by Roger Weston
“You better rethink your plan,” Byrd warned. “Or I’m going give those tourists down there a big surprise.”
Drool dripped from Ratlif’s mouth and fell to the floor of the Rotunda far below.
He said, “If anything happens to me, the information I know about the both of you will be turned over to the proper authorities and political enemies. You’ll both be ruined.”
“Let him go,” Galloway said.
“No, he’s gonna take the fall. We’re gonna make a statement on the floor of the rotunda.”
“I said ‘Let him go’ Byrd. Now!”
Byrd reluctantly obeyed the speaker. He stepped back. Lionel dropped to his knees and vomited on the viewing platform. Then he dry-heaved several times. Finally he got back up on his feet.
“Next time you’re going over,” Byrd said with obvious pleasure.
“There isn’t going to be a next time.” Ratlif wiped his mouth with his embroidered handkerchief, a gift from his beloved mother.
“That’s right,” Galloway said. “You won’t release any of that information if you know what’s best for you. You won’t release it because there will be consequences if you do. Not only that, it won’t do you any good. The people in my district want handouts. They couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether or not some doorman makes a groundless accusation; furthermore, you will find yourself in the middle of a scandal so ugly you’ll wish you were dead. Yes, I can make that happen. Your credibility will be zero when we’re through with you.”
“You’ve had your warning,” Lionel said, feeling sick again.
“And you’ve had yours,” Galloway answered. “You mess with us and I promise that you will wish that Byrd let you fly. You will rue the day that Byrd decided to let you live.”
CHAPTER 34
Georgetown
Pain sprung through Rosa’s body as he lay there tackled on the floor of the lobby of his former condo complex. His shoulder hurt. His ribs hurt. Pain spasmed through his neck. The security officer had grabbed his hair and was pushing his face against the tiles, but the worst feeling was his sudden fear over what would happen next.
“Get off me,” Rosa said. “I’m an owner.”
“I don’t care who you are. The police are on their way, and you’re going to talk to them.”
“Let me up.”
“Forget about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have been identified as part of a crime, including murder.”
“Are you insane? Murder. That’s totally wrong.”
“I don’t care. That’s between you and the police.”
“Just let me up until they get here.”
“No, I’m not going to, but if you’re innocent, then you should have no problem. I’m sure the police will let you go if you tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth.”
“Like I said, it’s between you and the police, but we have a body in the courtyard. Somebody has some explaining to do.”
“The police are the ones responsible for that.”
“For what?”
“The body.”
“Sure, pal. Are you taking medications?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Just asking.”
A siren was heard. It cut out, and a minute later, two cops entered the lobby with their guns drawn.
“I’ve got the suspect right here,” the security man bragged. “I’ll turn him over to you now.”
“Why do you have him pinned down like that?”
“Didn’t you hear me? There’s been a murder.”
“All right, let me take over.”
The security man got up and moved away. The second cop took him across the lobby and questioned him over there.
“Sir, are you hurt?” the cop said to Rosa.
“Of course, I’m hurt. He tackled me on a tile floor. I have a mind to sue him.”
“How badly are you hurt?”
“My shoulder hurts?”
“Is it dislocated?”
“No.”
“All right, I’m going to have you stand up.”
Rosa got up. The cop patted him down and put him in cuffs. The name tag on the cop’s uniform said Walton.
“Why are you handcuffing me?”
“We have reason to believe you may have committed a felony. What’s your name, sir?” Walton asked.
“Salvador Rosa.”
“Okay, Mr. Rosa, you have the right to remain silent.” Officer Walton read him his rights.
“What’s this?” he said, holding the black book that Rosa had taken from under Kenyan’s mattress.
“It’s just a book?”
The manager approached walked over, and Officer Walton and asked if they had a room where they could sit down while the other officers searched the premises.
“Sure, we have a conference room that we let our tenants reserve. It had a computer and phone in there.”
The manager led them to the conference room. The cop pulled out a chair for Rosa and said, “Have a seat.” He removed the cuffs and said, “Sorry that was necessary.”
The cop found a chair across the table from Rosa. He put the black book on the table between them.
“About that black book? Is it a journal or something?” Officer Walton said.
“I don’t know. Grimes told me my tenant kept notes about me in there.”
“And you’re Ted Kenyan?”
“What?”
“I thought you said you were Rosa. The name monogrammed on the front of the book is Ted Kenyan. Who is that?”
“It’s my tenant.”
“This was your rental property?”
“That’s right.”
Walton thought for a second then said, “It’s a good market for rentals. Friend of mine has a rental house over in Baltimore.”
Rosa nodded.
“He’s had tenant problems, too. His tenant was letting a raccoon live in the house with him. Practically destroyed the place.”
“That’s bad,” Rosa said.
“I can’t recall how he resolved that. I’ll have to ask him.”
