Death of a Washington Madame (11 page)

"Martine said a he thought a black man offered him the
money for the deed," Fiona said. "Did any black men ever work for
your mother?"

"Yes," Shipley said. "Gloria's brother. What
was his name? Lionel. Yes. Lionel Carpenter. She begged mother to hire him.
Actually worked out fine for about five years."

"What did he do?"

"Odd jobs. Helped Roy if I remember. A quiet fellow.
Kept to himself."

"Why did Lionel leave?"

"Mother had to fire him. I think it was ... oh I don't
know ... ten years ago," Shipley said. "He used to get drunk and
violent and abuse Gloria who covered up for him, but soon it became impossible
to hide. Mother had no choice but to get rid of him."

"Was Gloria upset?"

"I think it was Gloria who pushed the matter."

"And that was the end of it?" Fiona asked.

"If I recall," Shipley said. "I think there
was a couple of incidents. Once, I believe the police were called."

"Gloria never mentioned that her brother Lionel worked
for Mrs. Shipley," Fiona said.

"Obviously, she was ashamed," Madeline pointed
out. "But I'm sure your police records will confirm it. Could be your
man."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion," Gail
suddenly interjected.

"No. I guess you wouldn't," Madeline sneered.

"It certainly bears checking out," Fiona said.
She turned to Gail, who nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Think back, Governor," Fiona said. "To that
time when your mother was one of Washington's leading hostesses."

"Those were great times for mother," Shipley
sighed.

"I wish I was here then," Madeline said.
"Sounds like fabulous times. All those exciting brilliant people she
hobnobbed with. Not at all like Hollywood." She grew suddenly distant and
wistful. "Such shallow people scratching for attention. I was part of it
once. I hated it."

Considering her vast worldwide celebrity created in the
very cauldron of her now pretentious disgust, Fiona was put off by her
disingenuousness. She tamped down her anger.

"Can you remember any jealousies, friction,
confrontations?" she asked, directing her attention to Shipley.

The Governor grew thoughtful.

"That was so long ago. But I'm sure there were. Of
course, that cast of characters is all gone, I'm afraid. Pearle Mesta and Gwen
Cafritz, the old Ambassadors and Senators. All in the great beyond. Like
mother...."

He shrugged and took a sip of coffee that he had neglected
up to then. Making a face, he put the cup down on a table beside his chair.

"What about political enemies?" Fiona asked, the
idea just surfacing in her mind.

"Political enemies?"

"People you might have defeated because of her
influence and support. People whose careers you might have aborted by
winning."

"What an odd way to put it?" Madeline said.
"But you may have a point. Like actors who don't get the part they want
and are beaten out by someone else. Yes I know the drill. It festers inside
them."

"I've had seven political races against various
opponents," Shipley mused. "Fact is, they were all soundly trounced.
I guess you might say I hurt them. But...."

"Mrs. Shipley was not involved in the Governor's
races, Sergeant. Neither the first or the second," Madeline said sharply,
her message clear. "She was completely out of the loop by then." She
seemed to regret her words, then cleared her throat. "Of course, she was
supportive."

"But not active?"

"There was really no need," Shipley said, coming
to her rescue. "Besides, Madeline was enormously effective in the
Gubernatorial campaigns. Enormously." He paused, glanced at his wife and
smiled, although she seemed to have tightened and was less forthcoming in
returning his attention. "Mother was wonderfully helpful in the early
days. I was in Congress for ten years. She called in many of her social chits
to help me."

"I wasn't around, of course," Madeline said
coldly. "But I hear she was reasonably affective in getting endorsements,
raising money, pressing people to make speeches in William's behalf. But from
the very first time that William ran for Governor, she played no role.
None."

"In that first campaign," Fiona said
cautiously," wasn't your primary opponent killed in a plane crash?"

Fiona had calculated that it was a question that carried an
implication that had to be addressed. This apparently was exactly the right
moment.

"A terrible tragedy," Madeline said nonplused,
exhibiting neither surprise nor indignation. Obviously she had been asked about
this ad infinitum and had expected it to be asked once again, especially now.
"He was a fine man."

