A Thin Veil

by Jane Gorman

  Adam smiled. “I’m sure there are. How about Jay, did he have a girlfriend?”

  “Jay?” Todd laughed. “The only person Jay cared about was Jay. Trust me on that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Todd’s beer glass now sat empty between them and he was warming to his story. Adam sat back and listened, knowing better than to interrupt.

  “Jay knew about my past. At first he said he didn’t care.” Todd laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. He cared, believe me. He cared when it came time to pay the rent. ‘Oh, Todd, you can front me this month, right? We wouldn’t want Lisa finding out about your record, would we?’” Todd’s voice rose as he mimicked Jay.

  “Was he often short of funds?” Adam asked.

  “Jay?” This time Todd’s laugh was real. “That man was never short of funds. He was rolling in it.”

  “Your job doesn’t pay that well, does it? Do you think he was getting support from his parents?”

  “Not from his parents. No way. He was getting it from somewhere, though. Maybe other people he had dirt on?” Todd looked directly at Adam. “Maybe those thugs he thought I didn’t know about?”

  “Thugs?”

  “You know, dirtbags. He’d meet up with them on the corner a couple of blocks from our apartment, in Adams Morgan.”

  “Why would Jay be meeting with shady characters on a street corner?” Adam smiled even as he asked it, at the absurdity of what Todd was describing.

  “Fine, don’t believe me. Whatever. Like I said, this is none of my business anyway. Or yours.”

  Adam put both hands out to calm Todd down. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I do believe you, and I appreciate you telling me.” He waited until Todd’s breathing had slowed back to normal before continuing. “Tell me more about your work. What do you do for the senator?”

  Todd shrugged. “We answer constituent mail. Work with other offices to develop language. Write up briefing statements on issues she’s considering.”

  “How does she choose what issues she’s going to focus on?”

  Todd shrugged again. “I don’t know. Whatever interests her, I guess. Oh, and we run interference when she’s trying to avoid someone.” Todd smiled as he spoke.

  “Anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” When Todd didn’t answer, Adam pushed. “Greg Towne, maybe?”

  Todd laughed out loud. “So you’ve met Towne, huh? Yeah, he’s a character. Lisa wouldn’t have met with him if he’d camped out in the hall outside her office. Which he came pretty close to doing, by the way.”

  Adam smiled with him. “What’s his story?”

  “Ah, I don’t know. Sad old guy, really. He wanted to save some building, and she refused. Voted for tearing it down and replacing it with a hotel.” He looked back at Adam, his eyes and voice completely serious now. “We need that hotel, you know. We need the jobs, we need the tourists it will bring. This is no joking matter. Historical buildings are all good and well, but the economy is more important.” He shrugged. “To Lisa, anyway.”

  Adam took another sip of his lager as he considered what Todd had told him. The room was slowly emptying out now, the after-work crowd moving on to their various dinner plans or heading home for the evening. Todd shifted on his stool and Adam knew he wouldn’t keep his attention for much longer.

  “Thanks for sharing all this with me, Todd. What you’ve told me about Jay, that’s going to help. A lot.”

  “You won’t tell his parents, though, will you?”

  Adam’s opinion of Todd moved a step up as he saw real concern in Todd’s eyes. “Not if I can avoid it. They deserve to keep their memory of their son.”

  Todd smiled. “You’re in it now, though, Detective.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Like I said, everyone will know I met with you. And they’ll wonder what I told you. You might not believe me about them, but those guys Jay met with, they did not look like nice guys. They looked dangerous.”

  “And now they’ll know I know about them?”

  Todd shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows. Maybe no one else on the Hill knows about them, and they’ll never hear that I met with you. Maybe they don’t even know I know about them.”

  Adam nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled. “That’s how I know I’m getting somewhere in an investigation.”

  “How?” Todd asked, his brow furrowing.

  “When people start getting worried. And start making mistakes.”

  18

  Sam finished chewing before asking, “So your captain didn’t have a problem, did he?”

