A Slow Walk to Hell (24 page)

T
here was no reason for us to remain. The Arlington PD had responsibility for processing the crime scenes and we’d only be in the way. In the morning, Amanda and I would attempt to crack the case by interviewing Sam. This time I was confident he’d cooperate.

In hindsight, my threat to formally charge him with homosexuality had been a mistake. It came down to credibility…mine. Sam hadn’t believed I’d go through with it. His attitude would change once I informed him that I still intended to expose his homosexuality, only not to the Air Force.

I was going to tell his father.

Would he fear being shamed in the eyes of his family as much as public humiliation? My hunch is that he’d fear it even more.

Still, I clung to the hope that I wouldn’t have to follow through on this threat. It depended on Sam. Twenty-five years ago, he’d been a good man and I hoped he still was.

As we walked toward the spillover parking area where Amanda had parked, I thumbed Sam’s number into my cellular. When his answering machine came on, I said, “They killed three more people, Sam. Two priests and a woman. How many more have to die?”

Short and sweet and laden with guilt.

As I clicked off, Amanda said, “I almost feel sorry for him.”

I tried to hide my surprise and failed.

She sighed. “Guess I’m mellowing with age, but I’ve been wondering what I’d do if I were him. Talk about getting caught between a rock and a hard place. You think about that? What you’d do if you were in his shoes?”

“All the time.”

“And?”

“I’d like to believe I’d come forward…”

“But you don’t know.”

“I don’t think anyone can know. You can’t, unless you’re a Baldwin.”

She nodded; she understood what I was trying to say.

“That’s why I feel sorry for him,” she said.

We strolled past the limo. Enrique was slumped against the rear seat, eyes closed. I called out we were leaving. He cracked open his eyes, nodded, closed them again. Amanda asked me where General Baldwin might have gone tonight, after he ditched me.

I shrugged. “He might have driven around for a while, then returned to his apartment. Or maybe he got a hotel room or is staying with family.”

“Parents?”

“Unlikely. That’s a four-hour drive. They live in Blacksburg.”

“Virginia Tech again. Curious how everything seems to connect to there. You, Talbot, General Baldwin, his folks, the Harrises speaking there tomorrow.”

I passed on a response. We realized it was only coincidence.

We arrived at her car. As I swung around to the passenger side, I saw her smile at me over the roof. “It is hideous. I almost feel guilty.”

A reference to my shirt. “Almost?”

Her smile faded. “You don’t want to get into this, Marty. Believe me.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

Climbing into the Saab, I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was after two and I felt physically and emotionally exhausted, with an emphasis on the latter. And I still had one last ride to take on my emotional roller coaster.

Settling into my seat, I looked at Amanda and wondered when to buy the ticket.

She started the car. “You get my message?” Her tone was curiously up-beat and I wasn’t sure why.

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“Well?”

“I don’t recall the specifics, but essentially I’m an asshole.”

“Not
that
. What about
Sleepless in Seattle?”
She was staring at me now.

“I understand the anology.”

“Really?” She seemed surprised.

She backed up the car and turned onto the asphalt road. “Good,” she said. “That makes everything easier. If you know how all this came about, you also understand our intentions. Why Emily did what she did and why Simon and I agreed to—”

I was tired; that one almost got by me. “Hold it. What does Emily have to do with—”

My cell phone rang. I’d been spring-loaded for a call and snared it free from my belt, focusing on the caller ID.

Only it wasn’t Sam; it was General Hinkle, calling from home.

In a disappointed voice, Amanda said, “If you have to ask about Emily, you don’t understand. You can’t. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to—”

She broke off, so I could speak into the phone.

I said into it, “It’s your dime, Charlie—”

General Charlie Hinkle exploded in a verbal barrage, loud enough to hurt my ears. His words spilled out so fast, I barely understood him. Something about a conference call he’d completed with Chief Novak of the Arlington PD and the secretary of defense—

I swore and ordered Amanda to stop the car.

“Huh?”

“Stop the car.
We have to arrest Colonel Kelly.”

After Amanda drove back to the parking area, she killed the engine, watching me. In my ear, Charlie was still talking, his voice having receded below the pain threshold. My mind raced as I tried to take everything in. From his conversation with Chief Novak, Charlie knew about the murders at the rectory, but they had little bearing on the decision to arrest Colonel Kelly. He said, “Call me ASAP the moment Kelly’s in custody. The SECDEF has a press release waiting. The military wants to appear as if we’re cooperating completely.”

