D.C. Dead

by Stuart Woods

  “Of course,” Stone said.

  “Stone?” Kate Lee said.

  “Mrs. Lee, I know why you’re calling.”

  “I should think you do. What on earth is going on?”

  Stone looked at Holly; he needed to hand off this call.

  “I’m not here,” Holly whispered.

  “We haven’t found out yet, but we’re working on it. May I call you back later today, when I should know more?”

  “Oh, all right,” she said, “but it had better be good.” The first lady hung up.

  “Oh, shit,” Stone said. He sat down on the bed and put his face in his hands.

  41

  DINO DROVE, WHILE STONE WORKED THE CAR’S NAVIGATOR and Holly sat in the rear seat. The sexy woman’s voice directed them, turn by turn, to a pleasant street in Arlington, Virginia.

  “Uh-oh,” Holly said, “look up ahead.”

  There were two large vans parked on the street in front of a nice split-level house, and there were half a dozen other cars, as well. The lawn was populated with men and women with cameras, microphones, and notebooks. “Oh, Jesus,” Stone said.

  “Pull over here,” Holly said, when they were three or four houses away.

  “Aren’t we going in?” Stone asked.

  “Are you kidding? After that story in the papers this morning, every reporter here has a photo of you and Dino in his pocket. You’d be manufacturing a whole new headline.”

  “I see your point,” Stone said.

  “Further to my point,” Holly said, “they don’t have a photo of me in their pockets, and I’m not going to give them the opportunity to take one.”

  “So, what do we do?” Dino asked.

  “Just sit tight for a minute,” Holly said, taking out her cell phone and dialing a number. When it was answered, she identified herself. “I need a street cleaned, and right now,” she said. She gave the address of Charlotte Kirby’s house. “Two TV vans, half a dozen cars, and a dozen reporters and technicians. Soonest. And I want the street blocked for the rest of the day, except for identified residents.” She hung up. “It’ll be a few minutes,” she said.

  “You can do that?” Dino asked. “Block a street and throw out the media?”

  “Let’s just say someone can do it,” Holly replied. “You and I don’t need to know whom.”

  “Who,” Stone said drily.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Stone leafed through his copy of the Times, folded the Arts section back to the crossword, uncapped his pen, and started in.

  “He does that every day,” Dino said.

  “Don’t I know it?” Holly replied.

  “In ink,” Dino said, “just to annoy me.”

  “I wish you two had brought your own crosswords,” Stone said. “Now, be quiet so I can think.”

  “You need quiet to think?” Holly asked. “You wouldn’t make it as a CIA officer.”

  “And you never finish a crossword,” Stone said.

  They sat quietly in the car for another ten minutes, then two Arlington police cars drove into the street from opposite ends, their lights flashing, no sirens. The cars stopped, and four officers emerged and engaged the crowd on the lawn in conversations. Voices were raised, arms were waved, and insults were shouted, but the crowd eventually was swallowed up by their respective vans and cars and drove out of the block, whereupon the two police cars took up station at each end of the street.

  “I think we can go in now,” Holly said.

  “That was very nրeatly done,” Dino said admiringly as he drove to the house and pulled into the driveway. “If I tried to do that in New York, I’d end up in stocks.”

  “We can do it in New York, too,” Holly said, getting out of the car.

  The three of them walked to the front door of the house and Stone rang the bell. Nothing happened. Stone stepped back and regarded the house. A lamp was on in a window, but there was no other sign of life.

  “She’s not going to answer,” Dino said.

  Holly started to walk to the rear of the house. “Wait here,” she said.

  Stone and Dino leaned against the wrought-iron railing of the porch and waited. “She’s going to break in,” Dino said, “isn’t she?”

  “They teach them that at the Agency,” Stone replied.

  The front door opened and Holly waved them inside. “Mrs. Kirby invites you in,” she said. “She’s in her bedroom, if you’d like to follow me.” Holly led them to a bedroom door, opened it, but stopped them before they could enter. “Let’s preserve the scene for the local cop shop.”

  Charlotte Kirby was sitting up in bed, but her head had rolled to one side. The wall behind the bed and a picture hanging on it were spattered with blood and brain matter, and there was a hole in the picture.

  “From what I can see,” Dino said, “self-administered gunshot wound to the head, via the mouth. Fairly small caliber.”

  “I concur,” Stone said.

  “So do I,” Holly replied.

  “Why is it that everybody we need information from in this case either offs himself or somebody does it for him?” Stone asked plaintively.

  “I’ve noticed that,” Holly said drily, taking out her cell phone and pressing a speed-dial number. “Okay,” she said, “time to get the locals in here. They’ll need a wagon and a crime-scene team. Looks like a suicide.” She hung up.

  “I don’t see a weapon,” Stone said. “Can’t I just tiptoe in there and look around for it?”

  “Absolutely not,” Holly replied. “They’ve been nice enough to clear the street for us, so we’re not going to fuck up their crime scene by way of thanks.”

  “Oh, all right,” Stone said.

  “If somebody fired the shot for her, they’ll still find a gun,” Dino said. “The March Hare is not stupid, that much we know.”

