The Divine Appointment (22 page)

The Hart Building, Washington DC

“Judge Shelton,” Senator Montgomery began. “The committee thanks you for your graciousness in sitting through three days of hearings and answering our questions. I must say that I thought you were one of the best, if not the best, candidate I’ve had the privilege of questioning.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Judge Shelton replied.

“The committee will stand in recess and will reconvene on Friday to deliberate and take a vote on whether to recommend confirmation to the full Senate or not.” Senator Montgomery banged his gavel.

There were only four or five senators still present as the hearings concluded. Those who were present exited hastily after Senator Montgomery adjourned the hearing. Senate aides and staffers vacated the premises hurriedly as well, and reporters and photographers dashed for the exits in an attempt to file a report for the evening news or meet a deadline for the next morning’s newspapers.

Porter approached Judge Shelton from his first-row seat. They shook hands, and Victoria joined them just behind the mahogany table that had been Judge Shelton’s perch for the last three days.

“You did a great job.” Porter smiled broadly. He felt a sense of relief.

Judge Shelton and Victoria were smiling also. Porter could see the relief on Judge Shelton’s face.

“Thanks, Porter. I owe it all to the rehearsals I had with you and the general counsel’s office.”

They both laughed. It was a laugh of satisfaction. It was a laugh that could only come at the end of the confirmation hearings when all the worry and anxiety were gone. It was up to the Judiciary Committee and the full Senate now. Porter and Judge Shelton had done their part.

Porter faced Victoria. “When do you get your cast off?”

“In two weeks, and I can’t wait.”

“I bet. Just so long as it’s off in time for the swearing-in ceremony, right? I know you’d hate to have your picture taken in that.” Porter casually pointed at Victoria’s arm.

She smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Judge Shelton cautioned. “There’re still a couple of votes that need to take place.”

The Oval Office, the White House, Washington DC

Porter left the Hart Building and his limo transported him on the short ride from the Hart Building to the White House. A separate limo carried Judge Shelton and Victoria to their accommodations for the week. They were exhausted and needed rest. President Wallace had already heard the news that the hearings were over and was waiting for Porter in the Oval Office.

“Good work, Porter.” President Wallace smiled as Porter entered the room.

Porter appreciated the compliment, but President Wallace smiled and Porter knew that that was about the extent of the excitement he would see from the president. He also knew that he had only done what was expected of him and nothing more. His job was to obtain confirmation of Dunbar Shelton’s nomination to the Supreme Court. And the job wasn’t completed yet. There was still work to be done. “Thank you, sir. But Judge Shelton did all the work. He was magnificent before the committee.”

President Wallace waved Porter to a chair in front of his desk before returning to his chair behind the desk.

“Even still. You were tasked with this assignment, and you’ve done an excellent job. We can’t celebrate yet, but I’d say we’re well on our way. When’s the committee vote?”

“They’re voting on Friday and hopefully the full Senate will vote by the following Friday. If that happens, then Judge Shelton can be sworn in before Congress takes its August recess.”

President Wallace’s nominee to the Supreme Court was on his way to being confirmed. The president was pleased, Porter saw. And that pleased Porter.

“Porter, I like it when a plan comes together.”

The law offices of Elijah J. Faulkner, Jackson, Tennessee

It was late in the afternoon on Wednesday, the second week of July. Most of the staff was gone. Eli was working on the preparation for the Grissom trial. Wedged between two files stuffed in one of the many expandable folders he discovered the photograph Tag had given him from the traffic surveillance camera. Eli had forgotten about it. He was studying the photograph when Barbara knocked on his door.

“I’m going home,” she said. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“I’m fine, but would you see if Jill is still here before you go?”

Barbara left and Eli resumed his study of the photograph.

Soon Jill was in his office.

“I forgot about this photograph,” Eli said. “Tag gave it to me when I met with him the first time. It was taken from a surveillance camera mounted on a traffic light near Jessica Caldwell’s town house. Take a look.”

Jill stood in front of Eli’s desk. He handed the photograph to Jill and watched her expression as she viewed it.

“You’ve had this the whole time?”

“The whole time. Tag told me that he was there the night Ms. Caldwell was killed and that he got this photograph from the police department a couple of days later. He told me it was his car in the picture, and I didn’t question him about it. I only glanced at it that day before putting it in my briefcase.”

