Price of Innocence

by Patricia McLinn

  “Yeah. The victim. The foundation folks.” His grunt could have been amused, except it wasn’t. Not the least amused. “Before you jump, let me tell you I’m the only one who knows. They found the victim’s not related to the Chancellors.”

  “Good to know.” Belichek took the chair that went with the ottoman, closing its lid with his foot.

  “Would’ve been, if we didn’t already know it. And if it didn’t risk alerting our colleagues, not to mention our bosses, to something hinky going on. Then, for an added bit of non-information, the DNA tells us nobody in this case is related to anybody else, except Jamison and her mother. That’s it. Period. The Chancellor family story as told to us by Maggie Frye appears to be the truth. Hold the damned presses.”

  “That’s not the complete DNA?”

  “They’re still running the evidence since they did the ID first, with us pushing for an official way to say Jamison Chancellor was dead.”

  “Good thing it didn’t come through earlier then, huh.”

  “I hate it when you’re the cheerful one.” Landis stretched his legs out to prop his feet on the closer side of the ottoman.

  “Here’s another cheerful aspect. It clears up a lot that wasn’t making sense. Jamie took her purse and the suitcases. The thief — theorizing for now it was Bethany Usher — took her time because she thought she had weeks to search for valuables. She’d only dealt with a couple rooms before she was killed.”

  “That means an accomplice to take the valuables … somewhere.”

  “Or Bethany Usher took it out herself. That could explain Enderbe seeing Jamie’s car in the early morning hours. Could have been Bethany Usher taking a load somewhere.”

  “Possible. You know, if this didn’t involve a nonprofit, I’d be following the money. All that stuff about taking the foundation to another level, that perked me right up until I remembered these folks aren’t looking to cash in the way for-profits would.”

  “Nothing like having a good greed motive ruined by people trying to do good,” Bel said dryly.

  “Disgusting,” Landis agreed. “Though there is what you said about those people being vulnerable to pressure to keep ill deeds quiet.”

  Belichek sidestepped that needling. “There were three takes on the management company coming in. That might be a crack to work.”

  Landis raised a finger at a time. “Hendrickson York said he wanted it so the foundation could grow, Adam Delattre said Jamie said they needed it so the foundation could grow, Celeste Renfro said Jamie had to be persuaded so she didn’t have as much burden.”

  “Last two could both be true if you flip the order.”

  “York tried to kill her to keep the management company out? That seems extreme. He’d still be in charge of donors.”

  “Doubt that would be his motive.”

  Landis gave him a sharp look. “That stuff about the cabin … you know something?”

  “No. Wonder about? Yeah.”

  A short exhalation through his nose expressed Landis’ lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t see any motives for Celeste or Adam, either. Despite Terrington’s effort at a scoop.”

  He told Belichek about Terrington’s theory of Celeste’s financial motive.

  “Looks even weaker after he dug into it. She has no other debts than the mortgage, is on time with that, and already has a chunk of equity in the new house. You could say her financial house is in order.

  “Adam might be a true believer, but nothing fishy there, either. Taken together, I don’t see much of a crack at the foundation, especially without a money motive. Hah. A crack in the foundation.”

  Belichek grunted. “Non-money motives? That takes out greed. There’s still revenge, jealousy, self-protection…”

  “You’re forgetting one. Love. In all its potentially twisted glory. So, maybe Celeste protecting Adam Delattre? Young guy, mother complex?”

  “Might be more specific than that. Remember, she deals with the families the Sunshine Foundation helps out. She shepherds them through the whole process. And his family was one of them. Her protectiveness might go back to his first dealings with the foundation. He said she helped his family.”

  “But why would he try to kill Jamie? No bad blood there at all that we’ve heard of. And would Celeste go along with it?”

  “Good points.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Landis moved on. “What about the neighbor, Phil Xavier?”

  “Two possibilities there.”

  “I’m getting tired of countdowns.”

  Belichek ignored that complaint. “First possibility. He got fed up with hearing no, went to Jamie’s front door, shot the person who answered in the face, and thought that would pave the way to his real estate vision.”

  “Or had someone do it. Wait a minute.”

  Landis got up, went into the kitchen to the fridge, poured himself a glass of orange juice and brought Belichek back an ice water.

  While Landis drank the OJ, Belichek looked at his glass thoughtfully.

  Landis put down his empty glass. “No. Xavier would do it himself. Wouldn’t give anyone else the leverage over him.”

  “Yeah. Second possibility. He had nothing to do with the killing. When it happened, he did not mourn, again thinking that was the answer he wanted. Got his hopes up and could be more determined than ever to get Jamie out.” He’d be on the watch for that, whether she liked it or not.

  “Even odds. More questions.” It was a demand, not a request.

  “Yeah. Assuming from the lack of forced entry, one of the apparently dozens she gave keys to, should have walked up to the front door. Cameras?”

  “Nothing so far. We’ve asked the neighbors and we’ve worked from Friday — caught Jamie coming home — through Sunday night. We do see Jamie’s car leaving for a time late Saturday, or more accurately Sunday morning, that coincides with Garrison Enderbe’s near-death experience. Can’t see the driver, though they’re trying experimental software beyond the usual that they’re excited about.”

