Prophet (67 page)

Murphy Bolen just happened to overtake them, being a faster walker.

“What do you think of the plan?” Fanny asked him.

Murphy just smiled and quipped, “He’s dead” as he stopped at the drinking fountain.

Martin Devin, some distance behind them, heard the comment but pretended to ignore it. He didn’t need to hear that kind of talk or entertain those kinds of thoughts at a time like this. Winners kept their eye on the finish line, not on the obstacles. He would make it.

It would be extremely comforting to get a progress report from Willy on the whole Shannon DuPliese thing. But still, he would make it. He stepped into his office, feeling good about the meeting.

Until he saw a man sitting there waiting for him.

“Uh . . . yes, can I help you?”

The man stood, smiling pleasantly. “Hi there. The secretary let me in—she said you’d be out of your meeting real soon.” He reached into his suitcoat pocket and produced a badge. “Detective Bob Henderson, homicide.”

CHAPTER 28

SURELY THERE COULD
be no greater feeling of insecurity than trying to look innocent in front of a cop, especially a cop from homicide. Devin could feel an abrupt and intense reaction in his body—a painful twist in his stomach, a pronounced speeding of his heart rate, a trembling in his extremities. He tried to control it, drawing on all the acting ability he could muster.

Watch your voice now, Martin. Low, even tone.
“Yes, Detective, how may I help you?”

Henderson stood there a moment, observing. He seemed to be reading Devin like a book. “Feeling all right?”

Devin sat behind his desk. It would be a good place to sit, to hide as much of his body as possible and regain control of the situation. “Well, actually, no. I think I’m battling a touch of flu this morning, so . . .”

“Oh, I won’t take long. I’m just out gathering some information on a case, and I figured you’d be able to help me.”

“I’ll try.”

Henderson got out his notepad and flipped through the pages to a particular spot. “Well, of course you would be familiar with Shannon DuPliese, the young lady who received the first Hillary Slater Scholarship?”

Control, Martin, control!
“Why, yes, of course. She’s attending Midwestern University now, and I understand she’s doing quite well.”

“Have you heard from her lately?”

“No, not lately.” Then Devin even managed to show some concern. “Uh . . . is she all right?”

Henderson smiled. “Oh, she’s fine. A little shaken up, but she’s fine.” Henderson waited for just one beat and then hit Devin with the news. “But some thug tried to jump her this weekend, and we’re looking into it.”

This was terrible news. Devin didn’t have to act stunned, but he did try to appear stunned for the right reason. “I’m . . . I’m shocked.”

Henderson just stood there, observing. “Well, that’s understandable. I gather you were pretty close to Shannon, working with her on the scholarship thing, helping her enroll at Midwestern University, taking care of all the details.”

This guy had been doing his homework. “Well . . . yes. We . . . I’ve, uh . . . I’ve been very happy, very encouraged to be a part of it. It’s been good for the governor too to see a bright young lady like Shannon have the opportunity to excel in the place of the daughter he lost. It’s been very helpful.”

Henderson consulted his notes. “Did you call Shannon the night of Tuesday, October 1st?”

Devin’s mind raced.
What was that? When was that? Why was that? Did I? Didn’t I? Can I deny it, or should I admit it? What harm will I do myself?

“Uh . . . I’m not sure of the date, but I did call her last week, and it was in the evening, yes.”

Henderson nodded and checked something off in his notes. “Can you tell me what the conversation was about?”

Devin found a shield to hide behind. “Well, no, not really, not without Shannon’s permission. We talked regarding the scholarship, her studies, that sort of thing. Under the agreements we have, such matters are kept in confidence.”

“Sure. That’s fine. But tell me, did you threaten her?”

Devin actually did feel indignant. “Excuse me?”

“Did you pressure her or threaten her regarding anything?”

“Regarding what, if I may ask? And just what do you mean by ‘threaten’?”

Henderson smiled. “Hey, it’s okay. These are routine questions. Nobody’s
accusing you of anything.”

“Well, I should hope not! Shannon and I have had a good relationship. The governor’s family and her family have been friends for many years. I . . . I really find such questions offensive.”

“Certainly. Just have to cover all the bases, that’s all.” Henderson scribbled a little more. “Let me tell you what’s going on—maybe that’ll help. You see, Saturday night the police out at Midwestern caught a punk named Ted Canan, and from what they’ve been able to gather so far, he’d been following Shannon for a few days, just waiting for a chance to attack her. They caught him first, fortunately. But here’s the question I have to deal with: Ted Canan’s a local hood, from around here, and Shannon DuPliese is from around here too. Now apart from assaulting Shannon, we can’t think of any reason why Ted Canan would be halfway across the country singling out a girl who was from the same town as himself, a girl I’m sure he’d never met before. You see the problem here?”

A question popped into Devin’s mind: What did Murphy Bolen say out in the hall? “He’s dead”? Who was he talking about?

Henderson was waiting for an answer, so Devin gave him one as best he could. “I . . . uh . . . I think I do. This is all so sudden, so bizarre.”

“Yeah, it sure is. So let me just ask you, you know, for the record, just so I can say I asked, Would you have any idea why someone would come after Shannon?”

“Well, I . . . I don’t . . . no, I just don’t know why anyone would want to kill her.” A new idea came to mind. “Except, maybe . . . that wasn’t his real intention. Perhaps he intended to . . . uh . . . take moral advantage of her. Maybe he saw her here . . . saw her on television when she received the scholarship and decided to follow her. Maybe he gets a kick out of degrading important people, people recognized for achievement . . . people like Shannon . . .”

