Flashpoint (21 page)

As she buttoned her coat, I said, ‘I'll walk out with you.'

We said our goodbyes. Sarah thanked us just under thirty-two times, Leo Guild dragged a straight-backed chair over next to the door and sat down and Ruskin said to him, ‘I'm giving you permission right now to kill anybody who comes through that door.'

Guild took this in good humor. ‘I'll be sure to have my lawyer mention that to the jury when I'm on trial for first-degree murder. That you gave me that permission thing.'

Sarah's laughter was high and girly and delighted and delightful.

Ruskin sulked.

A
sparse crowd of reporters. And only one security man at the gate. I drove on up to the house, parked and got out just in time to see Robert coming from somewhere in the back of the house on a racing bicycle. His way of relaxing. He'd gotten me to join him a few times, but two hours of ball-jarring monotony was more than enough for me. Pedaling didn't resolve my anger issues the way handball did. It's hard to pretend you're killing somebody with a Schwinn.

But his was no Schwinn. He'd told me once that it had cost eight thousand dollars and was aerodynamically designed. It was so lightweight he'd picked it up and turned it back and forth with one hand. Then he'd thrown it at me and when I grabbed it I saw what he was talking about. A few pounds was all. He went into how the materials were lighter than aluminum and then into this ratio and that ratio, but by then my eyes had glazed over.

He pulled up next to my Jeep just as I was getting out of it. He wore a blue track suit with white piping. He looked ten years older. A soul-sapping, suicide-inspiring ten years.

The temperature was twenty-seven according to the radio. I could see his tire tracks on the frosted ground. We spoke in smoke signals.

‘C'mon in and have some breakfast with me. We can watch Ben try to defend me. The poor bastard. Nobody should have
that
job.'

A light sheen of sweat covered his face as he walked along next to me, pushing his bike as he moved. I wondered if he looked at the looming house as I did now. In happier times for both of us there'd been long and lively parties here. My wife had loved Elise and had always said that the only parties she enjoyed were the ones here because she got to spend time with her. As much as I enjoyed the company, too, I liked even more the number of important guests Robert always invited. My firm was able to pick up five or six elite clients because of my contacts here. But now not even the sunshine could make the house seem bright and welcoming; it was as if the turmoil within had sucked some of the color from the exterior.

‘I've prepared my resignation address,' he said when we were within ten feet of the front steps. ‘I'd like you to schedule time for me this afternoon with the local radio station of your choice. No TV. I'll read it from my den.'

I went through all the points against resigning. He listened, his eyes never leaving me, but when I finished he said, ‘I know Ben sent you out here to talk me out of it. And I know that you both think you're helping me by trying to stop me. But you're not. I need to do this for the sake of my family. They didn't do anything wrong but they're prisoners now. I want to resign and I want to find a home in the mountains somewhere. Maybe Colorado or Wyoming. I'll get involved in a few of the family businesses again. I'm rich. I can do that, and I need to do that. I owe it to Elise and Maddy for all that I've put them through. For my being so arrogant and stupid. You were right, Dev, about me. How could I not see that I was being set up? The Cabot woman knew how to make me feel young again. I wanted to be a teenager, I guess. And look where it led me.'

He leaned the eight-thousand-dollar bike against the stone front wall of the house and then faced me. ‘This has been hard enough on them, Dev. I'm especially worried about Elise. How she'll get through this. I was so selfish. The least I can do is save her from any more turmoil.'

The house was quiet. While he went to take a shower I sat in the living room where someone had left the large plasma screen on. The face of the man who'd just told me to get some coffee in the kitchen as we'd entered the house was right there on the screen. A photo from ten years ago playing tennis in his whites. Full screen one moment and replaced the next by the smarmiest of TV shrinks, a Southern gentleman who always struck me as being a secret serial killer. A reptilian smile and predatory eyes played off against his marble-mouthed Southern charm – alleged Southern charm. I was glad the sound was off. I had no intention of turning it on.

It was fifteen minutes before Maddy walked in.

‘Hi, Dev. It's good to see you.'

‘Good to see
you
.'

