Suspicion (26 page)

  It was easy to see why the man was being reelected time after time. Not only did he lie with astonishing conviction, but his delivery was flawless.

  "You’ll have to ask Detective Spivak that question, Senator. He’s in charge of the case now. I’m just an average citizen."

  "But an obstinate one, I’m told. Which is not a bad thing, mind you." He laughed, suddenly going into buddy mode. "I’m an obstinate man myself, and it hasn’t hurt me any, has it?"

  It was time to put on the pressure. "Is there a point to this conversation, Senator?"

  Their eyes met. For an instant, the TV image disappeared, replaced by a hard-as-steel expression that would have intimidated many men. It did not intimidate Mitch. He had dealt with tougher guys than McKackney.

  "The point is," the senator said in a voice that had suddenly turned as smooth as honey, "that if you continue to harass my son, as I’m inclined to think you might, you will regret it."

  Mitch gave him a thin smile. "You wouldn’t be threatening me, would you, Senator?"

  "Take it any damn way you please, Calhoon." The gloves were off now. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you."

  Mitch watched as the senator smoothly got off the track, the two Secret Service men right behind him. When all three had disappeared, Mitch finished his run.

  He had heard many rumors about the senator from Tennessee, but none had ever hinted at the ruthlessness that lay deep within the man. Mitch had recognized it instantly and would have been a fool to dismiss it. Senator McKackney was definitely a man to watch out for.

  Feeling much better after a good night’s sleep, Kate hummed softly as she arranged the cookies she had baked the day before in a festive tin. If that didn’t bring a smile to Alison’s face, nothing would.

  As she stepped out her front door a few minutes later, she was greeted by the unwelcome sight of Eddy Povich.

  ‘"I have nothing to say to you, Povich," she said, brushing past the reporter. "Not that it will stop you. I suppose you can always make up something to fill your column."

  "Kate, Kate." He trotted after her with a hand over his breast. "You know you’re breaking my heart when you say those things."

  Your balls are what I’d like to break. For a moment, an almost irresistible moment, she actually considered shoving her knee in his crotch for the pure pleasure of seeing him squirm in pain.

  "I’m just a hardworking man trying to do his job," he continued, almost running to keep up with her. "So why don’t you help me out, okay? Tell me if there’s any truth to the rumor that you’re no longer representing your ex husband."

  Kate struggled to keep her panic from showing. If Povich wrote about her withdrawal from the case, Alison would see it. She had always been a news buff, but these days, she pored over every page of the Washington Post in hopes of seeing something about her father.

  Rather than insult Povich again, which seemed to have no effect on him anyway, Kate decided to change tactics,

  remembering the saying about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar.

  "Yes, that’s true," she said as if the matter was of no importance to her. "But I wouldn’t waste my time writing about it if I were you. Your readers wouldn’t be interested."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because Eric Logan is old news." Hoping to score a point or two with the reporter, she added, "Now if you want a real scoop, you should concentrate on the Fox case that goes to trial in April. You do know that I’m representing William Fox, don’t you?"

  The thought that she had just implied she would provide him with daily sound bites for the duration of the Fox trial made her want to throw up. But if the unspoken promise kept her name out of the papers, it would be worth it.

  Povich’s suspicious little eyes narrowed as he studied her face, and for a moment she was afraid he would notice her bruised cheek, which was heavily covered with concealer.

  "Or maybe," the reporter said with a smile that was almost obscene, "the reason you dropped Eric Logan is because you didn’t want to jeopardize your love affair with Mitch Calhoon."

  Kate felt her heart give a little jump. "That’s ridiculous," she said defensively, too defensively perhaps. "I’m not having an affair with Mitch Calhoon."

  "Then what would you call it? After all, he did spend Monday night at your house, didn’t he? All night?"

  "No, he didn’t," she lied. "He had car trouble and took a cab home."

  Povich threw his head back and laughed. "That’s good, Kate. You should get an Oscar for that one." He moved

  a little closer. "Except that I’m not buying it. Calhoon was here all right. He didn’t leave until eleven o’clock the following morning." The reporter rubbed his hands together. "Oh, Kate, my readers are going to love this."