"He was ahead in the polls, I understand."

"Yes he was. He was enormously popular," Shipley
said. "There were those that accused me and Madeline of somehow causing
such a tragedy to happen. It was absurd, of course. But you can't stop people
from speculating wildly."

"In his second campaign William won with the largest
plurality in the history of Virginia," Madeline said cheerfully, flashing
a broad smile of perfect teeth. Well capped, Fiona observed to herself.
"He got seventy nine point five percent of the vote. Imagine that."
She looked pointedly at Gail. "And sixty percent of the black vote."
Gail's eye shifted, avoiding her gaze.

It was obvious that Madeline Newton relished the political
life and played an important, perhaps crucial, role in her husband's career.
She was, Fiona knew, enormously popular and sought after, giving of her time generously
for any event that redounded to her husband's political benefit. There was no
question in Fiona's mind that she was the driving force behind any Presidential
plans he was considering. Fiona, daughter of a Senator, understood their public
relations concerns.

"Was it your mother's decision to take a back seat in
the Gubernatorial campaigns?" Fiona asked Shipley. He turned to Madeline
to answer for them.

"She was supportive, of course," Madeline said.
"As any mother would be. Actually, there was no need for her to take up
the slack." The vehemence of her emphasis was revealing.

"Slack?"

"My first wife was not very interested in
politics," Shipley said, jumping into what he must have perceived as a gap
in understanding. "Madeline on the other hand revels in it and does one
hell of a job."

"Thank you dear." Madeline reached out and
squeezed her husband's hand. "We're a great team."

"Did you and your mother-in-law get along?" Gail
asked suddenly, as if she had been waiting for the right, most irritating and
vengeful moment to pose the question.

Fiona could see the mechanics of repression in Madeline's
expression, although she could not stop the little round flush marks that
popped out on her famous cheekbones. She turned to her husband.

"How do you interpret the implications of that remark,
darling?"

"I'm not sure," he said, turning to Gail for an
explanation. Fiona held her peace. It was not uncommon for them to assume good
cop/bad cop role-playing, although Fiona sensed some danger here. But she had
uncovered a vulnerability that bore watching, despite Gail's heavy-handed
approach.

"It seems obvious to me," Madeline said. "I
think maybe it's time to terminate this inquisition."

"That would imply you have something to hide, Mrs.
Shipley." Gail prodded.

"This woman is relentless," Madeline said, her
temper rising.

"Is that question inappropriate, Sergeant?" Gail
asked Fiona.

"You're free not to answer, Mrs. Shipley." Fiona
said, watching the storm clouds gather, deciding, for the moment, to run for
shelter.

"Why thank you kind cop," Madeline said
sarcastically, cutting a glance at her husband, as if she was disappointed that
he had not come to her defense. "But if you're burning to know, I was
probably the object of my mother-in-law's resentment. It was perfectly
understandable. I was encroaching on her turf, her only son, apple of her eye.
She was once exclusively his trusted confidant, supporter and affectionate
friend, a good, although overly protective and possessive mother. I understood
that. So did she. It was predictable from the beginning that there would be
tension between us." She stopped abruptly and turned to her husband.
"Why am I answering this baloney?"

"I really think you're going beyond the bounds of
propriety, Officer Prentiss," Shipley said in his best modulated,
politically soothing voice.

"In other words," Madeline sneered. "My
husband would be too polite to say it.... its pure rubbish."

"We are searching for motive here," Gail snapped.

"Motive," Madeline erupted." This is
intimidation. Are you trying to destroy us?"

Fiona recognized the paranoia that always lay beneath the
surface of a politician's psyche, in this case, the two-headed Hydra of a
political juggernaut. Each knew their role well. Madeline the outspoken,
William the polite brilliant diplomatic gentlemen. All orchestrated and
rehearsed. Even now, in this moment of tension, Fiona felt it, knew it like she
knew the tiny mole on her left breast.

"We are seeking a killer here, Governor," Gail
reiterated, reciting once again the homicide mantra, superseding all.

"Who is this arrogant Amazon?" an irate Madeline
Newton cried, turning to her husband.