  “It won’t be Jamie. She’d already left in the truck.”

  Landis cut him a look. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “We’ll have to go back and look for the truck.”

  They sat in silence for a minute.

  Belichek broke it. “Remember that figure I mentioned from the video going up to Jamie’s door and next door? Could that be someone checking if their key worked? Jamie changed locks after Xavier.”

  “Yeah. You said you couldn’t identify anybody.”

  “Couldn’t. But maybe Jamie could. If it’s someone familiar.”

  “Worth a try. Send the clip.” Belichek switched gears. “I’ve been thinking about this. Short of pumping Jamie over and over again — and that’s if she’d cooperate — I’m going to be hamstrung on what I can do unless Palery knows she’s alive. If he puts me back on the case, even low-key, I can contribute more.”

  “Leaving Jamie alone?”

  “With Maggie. And I could do a lot from here, once I get the okay from Palery. Plus, as long as no one outside of us and Palery knows…”

  “Better hope Palery isn’t the leak.”

  “Or you.”

  “Right.” Landis stood, grabbed a back cushion off the couch and tossed it onto the other upholstered chair, then repeated with two more. “Get out of here, Belichek. I need some sleep.”

  He spread the sheet, then started stripping his clothes.

  Belichek headed for the stairs.

  “One last thing,” Landis said. “Bethany Usher. I got the ball rolling tonight on hitting her hard. She’s our best clue. She’s where the story ended, so she’s where we start.”

  Belichek read before sleeping, finishing the remaining journal. Though that left the most recent one. He’d thought he felt the edge of it when he carried Jamie’s tote.

  To discover what that journal told about her life would take more than reading pages.

  DAY SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE<
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  “You were uneasy about a couple guys—”

  At Landis’ words, Jamie shifted her focus from him to Belichek with a distinct lack of appreciation.

  Landis had been questioning her in the basement for two hours with one short break.

  Maggie and J.D. had left for J.D. to drop her off at her own place before heading for the mountains. Maggie had returned forty minutes ago in fresh clothes and with her car.

  Still, Landis asked questions.

  He took her back over the material Belichek had shared with him, but with different slants and a different rhythm.

  Jamie seemed more relaxed. She didn’t object as much.

  Would they have gotten more out of her at the cabin if they’d both been there, using their usual method? No point wondering now.

  And Landis hadn’t gotten anything new enough to send them in a different direction.

  “Yeah, Belichek read it in your journals. He said you were uneasy about a couple guys. If it comes to that, he also said the Sunshine Foundation was a prime spot for evil-doing and chicanery, but—”

  “Chicanery?” Belichek muttered.

  “Specifically, he mentioned money laundering and drug running,” Landis added in retribution.

  “Money laundering and drug— Are you nuts?”

  Landis grabbed back her attention. “But what I want to know is if Xavier is one of the guys who made you uneasy.”

  “I told you, I changed the locks after that episode with the architect early this year. Phil Xavier doesn’t have access to the current key—”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen the Fort Knox where Imogen Wooton keeps your key,” Landis said dryly.

  “That’s the point,” he said. “Who inherits your house if you die?”

  Her eyebrows hiked, but she answered. “My parents. If they predecease me, then Maggie and Ally in equal shares. The same with everything else.”

  “Jesus, Jamie. I thought Ally was nuts. Why—?”

  “Don’t worry, Maggie, I intend to outlive you.” A slight, strained silence followed her light words. “Despite any recent events to the contrary.”

  Maggie grimaced. “But it’s a point. None of her beneficiaries seem likely to want to jump into living there. The most likely result is they put the house up for sale and there’s Xavier ready to step in.”

  “Even in the D.C. area real estate market, can you see someone doing that?” Jamie asked. “I can’t.”

  “You couldn’t believe Peter Rabbit really ate Mr. McGregor’s vegetables.”

  “I was four years old.”

  “You still believe—”

  “Stop.” Landis’ tone, rather than the word did the trick. He looked at Belichek. “Jamie’s the obstacle. He wants the house, that’s the goal. Ring the doorbell. Shoot the person who answers — presumably Jamie. He overcomes the obstacle and achieves the goal.”

  “That’s— That’s— Horrible. He’s not a monster. You can’t suspect he’d— He’s a bull in a china shop, that’s all.”

  “They can do a lot of damage.”

  She opened her mouth. Shut it. Looking more thoughtful. “You’re right. They can. Whether they intend to or not.”

  “How did he react when you said no to his offer to buy?” Landis asked.

  “He wasn’t happy. He seemed… unnecessarily harsh. More angry than disappointed. And confused.”

  “Confused?” Angry, disappointed, he’d expected. Not confused.

  “He kept talking about how I needed to take this generous offer to anyone else involved in the ownership of the house. I kept telling him I own the house. Then he’d say, then sell it to me, then I’d say no thanks, then he’d say I had to take it to these mythical other people. It was like he couldn’t believe I owned the house.”

  “Is there anything unusual in your ownership?”

