Margaret Truman's Internship in Murder

by Margaret Truman

  Gibbs and Morey began the slow process of contacting people in Laura Bennett’s address book, while others interviewed members of the gym where she worked out, and customers and staff at her favorite restaurants. The few who remembered Laura had little or nothing to offer—“A nice gal.” “She’d come in with friends, never a problem.” “I recognize her from the photo but never had any direct contact with her.” “She came in a few times with a guy, black hair, well built, don’t know his name. Oh, yeah, he had one of those five o’clock shadows I guess it’s called.” “What’s the problem? She’s missing? Hope you find her.”

  At the gym, a manager said that Laura didn’t use the facilities very often, and when she did she wasn’t much into working out, was more interested in socializing with other members. “Sorry to hear what happened to her. Hope some creep didn’t grab her. There’s more creeps around these days.”

  At the end of the day it was decided to contact taxi companies and their more than fifteen hundred registered drivers to see whether any of them had picked up Laura Bennett in the days following her last known sighting.

  * * *

  Luke Bennett received a call at the hotel from Hal Gannon.

  “Sorry, Luke, but it’s been insane around here,” Gannon said. “Any word on Laura?”

  “No. Hal, I have to talk to you.”

  “Sure. Are you planning to stay in town for a while?”

  “Of course I am. Christ, Hal, Laura is missing. Gone! Grace and I are beside ourselves.”

  “I know, I know,” Gannon said, aware that what he’d said was inappropriate. “I’d be beside myself, too. Look, how about you and I get together tonight, have dinner someplace quiet and away from craziness. The police have called me and want an interview. I told them I had nothing to offer, but I’ll have to meet with them. The press has been calling, too. What a mess. Okay, Luke, Dinner tonight?”

  “I’ll check with Grace and—”

  “No, Luke, just you and me.”

  “Grace will want to—”

  “Please, Luke. Just the two of us.”

  “All right. What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at the hotel at six. Be out front. Just you. Six sharp.”

  * * *

  Grace and Brixton had left the hotel fifteen minutes before Gannon called. Reis had answered Brixton’s phone call and agreed to see them.

  “It may be tough for you to be at the apartment,” Brixton told Grace as he drove.

  “Yes, I’m sure it will, seeing her things there.”

  “The police removed some of it. Anytime you want we can cut the interview short.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said.

  “I know what you’re going through,” he said.

  “How could you possibly?”

  “I lost a daughter a year ago,” he said, but quickly added, “not that you’ve lost your daughter. She’ll probably turn up soon. Who was it, President Clinton, who said ‘I feel your pain’? I mean, I do understand.”

  “I’m sorry about your daughter,” she said, and began to cry.

  Keep your mouth shut, Brixton silently chided himself.

  “Laura’s roommate, Reis Ethridge, is sort of the quiet type,” Brixton said as he found a parking space a half block from the building.

  “Laura said she didn’t like her.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes female roommates don’t get along,” Brixton said, injecting a modicum of levity in his voice. “My two daughters, they—”

  There you go again, he told himself as he got out and came around to open Grace’s door.

  Brixton’s introduction of Grace Bennett to Reis Ethridge was awkward. Reis expressed her concern for Laura and said that she was sure that she was all right and had simply gone off for a while.

  “Laura wouldn’t do that without telling us,” Grace said.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” Reis said. “I just meant that she’s okay, not in any trouble. Would you like coffee or tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Grace said. “Miss Ethridge, surely Laura and you talked about your life as interns here in Washington.”

  “Not very much,” Reis said. “Laura and I were—well, we didn’t talk much.”

  “But you must have discussed your jobs, the people you work with, the things you enjoy doing when you aren’t working.”

  “You mean our lives outside the office?”

  “Yes. Was Laura seeing anyone?”

  “Dating someone?”

  “Yes.”

  “She—Laura had a very active social life, at least compared to me.”

  “Men she dated?”

  “Yes. No. Laura was never specific, although I knew that she was seeing men.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Grace asked.

  Reis avoided looking at her. “No,” she said.

