by Jane Gorman
A movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned as Ramona came around the bend in the walkway toward him. She wore plain clothes today, probably recognizing they would serve her better in their meetings that afternoon. She walked with an unconscious grace, more noticeable because of the radio clipped to her belt and the weapon Adam knew was tucked into the holster around her shoulders. When she saw Adam she smiled, her skin glowing under the noon sun.
Adam blinked and shook his head, looking away. She was his partner as long as he was down here. He had to keep this professional, no matter where his libido was pointing him.
Ramona stopped next to his bench but didn’t sit. “I got a call from Agent Hennessy this morning.”
“Anything interesting?”
She ignored his smile. “They got the ballistics results back. They’re not one hundred percent sure…”
“They never are,” Adam prompted her when she paused.
Ramona nodded and continued, “It looks like the bullet was fired from inside the house.”
Adam frowned. “That sounds about right. Sam and I were thinking the same thing earlier. Second floor window, right?”
“Probably. They aren’t being exactly forthcoming. Hennessy said they had the results late yesterday. He didn’t bother calling me ’til this morning. And even then not a lot of details.”
Adam shrugged. “It’s the name of the game, nothing new there.”
Ramona raised an eyebrow, but let it drop as her radio crackled to life. She stepped away, pulling the two-way microphone away from her waist and holding it close to her ear.
Adam turned his attention back to the square and this time didn’t notice her approach from behind him.
“Did you learn anything new this morning?” Her question startled him out of his reverie.
“A bit.” Adam grimaced with the recognition of how little they had learned, but filled her in on what he had. “The most interesting lead seems to be the unknown person — or people,” he finished his explanation.
Her lips turned down at the corners as she considered his report, not quite a frown, not quite a pout. He waited, watching her think, tucking the information into an internal file cabinet. “Sorry I couldn’t join you,” she finally said. “I would have liked to see Elise and Beth for myself.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting your take on them, either. Maybe we can head back later, after our meeting.”
“Maybe.” Ramona inhaled through her teeth. “But I don’t think so.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Two things. I did dig up some more background on Marshall — Mr. Marshall, that is. I shared it with Sam earlier, he may have told you.”
“He didn’t mention it. Go on.”
She leaned forward, her arms resting on the back of the bench. Adam turned in his seat, partly to face her, partly to pull back from her, to distance himself from the tempting scent of vanilla that surrounded her.
“He seems to be the man in charge.” She looked out over the square as she spoke, but Adam could tell her mind was focused on what she had found that morning, not the children playing a few yards ahead.
“Seems to be?”
She shrugged, her head to one side. “I guess. That’s what Sam thinks, anyway. His money. His plan. He lets people know that if they want the senator’s support, they need to get his first.” She squinted and tilted her head again. “It’s just…”
Adam watched her, waiting, wondering what was going on inside her head.
She finally pushed herself up from the bench with a shake of her head. “I’m not so sure. Women aren’t as easy to push around as men like to think.” She turned to Adam and smiled.
“And the other thing?” Adam asked.
“The car—” Her radio cut her off again, though this time she didn’t walk away, just held up a hand to silence Adam while she listened, then nodded.
Turning her attention back to Adam, she said, “You know, I told Hennessy what I’d found when he called this morning, but he didn’t seem too impressed. Or interested.”
“How do you mean?”
“He’s running with the evidence from ballistics. He thinks it was an inside job. One of the staff, maybe. Related to the narcotics problems, maybe.” She shrugged. “And it could be.”
Adam frowned. “Or someone who had access to the house. Someone who’d been there before.”
“Like most of the people who were there that morning,” Ramona agreed.
Adam pursed his lips, thinking. “The senator. Mr. Marshall. Mr. McFellan.” He glanced at Ramona. “And our unknown guests.”
She smiled at him. “So Hennessy isn’t thinking that, or he isn’t sharing. Either way, he’s focusing on the staff for now.”
“Then I’m glad Sam and I made it over there this morning — and out again, without getting warned off by Hennessy.”
Ramona frowned. “You think he’d do that?”
“I don’t know.” Adam turned to look at her. “You said yourself he’s not being overly forthcoming. You know he doesn’t really want me — or you — on this investigation. Was there a second thing?” Even as he asked, he glanced at his watch. “Shit.” He jumped up. “Weren’t we supposed to be at Barton McFellan five minutes ago?”
Ramona shrugged. “Yeah, you ready for this?”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
She stopped walking and turned to face Adam. “What the hell do you take me for, a rookie?” She smiled as she spoke, but it failed to lessen the aggression in her tone.
“Sorry.” Adam held his hands up. “It’s just this will be our first suspect interview together, and we don’t really know each other. How we work, or at least how we work together.”
“Don’t worry about me, Detective Kaminski, I know these people and I know how to talk to them.”
“Then lead the way, Officer Davis.” Adam gestured gallantly with his arm, stepping next to her as she passed by him.
Even crossing with the light, they had to dodge cars stuck in the consistently heavy DC traffic. Walking up to the glass front of the building that housed the firm of Barton McFellan, Ramona turned and flashed a smile at Adam. “This should be interesting,” she said as she pulled the door open.
