Shaking his head, Andrew murmured, “I hope they didn’t have families.”
“Me, too”
“If you need me I’ll be at KGM later today.” Andrew said in a subdued tone. “Call and let me know when you pick up those guys.”
“I will” replied Jim, equally subdued.
✽✽✽
Andrew left and hurried back to the Times. There he grabbed his notes and a necktie off a hook and drove quickly to the Washington Athletic Club.
Jim Savalza sat at his desk pondering his conversation with Andrew and remembering the phone call to Father Ben. “I smell a rat—I think I will make a little visit to the WAC and see what’s on the menu.”
He drove past the Rainier Tower noting a large cordoned off area. “Poor devils,” he thought. “Wonder how it happened.”
At the club Jim carefully surveyed the lobby and then surreptitiously scanned the dining room. He spotted Andrew as he rose from a table to greet a dignified looking man that he gauged to be about forty. He watched as they exchanged amenities and reminded himself that Father Ben had not yet arrived. He retreated to the reception area and waited until he saw Ben enter the dining room. Going to the desk he inquired, “Who besides the priest is Mr. Kincaid’s guest?”
The desk clerk drew himself up and responded in a haughty tone, “I’m sorry, out of respect for our members and their guests’ privacy, I cannot give out that in for...” He didn’t finish his statement; Detective Salvalza’s badge got in the way.
The flustered clerk offered apologetically, “His name is Evan Scott; why do you ask, is he wanted for something?”
“Calm down, I thought he looked like someone else,” Jim said casually. “Thanks. Oh, by the way, where does Mr. Scott call home?”
“McLean, Virginia, Detective,” answered the clerk.
“That’s very interesting... all this way just to have lunch with Andrew Kincaid. Hmmn.”
The door of the manager’s office was open and upon hearing the word ‘detective,’ he emerged to join the clerk at the desk. “Do we have a problem here?” he asked.
“No,” Jim said, “Just a case of mistaken identity.”
“Oh, I am relieved,” said the manager. For a moment I thought it might have something to do with the envelope.”
“Envelope?” Jim looked puzzled.
“The one the other detective picked up.”
“Oh, yes, that envelope. When did he do that?” Jim decided to explore a little more.
“On Monday, I think it was,” looking at the clerk for help, “I don’t remember his name exactly.”
“He was a big guy. Something like Massey...,” the clerk offered. “There are so many people in and out, you know.”
Jim interrupted the explanations, “You don’t mean Maxwell, do you?”
“That’s it,” said the manager.
“Well,” drawled Jim, “It seems as though Detective Maxwell has everything under control so I guess I’ll just run along. You have a nice day.” He looked again in the dining room noting the three men deep in conversation. He overheard the desk clerk comment, “Pleasant guy for a cop.”
The manager responded something inaudible.
Jim thought, “This has been a fruitful lunch hour and I haven’t even had lunch.”
✽✽✽
Friday 11:00 AM
As soon as Detective Maxwell got the word about the accident at the Rainier Tower he headed for the Captain’s office. “Captain, I know several of the people over at Atlas Window Cleaning and I think I can probably put this case to bed fairly quickly. Peterson and I can go over and talk to a few of the crew. They might open up to me, you know,” he paused, “talk to someone they know, a little quicker.”
Captain Martin looked at him sharply. Maxwell volunteering—wonders never cease. The Captain was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pushed his glasses back on his nose and peered at Monte. “Okay, go ahead, take the lead on this, Monte, and take Peterson with you.”
“Thanks, Captain, we’ll wrap it up in no time.” He was grinning as he started to leave the command office.
“Okay Maxwell, you have the assignment,” Captain Martin sighed and then added, “But, Monte, if Leonard Phillips is there, don’t get crosswise with Labor and Industries.”
Monte paused briefly, the smile faded, and he nodded without turning around. If the Captain had seen his face he would have known the last instruction was not what Monte wanted to hear. Captain Martin continued, “By the way what are you doing now, Monte?”
