Sympathy for the Devil (25 page)

"Yes, I do. A real shame."

"By the time you arrived, I was willing to do anything it took to find who killed him -
what
killed him, it turned out."

"Even willing to volunteer to escort the ghostbuster, as they called him, around town and keep him out of trouble."

Masterson gave a snort of laughter. "Yeah, that last part didn't work out too well, did it? I'll never forget what we saw that night. Or what I had to help you do."

"And you figure there's more of the same operating in Castle Rock?"

Masterson leaned forward, elbows on knees, and looked at the floor. "That's the most fucked-up thing about this whole mess, Quincey. I've been that thinking maybe whoever did it wasn't
from
Castle Rock. It might've been a visitor."

"A visitor?"

"Yeah, somebody passing through town." Masterson looked up then, and Morris could see the fear stamped on his face. "Just long enough to give a couple of campaign speeches."

Libby Chastain, in a sky-blue corduroy robe, hair damp from a quick shower, pressed a button on her phone and waited a few seconds. "Hi, Colleen - it's me."

"Hi, Libby. Thanks for getting back to me so fast."

Libby wandered over to one of the condo's windows and looked out. "It's no problem. You gave me a reason to pass up an opportunity I'm not sure I should have taken."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, Colleen, I'm blathering. You said 'important' earlier."

"Yes, and so it is, at least potentially."

"You've teased me enough, sweetie. Out with it."

Colleen ran it all down for her: the meeting with Melanie Blaise, the unmistakable scent of recent black magic clinging to her friend and fellow agent, her casual questioning to find out what Melanie had been up to lately.

When Colleen finished speaking, there was silence on the line. "Libby? Still there?"

"Right here. I'm trying to get my mind around this. You're saying that someone may have used black magic to create a 'freak' accident that killed this Congressman."

"That's my fear, yes."

"Putting the means aside for a moment, let's look at it as a simple murder. We have to ask the question that comes up in those mystery novels Quincey is always lending me:
qui bono
?"

"Who benefits?" Colleen translated without hesitation. Everyone with law enforcement training knew the phrase.

"Right. Why would someone want to take out this Congressman, uh -"

"Brooks. Ron Brooks."

"Right. Why would someone kill Ron Brooks, irrespective of the method used?"

"In almost any homicide," Colleen said, "the circle of suspects starts with the immediate family and moves outward."

"So that makes Mrs. Brooks a prime suspect."

"In a homicide investigation, yes. If you don't consider the black magic angle."

"Or even if you do, maybe," Libby said.

"I don't follow you."

"I mean, who's to say that Mrs. Brooks hasn't taken a journey down the Left Hand Path? She wanted to get rid of her husband, for one of the usual reasons, and cast a spell to make it look like an accident."

"I hadn't considered that," Colleen said. "I suppose it's possible. The Sisterhood tries to keep track of black magicians, but I'm sure we don't know them all."

"Or," Libby said, "she could have hired it out to someone. There are black magicians who do their wickedness for money."

"Yes, that's another possibility."

"Did your friend talk to Mrs. Brooks personally?"

"No - she and her partner just went through the house, she said."

"Then maybe it's time someone did."

Partial transcript of the March 6th broadcast of Meet the Nation.

Interviewer: David Huntley

Guest: Senator Ramon Martinez (R-NM)

Huntley
: Senator, you have been positioning yourself to become the first Latino Presidential nominee from either of the major parties. But as you know, there have been recent allegations in the news concerning your personal life, dating back to when you were a member of the New Mexico state legislature. They originated in the tabloid press, but more recently they've been appearing in many of the mainstream media news sources.

Martinez
: Yes, David, I've been made aware of these so-called news stories.

Huntley
: They claim that you, a married man, had an ongoing relationship, a sexual relationship, with a woman that lasted almost three years. The woman in question, a sometime cabaret singer named Ina Sorensen, recently came forward with these accusations.

Martinez
: As I understand it, David, she came forward in the pages of the
National Tatler
- a newspaper, if I may call it that, which is rarely compared with the
New York Times
. And that paper admits that they paid her $20,000 for her story, something that legitimate journalists would never do.

Huntley
: I agree, the circumstances surrounding these accusations are sleazy, to say the least. But that does not, in itself, mean the story is untrue. As you know, there have been cases in recent years where something that originated in one of the tabloids was found to have a factual basis and later received coverage by the mainstream news media.

Martinez
: Yes, among the many hundreds of times when their stories were found to have been exaggerated, distorted, or completely fabricated.

Huntley
: You believe the recent stories about you to be one of those things? If so, which one?

Martinez
: David, the story is a complete fabrication. It appears to be the co-creation of a woman who is desperate for money, and a trashy newspaper desperate to sell papers.

Huntley
: So, you deny all of Ms. Sorensen's allegations?

Martinez
: I deny them categorically. I did not have sex with that woman.

Huntley
: She claims to have been on the payroll of your office when you were a state legislator.

Martinez
: That's entirely possible. In the twelve years I served as a state representative, I employed a good many people, at one time or another. This woman may have been one of them. That was fifteen or so years ago, and I'm afraid I can't remember the names of every secretary or aide who worked in my office for a while. But I never had an affair with any of them, and I am insulted that anyone of integrity would take such allegations seriously.

Huntley:
Ms. Sorensen alleges that, although she drew a salary for three years, she never actually worked in your office. She's quoted as saying: "I can't file. I can't even type."

Martinez:
This is nonsense, David. Anyone who has ever been employed by me, then or now, performs a legitimate administrative or political function. These are dedicated public servants, and they deserve better than to be slandered by malicious gossip.

