden agenda?”
“You’ll have to read them, it will take a few hours but see if you come to the same conclusion, plus I mean, this Blake character has an alias and a pretty good one at that.”
“What else?”
“You’re not going to like it… but…”
“But?”
“But your uncle looks as to be the only one home at the time, and Robin of course.”
“Greg, there could have been someone else… you know as well as I do that not everyone is in that system, it could be some punk kid, a jealous girlfriend even a burglar or something.”
“Yes Jorja, but can you be so sure, remember those finger prints and . .”
“Don’t say another word, just don’t, that has been with me all goddamn day, haunting me, don’t you think I know that, I’m wondering myself if my uncle was somehow responsible again. This time my Aunt Gracie… . she was like a mother to me, another mother… . it just doesn’t make any sense.”
“It sort of does, there is a motive of jealously… it’s a strong motive… . if your uncle walked in on the two of them… he could have been enthralled with rage… seeing the woman he loves in bed with another man… his political career going down the tubes.”
“Political career yes, seeing the women he loves… well that’s a different story. I know my uncle really never loved his wife, maybe at certain points in time there were subtle flashes but true love was never the case. He only really loved one woman… . and that was my mother.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a long story Greg, maybe I’ll go into one day but not today, not now, we need to find as much info as possible, maybe he is guilty, maybe not, he’s still my uncle who has helped me along the way, he deserves the truth, and justice. Can you get me a copy of the police report?”
“Sure thing, only take a minute, may I?” and Jorja stepped aside to let Greg use her computer. “See this never made any sense to me, this is a criminal investigation by the D.C. police. Why they have to load every tidbit of info to homeland is beyond me?”
“In this case I’m glad they did.”
“Here’s what it says so far, are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“It says, two victims, Grace Carson and Blake Linge, four gunshots. One to the back of the head of Blake Linge through the pelvis of Grace Carson. One to the face of Grace Carson penetrating the left check, exit right cheek. Third gunshot to the chest of Mrs. Carson. Then it goes into detail about blood splatter, phone was off the hook, lights were out, and other forensic material along with pictures.”
“Let me see those pictures,” Greg was hesitant, “just bring them up please, I can handle it”. There were one hundred four pictures all together. Jorja was alright until she saw a close up of her Aunt Gracie’s face. She turned away in horror. That is not how she wanted to remember her aunt but the image was already burned into her brain. She began to cry. “Greg, if you would, please leave.” Greg was all too uncomfortable and gladly walked through the office door.
Jorja cried for a solid twenty minutes before she sat back down at her desk. “Memories, too many goddamn memories to contend with,” she said aloud. She tried to push them aside but every time she saw her aunt’s name on the police report she would tear up as the memories returned. She decide to drop everything and concentrate on those memories, “get it out of my system,” she thought, besides there was a full box of tissues, so she relived as many memories as she could.
It was closing in on seven o’clock and not once did she even look at her monitor. She was disturbed only by a knock at the door.
“Yes.”
“Jorja, it’s Greg, are you…”
“You can come in.”
“You alright?” noticing her bloodshot eyes and a trashcan filled with tissues.
“Yeah… . I’m okay.”
“You sure… it looks as though a bunch of old ladies emptied their pockets in here.”
She laughed a bit, “Yeah, I’m sure, tough day but I need to get back to work.”
“What you need is to go back home, relax, take a hot shower, take the day off tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to do that and you know that, so why don’t you take a seat and we can pick up right where we left off. Did you find out anything else?”
“No, but don’t turn on any TV’s… it is all over the airwaves.”
“Not to mention it is all over for my uncle’s political career.”
“That does seem to be the case. Speculation of murder does not sit well with the American public… when there is speculation it’s guilty until proven innocent when it plays out on the networks.”
“And that’s not fair but I know that’s how it is… .”
“So what is your gut telling you Jorja?”
“I really don’t know, I saw my uncle this morning and he was a wreck.”
“Was he a wreck because of Grace or his career?”
“He looked genuine for his emotions regarding his wife, but he could have been channeling his emotions from a different source in order to portray his innocence. I keep thinking about those fingerprints on my mother’s boat.”
“It’s like the Kennedy’s all over again.”
“Don’t go there Greg, . .I… I know how it looks… and it doesn’t look good. Right now we are the only ones who know about those fingerprints and we are thinking of maybe two crimes involving my uncle.”
“It does look fishy but also very circumstantial… but what doesn’t look circumstantial is that your uncle was home at the time of the murders… that is a fact… you know that and I know that… . the police report gives an estimated time of the murders between eleven and one… our window is within five minutes… and that is a fact that only certain individuals know… you and me included, and that doesn’t leave much wiggle room.”