Monte’s shoulders tightened, “Nothing, Captain. I mean nothing I can’t put aside for awhile. You want Ed and me to get over to the Rainier Tower right away?”
“Yes, but let the Coroner do his thing; the Blues are there getting preliminary information.”
Monte cleared his throat. “Okay, we’ll go right now.”
After the Captain’s remark regarding Len Phillips and L & I, Monte’s mood was sour. He had been eager to get to the accident at the Rainier Tower and he didn’t want anything to interfere with his mission. Back at his desk, grabbing what he needed for the investigation, he snapped at Ed Peterson, “C’mon we’ve got to look into that accident at the Rainier Tower.”
“Yeah?” queried Ed. He was ready to get out on the street. “How’d you convince the ‘old man’ to give us the assignment?”
“Sometimes, Ed, it just pays to know how to talk to people,” Monte bragged, irritably.
✽✽✽
The bodies were being removed by the time they arrived at the accident scene. The first person Monte saw behind the yellow tape, and talking with a security guard from the building was Leonard Phillips from the Department of Labor and Industries. Monte swore when he saw Phillips and his ulcer immediately started acting up. Of all the people from L & I he had hoped not to encounter was Phillips. With a forced smile Monte forged ahead. “Well, if it isn’t Len Phillips,” he greeted the man in his most cordial voice.
“Detective Maxwell... so we’ll be working together again I see,” Phillips responded soberly. His professionalism dictated a polite smile and handshake, but his dislike of Maxwell was clear. “I don’t believe I know you,” he said to Ed Peterson who gave Phillips a warm handshake, saying, “I’m Monte’s partner, Ed Peterson.”
Len relaxed slightly and said to himself “At least Peterson seems reasonable enough; might as well make the best of the situation.”
His alert system kicked in however as Monte announced, “I’m in charge of the investigation for the Department,” in ‘the issue isn’t debatable’ voice.
“I see,” replied Len. “well, shall we get started then, Detective Maxwell?” He looked at Ed Peterson who seemed slightly embarrassed by Monte’s heavy handed approach.
“Let’s go,” said Monte firmly. “Ed, why don’t you round up a few people talk to them and find out who saw what and get some names, huh?” Monte followed Len into the cordoned off area thinking disdainfully, “I need to get rid of this snooping little creep. He always thinks he’s got all the answers. His glasses are so thick he probably can’t see the building let alone the cables, so I’m not going to let him argue with me. But I had better keep cool. I don’t want him complaining to the Captain. And I need to keep Ed busy. Don’t want him poking around the platform.” He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. If it wasn’t one damned thing to worry about it was another.
Len led the way. He was a thin and wiry five foot seven. Because of his size, it was much easier for Len than the overweight Monte to negotiate the rubble. “Here we are,” Len told the puffing detective, “This is the end of the scaffold with the severed wires.”
“Let me see.” Monte pushed Len out of the way to get to the damaged equipment.
“Watch who you’re pushing, Maxwell,” Phillips said impatiently. It didn’t take much of Monte to set Len off. He resented someone in pseudo authority taking advantage of his size. However, Len had an equalizer—his own posit
ion of the real authority in his agency and his own fiery temper that he used effectively.
“As you can probably see, Detective, it appears that the wire has been cut and made to look like it was so worn it came apart,” Len analyzed.
“You really ought to get new glasses if you think that cable was cut. It certainly looks worn and frayed to me and I can say in my experience that it was not cut, but gave out as the result of being worn out. It should have been replaced before anyone went up on this scaffold. Just like these company people, trying to save every nickel they can at the expense of the working Joe!” Monte stopped to take a breath.
“So that’s the way you’re going to report this?” Len retorted incredulously, “But why? Surely you can see that these cables were deliberately cut.”
“Listen Phillips, I have dealt with enough of this type of thing to know whether a cable has been cut or just plain worn out,” Monte loudly insisted. Ed Peterson stopped writing a name in a notebook and looked across the barrier at Monte and Len Phillips engaged in an angry exchange.