  Ramona wiped the pizza grease off her hands. “Nah. He’s cool. Passed on the complaint, like he has to. He gets why MPDC has to be involved. He wants me to keep digging.” She picked up her slice of pepperoni and took another bite. Grease pooled on the paper plate in front of her.

  “Good.” Sam looked around. “Kaminski should be here soon. He said he’d meet us.”

  Ramona shrugged. “Probably still finding his way around.”

  They sat in a booth toward the back of the narrow pizzeria. The counter that ran along the other wall stopped a few feet short of where they sat, and the booth behind theirs was unoccupied. With only the doors to the restrooms and utility closet near their table, it was a good place for a private conversation.

  Sam watched Ramona dig into her slice and smiled. Her appetite, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and dough, the clank of pizza oven doors opening and closing… it all brought back memories of the many evenings he had spent on patrol with Ramona’s father. Learning everything he could from the older man.

  He had just turned his attention back to his own dinner when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Adam slid into the booth next to him, the weight of his large frame shifting the cushion underneath him.

  “Adam, glad you could make it.” Sam slid over to make room. “I figured it made sense for us all to touch base, see where we are. Ramona was filling me in on your meeting with McFellan today.”

  “Great.” Adam smiled at Sam, then stood, barely glancing at Ramona. “I’ll grab a coupla slices and join you.”

  Ramona watched him walk away, her face a mask.

  “So tell me,” Sam nudged her.

  By the time Adam came back with his pizza, Ramona was wrapping up the story. She paused, glancing at Adam. A tentative smile touched her lips, then fled as Adam looked away. Adam focused on his dinner while Ramona finished her report.

  Sam knew she had given him all the details of their interview, including their exit interview with McFellan’s lawyer. But she’d definitely left something out. The story she’d shared shed no light on what was causing the tension between her and Adam.

  “I spoke to the Kapoors,” Adam said, then took a bite of his first slice.

  Sam nodded, waiting for Adam to finish chewing. “How are they holding up?”

  “Like you’d expect. They need answers, I don’t have any yet.” Adam looked across the table at Ramona, the first time they’d made eye contact. “How about you, did your captain really give you grief ’cause of that lawyer?”

  Ramona shook her head as she took a sip from her paper cup.

  “So what do we know?” Sam looked at his friends. “I got some stuff on Marshall — the mister, I mean. A lot of it I think you already know. She ran on his money, seems to rely on his ideas.”

  “I still think there might be more there,” Ramona said, frowning. “Just because they agree on stuff doesn’t mean she’s blindly following him.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” Sam held up his hand. “I won’t rule anything out.”

  “Any problems in their past?” Adam interrupted them.

  Sam frowned, surprised. “She’s a politician. So, yeah, definitely.” He ran his hand along his chin as he thought about what he’d learned over the past two days. “Let’s see, there were accusations of corruption, but that’s not unusual and they came to nothing. There’s always a lot of muckraking in any campaign.” He stared at Adam for a mome
nt, thinking. “They lost a child. That’s bound to have some effect on their behavior. Their outlook on life.”

  “No kidding.” Adam frowned and looked like he was going to say more, then shut his mouth.

  Sam waited, then added, “It almost derailed her political career. She announced her retirement from City Council right after.”

  “The people spoke,” Ramona said.

  “She was already popular with the voters, and this made her even more human. The way she handled it, the way she and her husband stood together as a family despite the tragedy.” Sam shrugged. “She accepted their support, thanked them for their condolences. And she kept working. Her career really picked up after that.”

  Sam glanced at Adam, and watched as his eyelids dropped, his eyes darkened, his lips pulled tight. “Sorry, man. You okay?”

  Adam gave one nod, his attention apparently focused on a spot across the restaurant. “Bugs me, that’s all.”

  Sam and Ramona looked at Adam, then exchanged glances. “What’s bugging you, Kaminski?” Ramona asked the question.