Amanda edged closer to me, trying to listen. As I held out the phone between us, I said, “He didn’t do it, Charlie. Colonel Kelly didn’t kill anyone.”

“Prove it later. After he’s in custody.”

“We have descriptions of the men who killed the priests. It couldn’t have been Kelly.”

“So he had help. Or maybe those killings aren’t related to Talbot’s.”

I made a derisive, sucking sound.

“Look,” he said irritably, “this isn’t a fucking debate, Marty. Congressman Harris has us by the gonads and is squeezing hard. He called the SECDEF and as much as promised he’d publicly accuse the military of a coverup if he didn’t get results and fast. By results, he made it clear he wanted Kelly arrested. When I spoke with Santos after the Coller killing, he told me he didn’t think Kelly was involved, so that’s what I passed on to the SECDEF. Now I look like a fucking jackass—”

“Kelly is being framed. Only the killer could have provided the—”

“God dammit, you listening?
We’re talking five murders and everyone in the world knows who the prime suspect is now. We don’t make the arrest and every talking head in the country will be screaming coverup. Hell,
I’d
be screaming coverup. Maybe you’re right. Maybe Kelly’s not guilty. Right now no one gives a damn. No one can
afford
to give a damn. They’re looking for political cover and Colonel Kelly is it.”

He was breathing hard.

I said, “I’m not sure I can do this. Arrest an innocent man.”

“You’re
assisting
in the arrest. The Arlington PD has the lead.”

“I can’t do it, Charlie.”

Amanda nodded approvingly.

“I see.” Charlie’s voice was like ice. “You don’t want to participate, that’s your call. But you’ll be disobeying a direct order, which means you’ll be through with the OSI. You understand what I’m telling you, Marty? Finished. I mean it.”

I was silent.

“Marty?”

“I understand.”

“What’s it going to be?”

The phone hissed. Amanda gave a resigned sigh and whispered, “Better say yes.”

I said nothing.

She watched me in growing alarm. Her hand snaked over the mouthpiece. “You’re not actually thinking of quitting?”

“Maybe.”

“Marty, this is crazy It’s not worth destroying your career over.”

“It is to me.”

“You’ll regret quitting. You know you will. Say yes.”

Charlie said, “Marty, I’m waiting.”

Amanda was still talking, trying to convince me to say yes. Her tone contained an insistent quality that hinted at desperation.
She really wants me to stay. This from the woman who didn’t want to have anything to do with me only hours earlier.

If I said this didn’t influence my decision, I’d be lying. Still, there was another consideration that was equally compelling.

How could I prove Kelly’s innocence if I quit?

I nudged Amanda’s hand from the phone. She resisted me until I told her I was going to say yes. Her face flooded with relief. She saw me watching her and dropped her eyes, as if embarrassed by her reaction.

“You win,” I said to Charlie. “I’ll arrest Kelly.”

“Fine,” Charlie said, his tone relaxing. “Now listen up. Here’s the way it will work. The SECDEF wants credit spread out equally between the military and the Arlington PD. Chief Novak agreed and…”

As Charlie explained how the arrest would go down, I began regretting my decision. Even Amanda had to sit back from the phone, too disgusted to listen.

“Remember,” Charlie said, “I want a call the moment he’s in custody.”

I said mechanically, “Yes, sir, General Hinkle.”

“You trying to be a wiseass?”

“No, sir, General Hinkle, sir.”

“Screw you, Marty.”

“Anything you say, General—”

He hung up with a bang.

I smiled at Amanda. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Sure.” She returned an awkward smile of her own, then reached for the door. She still seemed embarrassed and it was apparent why. In an unguarded moment, she’d let her defenses down, made it known she still cared for me. The question I had was, at what level? Had she merely reacted out of concern for a friend or was it something more?

Don’t read too much into this, Marty.

I’m only human.

She opened the door, then frowned. “Who are you calling?”

“Simon. Make sure he knows.”

“He knows.”

She pointed in the direction of the church. We could see a figure striding rapidly along the asphalt road toward the rectory. It angled toward the limo, waving both arms.

“Enrique!” Simon shouted. “Turn on the TV to CNN!”

N
o hot tub.

But Simon’s limo had practically everything else a millionaire homicide cop could want.