  “No. It’s in my name and only my name. I own it outright… I suppose that could have surprised him because of my age.”

  “Or he was having a flashback.” Landis explained about Garrison Enderbe and his father.

  She smiled. “Mr. Enderbe is quite a character. I can see him yanking Phil’s chain for the fun of it.”

  Belichek said, “Phil Xavier is a suspect. You said he could do damage whether he intended to or not.”

  “I said a bull in a china shop could.”

  He exhaled sharply through his nose, dismissing that qualification. “Phil Xavier would intend to. He’s frustrated. He’s angry. Not the mood you want a bull to be in if he’s in your china shop.”

  “Well, I’m not going to sell my house to him to put the man in a better mood — not that I’m sure such a thing is possible. What? Why are you looking at me like that for?”

  “Not finding any good in Phil Xavier?”

  She cocked her chin up. Not pugnacious, but contemplating. “I suppose I’m not.” Now a glitter came into her eyes. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

  Abruptly, Jamie looked toward Maggie. Doing the same, Belichek saw her and Landis exchange a speculative look. Retroactively, he realized both Maggie and Landis had shifted from participants in the conversation to audience.

  The bad news was they appeared to enjoy the show.

  With something close to a smirk, Landis stood. “I’m going to the office. Belichek’s relieved of that duty. No sense waving a red flag — that would be him — under the glass office’s noses.”

  “I’m going to have to at some point.”

  “Just let me be out of range of the shrapnel.”

  * * * *

  Belichek answered his phone while slicing apples to go with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he’d scraped together from his fridge. The lowering sky had broken open and the rain was coming down like it had no intention of ever quitting.

  Landis started with, “We’ve tracked her phone down.”

  “Jamie’s or Bethany’s.”

  “Jamie’s.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Break room. Nobody around. No SIM, of course, but it’s better than nothing. They’ve tracked it from the guy who had it when they caught up with it, back through a couple re-sellers to the guy who appears to be the original holder of the stolen property, whether he stole it or not. Though his record shows a certain propensity for that activity. He’s being held north of Baltimore. Ewer and Knarr are going up there to talk to him. Think he might clear some of their cases. They’re also checking out his associates.”

  “Falling out among fellow thieves? Though body position and blood splatter argue against that.”

  “Argues loudly. To have it not be a case of the victim being shot by whoever stepped inside through that door would take contortions.”

  Landis paused. “I know you want to keep Jamie safe, but thinking about what you said about coming in… That DNA…”

  “Is a hot potato burning your hands.”

  “I could handle that, even if — when — Palery finds out Jamie’s alive. But it’s going to come out sooner rather than later, and the best protection she has is catching the shooter. You being fully involved…”

  “I’ve been thinking along those lines, too.”

  “Good. Somebody’s coming — damn their need for caffeine. We’ll talk later.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  “I have questions,” Belichek said after they finished lunch.

  Jamie had been quiet during lunch, frequently looking toward the rain-coated basement window and not meeting his gaze. Now, all the equanimity she’d displayed with Landis’ questions evaporated.

  “I’m tired of these same damn questions over and over, and all they boil down to is, which one of the people you trust and work with and love do you think wanted to kill you? Why, for God’s sake can’t you ask something different?”

  “Because these are the damn questions we have to answer.” His own rare temper flared up. “What do you want, celebrity interview questions? Well, you’re not going to get ’em, because I don’t give a shit what you think th
e toughest part of doing your job is. I—”

  She spun on him, quick enough to jam words in his throat.

  “The toughest part of my job is dealing with people like you looking at me as if I didn’t have a single cell or maybe a few screws loose because I’ve chosen to deal with the world a certain way. No— Chosen’s not the right word. I deal with the world this way because it’s the only way I can. And it’s not easy. Sometimes I have to fight every single second.”

  “Like with Hendrickson York?” he slid in.

  “Hendrickson?” Her voice rose with surprise. She lowered it, “I rely on him. He’s been my mainstay. The rock of the foundation. He’s been very good to me.”

  “To your face. But if you have cuts in your back, check him for a hidden shank.”

  They locked eyes. He didn’t relent. She looked away.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said stiffly.

  “He wasn’t exactly broken up about your death.”

  “He’s very fond of me, but the foundation comes first. Thinking I’m dead, I wouldn’t expect him to react any other way. I’m sure he’s devoting every moment to making sure the foundation endures and thrives in the aftermath of my supposed death. It can’t be easy on him. The shock, compounded by a triple workload.”

  “He’s holding up okay.” He edged toward sarcasm. “He was in your office the day the news broke, practically measuring for curtains.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Of course. It’s far easier to run things from that office. His own doesn’t work for senior staff meetings, while mine accommodates them fine. I’m glad he reacted quickly for the welfare of the foundation.”

  He eyed her. Not a doubt. Not a crack.

  On the surface.

  “You gave it away, you know,” he said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Math, is what I’m talking about.”

  “Math?” That was genuine confusion.

  “For you to say he tripled his workload by taking over your job, you have to know — even if you won’t say it to me — that you do twice the work he does. You work twice as hard as he does. Does that make you resent him?”