I hated getting past my mental block to this next step, but if Mindy had something worth killing for, and she’d told it to Max… “Tell him—” Oh shit. Another piece of the puzzle almost fit. “Maybe Reggie had something to do with Max’s death. He needed the money, he was desperate to escape jail time. He knew both Max and Mindy and now he’s gone with our millions.”
I should have been communicating with Graham all along. Paranoia made a lonely hunter, and a useless one. “If the Edu-Pub gang wants to get rid of Tex…” I’d thought Hagan was my best suspect in Mindy’s death. Did he know Reggie?
Reggie was gone before Mindy died. Had Max’s lawyer known EG was Tex’s child? Could he have told Hagan? What was the connection I was missing?
Nick was looking at me as if I were crazed, but he was hitting a button on the phone to redial the last number. I only prayed Graham didn’t have some kind of weird phone transmission that would divert the call elsewhere. I still didn’t know his number.
“I had e-mail from EG earlier today giving me questions to ask someone from the education committee.” Nick frowned at his cell, hit a button to clear the screen and tried again.
“To ask Hagan?” Terror took root deep in my heart.
“I don’t know. As best as I can tell, she sent a message complaining about the quality of school textbooks and asking someone to call me.”
“Why in the name of heaven would she do that?” I think I screamed. It was hard to tell above the noise and confusion, but screaming seemed the best reaction to knowing my sister had e-mailed the office of a potential murderer. “Did anyone else see her message? Does anyone else in Tex’s office know who she is?”
Nick screwed up his forehead in thought. “Can’t say. We share each other’s stuff all the time. I could have been overheard talking to her.”
Of course, given the immensity of the GSA, it was unlikely a single complaint would reach Hagan anytime in the near future, if ever. Unless he was looking for it. Unless he already knew about her… Had he known about me? Had he sent the threatening message? How could he know about us? Except through Reggie. And Reggie was gone. How could there be any connection between Hagan and Reggie?
Blackwell Johnson. Blackwell knew Reggie, knew we owned stock in Edu-Pub. My brain was on the verge of frying. None of this formed clear-cut connections.
Nick looked relieved as the cell apparently worked this time. I scanned the street while he waited for someone to answer.
“Tell Graham to locate Mindy’s hard drive,” I ordered, “and retrieve her last report to the committee. The police probably won’t make anything out of it, but Graham will. See if he can find any connection between Hagan and Reggie or Blackwell Johnson.”
“The spook in the attic works for the police?” Nick asked incredulously while holding the phone to his ear.
As if I knew. “No. But he’ll know where that hard drive is, I’d bet my million on it. And even if the police have it, I’m betting he can get it. I’m going after EG.” Insane, but I’d decided to trust Graham. I ought to be accusing him of EG’s disappearance, but I still had the urge to rely on him—just as I was counting on my family.
Spotting my opportunity, without waiting for Nick to protest, I dashed into the street and hopped into a cab stuck in traffic on the cross street.
“Ain’t going anywhere in this, lady,” the driver said laconically.
“A Chinese bicycle cab could. Bump that car in front of you. He has a whole car length he can move up.” I locked the car door while Nick pounded on the window. I leaned over and locked the front door, too.
With a wild man pounding on his windows, the cabbie obligingly nudged the bumper of the SUV in front, waking the other driver up. We got a middle finger salute for our efforts, but the SUV rolled forward.
“Wiggle into the turn lane at the intersection. Traffic’s blocked coming out so you can make the turn against the light.”
“You’re crazy lady,” he said in disbelief, but he nudged his way into the empty turn lane. Nick shook his fist at us, but I knew he wouldn’t attempt to follow. He was shouting into his cell phone—I hoped at Graham. Between the two of them, they’d find that hard drive. I prayed it had the answers because I didn’t.
Horns blew and drivers shook their fists, but we wiggled into the jammed intersection, forcing cars on both sides to ease back or forward. People ought to know better than to pull into intersections when traffic was stopped. Following our example, several cars began the wriggle-push or made U-turns into any open lanes available.
