Fatal Accusation

by Marie Force

  Sam showed her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, MPD. We’d like to see Mr. Finley, please.”

  “He’s in a meeting. Could you leave your number so he can give you a call?”

  Sam glanced at Freddie, who made a visible effort not to laugh as she leaned an elbow on the reception counter. “Let me tell you how this is going to work.” She leaned in closer to the woman’s workstation. “Debbie. You’re going to go tell Mr. Finley there’re cops here to see him. And then you’re going to come back, get us and take us to him. Or, we can go back there, find him, take him into custody and have this conversation at our place. Are we clear on how this is gonna go?”

  “Y-yes. I’ll...” She got up and her chair toppled over. “I’ll be right back.”

  The falling chair gave Sam tremendous satisfaction. “Excellent. Thank you.”

  Debbie took off toward the back part of the office.

  “Mean and scary,” Freddie muttered.

  “Sign her up for the receptionist cooperation workshop.”

  “I’ll get right on that.”

  They waited five full minutes, which stretched the outer limit of Sam’s patience. She was about to go back there and find the guy herself when Debbie returned with a man in his fifties, who looked seriously irked. He was tall and handsome, with silvery hair and sharp eyes that looked at her with disdain that immediately put her on alert.

  “What’s this about?” he asked.

  “Are we doing this here or in the privacy of your office?”

  He didn’t like that.

  Ask her if she cared.

  “Come on back.”

  Sam and Freddie followed him past the wide-eyed Debbie to his office in the far corner at the end of a long corridor of cubicles. The people they needed to see usually occupied the corner offices, the place of importance in any company.

  Freddie shut the door.

  “What do you want?”

  “Why so hostile, Mr. Finley?”

  “You come into my place of business, intimidate my employee and demand to see me when I’m in a very important meeting and then you ask me why I’m hostile?”

  “In my experience, people who have nothing to hide are often cooperative when we ask for their assistance in a Homicide investigation.”

  That took some of the starch out of his dress shirt. “What in the world would I have to do with a Homicide investigation?”

  “Your site broke the story of Tara Weber’s affair with the president.”

  “So?”

  “We’d like to know where that story came from.”

  “I can’t tell you that. If I reveal my sources, I won’t have any sources, and without them, I have no business.”

  “I understand the position you are in, Mr. Finley—”

  “Do you really? Do you understand that if I tell you where that story came from, it’ll put me out of business? That all the people I employ will be out of jobs?”

  “Did you know Tara Weber?”

  “I’ve met her.” As he said the words, he shifted his weight from his right leg to the left and crossed his arms.

  The defensive pose, coupled with the shifting movement, put her on alert. She’d learned to pay attention to body language. “Where and how did you meet her?”

  “I met her while I was covering the Nelson campaign.”

  “What, specifically, was your interaction with her?”

  “I interviewed her a number of times about the polling data and research she was overseeing for the campaign.”

  “Were your interactions with her strictly professional?”

  His posture went rigid. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want to know if you had a personal relationship with her in addition to the professional one.”

  “We were friendly, if that’s what you mean. The campaign is a grind. We might’ve had a drink together once or twice, usually in a group with others.”

  “Mr. Finley, I’m sure you understand that our goal is to figure out who killed Tara Weber. We aren’t here to bust your balls or ruin your business. So if there’s anything more that you need to tell us about your relationship with her, now is the time. If we find out later that you held out on us in any way, that could go bad for you.”

  For the longest time, he didn’t move or speak or even seem to breathe. “We had a one-night stand after the inauguration. It was the only time I’ve ever been unfaithful to my wife. I’m not proud of it, but it happened and it was only once.”

  “And when did this occur?”

  “You want like a date?”

  “That’d help.”

  He went to his desk and fired up his laptop, making a show out of figuring out when it happened.

  Sam would bet everything she had that he knew exactly when it had happened, but she let him play it out his way.

  “February 2.”

  Sam glanced at Freddie, whose brows went up. “It’s possible that you’re the father of her child.”

  He came back around the desk to face off with them. “What?”

  “I understand that this might come as a shock to you, but—”

  “That’s not possible. She was on birth control. She told me she couldn’t get pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry to say she may have misled you. We have targeted the week of January 31 to February 6 as the dates during which she likely became pregnant. We’re going to need your DNA, sir.”

  “No way. You’re not going to pin this on me. It was one night. A moment of madness that was over before it began. There’s no way that baby is mine.”

  Sam held her tongue, letting him get it all out and waiting for him to realize that what she had told him was the truth.