15
Ramona’s hand snapped out, grabbing onto Adam’s knee. He raised his eyebrows as he turned toward her, but her wink stopped the question forming on his lips. She smiled and withdrew her hand.
A few seconds later, Adam realized he was bouncing his knee again. For all of Ramona’s confidence about this interview, he knew better. It wasn’t a question of being a good cop or even being experienced. The question was, how would they work together.
He and Pete had spent years fine-tuning their technique, letting questions bounce back and forth between them, knowing exactly what the other would want to ask next and leading the witness in that direction.
It was like playing bridge. The game was won or lost by how well you read your partner’s signals. It was difficult and it was intimate. And without it, the job could be deadly.
Adam realized he was staring at Ramona, and blinked. He turned away, but not before he saw her smile to herself.
The young man who entered the lobby of Barton McFellan carried more than his own twenty-five years’ worth of importance. He walked with his back ramrod straight, his chest out. When he stopped in front of Adam and Ramona, he spoke down his nose rather than lowering his face.
“Officers.” He nodded at each of them. “I am Michael Ward. I can answer any questions you have. Mr. McFellan is not available.”
Ramona glanced at Adam and grinned, then rose from her seat in a single slow movement. After that first glance, she kept her eyes on the young man in front of her, and Adam felt the waves of disdain coming off her.
Ward must have felt them, too, for he took a step back.
Ramona took a step forward. She stood toe to toe with Ward, her eyes only fractionally below his. “We’re here to talk with M
r. McFellan.” Her voice was calm, quiet.
“I… I told you, I can answer—”
Ramona cut off Ward’s stumbling answer. “Mr. Ward, we made an appointment with Mr. McFellan as a courtesy.” She put her head on the side. “This interview is not optional. We’re going to talk with Jason McFellan.”
Ward took another step back, Ramona still matching his stride. His arms flailed at his side for a moment, and Adam didn’t know if he was going to brace himself against the wall to his left or slap Ramona across the face. Though he was pretty sure he knew what would really happen next.
Ward nodded. Coughed. Turned back toward the door through which he had entered. Adam and Ramona followed him through the door to the back rooms of Barton McFellan, Advocacy Consultants.
The ash in the crystal ashtray that sat on the walnut table next to the window surprised Adam. He could smell no trace of the cigar, and surely most buildings these days were strictly nonsmoking.
He glanced at Ramona. She had settled into one of the plush chairs facing McFellan’s desk. The chair stood only a few feet in front of the desk, but when combined with the expanse of polished walnut that made up the desk’s surface, she seemed yards away from McFellan, who leaned back heavily in his leather chair.
The wide window behind him gave an open view onto Franklin Square and let rays of light in to shine on McFellan’s desk and chair. A line of shadows cut across his face as he turned to look at them or leaned back farther in his chair.
McFellan was an impeccably groomed man of indeterminable age. Somewhere between thirty-five and fifty. Adam couldn’t tell if his confidence was making him look older than he really was or if tailored suits, tailored workouts, and weekly facials were making him look younger.
“Would you like to wait until your lawyer arrives?” Adam asked as he took the chair next to Ramona.
“That’s not necessary.” McFellan waved the suggestion away with a confident smile. He had sent his assistant off to call his legal counsel as soon as he understood that Adam and Ramona would be interviewing him that afternoon, regardless of his preference. “As you know, I have nothing to hide.” He grinned. “And I am perfectly capable of keeping secrets.”
Ramona smiled and inclined her head in agreement, which McFellan seemed to appreciate. He opened a drawer to his left and pulled out a cigar, then dropped it again when he saw Adam’s look.
“What can I do for you, officers?”
“We’d like to get your take on the shooting yesterday.” Ramona took the lead, smiling as she asked the question. “What you saw… what you heard… anything that would help the investigation.”
McFellan frowned. His brow furrowed as if in deep thought, he moved his head slowly up and down. “Yes, I see. But then” — he looked up at them — “isn’t the FBI investigating this attempted murder? Why is MPDC interested?”
“It wasn’t an attempted murder, sir.” Adam spoke calmly, quietly. Ramona’s hand tightened on the arm of her chair. “We’re here investigating the murder of Jay Kapoor.”
“Who?” McFellan’s look of confusion lasted only a second or two, enough for Adam to form a strong sense of the man. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” Now McFellan’s face registered compassion. Sorrow.
Adam’s lips turned up into a mockery of a smile, and he said nothing more, waiting.
McFellan turned his eyes to Ramona. She simply smiled in response.
“Ahem,” McFellan cleared his throat. “Well.” When neither Adam nor Ramona spoke, he continued, “I must admit, I do believe this was an attempt on the life of the senator, not Mr. Kapoor. The poor young man was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“A place in which he often found himself, though,” Adam pointed out, “next to the senator.”
“Well, yes. Of course.” McFellan shrugged. “But that’s his job. Was his job, I mean.”
“You have a background on the Hill yourself, Mr. McFellan. Isn’t that right?”
Adam glanced at Ramona, not expecting the question. This is what he had been worried about.