Henderson seemed to be writing down Devin’s ideas, then looked up. “Nobody said Ted Canan intended to
kill
her, Mr. Devin. But maybe you’re right. Maybe he just wanted to take moral advantage.”

“Well . . .”

“But that is difficult to swallow, isn’t it? That he’d go halfway across the country to do something like that? And there’s another thing—the plane fare was over eight hundred bucks, and Ted Canan’s never had
that kind of money—except when somebody else hires him.”

“Well . . . what did this Ted have to say about all this?”

“Oh, he isn’t talking. He’s pleading the Fifth.”

“Hmm.” Good news? Not really. “And what does Shannon think?”

“Oh, we’re still talking to her. We don’t have the whole picture yet. Oh, and I never got an answer to that question that offended you. You want to answer, just for the record? Did you threaten Shannon when you called her?”

The question was still offensive—too close to the target, actually. “Absolutely not. I categorically deny threatening her!”

“All right then, did you strongly urge her to remain quiet about certain matters pertaining to the governor’s daughter Hillary?”

Henderson was trying to nail him to the wall, and Devin knew it. Well, there was no sense in denying it. “Listen . . . Shannon and I have talked about this matter of Hillary before. The governor is a public figure who needs his privacy, and I felt a need to remind Shannon of that. She was close to Hillary, and so . . . Well, there could always be a temptation for her to talk to the press, and . . . the governor simply didn’t want that to become a pattern.”

“Okay. Got it.” Henderson scribbled it down and then said, “Well, that’ll do it for now. Thanks a lot for your time. I’ll call if I have any more questions.”

“Good day, Detective.”

Henderson pocketed his notepad and went out quietly, just quietly and calmly enough to make Devin wonder what he was thinking.

Willy! Where was he? What had happened?

Devin gave Henderson enough time to leave and then hurried out of the building and walked three blocks to a hotel. Toward the back of the lobby, just outside the elevators, he hunched over a pay phone, carefully concealing his face as he placed a call to a number he kept only in his head. The phone at the other end rang several times, and finally a sleepy voice answered. “Yeah?”

Devin tried to sound tough and unidentifiable. “Let me talk to Willy.”

“Not today, man—he’s gone.”

No! That wasn’t what Devin wanted to hear at all.

“What do you mean
gone
?”

“Oh, he’s left town. Probably some heat on somewhere—you know how that is.”

“Well, did he say where he was going?”

“Are you kidding? He never does. And I don’t know anything, all right?”

Click.

Easy, Martin, easy. Just think. Work it out. There’s an answer somewhere.

But he was shaking all over.

He hurried back to the office, passing by a small lunch counter where Detective Bob Henderson stood concealed behind a rack of magazines, munching a hot dog, watching him go by.

“DR. HARLAN MATTHEWS?”

The doctor looked up from his desk as the thought
Now what?
went through his mind. The pressure around Bayview Hospital had been bad enough ever since that woman reporter came to see him. He didn’t need any more trouble of that kind.

Well . . . it wasn’t Leslie Albright. But it did look like more trouble of that kind, and maybe worse. He immediately recognized the well-known face of John Barrett, NewsSix anchorman, and the man standing beside Barrett was showing a police badge.

“I’m Detective Bob Henderson, homicide, and this is John Barrett, with Channel 6 News, though he’s here unofficially at the moment.”

“And what in the world can I do for you?” Matthews was getting fed up and couldn’t keep from showing it. “I recall talking to another reporter from Channel 6, here as unofficially as you, Mr. Barrett.”

John replied, “We haven’t released any information or done any story pertaining to you, and we won’t do so without your knowledge.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Henderson said, “Well, this won’t take long, and quite truthfully you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want—the law’s clear on that. But we were wondering if you’d be willing to open the file on Hillary Slater and confirm for us the real cause of death. We need the information for a possible murder investigation.”

Matthews gave a slow shrug. “I’ll need a court order, gentlemen.”

Henderson expected as much. “Mm . . . Okay. Can’t hurt to ask. We’ll get the court order.”

John ventured, “Dr. Matthews, through some investigation of our own we’ve found other evidence to indicate Hillary Slater died from abortion malpractice. We just need you to verify that’s the case.”

Matthews leaned forward, his chin resting on his hands, and considered John’s question for a moment. “
Other
evidence?”

“Yes, sir. Very strong evidence, possibly enough to break the story with or without your involvement.”

He smiled at that. “Without, most likely.”

“Except for . . .”

“Yes?”

John thought for a moment, formulating his argument. “If and when we break the story, the governor’s going to deny knowing the cause of death at the time, which means he’ll have to argue that he was given erroneous information, which means . . . Well, doesn’t it make sense, sir, that the finger of blame is going to have to point somewhere? And do you imagine that your superiors are going to point it at themselves? If you filed a correct and truthful report and were honest about the real cause of Hillary’s death, it may be in your best interests to establish that before someone else makes you out to be incompetent.”

That actually made Matthews laugh, nodding approvingly. “One would think you worked here.”

Henderson stole a glance at John, visibly impressed.

Matthews asked, “Can you guys get a court order and make me produce the report?”

Henderson smiled. “Yeah. We could do that. It would provide you with personal protection if you feel you need it.”

Matthews went back to the work on his desk, his way of dismissing them. “Bring me a court order and I’ll see what I can do.”

As John and Henderson went down the hall, Henderson whispered, “What he’s really going to get is a search warrant. I just didn’t want to scare him.”