  “Oh,” Holly said, “I think poor Charlotte had plenty of reason not to want to ever leave her bed again.”

  “I’ll bet there’s a diary in the bedside drawer,” Stone said.

  “I’d certainly like to find out,” Dino replied. “Holly?”

  “Don’t point that thing at me,” Holly said. “You want to tiptoe in there and take a peek, it’s on your head.”

  “Nah,” Dino said, “it’s on Stone’s head. He’s the only one here who doesn’t have a government job to hang on to.”

  “Oh, all right,” Stone said. He slipped off his shoes and tiptoed across the rose-colored carpet to the bedside table and, with his pen, engaged the drawer pull and slid it open. He poked around in the drawer with the pen, then closed it and tiptoed back to the door. “No diary,ۀ “No d” he said. “Just condoms, lubricant, and tissues.”

  “Charlotte was ready for anything, wasn’t she?” Holly asked.

  Stone started down the hall, back toward the front of the house.

  “Where are you going?” Holly asked.

  “I want to see what else is in this house,

  ” Stone replied.

  Dino followed, producing a pair of latex gloves from a pocket and donning them.

  Holly trailed the two. The three of them stood in the neat living room and looked around, then Stone walked into what turned out to be a den.

  There was a desk and some bookcases and a filing cabinet. “You do this one, Dino,” Stone said. “You’re gloved.”

  Dino started with the filing cabinet. “Bills, tax returns, a file of clippings from travel magazines,” Dino said, after a minute’s look.

  “Try the desk,” Stone said.

  Dino walked to the desk and opened the three top drawers. “Bingo,” he said.

  42

  SOMEONE HAMMERED ON THE FRONT DOOR. HOLLY WENT TO answer it, and Dino stuffed the diary under his belt in the small of his back. Holly returned with two police detectives and a couple of people with satchels. Holly directed them to the bedroom, but one detective remained with them.

  “So,” he said to Holly, “I know who you are. Who are these two?”

&nb
sp; “Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, NYPD, and Stone Barrington, NYPD, retired.”

  The detective nodded. “I read the papers. This got something to do with that lady from the White House?”

  “The corpse in the bedroom is the lady from the White House,” Holly replied.

  “Be right back,” the detective said. “You three stay here.” He walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

  “Don’t you dare give him that diary,” Holly said to Dino.

  “I hadn’t planned to,” Dino replied.

  The detective returned. “How come you’re gloved?” he asked Dino.

  “Because I’m the only one carrying gloves.”

  “What did you touch with those gloves?”

  “I had a look in the filing cabinet in the study and in the top desk drawers.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Nothing I’d want in my scrapbook.”

  “Did the lady have a diary?”

  “I looked in the bedside drawer,” Stone said, “and there was no diary. I didn’t touch anything, though. Your people have a clean shot at prints.”

  “Gee, thanks,” the detective said. “Suppose I print all of you, anyway?”

  “Suppose you go fuck yourself,” Dino said.

  “Now, gentlemen,” Holly interjected. “Everybody be nice. Detective, I’ll confirm that nobody touched anything.”

  “How’d you get in the house?” he asked. “The front door was locked.”

  “The bހack door isn’t,” Holly said, careful about her use of tense.

  “You spooks don’t run the Arlington PD,” he said.

  “We have neither the time nor the inclination,” Holly replied. “We’re grateful for your help.”

  Stone spoke up. “You should be grateful,” he said to the detective.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because if she hadn’t made the request, you’d have two TV trucks out there and a yard full of reporters clamoring for a statement.”

  The detective made a mock curtsy in Holly’s direction. “Thanks for keeping my picture out of the papers. The chief might have seen it.”

  “Here’s an idea,” Dino said. “Why don’t you call them back in?”

  “Good idea,” the detective replied.

  “Detective,” Holly said, “I don’t think you need us anymore.”

  “Christ knows that’s true,” he replied. “Good afternoon and good riddance.”

  Holly herded Stone and Dino out the door. “Let’s move,” she said. Then, when they were outside: “Dino, don’t let that diary fall down your pants.”

  THEY WERE BACK IN the suite at the Hay-Adams before Dino produced the diary. Holly grabbed it, sat on the sofa, opened it to the last page, and read aloud.

  “‘Those two from New York grilled me relentlessly this afternoon. I told them everything, and it was embarrassing, but it turned me on. Took care of that when I got home. Now I’m depressed.’”

  “She doesn’t sound all that depressed,” Dino said, “not if she could do herself after our conversation.”

  “I never knew being interrogated was a turn-on,” Stone said.

  “I’m taking that as a compliment,” Dino replied.

  Holly was turning pages, scanning them. “My goodness, she described every sexual encounter with Brix, even the masturbatory ones!”

  “Was she sleeping with anybody else besides Brix?” Stone asked.

  “Apparently not,” Holly replied.

  “Then the paraphernalia in her bedside drawer was just in case?”

  Holly closed the diary and tossed it to Stone. “This only goes back to the first of last year. She must have earlier ones.”

  “I don’t think it’s worth trying to get them out of the Arlington cops,” Stone said. “Not if this one covers the time leading up to the deaths of Brix and his wife.”