‘Mom finally got some sleep last night and she didn't even take that killer pill the doctor gave her.'

Yellow sweater, short black skirt, black tights and black flats. A very pretty suburban grade-school teacher sort of look. All the little boys would have these almost painful crushes on her. They'd daydream that she was – in some bizzaro world, in some bizzaro way – their girlfriend.

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Let's go to the kitchen so we can sit in the nook and watch the birds.' Then she paused and leaned her head back as if she were considering me the way a doctor would. ‘Are you all right, Dev?'

‘A lot of things on my mind, I guess.'

‘If you mean my father, absolutely. He can dig his heels in sometimes and it infuriates my mom. And me, too.'

‘He's holding something back from both Ben and me. Not telling us something.'

Now it was my turn to lean back and study her the way a doctor would. The lovely cheeks were faintly red now and the glistening brown gaze averted mine for a moment.

But she was good at recovering. She slid her arm through mine and steered me toward the kitchen. ‘We can sit in the nook and look out the window. It's my favorite spot in the world. And I know I sound like a seven-year-old when I say that, but I mean it. I love how the backyard sweeps up into the woods and all the birds and the other animals that I can see back there.'

Mrs Weiderman fussed over us as if we were the children she hadn't seen for thirty years. There was an antique and heavily scrolled breakfast nook that overlooked the backyard. It was apparently Salute to Bunnies day because there were a lot of them, in all sizes, hopping around the browning grass in industrious innocence. Mrs Weiderman brought us mugs of steaming coffee and pastries I was pretty sure she'd made herself.

While I had the pleasure of disappearing my cherry tart and agreeing to a second cup of coffee, Mrs Weiderman went through a list of well-wishers who'd called to support Robert. She went all swoony when she mentioned the name of a Hollywood hunk. She likely would have cut some of her breaking news short or at least shorter but Maddy, ever the clever one, kept asking questions and making comments. Her blushing was still on my mind. Did she know what her father was hiding? She apparently didn't want me to pursue her for the answer.

By then Robert strode into the kitchen, blue V-neck, white T-shirt, Levi's and Reeboks with no socks. He slid in next to his daughter. He was favored with coffee and a cinnamon roll within forty-five seconds of joining us.

Partly because I needed her help and partly because I was irritated with both of them, I decided to make them unhappy. ‘I take it you know your father is going to resign.'

‘What're you talking about, Dev? Resign? Who told you that?'

‘He did. The man you're sitting next to.'

‘Damn you, Dev.'

Maybe we'd reached our end; maybe he would fire me now.

‘Well, you won't listen to Ben and you won't listen to me, so I thought maybe you'd listen to your daughter.'

‘You can't resign, Dad. Do you know how that would look to everybody?'

‘That's what we've been telling him, Maddy. But he won't listen.'

‘You and Ben are so damned clever, aren't you?' Glowering. ‘Dragging my poor daughter into it.'

‘There you go again. “My poor daughter.” Dad, I'm a grown woman. And there's no way you can resign now.'

‘What about your mother? How much more can she take, Maddy? She's my wife and I owe her—'

But Maddy was shaking her head and interrupted him. ‘You were stupid about the Cabot woman. Very stupid and very selfish. Don't be the same way all over again about this. You know damned well that Mother and I will support you. What we want is for you to be proved innocent and to finish the race. Even if you lose. Do it the right way, Dad. For all our sakes, including your own.'

I was glad I'd brought her into it. Her words had a visible effect on Robert. The anger at me faded from his eyes, the tension in his jaw line relaxed and the voice was softer now. He even smiled. ‘You always could talk me into anything.'

‘Not “anything.” You wouldn't buy me a car until I was eighteen.'

‘Oh, that's right. You had to ride a burro back and forth to school. I forgot.'

She joined in the fun. ‘Other kids had cars at sixteen. But then . . .' And she struck a dramatic pose. ‘That was when I learned all about suffering.' That smile had doubtless broken several young hearts.

I eased out of the booth. ‘I need to get back to town. I appreciate your help, Maddy. And Robert, Ben'll be calling you after talking to the press this morning.'

