Murder at The Washington Tribune: A Capital Crimes Mystery
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The Washington Tribune took a double hit. One of its top editors was a murderer, and its best cops reporter was a liar and forger. Management did everything possible to put a positive spin on things, citing the paper’s long and distinguished history as a first-class newspaper whose corporate motto, Ethics First, would never be compromised by the wayward acts of a few.
While Hawthorne’s stories captivated those who still got their news from the printed page, Roberta Wilcox almost instantly became the most talked about broadcaster in Washington. There it was, a murder confession on tape, told exclusively to her by this madman, who was her uncle to boot, who obviously should never have been released from custody, another example of dismal failure on the part of mental health professionals and state legislatures. Members of congress seeking an issue called for new, tougher legislation to keep “the nuts” where they belonged, off the streets and safely behind bars.
Roberta Wilcox’s star became brighter and farther-reaching. She was booked on myriad talk shows where she deflected questions about her father by pointing to his notable and long career as a journalist, and tearfully saying that he was a wonderful, loving father who would always have her unyielding love and respect. Her father rarely watched his daughter on those shows. He went into seclusion at the house, seldom venturing out and taking only selected phone calls. His attorney, Frank Moss, negotiated on his behalf with the Tribune and managed to preserve his client’s pension. Together with his vested 401K and eventual Social Security, money would not be a pressing problem for Joe and Georgia, provided they didn’t decide to live the high life. Criminal charges against Wilcox were never brought, which Moss proudly pointed to as an example of his lawyering skills, not aware that the district attorney hadn’t planned to file charges anyway after pressure from MPD’s Bernard Evans on behalf of Detective Edith Vargas, formerly Edith Vargas-Swayze.
In the Years that Followed
Michael Wilcox’s confession of having murdered Rudy Grau saved the cost of a trial. Because the District of Columbia does not have a death sentence, he was sentenced to life without parole, and seemed almost happy at the contemplation of again having nothing but time in which to practice his guitar and write his novel. Roberta Wilcox and Gene Hawthorne were at the sentencing. She declined Hawthorne’s offer to go out for dinner, knowing of her father’s intense dislike of the young reporter. Still, she found him appealing. But romance was the last thing on her agenda. She was about to move to New York to become a correspondent on 20/20.
A jury found Paul Morehouse guilty of the second-degree murder of Jean Kaporis and sentenced him to forty years behind bars. His attorneys successfully made the point during the trial that their client, a good family man with a solid record of service to his community, had acted out of passion, nothing premeditated about the crime. Appeals were planned.
Joe and Georgia Wilcox sold their home in Rockville and moved to New Mexico, where she landed a part-time job in a library, leaving Joe at home to work on his nonfiction book about the events leading to his professional downfall. Georgia read his pages each night and thought they were wonderful. So did his editor at a New York publishing house. The book was scheduled for publication the following year.
Edith Vargas received a promotion, and took her first vacation in a year, visiting New Mexico where she dropped in on the Wilcoxes.
“You look very happy,” Edith told the couple when they’d settled on the expansive veranda after dinner, the mountains providing a stunning backdrop.
“All things considered,” Joe said, “things are pretty good. I want to run my manuscript past you when it’s finished to make sure I’ve got the police angles and nomenclature right. It’s been a while since I’ve written about them.”
“Happy to,” she said.
“What ever happened with the McNamara case?” he asked.
“Unsolved,” Edith replied. “In the cold file. Do you ever hear from your brother?”
“Yeah, I do as a matter of fact. He writes, and he sent us this tape of him playing the guitar. He’s really good.”
Vargas smiled and handed the cassette back. “And how about Roberta?”
“We speak with her often,” Joe said. “It took a while for her to come to grips with what her old man did, but she has. We’re closer than ever.”
“She’s doing fine,” Georgia said. “We watch her on 20/20. I wish she’d meet some nice guy and settle down, though, give me a grandchild or two.”
“Too busy, I guess,” Edith said.
“How about you, Edith?” Joe asked. “Any new men in your life?”
“I’ve been seeing a really nice guy, a detective from the Crimes Against Property unit. Hispanic. Puerto Rican.”
“And?” Joe and Georgia said in unison.
“Just dating,” said the detective, standing and stretching. “This has been lovely. It’s great seeing you two again.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Joe said, “after what I pulled.”
She playfully punched his arm. “Hey,” she said, “we all make mistakes. I dumped mine in divorce court.” She took in the veranda and mountains with a sweep of her hand. “And it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of dumping yours.”
Georgia walked Edith to her rental car while Joe cleared a final few things from the table.
“I know about you and Joe,” Georgia said flatly as the two women stood next to Edith’s rental car.
“Oh? Georgia, I—”
“It’s okay, Edith. He said he wanted to clear the decks. I’m glad he did. It hurt at first, but I’m beyond that now.”
Edith sighed, and nodded. “No secrets, huh? That’s always the better way to go. Look, I’m sorry, Georgia. You know it was only an impetuous, one-time thing. He’s suffered guilt ever since. I suppose I have, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open.”
“He offered to give me a divorce,” Georgia said. “I told him I didn’t want that. And I want you to know that I don’t have any ill feelings toward you, Edith. Things happen, that’s all. I’m at peace with it, and with you.”
Joe joined them at the curb. He kissed Edith on the cheek and said, “Say hello to anyone you run across back in D.C. who might remember me.”
“Come back and do it yourself,” Edith said. “No need to keep your head buried in the sand, Joe. Some of them do the same thing you did. The only difference is they haven’t gotten caught.” She smiled at Georgia and said to Joe, “And treat this lady right, my friend. She’s a keeper.”
“Buenos noches, amiga,” Joe said as Edith got behind the wheel and started the car.
“Yeah,” she said, “buenos noches.”
They watched Edith drive away, her taillights disappearing over a crest in the road.
“Feel like some ice cream?” he asked as they returned to the house, his arm draped loosely over her shoulder.
“That sounds nice,” she said. “Yes, some ice cream sounds very good.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARGARET TRUMAN has won faithful readers with her works of biography and fiction, particularly her ongoing series of Capital Crimes mysteries. Her novels let us into the corridors of power and privilege, and poverty and pageantry, in the nation’s capital. She is the author of many nonfiction books, most recently The President’s House, in which she shares some of the secrets and history of the White House, where she once resided. She lives in Manhattan.
BY MARGARET TRUMAN
First Ladies
Bess W. Truman
Souvenir
Women of Courage
Harry S. Truman
Letters from Father: The Truman Family’s
Personal Correspondences
Where the Buck Stops
White House Pets
The President’s House
IN THE CAPITAL CRIMES SERIES
Murder in Foggy Bottom
Murder at the Library of Congress
Murder at the Watergate
Murder in the House
/> Murder at the National Gallery
Murder on the Potomac
Murder at the Pentagon
Murder in the Smithsonian
Murder at the National Cathedral
Murder at the Kennedy Center
Murder in the CIA
Murder in Georgetown
Murder at the FBI
Murder on Embassy Row
Murder in the Supreme Court
Murder on Capitol Hill
Murder in the White House
Murder in Havana
Murder at Ford’s Theatre
Murder at Union Station
Murder at The Washington Tribune
Murder at The Washington Tribune is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Margaret Truman
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN 0-345-48603-X
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