He started toward them when he heard Len loudly and firmly declare to Monte, “You may represent the Seattle Police Department in this, but your report will have to wait until these cables have been examined and x-rayed by our department. I’m ordering the scaffold impounded now. So go ahead Maxwell, report your ‘accident’, but you had better make it ‘preliminary’,” Len spun on his heel and walked away.
An angry Monte followed asserting to Len’s back, “I’m going to write my report and it is going in as an accident. That is how I interpret the evidence, and I call them like I see them.”
Len stopped; turning toward Monte his eyes shone fire. “Maxwell, you’re a cheap... I don’t know what; you hide behind your badge and do your own thing and get away with it, but I’m not afraid of you and you had better watch your step because I’m on to you. Some day you’re going to get caught... and I want to be there! Now get out of my way; I’ve got work to do!”
Monte took a step toward Len and then stepped back. Something in Len’s eyes told Monte it would not be smart to push this man. “I’m going to write my report,” he told him stubbornly.
“I suggest you wait for our report,” Len said.
“No,” Monte said belligerently. “My opinion stands, I’m the investigator for the Seattle PD and my chief will back me one hundred percent,” Monte walked away.
Phillips looked at Monte as he stalked away. “I wonder what’s going on here,” he thought to himself. “Why is Monte being such a hard-ass and insisting this is an accident? I know that’s what he’s doing. I just can’t prove it; at least not yet.” Len pondered as he took photos and waited for the impound crew to take the wreckage to the State warehouse down in Georgetown.
✽✽✽
As Monte and Ed returned to the office after the encounter with Len Phillips; Monte declared “I’m going to write the report that this was an accident and Phillips can go to hell!” he growled to Ed. “He can x-ray all he wants to, but we’ll just see how far that gets him. I’ll settle this.”
Ed frowned and looked at Monte shaking his head as he spoke, “Why are you so pissed at Phillips, Monte? He’s just doing his job—he seemed like a pretty efficient guy to me.”
“Efficient? Hah! You don’t have a clue; he’s a little piss-ant bureaucrat. He wouldn’t know evidence if came up and bit him on the ass. He just wants everybody to jump through his damned bureaucratic hoops!” he railed on at Ed.
“Okay, Okay, Monte, I don’t know the guy; don’t get so excited,” Ed offered, trying to calm Monte down.
“Just shut up and leave me alone,” Monte snapped. “I’m going out and grab some lunch, and then I’ll write the report.”
All right then, I’ll go clean up the other reports I was working on and let you handle this,” Ed said peevishly. He was glad to have Monte leave even temporarily in his foul mood.
✽✽✽
Friday 12:20PM
Andrew had made certain he got to the Washington Athletic Club a little early to wait for his guest. He saw a man he identified as Neil as he entered the dining room and his thoughts were confirmed as the waiter guided him to the table.
As Neil approached, Andrew saw a tall, slender man about 6 feet and around 40 or 45 years old with salt and pepper gray hair. He was meticulously dressed in a dark tailored, 3 piece suit and held a leather dispatch case under one arm; he carried himself straight and purposeful.
Andrew stood up as Neil spoke, “Andrew Kincaid?” The two men shook hands.
“I am,” Andrew answered, “And you are ‘Evan Scott’.”
“That’s right, and I am very glad to meet you, Andrew. Aunt Martha would be very pleased that we could get together.”
“Same here, please have a seat,” Andrew spoke casually.
Neil chose a chair opposite Andrew where he could look directly across the table at his host.
Neil’s dark blue silk tie matched the deep blue of his eyes that looked large through the wire glasses resting on his aquiline nose. His manner was friendly, but reserved.
“He looks exactly like I imagined someone from the State Department—like he’s ready to negotiate a treaty. He could be a professor or... a CIA agent, or both,” thought Andrew, the right image for any job. He smiled, “How was your trip?”
“Fine,” Neil told him. Neil was thinking, “So this is the guy that George had trusted—a newspaper guy; not as rumpled as some.” He liked Andrew’s openness, the direct way he returned Neil’s gaze. There was a frankness about him and a youthful charm that belied the quick mind and serious nature beneath it.