“I thought he drove a convertible.”

“He does.”

“But this is an Infiniti SUV.”

“I know. It’s not his car. It’s Anna’s.”

Eli watched Jill as she studied the photograph again.

She tucked her black hair behind her ears, then looked at Eli. “But why would he give it to you? Was he trying to implicate his own wife?”

“I don’t know why yet. It still may be him driving her SUV. I can’t make out the driver in that photograph. But I’m going to ask them about it.”

“You want me to see if the police department has any other photos?”

“Yeah. See if there are any that show the driver of this vehicle. And check with the police department to see if there are any other photographs like this one taken at any intersection near her town house on the night of the murder.”

The Fletcher residence, Washington DC

The phone rang in the middle of the night again in Holland Fletcher’s apartment. It was early Friday morning, and he was asleep.

On the third ring he cracked his eyes enough to look at the digital clock on his nightstand: 2:30. It had to be
her
, and he didn’t want to talk to
her
. But he knew
she
wouldn’t stop calling until he answered. He dragged the cordless receiver into bed with him and spoke into his pillow.

“Hello,” he mumbled.

“Is this Holland Fletcher?”

It was a woman’s voice, but much too young to be
her
voice.

“This is Holland. Who is this?”

“Tiffany Ramsey.”

Her last name was barely out of her mouth before Holland was sitting on the side of the bed, fully awake. He listened hard and shook the sleep from his voice. “Tiffany? Why are you calling me at two thirty in the morning?”

“I don’t really know. I’m scared, and I don’t know who else to talk to.”

Holland was in his pajama bottoms, walking back and forth around his bed with the cordless telephone. It was dark in his bedroom, so it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

“Why are you scared?” he asked.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “Because I know something about Jessica Caldwell and Senator Proctor.”

Holland stopped at the foot of the bed. The room was deathly quiet. He could see Tiffany in his mind…sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up under her chin, whispering into the telephone. She even looked scared.

“What exactly do you know?”

The quietness from the other end of the call was nerve-racking. Holland held his breath, hoping Tiffany would simply blurt out the secrets she kept buried.

She continued to clutch them. “I’m almost too scared to say it.”

“I’m not going to pressure you. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

“You’re right about the town house, you know. Jessica told me not long before she moved out. I can’t believe it’s been almost six months since she left.”

Holland could tell that she was talking merely for the sake of talking. She was avoiding what she really wanted to say but trying to build her courage to say it.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and tried to set her mind at ease. “Were the two of you friends?”

“We weren’t close friends. We didn’t have much in common. She went to Vanderbilt. I went to Princeton. But sharing a place to live forced us to find a few things in common. And we did. We just didn’t socialize together very much. She had her friends and I had mine.”

“Did her friends include Senator Proctor?”

“Jessica was quite the partier. She liked going to all of the social events in town. And she met Senator Proctor at one of them. He called the town house a few times. He never said who he was, but I recognized his voice. Who else has a voice like that? I mean, once you’ve seen him on television it’s hard not to put the face with the voice.”

“So they knew each other, and he called and talked to her. That doesn’t sound like much of a relationship.”

Another pause. This one longer than the previous two. Holland realized that the truth was about to come out. The secret—the skeleton—she had locked away was about to escape.

“There’s one other thing. I came home from work one day in the middle of the afternoon. I was working on a file and had left it at home accidentally and needed it. When I entered the front door, I could hear Jessica laughing upstairs. I was surprised that she was home and almost called out her name. Then I heard Senator Proctor’s voice, too. I retrieved my file and slipped out again. They never knew I was there.”

“When was this?”

“Just a few days before she moved to Nashville.”

Holland gazed at the floor. He held the phone in one hand. “But you never saw them and don’t know exactly what they were doing?”

“Be serious. They were in her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, giggling. What do you think they were doing?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“And then three months later she died. She was murdered. And it turns out she was pregnant.”

“When was the last time you saw Jessica?”

“She came back to town for Justice Robinson’s memorial service. I saw her at the cathedral, from a distance. I tried to find her after the service, but she left hurriedly. When I got to the door of the cathedral, I saw her getting into a taxi with a man.”

“Was it Senator Proctor?”

“No. It was someone I didn’t recognize.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was handsome. Blond hair. Tan. But I didn’t know him.”

“You just described about a million men.”