“Let’s restate motives here… why would my uncle kill his wife?”
“Rage?”
“I just don’t buy it.”
“Jorja, think about it, he comes home from a late dinner, he’s been drinking, he has another drink in his study, then hears something… he goes to investigate and he sees his wife in bed with another man—that’s enough to put any man over the edge.”
“There is more to it than that… I told you before, he really didn’t love her.”
“There is also his political career, he sees her in bed with this man and right away he thinks betrayal, being so close to the White House, his career ruined over a romp in the hay… again it’s enough to drive a man over the top.”
“What doesn’t make much sense, if my uncle heard a noise why would he take a gun to investigate, the house has state of the art security, he would have known something was up.”
“Maybe he was tipped off beforehand at the dinner somehow, he was home rather early from one of those events. He builds up rage the closer he gets to the house, he enters the study to get another shot of courage, grabs his gun and walks upstairs.”
“The police repor
t states the man was in a very compromising position, that was probably the first shot.”
“If I were that pissed that’s probably where my first shot would have been.”
“The second shot was fired directly at my…”
“Wait, let me bring up your uncle’s cell phone records from last night,” a few minutes elapsed, “Jorja, look at this, right about eleven he gets a call… . the number is blocked.”
“Blocked, come on now, we know that number.”
“Hold on, hold on… someone tried to block it… I have the number… . here it is… . now that’s strange.”
“What?”
“When is the last time you saw a public pay phone in this day and age?”
“So someone called my uncle from a pay phone at eleven o’clock on a Thursday evening, minutes later he is in the car headed home, moments after he arrives, my Aunt Gracie is dead, along with Remus . .”
Either way, if someone tipped him off it still looks like he pulled the trigger.”
“It could be a setup, you said this Remus was using another name. Maybe he was the bait, kill them, then lure my uncle and it becomes a solid frame-up.”
“You’re stretching a bit don’t cha think?”
“Yes, I’m grabbing at straws, but that call tells me someone else is involved, you said so yourself that this Remus seemed to have an ulterior motive in his writings to my aunt.”
“Again either way, setup or not, each has your uncle pulling the trigger since no one else is around, except for Robin.”
“I know in my heart she would never.”
“Okay, so we have this elaborate setup, hire this Remus character to portray a lover, a phone call, your uncle is home at the time of the murders, and a person to be named later… I just don’t buy it… that’s a pretty elaborate plan and all for what, who would go to that much trouble.”
“The who is the easy part… the President.”
“Jonathan Whitaker?”
“Yes, he has the most to gain, another term in the White House. Now that’s a big motive… is it not?”
“One of the biggest I say, if the tandem team of Anderson and Carson goes down, the democrats are pretty late in the game to contend with this election, they’re pretty much screwed.”
“Not that my uncle and Anderson were going to make it… . Whitaker’s approval rating is still pretty high.”
“But they were closing, besides, they were going after the lower to low middle class, and although approval ratings are supposed to be across the board, most of those people could care less when the phone rings for their questionnaire. I think they would have turned out in droves to elect a president and vice president who stood behind them… and they are the true majority of this country. Yes, I think Whitaker knew he was going to be up against the ropes during this election.”
“See, he has the motive and most important, the potential to pull something like this off.”
“But murder, murder of a senator’s wife, that is certainly extreme and one hell of a frame up job. I’m sorry Jorja but I just keep coming back to those fingerprints on your mother’s boat, I have a strange feeling it was not a coincidence considering that you told me earlier that your mother and your uncle where together at one time.”
“I have that CIA training too… question everything… and believe me that is a juggernaut in my thinking, right now I cannot condemn my uncle until all the facts are in.”
“Jorja, if the President was behind this… just how do you propose to take him down.”
“As Indiana Jones once said, I’m making this up as I go along.”
“Just remember Jorja, this isn’t our case, never was, you have other priorities being the deputy director of DS and T.”
“On my own time, on my own time… speaking of which it’s getting late… I need to get home.”
“You wanna grab a bite to eat?”
“Tough long day, some other time maybe I just need a long hot shower right now and maybe some Xanax.”
Greg was disappointed at how that event went down. He was sure that Jorja would point the fingers at her uncle considering the timeline. Her quizzical nature was enough to drive him mad. “Damn her,” he thought, “this could have been the perfect opportunity.”