He appraised Andrew’s semi-casual dress; the dark blazer, blue cotton shirt and slightly crooked red necktie, obviously donned in a hurry, and khaki trousers.
Andrew began the conversation in earnest, “Father Lee will here shortly, and I will deliver Aunt Martha’s luggage to you tomorrow if that’s agreeable.”
“Yes, tomorrow will be fine as long it’s safe; I would like you to be cautious,” Neil answered quietly, looking around the room.
Andrew nodded, “Of course.” Leaning toward Neil across the table Andrew began, “Before we get into this, I want to know how you found out about me?”
“George was in contact with me. He had identified you as a possible contact through one of your colleagues, Jack Hubbard.”
“Oh, yeah,” Andrew replied. “On that subject I want to say this; there are some things I want to know and some things I don’t,” he stated emphatically, “I don’t want to know if Jack Hubbard is in any way connected to any covert activities!”
Neil was taken aback by Andrew’s controlled vehemence. “Why?” he asked, truly surprised.
“Because,” Andrew responded, “Jack is... was... a friend and a damned good journalist and that’s the way it should be. I don’t want to know if he crossed the line and got tangled up with some spook operation. I just want to know the barest details of how Kelshaw and Jack Hubbard hooked up; beyond that, I don’t need to know anything else!”
“That’s fine,” Neil answered looking around to see if anyone in the dining room noticed Andrew’s intensity. “That’s fair, but you asked me, and that’s how I knew. Let me make it easy for you, Andrew,” Neil went on. “I can assure you that Jack Hubbard was not and is not a CIA agent. However, in the real world, as I’m sure you can appreciate, situations often dictate the responses, and lines sometimes get blurred for the sake of a greater good. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked. Not waiting for Andrew’s response, he went on, “Now tell me about yourself and what has happened since George was killed.”
Andrew felt slightly shot down, but relieved. “Well that could take the better part of the afternoon, but I’ll give you the highlights. I write a bi-weekly column for the Seattle Times and do a five day, hour long, radio talk show on station KGM. It’s sometimes political, sometimes focuses on local problems, but,” he paused “I have a feeling you already know more about
me than I would be comfortable knowing soooo... back to the events of last Tuesday,” he drew a deep breath. Had it only been Tuesday of this week?
“I do know a little about you,” Neil smiled. “For example I know that you have done some excellent investigative reporting as well.”
“I was born with insatiable curiosity; in other words I’m a natural snoop,” Andrew responded with amusement. He wondered where Neil got his information.
After filling Neil in about Kelshaw’s murder, the burglary and trashing of the Center, he looked up and saw Ben crossing the dining room to their table. “Here comes Father Ben now.”
A slightly built Chinese man in clerics’ clothing was approaching them. He was about 5’6”, and probably in his fifties, Neil estimated. His black hair was graying at the temples. Both men stood as Father Ben approached.
“Father Ben Lee, meet Evan Scott.”
Ben bowed slightly, “I am honored,” Ben said graciously.
“I, too, am honored,” Neil answered.
“Sit here, Father Ben,” Andrew had pulled out a chair.
Ben smiled, “Thank you. Andrew I trust you and Mr. Scott have had an opportunity to discuss some of the events of this week.” Andrew nodded as Ben turned to Neil. “I hope your flight was satisfactory. I am certain Andrew has told you that if there is anything we can do to accommodate your needs, you have but to ask.”
Neil noted the sincerity in Ben’s eyes that radiated warmth, friendship and compassion. He responded, “Absolutely,” appreciatively, while thinking how glad he was that this man was with George at the end of his life.
Andrew was speaking, “I have tried to bring Evan up to speed on some of what has happened since Tuesday, but not all; and we haven’t talked about Detective Savalza.” He looked squarely at Ben who returned his gaze with a little nod of his head.
Neil’s eyes narrowed and he asked with some apprehension, “Who is Detective Savalza? You didn’t...?”
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