Gail offered a knowing smile, as if she had been waiting
for just such a reaction.

"Well now we understand each other," Gail said.

"This black bitch is baiting me, William,"
Madeline said between clenched teeth.

"Madeline!" the Governor cried.

Something was seeping out of Madeline Newton that was
vindictive, nasty, out of control. Fiona watched Gail's burnished face, the
eyes behind the cheekbone starting to fire up again as they had done earlier in
the Eggplant's office. She'll go over the edge, Fiona thought, frightened for
her partner. She reached out and pinched Gail's arm, hard, painful enough to
shock her into repression.

"Alright. Alright." Madeline shouted, reacting to
her husband's rebuke. The sharp tone seemed more effective to hold back Gail
than Fiona's gesture. "She pushed me. It's not the way it sounds. I
haven't got a bigoted bone in my body. Hell, I'm show biz." She sighed.
"The hidden accusation was unnerving, but I suppose it's just your
technique. I was in a movie once..."

She quickly gathered her composure and smiled a contrived
sunny smile, carefully constructed to disarm and she showed teeth that were
actually glistening around her pink limpid lips. "I played a woman who
murdered her husband and they got me to confess. Gene Landers played the cop.
His character hit just the right button." She laughed a throaty laugh.
"It was just like sex. My character melted." Madeline Newton was well
known for her earthiness. She appeared suddenly transformed.

She turned to Gail, who had, with some effort, calmed down.

"You pushed the wrong button, Officer. I have a short
fuse."

"Let's get back on the track," Fiona said, hoping
that this was the end of the confrontation.

"Let me just clear the air on one point," Shipley
said. Above all, image, Fiona thought. For a politician, nothing is personal.
Everything is politics. "Mother admired Madeline, her success, her
glamour, her enormous popularity." He reached out and caressed his wife's
hand. Fiona watched her fingers curl around his. "There was tension, of
course. You could invent a thousand reasons why. Mothers and sons. That's a
complex relationship, especially if the son is fatherless from birth, an only
child. Such things happen, even in politics. Read history. FDR's overbearing
mother, for example. And the alienation of her daughter in law."

It wasn't odd at all that he was invoking Presidential
politics. Fiona knew that was where his head was.

"I'm putting up with this," Shipley continued,
"because I want you to get it in perspective. I loved my mother. Going
through this, knowing what happened to her is ... well ... hell on earth. It is
the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life. The worst. Yes, we
would like to get to the bottom of the horror, to find out who was responsible
for mother's death. Both of us want this resolved. And quickly. Neither of us
relishes being a tabloid figure of ridicule. We know what that can do to a public
image." He looked pointedly at Fiona. "Poor Madeline has been the
target of these idiots for years. Deb Shipley dies to become a ghost haunting
Maddy. Can't you see it just? Superstar Glad She Died."

"Way Clear for Maddy to Take Charge in White
House," Madeline said. "You don't just shrug these things off. They
penetrate."

"We understand," Fiona said, taking in Gail with
another quick glance. The look in her eye was worrisome again.

"Find the person that set it up," Shipley said.
That's all I ask. Find him fast. Find the man."

"Or woman," Gail said sharply.

"Again?" Madeline cried, her anger recharging.
"I can see it in her eyes. What's with you girl? Cool out."

The reversion to street talk, meant to disarm, only
exacerbated the situation. Gail obviously perceived it as racially patronizing
and exploded.

"Spoiled white bitch," Gail ejaculated.

"I don't believe this," Madeline cried.

"You're going too far, officer," Shipley said.
"I've been very patient to this point. Frankly, you've crossed the
boundary. I can have your badge for this."

Fiona shot Gail a hard rebuking glance of futility.

"You're out of line Gail. Wait for me in the
car."

Fiona sensed reluctant contrition. The venom that had been
accumulating had burst out of its containment. Gail stood up to her full
height, still swollen with indignation.

"Gail!" Fiona cried. "Enough."

"Okay. Okay." She sucked in a deep breath and
held up two hands in front of her. "I'm sorry, okay."