  Brixton sat in a chair, taking in the conversation. He was impressed with how Grace had pulled herself together and asked questions in a direct, matter-of-fact manner, and he wondered when she would get around to asking about what Reis had told him, that Gannon was Laura’s “boyfriend.” He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Did Laura talk about her relationship with Congressman Gannon?” Grace asked.

  “Relationship?”

  Don’t be coy, Brixton thought.

  “Mr. Brixton says that you told him that Congressman Gannon was Laura’s boyfriend.”

  Reis looked angrily at Brixton.

  “Did you tell him that?” Grace pressed.

  “Because that’s what Laura told me.”

  “She said that?” Grace asked, her voice rising. “She used that term, ‘boyfriend’?”

  “No. I really don’t know what she said, but she did say that she and the congressman were—I don’t know, involved, I suppose.”

  “Did you ever see them together?” Grace asked. Demanded was more apt.

  “No.”

  “Did Laura ever stay with him overnight?”

  “She—well, she was gone a lot at night, and I assumed—”

  “You assumed!”

  Reis glared at Grace. “Look, Mrs. Bennett, I don’t know anything about your daughter and where she might be. We weren’t close. In fact, we didn’t get along at all. I’ve been answering your questions, but unless you have others, I really would prefer that you leave.”

  The directness of Reis’s comment took Grace aback. She straightened before saying, “I don’t wonder that you and Laura didn’t get along,” she said, standing and straightening her skirt. “You are a very unpleasant young woman.”

  With that, she crossed the room and opened the door. Brixton cocked his head at Reis, smiled, said, “Thanks,” and left with Grace.

  “Wish it had gone better,” Brixton said as they got in his car.

  Grace’s response was to break down in a torrent of tears and bang her fist on the dashboard.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Grace Bennett was angry that she was not invited to accompany her husband to dinner with Hal Gannon.

  “Why?” she demanded. “Is he afraid to face me?”

  “I’ll find out when I see him,” Luke said. “Look, I’d prefer that the two of us go, but he was adamant. I’ll see what he has to say. And don’t worry, I’ll ask him about the rumors.”

  “And what do you expect him to say, Luke? He’ll fudge the truth, or out-and-out lie.”

  “I won’t let him get away with it, Grace. Mac Smith is right. We’re only dealing with rumors. There may be nothing to them. I’ll find out the truth, believe me, I will.”

  His answer didn’t appease her and he knew that she would sulk as he left the room and went to the street to wait for Gannon to pull up, which he did ten minutes later.

  “How are you, Hal?” Bennett asked as Gannon maneuvered the red Mercedes convertible from the curb and meshed with the traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue.

  “Swamped,” Gannon replied, “but otherwise okay. I can only imagine what you and
Grace are going through.”

  “It’s a nightmare,” Bennett said. “Where are we going to dinner?”

  “Restaurant Eve, a favorite place of mine in Alexandria. They have a bistro that’s quiet, a good place to talk.”

  “I don’t know why we have to go to dinner to talk,” said Bennett.

  “I just thought it would be more relaxing, that’s all. If you’d rather not we can—”

  “No, it’s okay, Hal. I’m just not very hungry.”

  “A drink and some good food is what you need.”

  They were seated side by side at a red banquette in the restaurant’s bistro area that afforded them a modicum of privacy from other diners. Bennett ordered a martini, Gannon white wine.

  “Okay,” Gannon said after their drinks had been served, “fill me in on what’s happening with Laura.”

  “I was hoping that you could do the filling in, Hal.”

  “I wish I had something to offer,” Gannon said. “The truth is I only know what I’ve been told by my staff, what I read in the paper, and what some private investigator had to say. This investigator, his name is Brixton. He says that he’s working for you and a lawyer named Mackensie Smith.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why a private investigator?”

  “It was Mac Smith’s suggestion.”

  “The police are the ones who should be handling this.”

  “They are, but Mac felt that having someone working directly for me might open up some doors. It doesn’t matter, Hal. Let’s get down to what’s really important.”

  They were interrupted by a waiter bringing them menus.

  “Why don’t we order?” Gannon suggested as he picked up his menu.