In addition to the previously mentioned swing-out desk with the built-in laptop computer and the satellite phone, fax, and Internet system, there was a stocked bar, a fridge packed with goodies, a sound system that could power a rock concert, and a plasma screen TV mounted to the roof in a fashion similar to those on aircraft.

Simon, Enrique, Amanda, and I were seated along the rearmost seats, watching the screen. We were joined by several cops, who were kneeling on the ground, peering through the open rear doors. A commercial was playing. A man dove on a satin-sheeted bed and slid right out a second floor window, landing in bushes. It was funny, but no one laughed.

I said, “Try Fox or CNBC.”

Enrique raised the remote.

Simon said, “It’s only playing on CNN.”

The remote dropped.

The commercial ended and another came on. Simon’s cell rang and he listened, grimaced in displeasure, then advised someone he’d be at the Days Inn in thirty minutes. Disconnecting, he said to Amanda and me, “The warrants will be waiting for us.”

He was referring to the ones we needed to arrest Kelly and search his room and vehicle. The speed with which they’d been processed indicated the Arlington PD wasn’t wasting any time.

Simon grimaced again and started telling us about a tip that had been called in. Before he could reveal specifics, Enrique grunted, “About time.”

On the TV, we saw a rolling banner that said breaking news.

Charlotte Steiner, the CNN late night anchor, appeared at her desk, her pretty face appropriately subdued. She provided a recap of Major Talbot’s murder and reminded the audience that a year earlier, he had been accused of homosexuality.

“The man who accused him,” Charlotte went on, “is Air Force Colonel Brian Kelly. While the police haven’t named Colonel Kelly as a suspect, CNN received an exclusive videotape that places him at Major Talbot’s home on the afternoon of the murder. In the video you are about to see, please note the time and date in the lower right corner…”

As Charlotte droned on, an image appeared over her left shoulder. We saw a shot of the Talbot’s driveway and front gate. A wide-angle view, taken from above.

“One of the missing surveillance tapes,” Amanda concluded.

“Anyone make out the time?” I asked, squinting. The screen was only eight inches high and a foot wide; the video less than a quarter of that.

“Four-forty-two,” Simon said.

I said, “Sam was there about twenty minutes before, right?”

“It doesn’t necessarily clear General Baldwin, Martin. He might be in the house.”

“If he was, he’d never let them kill Talbot.”

Simon smiled; he had only been yanking my chain—I think.

“A car,” Enrique said. “An SUV.”

The surveillance image filled the screen and Charlotte continued to talk in a voice-over: “Colonel Kelly will soon emerge. CNN independently confirmed his identity, though some viewers might recognize him from the extensive coverage of the homosexuality charge he brought against…”

I tuned her out, watching the SUV roll to a stop in the driveway. It was a tan or gold Ford Explorer, that matched the description of the vehicle that Kelly said he owned. The driver’s door opened and a stocky man in civilian clothes emerged. Even though the angle was taken from above, there was no doubt it was Colonel Kelly.

He strode in a determined fashion toward the call box, pressed the button, and spoke into it. The camera followed, keeping him centered in the screen.

Kelly waited and spoke again. We had a view of his face from an oblique profile. He frowned, as if puzzled. He pressed the button again and we could see him talking. He shook his head and seemed increasingly agitated. He abruptly turned away and we caught a frontal shot of his face.

“Uh-oh,” Enrique said. “The man is pissed.”

An understatement. Kelly’s face had been coldly furious. He stalked toward his Explorer, the camera following.

“It’s almost as if he expected Talbot to let him in,” Amanda said.

Kelly opened the driver’s door and leaned across the seat. When he stepped back, he appeared to be holding something in his right hand.

“Anyone see what it is?”

“Not yet.”

Kelly walked back toward the gate. We glimpsed the object then, sunlight glinting off the shiny—

“There,”
Charlotte announced over the TV. “You can see it now. It’s a knife.”

Kelly stopped several feet from the gate and waved the knife into the camera. It was enormous. The blade had to be eight inches long and three inches wide. It resembled a Bowie knife, except with a slight curve.

A cop grunted, “This guy must think he’s Crocodile Dundee.”

Enrique said, “It’s too big to be the one used on Talbot. That blade couldn’t be more than an inch wide.”

Colonel Kelly continued to wave the knife at the camera. As he did, his mouth spread into a crazed half smile.

“He’s saying something,” Amanda said.