  He sat back against the edge of his desk, his shoulders slumping. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I know this comes as a shock to you—”

  His head shot up, his eyes flashing with rage. “This is going to ruin me. My wife... She’s the best. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  There was so much Sam could say to that, but hopefully he’d figure out—eventually—that he was the one who’d ruined his marriage, not Tara and not Sam. Him. People were always looking for someone else to blame for their fuckups.

  “Are we going to need a warrant for your DNA?”

  He ran a trembling hand over his mouth. After a long, charged moment, he shook his head.

  “I’ll have someone come by shortly to take the sample. Make sure your receptionist lets them right in and they receive your full cooperation. We don’t appreciate people who waste our time.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m going to ask you one more time to tell me how you got the story of Tara’s affair with the president.”

  She expected him to fight back, the way he had before. But it seemed the fight had gone out of him after he learned he could be the father of her child.

  “She told me.”

  Sam found it interesting that Tara had believed Nelson was the father, even though she knew it was possible the father could be someone else. “So you kept in touch with her after your one-night stand?”

  He grimaced at the term. “Not regularly. I saw her a couple of times and about two weeks ago, she contacted me, asking if I wanted the scoop of the century. Of course I said I did. And when she told me about her affair with Nelson, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing at first. But she had details that gave her story credibility.”

  “Such as?”

  “She told me his wife had been going through cancer treatment during the campaign, and he had turned to her for support, but that part was off-the-record. One thing had led to another... In speaking with some of the other campaign staffers, I ascertained that there had been concern about the president’s seemingly cozy relationship with Tara. That was
enough for me to verify that her story was accurate. We went with it.” Once again he rubbed his face with a shaking hand. “It never once occurred to me that the baby she tried to pass off as his could be mine.” His gaze connected with Sam’s. “How can you be sure it’s not his?”

  “We have documentation to prove he had the vasectomy.”

  Finley sagged into himself. “I can’t believe this is happening. I swear to God, I’ve never done anything like this in the thirty years I’ve been married. There was just something about her...” He shook his head. “If you’d met her, you’d know what I mean. She was dynamic and beautiful and smart. So fucking smart. Everyone wanted to be around her, and I was no different. Once you met Tara, you never forgot her.”

  It was plainly obvious that he’d developed tender feelings for Tara, despite his claims that theirs was a one-night affair.

  “Is there any chance the baby isn’t mine?”

  “Yes.”

  He brightened considerably at that news. “Really?”

  “We’ll know more after we have a chance to run the DNA.”

  “And you’ll let me know? As soon as you do?”

  “I will.”

  “Is this going to make the news? That I slept with her?”

  “Not unless it turns out to be relevant to our investigation.”

  “It won’t be relevant. I would’ve had no reason to kill her. The last thing in the world I’d ever want to do is draw attention to what was a onetime indiscretion.”

  Sam handed him her notebook and a pen. “Please write down your contact info.”

  He did as she directed and handed both items back to her.

  “Stay available.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just what I said. If we need more information from you, we’ll expect you to take our calls.”

  “Of course. I will.”

  “And Mr. Finley? I can’t promise we’ll be able to keep a lid on this. It might be a good idea to tell your wife what happened.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “WHY DO PEOPLE hurt the ones they’re supposed to love the most?” Freddie asked when they were back outside.

  His feelings on the matter were no surprise to her, especially as a newlywed completely besotted with his wife.

  “I don’t know, but the way his face went totally pale there at the end tells me this won’t go over well with Mrs. Finley.”

  “I feel sorry for her. She’s been married thirty years and thinks they’ve somehow managed to survive when lots of others didn’t... And now he’s going to drop this bomb in the middle of her life.”

  “I know. It’s not going to be a good day for either of them.”

  “The sad part is that it was all so completely avoidable.”

  “Right? What was it about Tara that had these guys losing their minds over her and risking so much?”

  “I was wondering that too.”

  “It seems to me that after she’d failed to get pregnant with Nelson, she decided she wanted a baby and didn’t much care who the father was as long as he was someone professional like her.”

  “It’s as good of a theory as I’ve heard yet for her actions after the affair ended.”

  “I want to better understand this woman and what motivated her. We need to talk to the former business partner.”

  He consulted his notes. “Cam sent her number.”

  “Let’s give her a call from the car.”

  When they were in the car with the engine running and the heat cranked up, Freddie placed the call to Paige Thompson.

  “This is Paige.”

  “This is Lieutenant Sam Holland from the Metro DC Police Department. I’m with my partner, Detective Cruz, and we’re investigating the murder of Tara Weber.”

  “You’re the vice president’s wife.”

  “I am.” Sam rolled her eyes at Freddie. Why did people feel the need to state the obvious?

  “I’m so sad about Tara. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “So you were still in touch with her?”