Rosa nodded impatiently.
The cop asked questions and wrote down some background information on Rosa—his address, age, date of birth, etc. “You want a cup of coffee?” Officer Walton said.
“No, I’m fine.”
Walton frowned at his notepad for a minute. “Have you ever had problems with the police before?”
“No, sir.”
“And you came here alone today?”
“No, I came here with a cop.”
Officer Walton looked up from his notes. “What?”
“An ex-cop. He brought me here to help me with an eviction.”
“What cop? Who are you talking about?”
“Grimes, did you run into him outside?”
“No, sir.”
“You must have seen him. You couldn’t miss the guy. He has white hair, thick black eyebrows and a pointed white chin beard. He was wearing a black t-shirt like mine.”
The cop got on his walkie-talkie and relayed the description to other cops and told them to be on the lookout for Grimes.
“I told you he was a cop,” Rosa said. “That’s who I came here with. He’s a fed. That’s the one you’re looking for.”
“Why?”
“That’s who brought me here. That’s who was dealing with Kenyan.”
Officer Walton raised his eyebrows. “Dealing with him?”
“Just talking to him. That’s all he told me he was going to do. Maybe he applied a little pressure he never told me about.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because Grimes wanted to scare him—to get even because of all the crimes Kenyan had gotten away with. That’s all Grimes could do now that he was retired.”
Officer Walton looked at him blank-faced for a moment then scribbled a few thoughts on his notepad. “You say this Kenyan is your tenant?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, sir.”
“And how did Officer Grimes get involved?”
“Sergeant Grimes. He’s a fed. I met him at a bar. He approached me, saying he knew about my tenant problem and could help.”
“What agency was he with?”
“I think it was the US Marshals?”
“You think?”
“That’s what he told me. Look it up.”
“You met him at a bar?” The cop seemed slightly skeptical.
“Yeah, he tracked me down because he said he wanted to scare this dirtbag.”
“Dirtbag?”
“My tenant?”
“How can an ex-cop help you with an eviction?”
“He said an unofficial eviction was stretching the rules, but all he was going to do was put some pressure on him, let him know he was being watched. That would put him on the run. He’s a known criminal.”
“You mean your tenant?”
“Of course, I’m innocent. I was lured here by Grimes.”
Officer Walton made a note on his pad. “Is Kenyan the one who fell over railing?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. I was in the back room.”
“What were you doing back there?”
“Just looking around.”
“Looking for what?”
“Kenyan had been threatening me with a lot of lies and false claims. Grimes told me that he had a black book full of lies.”
“You mean this black book.”
“That’s right.”
“Sir, we’re here because a man fell to his death. A witness called in and said he was pushed over a railing. I want to hear your side of the story.”
“Push? Are you serious?”
“That’s the call we got.”
“I didn’t see anything. I was in the back room, looking for the black book. You have to understand, this creep was dating my ex-wife and extorting money from me. He was making up lies and refusing to pay rent, telling me to apply the missed rent to missed alimony payments to my wife. I didn’t miss any alimony payments. He was a phony.”
The cop was nodding, trying to make sense of it all. He made a few annotations with his pad and pencil. “So you came here with a guy who said he was a cop?”
“He was a cop. He showed me his badge.”
“Got it. And you were looking for a book of what you call fake evidence against you while this cop intimidated your tenant.”
“Yeah, frankly, I think Grimes got out of hand. Some of the neighbors probably heard some yelling. That was Grimes putting the screws to my tenant. If I’d have known he was planning anything that intense, I’d have never agreed to come along.”
“And was it Grimes who pushed Kenyan off the ledge?”
“I don’t know anything about it. I was in the back room. When I came out, Grimes was gone and I saw that Kenyan had fallen. I was leaving when the security guard tackled me.”
“You were leaving?”
“I wasn’t leaving. I was looking for Grimes. I figured he was calling you guys.”
“Which condo is yours?”
“Five-O-five.”
“And you’re the registered owner?”
“Yeah, my wife got the house in the divorce. I got the condo, so I rented it out.”
Walton made a few notes on his pad. “But you said the tenant was dating your wife.”
“Yeah, they met. It was a messy time.”
“And you say he has a criminal record.”
“Absolutely. That’s what Grimes told me.”
Officer Walton got on his walkie-talkie. “Any sign of the other suspect, name of Grimes.”
“No, sir.”
“Alright, allegedly, he’s a retired federal agent. Will you verify that for me. His name is—”
Walton lowered the walkie-talkie and asked Rosa, “What’s his first name?”
“Sergeant Grimes. That’s all he told me. How many can there be? He retired in the last couple of years?”
Officer Walton nodded and said into the walkie-talkie. “Sergeant Grimes. Recently retired. Check the database.”
“Copy. One question. Is this Salvador Rosa a congressman?”