The driver wiped his brow as we made the left turn onto the open street. “Where we goin’, lady?”
“Georgetown, to the home of Senator Tex Hammond.” I gave him the address I’d memorized the day we’d rode with Boise. If Tex was a murderer, then there was one cabbie in town who could pin him to my cold dead corpse.
Amazingly, I was dressed for a visit to Georgetown. I was still wearing my expensive hotel clothes. If I kept this up, I would really turn into Magda. EG wouldn’t recognize me. But Tex would.
I couldn’t believe Tex was behind this. It didn’t make sense. Except, even if EG e-mailed Hagan, a stranger like that wouldn’t know who she was or how to get at her. As far as I was aware, Tex was the only person outside of family who knew EG was his daughter and went to this school. I had to eliminate the obvious before I could move on to the seriously weird.
I couldn’t do what the kidnapper wanted. Only EG knew where her passport was. Blackwell knew I didn’t have Max’s millions. Who would think I did? Sean. I had no idea where to find the Irishman.
The cabbie kept a news station on the radio, but the school was being treated as a routine bomb scare and a traffic hazard to re-route around. I dug my fingers into the soft leather of my purse and stared at the scenery flashing by as we progressed out of the traffic onto the open highway.
My thoughts skittered from Pride goeth before destruction to a silent prayer to a Being I wasn’t certain existed. My ignorance of religion probably surpassed my ignorance of history, but I’d read the Bible. It had more conflict in it than a good thriller. That wasn’t conducive to calming thoughts right now.
And I needed to be calm. Wild-eyed madwomen generally did not make it past security in the homes of government officials.
The cab’s CB spluttered, and the driver switched the news off to listen. Looking startled, he picked up a phone receiver and handed it over the seat to me. “They want to talk to a short woman with a long black braid. Reckon that’s you.”
I knew of only one person in the world who not only knew how to find me, but could persuade a cab company to locate the exact car and hand over a company phone to a passenger. I wasn’t in a humor to be yelled at again, but just in case he’d heard something from EG, I took the receiver and snarled. “This had better be to tell me you know where she is,” I said before Graham could get out a word.
“You don’t have any idea what you’re getting into,” he said calmly, but in my terror, I heard a note of tension. “The envelopes in Max’s office tested for poison. I’m looking for their delivery driver now. Get back here and let’s work this out together.”
My grandfather had been murdered. Like my father. Like EG? I hit full scale hysteria.
“That would have worked half an hour ago—before you hung up. Now you can listen to me,” I screamed. “Hagan and a man who looks like Pao met Mindy the day she died. May I remind you that Mindy was Reggie’s ex. Reggie was Max’s lawyer and executor. Max had him buy shares in Edu-Pub, so Reggie had to know the other investors to buy private shares. Robert Hagan on the textbook committee owned shares and Mindy knew him, so what are the chances that Reggie did?
“Reggie was desperate for money to leave town to beat his third-time’s-the-charm drug charges,” I continued as quickly as I could. “If either Max or Mindy mentioned their textbook inquiries to Reggie, he may have told Hagan. Hagan could have panicked and paid him to poison Max. Or blackmailed him. Either way,
Reggie would have his hands on millions once Max was dead. Motive and opportunity. Talk to Blackwell Johnson. And find Mindy’s damned computer and Hagan.” Without waiting for any response, I handed the phone back to the driver, ignoring the shout of outrage that could be heard over the engine’s roar.
I no longer cared what Graham thought or what he wanted or what in hell he was involved in. Max was dead. Despite all his electronic wizardry, Graham hadn’t prevented it. I wanted my sister back before she was dead, too, if I had to bulldoze my way through Washington to do it. If I was really, really lucky, I’d only have to bulldoze my way through Tex.
As the cab pulled up to the house, I took a deep breath and counted out my money. I should have taken more out of the ATM, but there was enough for a good tip. I’d probably have to walk back downtown though.
The cabbie looked at me with a cross between awe and suspicion as I handed him my cash. “You ain’t a terrorist or nothin’, are you?”