I immediately deciphered the words he was forming. It wasn’t hard; they were easily recognizable.

Fuck you, fag.

Message delivered, Kelly again smiled menacingly.

“Hey,” another cop said, “he’s not moving, is he?”

Kelly’s image had indeed frozen. For several seconds, he continued to stare out at us, the knife extended, the crazed smile fixed to his lips.

“Jesus,” Amanda said, “they’re really playing this thing up. No wonder everyone’s screaming for his arrest.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Simon shake his head. He didn’t want to arrest Kelly any more than I did, but realized that decision was out of our hands.

The bastard Harris had outsmarted us.

The monitor changed to reveal Charlotte Steiner at her anchor desk. In a conspiratorial voice, she said, “That’s the extent of the video we received. CNN has learned from an unnamed source that the authorities will soon be acting upon—”

“Turn it off,” Simon said.

For several moments no one spoke. We were all wondering the same thing, a possibility we were forced to consider.

Could we be mistaken? Could Colonel Kelly have murdered Major Talbot?

But that notion was ludicrous. Kelly wouldn’t have taken the surveillance tapes only to incriminate himself by releasing one to CNN.

Amanda said, “Ten bucks says Colonel Kelly never entered the grounds. If he had, the killers would have released video of him going inside.”

Tacit nods all around.

Expanding on this theme, she continued, “They must have called Kelly. Used some ruse to get him there.”

I pointed out that since no call to Kelly had been made from the house, the killers must have contacted him before they’d arrived. I said, “We can check Kelly’s phone records, but chances are—”

“A pay phone,” Simon said. “They would have used a pay phone.”

Another given. These people were too smart not to have covered their tracks.

“The knife,” Amanda said. “They couldn’t have known Kelly would have a knife. Pull it.”

Simon shook his head. “They only wanted him there, so he’d be recorded on tape. The rest was all Kelly’s doing.”

Another long silence fell upon us. It was as if we were stalling, unwilling to take the next step. Simon checked his watch and signaled Enrique with a look.

It was time.

As Enrique crawled out to get behind the wheel, I waited for Amanda to slide out the opposite door. We’d follow in her Saab.

With a gloomy sigh, I said to Simon, “You’ve got to hand it to them. They covered all the bases. Even if we can’t tie Kelly to the other murders, they made sure we can connect him to Talbot’s.”

“They have tied him to the other murders, Martin.”

I frowned at the remark. From behind, Amanda said, “They can? How?”

“The phone tip,” Simon said.

He looked angry as he explained.

It was over.

After Simon related the details of the tip, that was the one thought that gripped me. The case was over and we’d lost. The only thing that could help Kelly now was an alibi. If someone would swear they had seen him at the time of the priests’ murders.

But I remembered what the bartender Joseph had told me:
The guy shows up almost every night at nine and never stays more ’n an hour. Like clockwork.”

Maybe the killers knew that somehow. Knew his routine. If Coller was involved, he would have known Kelly lived alone and realized there was a better than even chance that the colonel wouldn’t have an alibi for 8
P.M
., when the priests were killed.

Or maybe the killers realized it didn’t matter. Alibi or not, it would be almost impossible for Kelly to explain away evidence this damning. Even if he couldn’t have physically committed the murders, he would be judged responsible.

I was overwhelmed with a numbing frustration. I felt as if I was running a race where someone kept moving back the finish line. I wanted to call General Charlie Hinkle and tell him he could take my job and shove it. I wasn’t going to be a part of this.

Exiting the limo, that was the decision I’d made. I even got as far as to reach for my cell phone.

“Martin…”

Amanda and I turned around. Simon had rolled a window down and was staring at us…or rather me.

“Don’t be discouraged,” he said. “They haven’t won yet.”

“The hell they haven’t,” I flung back. “Harris is going to be the president. He’ll have the biggest bully pulpit in the world. With him twisting arms, Colonel Kelly doesn’t have a chance. The poor bastard will be lucky if he doesn’t get the death penalty.”

Simon was silent, looking at me.

Smiling.

Slowly it dawned on me what he was really saying and I felt a stirring of hope. I had to be certain and was going to ask him straight out. This time I was going to demand an answer.

Before I could question him, the limo’s engine roared to life and Simon began whirring up the window. As he did, he continued to look at me with that same curious smile.

“Well, I’ll be…” Amanda said. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

“He knows something.”