‘I still should be mad at you, Dev.' He wasn't making a joke. ‘Sometimes your cynicism really gets me down. I've talked to a few of your other clients. We all think that deep down you hate politicians.'

‘Sometimes I do. But I hate consultants – myself included – just as much, Robert. We're all guilty.'

Genuine surprise in his eyes and voice. ‘You really believe that?'

‘Yeah, I do.'

‘Oh, Dev, that's so sad,' Maddy said.

‘Not as much as you might think.' I laughed. ‘Because I love playing the game.'

I was about halfway back to town again when my old friend Detective Farnsworth appeared behind me and honked me over to the side of the two-lane blacktop.

He came up to the Jeep with a smile on his face and I wondered why. Through the open window he said, ‘Have you seen the news in the past ten minutes?'

‘Haven't had the chance.'

‘Detective Hammell turned up a witness who claims that the Cabot woman told him she was afraid Senator Logan was going to kill her.'

‘Oh? I notice you used the word “claims.” If you had something for sure you wouldn't use a word like that.'

‘She rushed into her hotel one night and asked if she could get a different room. The clerk there helped her. She swore him to secrecy about where she was hiding. That was when she told him about being afraid of Logan.'

All I could do was counterpunch. ‘Did you put a tracking device on my Jeep?'

He managed to look curious. ‘Somebody do that?'

‘Yeah.'

‘It wasn't me. Or anybody in the department.'

‘You speak for the whole department, do you?'

‘In this case, yes. Two years ago we did it to a guy we suspected had murdered his wife. He figured it out and his lawyer got a judge to issue an injunction against us using one. The guy is suing us for two million dollars now. The mayor is pissed because we have to spend so much of the taxpayers' money on the case. So he gave the order. No more tracking devices till this is resolved. Does that answer your question?'

‘Guess it'll have to do.'

He put a hand on the edge of the roof and leaned forward. This early in the morning and he was already tired. But then so was I.

‘You managed to change the subject, Conrad. But now we're going back to it. I was headed out to Logan's with a search warrant to take a look around his house.'

‘He didn't do it. He's not the killing kind.'

‘Most people are the killing kind in the right circumstances.'

‘Maybe. But he still didn't kill her.'

‘So just as I'm about to pull up to where the security guards are on his property I see you about half a block away headed back to town. I followed you to give you the courtesy of being there when I hand him the search warrant. I'm told his wife is very highly strung.'

Maybe he was right. Maybe I'd have a minor calming effect on the family by being there. This hotel witness was one more reason Detective Hammell had to put a formal charge of murder on Robert.

‘How about following me back?' His tone had changed considerably.

‘Sure. But I've got a question.'

‘What?' Guarded again now.

‘Has the press gotten the news about the hotel desk clerk?'

‘Probably by now. We've got a whole department full of leakers.'

I'd have to talk to Ben as soon as I could. The news just kept getting worse. The press would hang this around our necks like a noose. I felt sorry for Maddy and Elise. And I allowed myself the pleasure of getting pissed off at Robert again for setting all of this in motion. And then I had the most troubling thought of all – what if he was the killer?

The guards just waved us through. At the moment there were only around eight or nine reporters and camera people waiting around. That would change quickly when the first reporter got the news about what Tracy Cabot had told the hotel clerk.

As we walked up to the door, Farnsworth, dressed this morning in a gray tweed sport coat and black trousers and cordovan wing tips, said, ‘I'll need you to help me keep everyone as calm as possible. That's why I didn't bring a crew with me. I'll call for them after I've had a chance to talk to Logan. I know his wife has had some mental issues. There's no point making things any worse than they need to be.'

‘She was playing the hotel clerk.'

‘Who was?'

‘Cabot. This whole thing was a setup to destroy Logan's career. When she ratted him out to the press she'd drag the hotel clerk in on it and he'd testify that she'd told him how she feared for her life. So you'd have the affair, which never happened – he never slept with her – and for the cherry on top you'd have this bullshit about how she was afraid he'd kill her.'