  It took all of Kate’s willpower not to slap him. "So that’s what you have sunk to now, Povich. Spying? Have you so little faith in your own abilities that you feel it necessary to resort to yellow journalism in order to sell newspapers?"

  Unfazed, Povich leaned a shoulder against the side of her car. "I have an obligation to my readers, Kate. You know that."

  "Then go cover something worthy of being called news."

  "But you are news, Kate." He chuckled. "And you’ll be even bigger news once the public finds out you’ve been playing house with the detective in charge of investigating a murder in which your ex-husband is a prime suspect. Talk about a breach of ethics. No wonder the poor guy was fired."

  "Get off my property, Povich. Or I swear I’ll have you arrested."

  The threat went right over his head. "I’m not on private property, Kate. I’m on the sidewalk, covering a murder case." Pulling a pad and pencil from his pocket, he plowed on, "I’m right, aren’t I? Calhoon was let go because the two of you are having an affair."

  "That’s completely false," she said, striving to keep her voice level. "First of all, Detective Calhoon was not fired. He resigned. And second, we are not, I repeat, we are not having an affair. And if I see one word alluding to the contrary, I’ll sue you."

  She might as well have been talking to a brick wall. "Why are you lying, Kate? What are you trying to cover

  up?" His grin widened, showing a hint of gold in the back. "Inquiring minds want to know."

  Pushing him aside, Kate yanked her car door open. "You make me sick, Povich. Why don’t you print that in your filthy paper?"

  He was still grinning when she backed out of her parking space, nearly crashing into the neighbor’s trash can.

  Kate’s first thought as she drove to Potomac following her confrontation with Povich, was to tell Alison about withdrawing from the Lamont case before she read it in the papers and hope the teenager wouldn’t hate her for it.

  Halfway to Douglas’s house, she changed her mind. Who was she kidding? Alison would be furious with her, and totally devastated. Whatever progress the two of them had made would become nonexistent. Kate had no choice but to keep the matter to herself as she had planned to do all along. There was still a chance Povich wouldn’t print the story anyway, and even if he did, the chances that Alison would see it were practically nil. The only papers Douglas allowed in his house were the Washington Post, the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. Kate’s secret would be safe.

  When she pulled up in front of the Fairchilds’ house ten minutes later, and saw Alison waving at her from her bedroom window, Kate knew she had made the right decision.

  It was one o’clock that afternoon when Frankie buzzed Kate. "Guess who’s on line three?"

  Kate laughed. She had a pretty good idea, but didn’t want to deprive Frankie of the pleasure of telling her. "I haven’t got a clue. Who?"

  Frankie’s lusty sigh was clearly audible. "Mitch Calhoon."

  "Tell him I don’t have time right now."

  "Boss!"

  Kate laughed. "Just kidding, Frankie. Put him through."

  As she heard Mitch say, "Hi, Kate," in that low, sexy voice of his, her heart did a little flip.

  "Hello, Mitch." Forcing the memory of last night’s kiss aside, she tried to sound casual. "What’s up?"

  "It looks as if your hunch about Chuck Winslow paid off after all," he said.

  "Why? What did you find out?"

  "Jim Faber, that private detective I sent to Myrtle Beach to watch the Winslows, finally came through for me."

  "How?"

  "Cora Winslow just bought a brand new Toyota with a price tag of fourteen thousand dollars. And paid cash for it."

  Kate fell back against her chair. "I knew it. They had the money all along."

  "Looks that way."

  "Where was it? How is Cora explaining the sudden windfall?"

  "Jim hasn’t had a chance to talk to her, so I’m flying down there tonight. That neighborhood should be ripe with excitement right about now."

  "Will you call me the moment you get back?"

  "Only if you promise to go home early tonight. I’m not sure you should have gone to work at all."

  Kate smiled. "Okay, Boss."

  The rest of the afternoon passed with surprising speed and relatively few interruptions. At four o’clock, Kate

  made her daily phone call to Alison, and an hour later, Frankie walked into her office, a bag filled with groceries in her arms.

  "Come on. Boss, time to leave."