  “It hits too close to home, that’s all.” Adam shrugged and dragged his eyes back to his friends at the table. “I lost some kids once. In a drive-by.” The muscles in his cheek moved as he talked, his jaw tight. “They never caught the guy.”

  “Your kids?” Ramona asked in whisper.

  Adam moved his head to one side. “My students. I was a teacher then.”

  “Ah.” Ramona smiled and bit into her last slice as if trying to cover it up.

  Sam toyed with his napkin, waiting for Adam to get his control back.

  Before Sam could speak, Ramona spoke again. “And here I thought you became a cop for the thrills.”

  Sam sat up straight, expecting Adam to respond with anger. His response was quiet, a simple question. “Why’d you think that?”

  Ramona shrugged. “I guess it’s a stereotype. God knows I’m the last person who should be falling for those.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked at Adam.

  “What kind of stereotype?”

  “You know, the tough guy, the kind of guy who likes to have a woman on the side. I guess I jumped to conclusions.”

  Sam cringed, but Adam said nothing more, only frowned.

  “We need to know more about Ambassador Saint-Amand,” Sam jumped in before Ramona could say anything else. “We’ve got the background on Lisa Marshall, but there’s too much we don’t know about Saint-Amand. And I should be able to dig something up fairly easily.”

  “Sounds good. I want to learn a little more about our friend Towne, too.”

  “Towne?” Adam’s eyes wrinkled with the question. “You taking him seriously as a suspect?”

  Ramona shrugged. “His name keeps coming up. It seems he was a regular at the senator’s offices. I’ll see what I can find on him.”

  “Good.” Sam slapped his hands on the table. “That’s it for me tonight, then. I gotta get home. Call the kids. Kiss my wife.”

  He grinned widely at Adam, who slid out of the way. “Take care, you two,” he said as he turned away. Then throwing a significant glance at Ramona, he added, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Ramona laughed as Adam slid back into his seat, grabbing his paper cup and draining it.

  Sam paused in the doorway, turning back to watch Ramona and Adam before heading out. Ramona’s hands played with her napkin as she looked at Adam. “You know, up to now I would have said that reading people was one of my strongest skills, Detective.”

  “Best skill a cop can have.”

  Her lips turned up into a fraction of a grin. “So why can’t I get a good read on you? I seem to keep getting you wrong.”

  Adam smiled back at her, running his hand across his face as he did so, then stood. “I gotta go, too. I got a call to make.”

  Sam stepped out onto the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, a frown on his face. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake pairing those two up together.

  Sylvia’s voice came on the line after only three rings. She never answered his calls that fast, so Adam wasn’t surprised to hear the familiar message.

  He waited for the beep before he spoke. “It’s me honey, calling to say I love you. Give me a call if you get in at a reasonable time tonight.”

  He tapped the screen to end the call, then tossed the phone next to him on the worn bedcover. With a grunt, he adjusted the pillows behind him and sat back, staring at the wall across the room. A bland image of beige, white, and red swaths of paint hung on the wall, covering faded wallpaper.

  The pain in his gut returned, and he shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “Should never eat pizza late at night,” he chided himself, though he knew it wasn’t the food that was bothering him.

  He shifted his eyes, staring at the dark phone next to him, running the day’s events over in his mind.

  His meeting with Towne. That was a man on a mission, and fanatics could be dangerous if they lost sight of their ethics in pursuit of their goal. But killing Senator Marshall didn’t serve Towne’s purposes. Unless there was something else he wasn’t sharing.

  He thought about McFellan, but his mind kept seeing Ramona — standing down the assistant, smiling sweetly at the lawyer.

  Adam shifted on the bed again and picked up the phone. He tapped the screen to life, willing it to ring.

  Ambassador Saint-Amand’s staff was another angle. Maybe Hennessy was right on that, maybe this was all a drug deal gone wrong. That had definite promise. And meant he’d be heading back to Sylvia sooner rather than later.

  He touched his phone again. No message from Sylvia. With a frown, he dialed a new number.