  “I was. Our business breakup was difficult, but when the dust settled, we were able to resume our personal friendship.”

  “We’re looking for some better insight into her personal and professional life and were hoping you might be able to help us.”

  “Whatever I can do. The last couple years had been difficult for her. After Bryce ended their relationship, she sort of went a little nuts when it came to guys and dating and all of that.”

  “Did you know that she’d been involved with the president?”

  After a long pause, she said, “I did. She told me about it after it was over.”

  “Can you give us any specifics about what she said?”

  “Just that she’d become very close to him on the campaign, and their professional association became something more.”

  “I find myself wondering how they pulled off an affair while surrounded by other campaign staff and Secret Service.”

  “I wondered that too, and when I asked her about it, she said Nelson was fanatical about time to himself every night. By nine o’clock, the campaign staffers had retreated to their own rooms and the Secret Service had been told he was in for the night. Other than the agent assigned to the hallway, no one would have known she was in his room after nine o’clock.”

  “Did she know that his wife was sick during the campaign?”

  “She did. She told me he was so upset that he couldn’t be with Gloria while she was undergoing treatment, and that he’d toyed with dropping his bid for reelection so he could go home to be with her.”

  Sam glanced at Freddie, eyes wide with shock. That was a bombshell. “So let me get this straight—he felt so badly about his wife having cancer that he was willing to abandon his reelection campaign but not so badly that he refrained from having an affair?”

  “According to Tara, it started off as her providing him with someone to talk to about it. The affair just swept them both up. Neither of them intended for it to happen.”

  Sam rolled her eyes at Freddie. Somehow, two consenting adults ended up naked in bed together, but neither of them intended for that to happen? Whatever.

  “I know you may not believe me, but Tara was a good person. She tried to do the right thing. She felt awful about being involved in this situation, but I think she had genuine feelings for him.”

  “Were you aware that she was seeing other men toward the end of her affair with Nelson?”

  “What? No, she wasn’t.”

  “Yes, she was. We’ve identified several others.”

  “She didn’t tell me that.”

  “How often did you speak with her after you left the company?”

  “At least weekly. More often during the campaign when I consulted on a freelance basis on a few of the projects she had going for the Nelson team.” She sighed loudly enough for them to hear it through the phone. “She was wrecked after Bryce broke up with her. Things were kind of a mess for her. She made a lot of choices that were out of character for her, especially the affair with Nelson. Before Bryce, Tara never would’ve slept with a married man. After Bryce, Tara was more jaded, less concerned about playing by the rules.”

  “Was that true only in her personal life?”

  “It was across the board. She threw a lot of effort into the business, and it had its best year ever during the last campaign cycle. She’d become a highly sought-out pollster and market researcher. Her business was booming.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted her dead, Ms. Thompson?”

  “God, no. Everyone loved Tara. She somehow managed to work in one of the most competitive, dog-eat-dog environments without alienating people. She was known as a straight shooter, who told it like it was and never fudged the data to get a client the results
they wanted the way some pollsters will do. That wasn’t her style at all.”

  “This has been very helpful. If you think of anything else that might be relevant to the investigation, please let me know. You can call this number anytime.”

  “I will. I really hope you find the person who did this to her. She made some mistakes, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered, especially now when she finally had the child she’d always wanted.”

  “Thanks for your time.”

  Freddie ended the call and they sat in silence for a few minutes, reflecting on what they’d learned.

  “It doesn’t add up,” Freddie finally said.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “She’s a straight shooter in her business, never fudges the numbers and stays inside the lines, but she goes and has an affair with the president, knowing the man is married and that his wife is undergoing cancer treatment? Those two descriptions of her don’t jell.”

  Pondering that, Sam pulled out into traffic. “So where do I go to get my phone fixed?”

  “Um, the phone store?”

  “No kidding, wiseass. Where is this phone store of which you speak?”

  Freddie rolled his eyes. “There’s one at Union Station. Let’s go there so I can get some food too.”

  “It’s almost dinnertime.”

  “So?”

  “So don’t you want to eat with your wife?”

  “I will eat with her. Too.”

  “It’s completely unfair that you can eat eight full meals a day and never gain a freaking pound.”

  “That’s just one of my many special gifts.”

  “No one will celebrate harder than me when you finally have to start watching what you eat.”

  “Don’t be a mean cow, Sam. It’s not a good look on you.”

  She cracked up. “It’s a good look on me when it’s directed at receptionists.”

  “That’s different. They deserve it. I don’t. I’m the only thing standing between you and complete disaster with this cell phone situation.”

  “My heartfelt apologies. I hope you can eat eight meals a day for life and never gain a pound. Better?”