“I am woman, hear me roar,” I said sweetly, opening the door.
Men never quite grasp that pint-sized females dressed in swishy long skirts can have the power of forty-megaton bombs when their fuse was lit.
And I was beyond furious. And scared. Bad combination.
I punched the button on the security gate and dared anyone to deny me entrance.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ana visits Tex’s wife and goes home with Sean.
After my experience with Graham and his wizardry, I fully expected to get a mechanical voice demanding my name, rank, and social security number when I buzzed Tex’s house. Instead, the wrought iron gate swung open without a protest.
The taxi had lingered while the driver presumably counted his money. As I stepped into the entry garden, he started up his engine and eased away. My last chance to turn back had gone.
Houses in Georgetown are prohibitively expensive, but not necessarily large. Minutes from the airport, White House, and Embassy Row, Georgetown is all about location. The yuppies favor the old Federal-style houses. I didn’t get the attraction. The buildings are old, narrow, and built one on top of the other. Admittedly, they’re dreamily historic in old brick, with carved wooden shutters and architectural details new houses cannot compete against, but they needed their guts ripped out to be livable.
A climbing rose spilled heavy perfume over the high white picket fence that guarded this particular row of houses. Red geraniums and asparagus ferns overflowed the flower boxes on the upper story windows. Far from being intimidating, the senator’s house looked like the ideal home for EG. I’d been fooling myself to think I could provide anything so welcoming.
Which meant I was probably fooling myself to even consider Tex had kidnapped his own daughter to get her out of his life. I might dislike the man and everything he stood for, but that didn’t mean he was a murderer or a kidnapper. One irritating illegitimate daughter exposed to the press hardly compared to murder charges.
I was trying desperately not to worry about Hagan or Pao having EG.
I rapped the brass knocker, and a maid dressed in a black uniform with a white apron answered the door. “I’m Anastasia Devlin, here to see the Senator and Mrs. Hammond,” I said in my best British boarding school voice. I’d lasted about six months in that school, until Magda’s affair ended and we moved again.
The maid bobbed her head as if an unexpected visitor wasn’t an unusual occurrence. “Wait here, please.” She shut the door in my face.
So, this wasn’t Victorian society, and one didn’t trust strangers into the guest parlor. I could understand that. I was just too angry to like it. I tested the brass knob. It was unlocked. I swung the door open and let myself in.
Wide oak planks varnished in their original golden color gleamed down a straight hallway leading to a brick-floored kitchen or sunroom at the rear. A circular oak staircase led to the upper stories. To my right was an elegantly furnished parlor with precisely mismatched furniture and drapery patterns that indicated an accomplished interior designer at work. The terra cotta of the walls worked with the terra cotta in the antique Oriental carpet to pull together the collection of golds and browns.
I tried to tell myself that EG would hate a formal place like this, but EG had grown up as I had and could live in the street if necessary. She’d make her own space in no time.
I heard low voices upstairs, classical music playing in a distant room, and the clatter of pots in the kitchen. If EG was here, she was being very quiet. I supposed they could truss her up and stash her in a closet, but I just didn’t see it happening. I hadn’t thought about asking Nick which airport we were supposed to go to. Not that I could search any of them without bloodhounds and a police force and maybe Homeland Security.
Why the devil would a kidnapper want us to attend the reception tonight?
A woman I assumed to be the senator’s wife descended the stairs with the grace of someone who has been trained from birth to walk with just that kind of Miss America poise. Or maybe women like her were born with poise. Not a hair was out of place in her short bouffant coiffeur. Her navy suit and white silk blouse appeared as if they’d been tailored specifically for her slender middle-aged figure. She trailed manicured fingers down the curved bannister as if unaware of its presence. She didn’t hurry or even frown after she discovered a stranger had let herself into the house.
I wondered if she was made of plastic—Middle-Aged Barbie.
“Anastasia Devlin?” she inquired with an accent as polished and sophisticated as the Queen of England’s.