Jorja went straight home, after the news of her aunt, Jorja thought of only one thing… GOD and it had nothing to do with the spiritual salvation of someone moving on from this world to the next. She wanted answers and she wasn’t going to pray for them; she quickly logged into the system as the President—risky since she didn’t check the President’s itinerary first. Although she promised not to enter the site without Greg by her side she deemed this time necessary. She punched in her uncle’s social and pinpointed his location. Then she backed up the clock time and plotted out a timeline for his whereabouts. She confirmed for herself that her uncle was home during the murder, not a good sign. She quickly punched in the coordinates and a radius and tracked everyone within that radius. There were only three people, her aunt, her uncle, and her aunt’s rendezvous partner… . Blake Remus… age thirty-eight. Robin, the house maid was not listed; probably never had a shot that contained the tracking devices.
After her confirmation she did indeed take that hot long shower but skipped the Xanax and opted for a glass of wine instead. She went to the bookshelf in the family room and pulled the only family photo album she had. With each turning of the page, a new set of tears rolled down her cheeks. She loved her Aunt Gracie more than she ever told her. With each turning of the page she vowed to herself that she would find the answers.
. . .
Chapter 50
“O.k., James Wartner, so what brings”
“The t is silent”
“What?”
“The t is silent.”
“Oh, ok. Mr. War… . ner. Did you change that when you moved from Arkansas?’”
“No, it was the pronunciation I was born with.”
“I see, so getting back to my initial question, what brings you into my station this evening?”
“You know as well I as do, so let’s cut the crap, it’s because my name is on that goddamn list, and every time something happens the police come knocking on my door.”
“So what did you do to deserve this?”
“Being broke.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, being broke, poor, I couldn’t afford a better lawyer, if I had you wouldn’t be talking to me right now and I’d still be living in my hometown back in Arkansas but that didn’t happen so I’m here and I thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“Well I’m afraid you didn’t save us any trouble, we’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Did you now?”
‘Yes, on the radio, I figured there are not too many people on that list that walk the way I do.”
“And how did that happen?”
“Car accident, over twenty-five years ago, before our fire department got that jaws of life thingy, my foot was mangled up under the dash. They couldn’t save it, hence the prosthetic, hence the limp, hence the reason you were looking for me, hence the reason I’m here.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
“Goddamn list,” sort of mumbled under his breath.
“So where were you this afternoon?”
“The doctors.”
“For?”
“For none of your,” and he so wanted to use a choice profanity but thought otherwise, “ . . . . business really, but if you must know, a colonoscopy.”
“A colonoscopy?”
“What is it with these simple questions, a colonoscopy for Christ sake, you know where they shove a camera up your ass, I thought a man of your age would have had several done by now.”
“I haven’t”
“Well you should, I was glad I did, turned fifty-one, they found colon cancer, been going back and giving them a shitty grin every year since then.”
“Same place.”
“The doctors?”
Yes… the doctors”
“Why?”
“Same reason”
“Same reason?”
“Yes, the same reason… . colonoscopy,” saying it in disbelief, “I was scheduled for eleven thirty, they ran late, then an emergency, then a reschedule for today, call them if you want, they’ll confirm. I spent the better part of two days reading Ladies Home Journal from nineteen seventy-two.”
Lynch knew if his alibi held up this was not their man, “Can you stay awhile?”
“Why did you ask? It’s not like I have a choice now is it?”
“Well can you?”
“Sure I’ll wait until your witness shows, I’ll just be sitting here smiling at that damn mirror until you say otherwise.”
. . .
Chapter 51
Scott knew this ordeal was about to come to a head when once again he was summoned to the Oval Office. He thought long and hard about his role in the plot to derail the Anderson and Carson ticket. It wasn’t just his role it was his plot, his plan, his evil doings that somehow caused the death of Grace Carson.
“Have a seat Scott,” no one else was in the room.
“Mr. President, I need to know, do you really want the entire story?”
“I’ll find out either way, you know my techniques.”
Without taking a seat and drawing a rather deep breath, “then yes, I did have a role in this morning’s deaths, I was the one who put the ball in motion,” as he saw the steam about to bellow, “please let me finish sir, I was the one who put the ball in motion and that ball was to have some pictures taken of Mrs. Carson, the so-called loving wife of senator Carson. It was supposed to be just some tabloid scandal. I received and viewed one of Grace’s personal emails to her husband discussing her marriage, she wasn’t happy, and it got me thinking, besides, since she didn’t have any seventeen year old daughters to get knocked up, infidelity seemed the next best thing, it never sits well with the American public and an elected official. So with the help of our friends at the Beta Group we had a man get as close to her as humanly possible. Again, photographs were all that we wanted. Photographs were all it was supposed to be. I’m, I’m still at a loss for words and as shocked as you are over this whole thing. It seems Mrs. Carson is dead because of what I might have started, at this time I was trying to gather as much information as possible before I filled you in sir. I still have nothing to go on and for that I apologize. The system is telling us nothing.”
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