  “In a minute,” Bennett said. He leaned closer to Gannon. “What’s this about you and Laura having an affair?”

  Gannon slowly shook his head and leaned back. “I was waiting for that ridiculous rumor to come up.”

  “Is that all it is, Hal, a rumor? No basis in fact?”

  “I should be hurt that you even feel it necessary to ask.”

  “I have to ask, Hal. There’s no truth to it?”

  Gannon locked eyes with Bennett. “That’s right, Luke, there is absolutely no truth to it.”

  “Laura’s roommate, a Ms. Ethridge, says that you were Laura’s boyfriend. That’s the term she used, ‘boyfriend.’”

  A small smile softened Gannon’s stern expression. “Do I look like any twenty-two-year-old’s boyfriend, Luke? Come on, be serious.”

  “I am being serious, Hal, and I have every reason to be. Grace’s sister, Irene, told Grace that when Laura came to her house for dinner—she lives in Maryland—Laura told her of a relationship she was having with you.”

  “I feel like I’m a witness at an inquisition,” Gannon said.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I already did answer your question,” Gannon snapped back. “Look, Luke, I was hoping that our many years of friendship would suffice, that if I said those rumors weren’t true, you’d accept it as fact. What other rumors have you heard? Lay ’em all out so I can defend myself.”

  Bennett realized that his approach wasn’t getting him anywhere. Gannon was responding the way Grace had predicted he would.

  At the same time, Gannon was aware that although what his friend was bringing up were only unsubstantiated rumors, he wasn’t going to be able to dismiss them with flat denials, wave his hand and see them evaporate.

  “I wasn’t going to bring this up,” Gannon said, “but your refusal to believe me about Laura forces my hand. You want the truth, Luke?”

  “Of course I want the truth.”

  “This might hurt,” Gannon said.

  “Nothing could hurt more than what’s already happened.”

  “Okay. First of all, nothing matters except getting Laura back. All this nonsense about my having an affair with her is just that, nonsense. Luke, Laura was—is a lovely young woman. She’s also typical of women her age, filled with fantasies and dreams, sophomoric flights of fancy, developing crushes on movie stars and rock musicians.”

  Bennett started to say something, but Gannon held up his hand.

  “I told you this might hurt,” Gannon said, “but we have to put it to rest. Our friendship is too important to let some goddamn rumors get in its way. The truth is that Laura developed a crush on me. She started flirting with me before she ever came to D.C., dropping sly suggestive comments, batting her blue eyes.”

  “Hal, I—”

  “No, Luke, hear me out. Everything was fine the first week after she arrived and started working in my office. But then she started making suggestions—”

  “What sort of suggestions?”

  “Suggestions that she and I might get close. She kept pressing me to take her to dinner at my favorite places, asked about the state of my marriage, even dropped hints with the other interns that she and I had a thing for each other.”

  “I don’t believe that, Hal.”

  “You don’t seem to want to believe anything I say.”

  “Laura isn’t that sort of girl.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying she was something evil, Luke. She was just being a typical twenty-two-year-old, her head full of dreams, her imagination running wild. She started coming on to me, which made me damned uncomfortable. I told her in no uncertain terms that it had to stop.”

  Gannon sipped his wine and allowed what he’d said to sink in. The silence was broken by Bennett. “To say that I’m shocked would be an understatement,” he said.

  Gannon lightened his tone. “Hey, Luke, Laura is a terrific young woman. What she did was nothing off the wall, nothing to be shocked about. She and I had a long, serious talk. After that things changed. The only problem is that she wanted to share her fantasies with others, like Grace’s sister, her roommate, anyone who would listen. I’ll tell you this, Luke. Having rumors like this floating around doesn’t do my political career any good, to say nothing of the problems it could cause in my marriage.”

  They shelved the conversation about Laura while they ate dinner. Gannon finished his soft shell crabs; Bennett made a halfhearted attempt to eat his bouillabaisse. It was Bennett who returned the topic to Laura’s disappearance. “You say you had a serious conversation with Laura,” he said. “Was it an angry conversation?”