  Kate glanced at the clock. "I hadn’t realized it was already five o’clock."

  "Now you do." She took Kate’s coat from a hanger behind the door and handed it to her. "Come on, I’m going home with you."

  Kate’s brows lifted. "Why?"

  "Because Mitch Calhoon said so. He was afraid you’d welsh on your promise, so he asked me to make sure you left at five and went straight home." She patted the brown bag. "I’m throwing in a bonus, too."

  Kate’s eyebrows went up. "You’re cooking for me?"

  "Uh- huh. Your favorite dinner-my aunt Bernice’s stuffed peppers. It’ll take a while, but it’ll be worth it."

  Kate, who had only nibbled on a package of cheese crackers for lunch, felt her mouth water. Glad of the chance to share a delicious meal with her vivacious friend instead of facing the evening alone, she pushed away from her desk and stood up. "In that case, what are we waiting for? Let’s go."

  By nine o’clock, Frankie was gone, the dishes were washed, and Kate was looking forward to going to bed. But as she was setting the burglar alarm, the phone rang.

  At the sound of the raspy, breathless voice, Kate almost hung up. She wasn’t in the mood for an obscene caller in search of cheap thrills. A feeling she couldn’t quite explain, however, made her stay on the line. "Who is this?"

  There was a low groan, then the voice spoke again, a little louder this time. "LuAnn."

  Kate stiffened. "LuAnn. What’s wrong?"

  "Someone… broke into my apartment… and beat me up."

  "Oh, no." Kate went still as the fear she had experienced only two nights ago replayed in her head. "Who was it?"

  "Couldn’t tell. He wore a mask." She let out a small whimper. "He hurt me bad, Kate."

  "Where are you?"

  "Home."

  Kate tore a sheet of paper from the block she kept on the kitchen counter. "Give me the address."

  "It’s 226 Georgia Avenue. Second floor. The door on the left."

  Kate wrote quickly. It wasn’t the safest address in town at this time of night, but what choice did she have? It was her fault that LuAnn had been hurt. "Give me fifteen minutes or so. Can you get yourself to the door and unlock it?"

  "It’s unlocked. He broke in while I was in the shower."

  Imagining the terrifying scene, Kate briefly closed her eyes. "I’ll be there as fast as I can. Hang in there, girl."

  Kate found LuAnn huddled on a sofa, a faded green chenille robe wrapped around her. Her left eye was swollen shut and she pressed a balled-up, bloody handkerchief against her mouth.

  Holding back a gasp, Kate ran to her. "LuAnn. Oh, my God."

  LuAnn started to cry.

  "Shh." Kneeling in front of her, Kate gently pushed back the woman’s wet hair. "Can you describe the man? Did he look like the sketch I showed you in the museum the other day?"

  LuAnn took the clean tissue Kate handed her and dabbed it against each eye. "Yes. He looked just like it. Right down to the ski mask. I was in the shower, all soaped up, and then, without warning…he was there, yanking me out by the hair and slapping me so hard… I thought he was going to kill me."

  Kate took LuAnn’s left hand in hers and held it tight. "Did he say anything to you?"

  "All he said was that he was going to teach me a lesson." She blew her nose. "I’m scared, Kate. I feel like taking the first bus out of town without even asking where it’s going. I would, too, if I didn’t have Holly and Brian to hold me back."

  "Let’s get out of here," Kate said. "Can you walk?"

  LuAnn bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  It took them a little over ten minutes to reach the Saab in the dimly lit parking lot. Although Kate hadn’t seen anything suspicious when she arrived, she half expected someone to jump out of the shadows, as he had in the garage, and kill them both. But the area was deserted, and within moments they were safely locked inside the car and on their way.

  Once home, Kate helped LuAnn into the downstairs guest room and waited until she was under the covers before going into the kitchen to call Dr. Russell Blackstone.

  Half an hour later, Mitch’s friend was ringing her doorbell. A snappy gray suit and an abstract tie in various shades of red and gray had replaced the striped pajamas. His friendly smile disappeared the moment he saw LuAnn.

  When he was finished examining her, he joined Kate in the kitchen where she had prepared a pot of coffee.