“But how many would have attended Justice Robinson’s memorial?”

“That’s true. Do you think you could identify him again if you saw him?”

“I think so. I didn’t get a real good look at him, but I think I would recognize him again if I saw him.”

Holland thought for a moment. There had to be a way to determine who had attended Justice Robinson’s memorial service. Video clips. Interviews. Did the
Post
have any photographs from the service? He pondered his next question, then cautiously asked it. “Did you ever tell Jessica you knew about her and Senator Proctor?”

“Are you crazy? That wasn’t any of my business.”

Holland stood and paced again. He was quiet for several seconds, thinking.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I’m just thinking.”

“You know you can’t publish any of this.”

He stopped pacing. That was exactly what he’d been thinking about. He had to get a story out of this information somehow. “Why not? That’s what I do. I write articles for the
Post
.”

“Because you can’t, that’s why. If you mention any of this in the
Post
, Senator Proctor will know I talked to you. I’m too scared for that to happen.”

“Do you think Senator Proctor killed her?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. The facts in the newspaper in Nashville sure point to the guy they arrested. But I don’t know. How’d you find out about the town house?”

Holland wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell Tiffany. But she had opened up to him. He felt he at least needed to reciprocate.

“There’s this mystery woman who keeps calling me. She’s led me around by the nose for weeks. She gave me some information that made the connection.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me her name or how to contact her. She only calls me. Her rules.”

“Now I’m really scared.”

Holland remembered the night by the Washington Monument. A man with a raspy voice and a gun in the small of his back were hard to forget. They didn’t teach him how to handle such things in journalism school.

“I’m a little scared, too,” he admitted.

“You’re not going to publish any of this, are you?”

Holland relented. “No. I can’t yet. I need more corroboration.”

“That’s good.”

Holland sensed that the conversation was coming to a close. He didn’t want it to end. Even though they were talking about things that scared them both, he didn’t want to stop. He liked hearing her voice.

“I think I’m going to hang up,” Tiffany said. “I’m getting sleepy finally. Thanks for talking with me.”

Holland could hear the tiredness in her voice and knew that her appreciation was genuine. “Don’t mention it. I now realize why you said it was dangerous the other day. You need to be careful.”

“I will.”

“And, Tiffany?”

“Yes.”

“You really need to find a new place to live.”

“I’m already working on it.”

Holland hung up the phone and lay back down on the bed. He and Tiffany had been talking for thirty minutes. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless. There wouldn’t be any more sleep for Holland that night.

The Hart Building, Washington DC

In the closet in Senator Proctor’s office in the Hart Building a digital line-activated recorder went into sleep mode after the conversation between Holland Fletcher and Tiffany Ramsey ended. The call was time stamped and date stamped. It was added to the listing on the LCD screen and would be easily retrieved later in the morning. Their words were recorded in crystal clarity.

The Oval Office, the White House, Washington DC

President Wallace watched the plasma television monitor across the room as the Judiciary Committee voted on whether to recommend to the full Senate that Judge Dunbar Shelton be confirmed to the Supreme Court. The committee was back in session at 9:00 a.m. eastern time on Friday. Judge Shelton and Victoria, as well as Porter and Lauren, were in the office with him.

It was a surreal feeling when each committee member voted aye as their name was called. President Wallace recalled his time as a state legislator and then as governor of South Carolina. He remembered when he decided to run for president, and the burden of responsibility he felt when he won. There were still many issues—both foreign and domestic—that needed tackling, but watching the committee members vote made him realize that one thing he desired more than all else was close to being accomplished…even though the full Senate had yet to vote.

As the last committee member cast his vote, Judge Shelton hugged Victoria and President Wallace hugged Lauren. Porter gave a confident fist pump and shook hands with the president.

“We’re almost there,” Porter said.

President Wallace and Porter smiled at each other. They were smiles of relief and satisfaction.

“Almost,” President Wallace replied. “I think we’re on the downhill, Porter.”

“I can’t imagine anything getting in the way of confirmation now.”

Amelia Island, Florida

Georgia Mathis had worked for Fernandina Home Health for twelve years. For the last two she had been checking on Myron and Dorothy Carlson—mainly Myron—twice a week. She made sure Myron’s medicine was regulated and helped him with thirty minutes of physical therapy. Myron generally complained the entire time.