McFellan inclined his head. “That’s right. It’s no secret I started out in the Senate as well.”
Ramona laughed. “In the Senate. You make it sound like you were elected. You were a staffer, weren’t you?”
McFellan’s smile broadened. “I apologize if my answer sounded evasive, officer. I certainly didn’t intend it to. I’m very proud of my background. Yes, I started as an aide, like Mr. Kapoor. I worked my way up to Chief of Staff.”
The line of shadows fell across his face as he leaned back in his chair, linking his hands over his chest. “At one time I thought I’d run for office myself one day. It didn’t take me long to realize the real power is held by those behind the scenes.”
“Senate Chief of Staff wasn’t enough for you?” Adam asked.
McFellan laughed under his breath. Shook his head and looked down at his hands as he answered quietly, “I had complete power over the political positions of the senator from Wisconsin, without ever having to run for office. To expose myself to public scrutiny. I could do what I wanted. Run the country the way I thought it should be run.” He looked up again at Adam and Ramona. “What can I say?” He shrugged. “I saw the path before me and I took it. I moved even deeper behind the scenes. With even more power.”
“With the quaint title of advocacy consultant.” Ramona raised an eyebrow.
McFellan leaned forward, only slightly closing the gap between him and Ramona. “I don’t make the rules, I just know how to follow them. You’d be amazed what you can do once you really understand the system. It’s what everyone should do — learn the rules, take care of yourself. We’d all be better off.” He rolled his eyes and waved a hand as he spoke, disdain competing with arrogance on his face. “It’s not my fault if the great unwashed don’t even understand the rules they vote for. Or how to work them to their advantage.”
“Do you know the senator well, Mr. McFellan?” Ramona’s voice was friendly, inquisitive as she posed the question, her eyes showing nothing but curiosity, as if she hadn’t noticed McFellan’s attitude.
“Oh, yes.” McFellan leaned back in his chair again, folding his hands over his chest. “She works very closely with us, you know.” He looked back and forth between Adam and Ramona, then continued, “We’ve had an arrangement in place, oh…” McFellan pursed his lips as he thought about it. “Oh, for almost two years now.”
“Two years?” Adam asked. “What arrangement was that?”
Ramona glanced at Adam, but McFellan answered, “Her position here, of course. That she would be moving her offices here, from the Hill.”
Ramona nodded. “And since that arrangement was made, you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
McFellan shrugged. “Sure. Nothing unethical, of course.” He smiled at Adam. “We offered her financial support for a number of her priorities. Those that served the needs of our clients, you understand.”
“How does that work, Mr. McFellan?”
McFellan seemed confused by Adam’s question. “Well… we offered her certain gifts — hotel rooms, the use of our jet, constituent dinners… oh, um… maybe some cash now and then, donated to her campaign fund.”
“Her campaign fund? Given your arrangement, surely she wasn’t running for reelection?”
Ramona and McFellan both smiled at Adam’s question. “No, detective,” McFellan answered. “No, I suppose not.”
“Why did she need these gifts from you, sir?” Adam asked. “I understand that her husband had bankrolled her campaign and still provided financial support to her work.”
McFellan shrugged, raising his hands in acquiescence. “Is any amount ever really enough?”
“Or did she have other expenses?” Ramona asked. “Expenses she didn’t want him to know about?”
“My dear” — McFellan grinned at Ramona — “That’s really not for me to say, is it?”
Adam watched the transformation as Ramona’s
face grew hard, her eyes narrowed. “The ‘arrangement’ you’re describing is hardly legal, Mr. McFellan.” She raised her eyebrow as she spoke the word, making clear her disdain for the idea. “If we report this to the Select Committee on Ethics, she could be brought up on charges.”
McFellan’s grin dropped. “I suppose you could,” he said drily, “but since she’ll be working here by the end of the year, she’ll be out of their jurisdiction before they even convene a meeting to discuss the alleged transgression.”
“So… what? McFellan thought Jay was in his way somehow and decided to take him out?” Adam asked as he pushed the button for the elevator.
“That doesn’t fit with his personality, does it?” Ramona smiled as she looked sideways at Adam. “He’s more likely to find some way to get Jay fired, not shoot him. And it probably wouldn’t be too hard for him, based on some of the stuff I’ve seen about him online.”
“Like what?”
“He uses his money and his power to get whatever he wants. Budget line items for pet projects. Congressional votes suddenly shifting his way. You should check out some of the dirt posted on Political Dish.”
Adam smiled, thinking about the last thing he had read. A biography of the Black Count, the father of Alexander Dumas. Fascinating, but probably not relevant to this investigation. “I don’t follow political blogs, sorry. So maybe Senator Marshall realized what she was getting into and wanted a way out?”
“Doesn’t work.” Ramona smiled again. “He was still inside when the shot was fired.”
“And how could she have done it, when she was standing right next to Jay?” Adam finished the thought for her.
Ramona smiled. “You read my mind.”
“Just because she couldn’t do it herself, doesn’t mean she didn’t set it up.”
“John Marshall has something he’s not telling us, Sam’s sure of it. But how could he have done it, either? He was in the house with McFellan.”