  “You can read the whole thing,” Holly said, rising. “I’m going back to the office.”

  “Why don’t you brief the director,” Stone said. “I’m not ready to face her again.”

  “What can I tell her?”

  “Tell her we’ve hit a brick wall. Tell her all our possible witnesses are dead.”

  “I’ll do that,” Holly said, then took her leave.

  “There’s one still alive,” Dino said when she had gone. “The March Hare.”

  “Well,” Stone said, “if you’d like to introduce me tntroduceo her, I’ll be glad to ask her all the right questions.”

  “I think you already know her,” Dino said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure, she’s somebody at the White House, and you know who you know there.”

  “Fair Sutherlin?”

  “Who else?”

  “I don’t buy it.”

  “Who else you got?”

  Stone shrugged. “We can’t nail her for all this just because we don’t have another suspect.”

  “Stone, do you remember ever having been a cop?” Dino asked.

  “Vaguely.”

  “What does a cop do when he’s eliminated all the suspects but one, but he doesn’t have any evidence?”

  “You want us to interrogate Fair?”

  “Why not? I’d beat her with a telephone book if I could get away with it.”

  “I don’t think my heart would be in it,” Stone said.

  “I think you’re referring to another part of your anatomy,” Dino said.

  “You think that just because I slept with her, I’d give her a pass?”

  “I can’t think of any other reason for you to give her a pass,” Dino said. “Tell me one.”

  “I just don’t think she’s capable of all this. Under the political hard shell, she’s a decent person.”

  “That’s not an assumption I’m willing to make,” Dino said. “Call her.”

  43

  FAIR SUTHERLIN’S NEW SECRETARY SHOWED THEM INTO HER office. “Hey, fellas,” she said, waving them to the sofa. “What’s up?”

  “You already have a new secretary?” Dino asked.

  “They’re lined up, wanting to get into the West Wing,” Fair replied. “It only took a phone call. I hear you went out to Charlotte Kirby’s house, just in time to discover the body.”

  “Yes,” Stone said, “we always seem to get places just a little late.”

  “What did you find?”

  Dino snorted. “You mean you haven’t seen the crime-scene photos yet?”

  “Actually, I did. They were e-mailed to me. I’ve never seen anything quite like that. I’ve only got twenty minutes, fellas, and you’ve already used up five. What do you need?”

  “Just some answers,” Dino said.

  Stone crossed his legs and looked at a picture on the wall across the room. “Is that one from the National Gallery?” he asked.

  Fair started to answer, but Dino cut her off.

  “Never mind that. You were in the White House when Brix’s wife’s body was found, weren’t you?”

  “Don’t you remember our last conversation about that?” she asked irritably.

  “Indulge me.”

  “I’m at the White House every day of my life,” she said, “weekends included, and a lot of nights, too. Ask怅c me if I killed her.”

  “Did you kill her?” Dino asked, following instructions. “Even accidentally?”

  “No. What else?”

  “But you knew her.”

  “Asked and answered the first time we talked. Listen, do you think that by asking me the same questions over and over, you’re going to get different answers?”

  “I’ve known it to happen,” Dino said.

  “Well, this is not a police interrogation room, and I’m not the perp, so don’t try that shit with me.”

  “Shall I tell the president you said that?” Dino asked.

  “Tell him anything you like,” Fair said, shrugging. “Now, let’s cut to the chase, fellas. We’re busy around here saving the country.”

  “Saving it from what?” Stone
asked.

  “Whatcha got?” she asked. “We’ll save the country from it. We do that every day. Some days, we save the world.”

  “How did that story about us interviewing Charlotte Kirby get into the papers?” Dino asked. “And don’t tell me it’s Washington.”

  “It’s Washington,” Fair replied.

  “Did you give it to somebody?”

  “I did not. Did it ever occur to you that Charlotte might have given it to somebody?”

  “And then offed herself because it was in the papers?”

  “Stranger things have happened in this town. What’s going on here?”

  Stone spoke up again. “We’ve run out of people to interview. You’re the last witness standing.”

  “Witness? Witness to what?”

  “You tell us,” Dino said.

  Fair looked at her wristwatch. “You’ve got one more question. Make it a good one.”

  Stone looked at Dino. “Yeah, make it a good one. I’m on tenterhooks.”

  “All right,” Dino said. “Who do you think killed the Kendricks?”

  Fair sighed. “I think Brix killed them both,” she said, then stood up. “Now get out of here. I’m not talking to either of you anymore.” She looked at Stone. “Unless there’s a drink and dinner involved.”

  Stone and Dino shuffled out of her office, and the door slammed behind them.

  “That was pretty lame,” Stone said.

  “Yeah, and you were such a great help,” Dino replied.

  “It was your party. I didn’t want to talk to her in the first place.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  They walked down the hall and out to the car.

  “You still think she’s the March Hare?” Stone asked.

  “Who else is there?” Dino asked.

  “There must be seven or eight hundred people working in there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the West Wing. “We didn’t talk to all of them.”

  “Are you proposing that we talk to just the women?” Dino asked.

  “Suppose the Marchose the Hare is a man? Suppose Brix swung both ways?”