Officer Rosa said, “No, I don’t think so. Let me ask.” He looked at Rosa. “There’s some name confusion. You’re not a congressman, are you?”
“Yes, I am. I’m Congressman Salvador Rosa from Texas.”
“Why didn’t you mention that sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to blow this situation up. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but Grimes convinced me to come along. He said that police often had citizens tag along. I was just supposed to tag along while he had a few words with my tenant and let him know that he was onto him. That’s it.”
“What about the black book?”
“I just wandered back there and took a look around. Grimes told me that Kenyan kept a black book full of lies about me. I grabbed it to turn it over to the police.”
Officer Walton nodded. “I can understand how you must have felt. It must have been really upsetting that a guy like that had a book of lies about you. Nobody would like that.”
“That’s right.”
“We were told there was screaming.”
“Yeah, like I said, Grimes got carried away. I don’t know what happened. I was in the back bedroom.”
“And that’s where you got the black book?”
“Right. I needed to get that to the police.”
“Okay. Was there anyone else with you?”
“No, just me and Sergeant Grimes.”
“Okay, so you’re a congressman. And this Grimes approached you in a bar?”
“I already said that. I rarely go to bars, but yesterday I made an exception?”
“You just met Grimes yesterday?”
“That’s right. I know this sounds little wild, but that’s just the way things happened. I was just cooperating with the law.”
Officer Walton nodded. “How far behind was your tenant on rent?”
“Six months.”
“Had you begun formal eviction proceedings?”
“I was thinking about it when Grimes showed up, but again, this criminal was making threats.”
“Did he have any legitimate evidence to give him the idea that he could blackmail you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t read the book yet.”
“But you must have had reason to take the threat seriously if you didn’t go through the normal eviction procedure.”
“It was just timing. Grimes showed up when he did.”
“If we read through the black book, is there a chance we’ll find any evidence against you?”
“You know, maybe I should call my lawyer.”
“You can do that. I just wanted to give you a chance to tell your side of the story. If you’re truly innocent, this is your chance. We have another witness saying that she saw you push Kenyan over the rail.”
“What?”
“That’s right. She called in.”
“That’s impossible because it never happened. Fact is, Grimes was also wearing a black shirt.”
The cop nodded.
CHAPTER 35
A few blocks from Congressman Rosa’s condo, a white van was parked alongside of the 7-11store, and Gavin Grimes got out. He walked over to the gray Cadillac CTS Sedan. Martin Hurst got out, his long, tangled locks covering half his face until he brushed them behind his shoulder.
“Get in.” They both got in the car and shut the doors.
“How did it go?” Hurst said.
“Just according to plan.”
Hurst raised his eyebrows. “No problems?”
“No.”
“You do good work, my friend.”
“Yeah, well, I’d love to chat, but I’d like my money so I can get going.”
Hurst nodded. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a black briefcase. He opened it and let Grimes feast his eyes on $300,000 in cash.
Grimes smelled a few of the stacks and smiled. “Nice doing business with you.”
“Maybe I’ll call on you again in the future,” Hurst said. “Just make sure I don’t hear anything about you for at least a year.”
“No problem.” Grimes shut the brief case and got out of the car. He turned and said, “Adios, agimo.” He slammed the door, got in his white van, and drove away.
Hurst called up the chief of police in DC. He said, “Chief White, this is Martin Hurst. I’ve had a family crisis, so I’m going to send over another special prosecutor... Excellent.” Hurst hung up the phone.
CHAPTER 36
United States Botanical Garden was a located on the National Mall with views of the U.S. Capitol building. The massive greenhouse protected 4,000 seasonal plants inside a glass conservatory.
Chuck entered the massive glass enclosure, and the fresh sweet smell of foliage filled the air. He heard the splashing sounds of fountains, and light poured in through glass walls so high that full-size palm trees grew inside.
Looking for Martin Hurst, the Seattle lawyer, Chuck wandered around. He wandered through the Mediterranian Room, which had several people in there, but no lawyer. The Orchid Room was a glassed-in tropical corner with a bridge, a little waterfall, and a web of vines overhead. The Desert Room was full of cactus and rocks. He was starting to fear that he had been fooled when he spotted a set of grated stairs going up, which he followed. Vines were clinging to the handrails. The higher he got, the better view he had of the gardens below in the Tropics greenhouse with its ponds and people crossing the bridge below—over the steaming creek. Some people sat on peaceful wood benches.
Tropical bird sounds filled the air, the noise piped in through speakers. The whole indoor climate was warm and very humid. Chuck could hear the hiss of humidifiers. The humidity flowed down over him. He thought it was a shame to have come here under adverse circumstances because this could be a very relaxing and restorative place. The glass ceiling soared thirty yards overhead. Trees towered to the ceiling.