  “Hello?” Julia’s voice was soft, pleasant.

  Adam smiled into the phone. “Hey, sis, how’s it going?”

  “Adam.” He could hear her answering smile in her voice, picture her eyes wrinkling up in pleasure. “How you doing? Where are you?”

  “Back at my hotel. It’s been a long day. The case is getting kind of interesting, though.”

  Julia took a deep breath. “I hope so, interesting enough to make it worth focusing on death.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I won’t burden you with the details. It is sad.” Adam’s brow lowered as he nodded. “I’m on a good team here. Some smart people. We’ll figure it out.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line, and he heard the sounds of running water, then the click of a gas range coming on. “You at home?”

  “Yep,” Julia answered. “Just putting on some water for tea. Want some?”

  He laughed. “That sounds great. Wish I could come over.” He pictured her in her loft apartment, the kitchen open to the living room, steps up to the raised bedroom beyond. Not large, but open and airy. And filled with images, with paintings from Julia’s days at art school, with work given to her by friends trying to make a living as sculptors and painters, and with Julia’s own photographs, hanging on her own walls while waiting patiently for a chance to hang on a studio wall.

  Some of her work had sold. Not at great prices, but she was slowly building a name for herself in the art community in Philly and New York. Slowly. Until then, she filled in the gaps with jobs doing weddings and parties. And with the occasional loan from her big brother.

  He heard a shuffle as the phone moved against her shoulder and he could imagine her brushing her strawberry blond hair back off her face, pulling it to the other side of her neck.

  “How’s your work going?”

  “Mmm, okay.” A spoon clinked against a ceramic mug. “I have a wedding this weekend, so that’s good.”

  “Heard anything from Woodley’s yet?” Adam asked about a local gallery that had hinted at some interest in carrying her photographs.

  “Not yet, but it’s early days. They’re planning their winter showcase now.”

  Adam nodded to himself, impressed as always with her optimism.

  “All right, then, just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re okay.”


  “How’s Sylvia?” Julia’s question was quiet, simple. Adam knew what it implied.

  “She’s fine. I spoke to her yesterday. She’s busy with work, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Whenever Adam felt the urge to advise Julia about her choice of career, he remembered her opinions of his choice of women. And kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to start that conversation again.

  “Okay. Take care of yourself.”

  “You, too, Adam. Stay safe.”

  Adam hung up and looked back at the mass-produced image hanging on his wall, wishing it was Julia’s photograph. Julia’s photograph of him and Sylvia at the flower show this past spring.

  Wishing it was Sylvia.

  19

  The angle of the sun turned the windows into mirrors, revealing nothing from inside the apartment. Adam shifted on the bench and turned his head. It didn’t help. He counted the windows up from the bottom, fairly certain he was looking at Jay’s bedroom windows.

  It was two days since Jay had died. He wondered if Todd had started looking for a new roommate yet.

  Ramona nudged him as she sat next to him on the bench. “Here.” She handed him a paper cup of coffee. “I didn’t know how you liked it, but I figured you for a cream and sugar type of guy.”

  He smiled as he took the cup. “You figured right, thanks.”

  “Finally.” Her smile grew, then she turned her eyes to see what he had been looking at. “Jay’s apartment?”

  “Yep.” He took a tentative sip, then a bigger one. He looked around Dupont Circle. Every bench was taken, with business men and women sipping coffee and looking at their phones, students in groups, or solitary figures reading, listening to music, talking on phones. Pedestrians filled the paths, moving quickly around the fountain in the center of the square as skateboarders took over one side path. A tall black man in a leather jacket stood on the far side of the fountain, flipping through a magazine. “Busy area,” he commented.

  “Mm-hmm.” Ramona nodded as she sipped her coffee. Adam wondered how she took hers, but didn’t ask. “This is a great neighborhood,” she said after she had swallowed. “Center of town, close to everything, a Metro stop.” She looked around as she spoke. “Restaurants… cafes… bars.” She frowned. “Pretty good location for an aide.”