  Gannon shrugged. “No, I wouldn’t say that. She was unhappy, of course, but we had to have that talk. My chief of staff, Roseann, had picked up on what was going on and mentioned it to me. I suppose that was what prompted me to confront Laura.”

  “I’m just wondering whether her ego and feelings were sufficiently hurt for her to decide to go away and lick her wounds.”

  “Maybe, Luke. If that’s what’s happened, I’m sorry for having confronted her, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m sure you understand that, might even be grateful that I did.”

  Bennett said nothing in response. What Gannon had suggested made sense to him, at least for the moment. It was a hopeful contemplation, that Laura, her pride injured, had fled Washington to pull herself together. If that were true, it meant that she was still alive.

  But Gannon’s claims that Laura had flirted with him, had even tried to seduce him, didn’t gibe with what Lucas Bennett knew of his only child.

  Gannon sensed the mental maze that Bennett was suffering.

  “Luke, what’s important is that we have faith that Laura will turn up, hopefully sooner rather than later. All I can say is that I hate what you and Grace are going through. I’ll do anything in my power to make it easier. All you have to do is call.”

  Gannon dropped Bennett in front of the Marriott.

  “Remember what I said, Luke. I’m at your disposal, day and night, twenty-four/seven. Be sure that Grace knows that and give her a hug for me.”

  Bennett stood on the sidewalk and watched Gannon pull away.

  Could he believe him?

  Could he allow himself to believe him?

>   And what would Grace say when he recounted the conversation to her?

  CHAPTER

  19

  Anatoly Klimov had come to the United States two years ago from St. Petersburg, Russia. He’d dropped out of high school and started working at the Morskoy Vokzal cruise ship dock hauling the baggage of well-to-do passengers visiting Russia’s second-largest city and its cultural and artistic icons, including the famed Hermitage Museum. But at the age of twenty-five, he and his older brother became passengers themselves, using money they’d squirreled away to book passage to New York and a train south. An aunt and uncle in Washington sponsored their immigration and put them up during their early days in the city until they found construction jobs and rented a small apartment close to Rock Creek Park. If they had thought they were escaping backbreaking work for an easier life and riches, they were soon disabused of that dream. When they could find work, their days were long, which didn’t seem to bother Anatoly’s brother; he was known as “the mule” back home for his seemingly inexhaustible energy and strength. But the slimmer and less physically endowed Anatoly, who had developed back problems while working the cruise ships in St. Petersburg, increasingly found excuses to turn down jobs, which angered his brother, who shouldered the brunt of bringing in money.

  Anatoly had always been more of a dreamer than his brother. He sometimes seemed to fall into a trancelike state, his eyes focused on things only he could see. There were times when he heard voices, Russian voices—his parents, his sister, his bosses at the cruise port. His brother angrily chastised him when he fell into these fugue states, which only served to push Anatoly farther away from the apartment they shared. He became fond of hiking the myriad trails of the park, having conversations with himself as he soaked in the rugged, natural beauty of the huge urban green space. He also began to drink more heavily than usual, carrying a flask of vodka with him as he whiled away hours in the park.

  His brother had met a waitress at the Russian restaurant Mari Vanna, on Connecticut Avenue, and announced that they would marry one day. This news only heightened Anatoly’s depression, and he decided that what he needed was a woman in his life. There were so many beautiful young women in Washington, D.C. In the good weather, they jogged Rock Creek Park’s trails, dressed in skin-tight shorts and T-shirts, seemingly oblivious of the male attention they generated, including Anatoly’s. He made overtures, clumsy, inexperienced attempts to strike up a conversation, but his approaches were ham-handed, trying to use his spare English to “chat up a bird,” which he’d heard a British actor say. His rejections only intensified his desire to connect with a woman, and at times he became physically aggressive, grabbing a blonde by the arm, or wrapping his arms around a brunette who stopped to speak with him but ended up laughing at his stumbling attempt to develop a relationship—any relationship. When the brunette left the park that day, she went to police headquarters and filed a complaint against “the bastard who attacked me in Rock Creek Park.” Based upon her complaint, the police accompanied her to the park and brought Anatoly in for questioning. He didn’t understand much of what the officer said during the interrogation, only knew that he was being accused of something.