Huntley
: Senator,
The
National Tatler
is published every Tuesday, but we've been able to obtain an advance copy of this coming week's edition. In it, Ms. Sorensen claims to have kept a diary dating back to the period in question. Supposedly, she kept a record of every occasion, I should say alleged occasion, when the two of you were intimate.

Martinez
: David, this business is moving from the ridiculous to the absurd. Anybody can write something down in a diary - that doesn't mean it really happened. I understand that some teenage girls put in their diaries accounts of their affairs with rock stars - something that would amaze the objects of their obsession, if they were to ever read it.

Huntley
: That's certainly a valid point. But Ms. Sorensen also alleges in this issue of the
Tatler
that you paid the rent on an apartment for her where the alleged trysts took place.

Martinez
: Ridiculous. And quite possibly libelous.

Huntley
: Ms. Sorensen also claims to have photocopies of several checks that you wrote and gave to her to cover the monthly rent.

Martinez
: [Inaudible]

Huntley
: Senator?

Martinez
: David, all I can say is, if such documents exist, they are malicious forgeries that have been concocted to smear my reputation. And, as far as I'm concerned, we've spent quite enough time this morning discussing such nonsense.

Huntley
: We'll be back, right after these messages.

II

INTERVENTION

Chapter 24

Morris had made tea for both of them. It lacked whatever magic ingredients Libby Chastain had used, but he still had faith in its restorative powers. He handed Masterson a mug then sat back down behind his desk.

"All right, Bat. Since I know you're not crazy - at least, you didn't use to be - you'd better explain to me why you think a U.S. Senator would take the risk of murdering a Catholic priest. Notice I didn't say 'is capable of' - there isn't much I'd put beyond some of those fellas. But most of them are smart enough not to put their dicks in a wringer by killing somebody."

"The evidence is all circumstantial, I admit that," Masterson said. "In fact, I'm not even saying Stark did it personally, if he was involved at all. He might have even sent Attila to do it."

"Attila? As in the Hun? I could be wrong - maybe you
are
delusional."

"'Attila' is our code name for Mary Margaret Doyle, Stark's Chief of Staff and campaign manager. She was educated by nuns and looks it, although I happen to know that she's not quite the proper little tightass she seems."

"For now, give me the short version of why you think either Stark or this Doyle lady might've done what you just described to a Catholic priest."

"The shortest version is: because the priest, Bowles, burned Stark. Burned his hand."

"How'd he do that?"

"By touching him."

There was silence in the room, broken only by the faint sounds of hammering from another part of the house.

Finally, Morris said, "Maybe you'd better give me the long version, podner."

Masterson told Morris about Stark's speech, the gladhanding afterwards, the agents' response to a perceived attack, the searching and questioning of Father Bowles along with the negative background check, the rush to the hospital that was never completed, and the injury that seemed to have healed itself.

"You're sure Stark's burned hand was pretty bad, at the outset?" Morris asked.

"I talked to the agents who were in the car with him. One of them got a pretty good look at the hand before Stark got it out of sight. My guy says that Stark's palm and fingers were showing second-degree burns."

Morris tilted his desk chair back and used one hand to massage the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, Bat."

Masterson nodded glumly. "Yeah, I know."

After a few seconds, Morris leaned his chair forward again. "Do they have a time of death established for the priest?"

"You know how coroners are about stuff like that," Masterson said. "Tuesday night is the best they can come up with. I can narrow it down a little, though."

"Oh? How?"

"I had one of my guys give him a ride back to the rectory at St. John's. Dropped him off a little after nine. And I understand he was scheduled to say mass at 6:00 the next morning. He never showed."

"Between 9:00 and 6:00, then. Where were the Senator and his henchwoman during that time?"

"Well, I had a talk with them when I got back to the hotel, for all the good
that
did. Although, I did get a look at his hand while I was there."

"Condition?" Morris asked.

"Smooth and pink as a toddler's butt. Ms. Doyle said she had put some magic salve on it, but I never heard of any fucking ointment that can turn second-degree burns into a light sunburn in the space of a couple of hours."

"Nor have I, amigo," Morris said. "Nor have I. Were the Senator and Ms. Doyle's movements accounted for over the rest of the night?"

"Put it this way," Masterson said. "Nobody saw either of them leave the suite. I just assumed they were in there, fucking their brains out."

"Oh? They've been doing that, have they?"

"I'm almost positive, and that brings me to another little anomaly I wanted to tell you about."

"Go on."

"I was on station outside the Senator's suite one morning, a few weeks back. Everything's quiet, then I hear these voices, right through the walls behind me. There's a woman's voice, kind of screaming, but the one that really gets my attention is what sounds like a man's voice, yet it isn't. It sounded kind of like a lion roaring, if the lion could say words. One thing it did
not
sound like is Senator Howard Stark."

"It was like a man's voice combined with an animal's roar?" Morris said.

"Yeah, that's about right," Masterson said. "Sounds pretty fucking whacked, huh?"

"Not as much as you might think. Keep talking."

"So I'm banging on the door, and not getting any answer. I use my master to unlock the door, which brings me into the living room, or whatever they call it, of the suite. There's nobody there, and I turn toward the Senator's room just as the door opens and he comes out, wearing a bathrobe. So I ask, is everything okay, I thought I heard yelling."

"Did you notice anything different about him when he came out? Physically, I mean."

"No, not that I remember. Of course, I was pretty focused on looking for Lee Harvey Oswald right there in the suite, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, okay. So what did he say to you?"

"He gives me everything's fine, nothing to be concerned about, blah, blah. I tell him I thought I heard yelling, and he says that he'd been watching some horror movie on TV. He meant to turn it off, but hit the volume control, and cranked up the sound for a second. That must've been what I heard, he says."