I had no idea what I would say to this woman. I had no real reason to dislike her. I didn’t know her. It wasn’t her fault that Tex was a philandering meathead. I tilted my head in acknowledgment and tried to channel Magda, but Magda wouldn’t have been insane enough to come here. I’m the one with anger management problems.
“Mrs. Hammond?” I inquired in return, trying to sound civilized and not a frightened nervous wreck. When she did not deny the charge, I continued. “My sister Elizabeth is in school with Elsie. She was kidnapped during the bomb scare. I trust Elsie is safe?”
I thought I saw a flicker of something behind the woman’s face-lift, but she didn’t express any emotion in her voice.
“Elsie had a dental appointment this afternoon. She’s with our driver. Why would you come here to inquire?”
I thought that more than a little convenient, but I didn’t express my opinion. Yet. “Because Elsie and Elizabeth have exchanged more than antipathy for one another, and Senator Hammond has threatened my sister with expulsion. The kidnapper is requesting that she be put on a plane back to her mother.” I was beginning to feel like a fool even suggesting such a thing.
Mrs. Hammond had reached the bottom of the stairs by now. She stood only a few inches taller than me, but I had to stand as straight as she did to prove it. I looked her in the eyes without flinching, aware of the dishevelment of my braid and the lack of sophistication of my long skirt and short top. I met a speculative look there, but she’d been trained to hide the emotions that flared in my eyes on the slightest provocation.
“Are you suggesting my husband is a kidnapper?” She gazed at me with carefully manufactured distaste. She must practice that look in the mirror. I suppose that’s necessary when one’s husband is accused of murder.
“I’m suggesting there is no other reason for anyone to kidnap my sister much less wish her on a plane to London. If not your husband, then someone of his acquaintance. You might ask the senator why he would go to these lengths. I’m simply here to let him know that Elizabeth isn’t going anywhere without her passport, and I don’t know where it is. If he’ll have his henchmen set her at the nearest Metro station, she’s quite capable of finding her own way home.”
Would Tex think we had Max’s millions? I refrained from mentioning them now.
I caught the tightening of the muscle at her jaw and the flare of something more than cool dismissal in her eyes, but I’d said my piece. I didn’t see a
chance of this proud woman aiding my cause, but I bet Tex had a chunk of his ear chewed off by nightfall. That’s all I could do.
“I will certainly pass on your message, Miss Devlin,” she replied.
“Thank you. You might also mention that I think I know who murdered Mindy Carstairs and why, and if EG doesn’t return home safely, the senator can fry without my help.”
So, I had my family’s taste for the dramatic after all. I blamed genetics and too many years of Magda’s company for the exorbitant falsehood. I swung on my sandal and stalked out, my braid swaying over the black silk on my back. If I really wanted to be Magda, I’d have my hair lopped to bounce over my shoulders in a thick waterfall of waves, but I leave the work of styling all that hair to shampoo models.
Mrs. Hammond softly closed the door behind me.
Well, shit, now what did I do?
All the rage and terror rushed out of me, leaving me feeling like a miserable dishrag. Where did I go next? I didn’t want to stop and have to think about all the horrible places EG could be stashed right now. I wanted to keep on believing Tex had her.
Worst of all, I had to admit that Magda had kept EG safe for nine years, and I couldn’t keep her safe for two weeks.
An old convertible MG rattled to a halt between a fire hydrant and someone’s driveway, but it wasn’t a Pierce Arrow. Digging into my purse for my address book, I didn’t pay it any attention. I’m sure the sports car was someone’s pride and joy, and it was a cute baby blue, but I had more important things on my mind.
“Ana!”
My head jerked up, adrenaline energizing me again. I glanced around, but I didn’t recognize anyone I knew—until I glanced at the MG’s driver.
Sean O’Herlihy.
This was beyond coincidence. I stepped off the curb and grabbed the passenger door rather than reach in and strangle the truth from him. His black curls were tousled with the wind from his driving. His blue eyes gleamed with mischief. And he flashed a toothy smile that would have made millions on film.
Evil Genius Page 27