by Marie Force
“Will you ask him about her?”
“I suppose I’ll have to. He’s been all up in my grill about the fact that we reopened the investigation in the first place. He’s going to want to know what’s going on.” She expelled a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t imagine that conversation. Today was a really good day up until about twenty minutes ago. We got the guy who killed Victoria.” She brought him up to date on the details.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “The Patterson campaign. Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Does Derek know?”
“Yeah, I talked to him earlier. He said it was right out of Watergate.”
“No shit.” Nick got up and moved behind her, pushing her hands away as he took over the massaging of her temples. “Something like that would’ve taken years of planning to pull off. Derek and Vic were married for four years. Add in another year of dating... Unreal. I knew Patterson was ruthlessly ambitious, but this... Wow. Why did they kill her?”
“Our hypothesis is that either she clammed up or wanted out of whatever agreement they made with her initially. If she spilled the beans on what they’d done before the election, that’d ruin everything. They probably decided they couldn’t risk keeping her around.”
“I can’t believe the stuff some people will do to get what they want.”
“You can’t believe it because you’d rather win the old-fashioned way or go down fighting. This level of underhandedness goes against everything you believe in.
You can’t understand this because you don’t think like they do.”
“Thank God for that. Will you be able to pin this on Patterson or his sons?”
“That’s the great unknown at the moment. We’re hoping Smith will roll on them, but it’s not likely.”
“Even after it sinks in that he’s being hung out to dry?”
“Loyalty runs deep. I suspect he’d rather take the fall for all of them than be responsible for derailing the campaign.”
“He’s a fool.”
“Yep, but he’s a loyal fool. Of course, I’m only speculating. Who knows? Maybe he’ll sing like a canary and make it easy for us, but I don’t expect him to. We’ve also got the assistant to Colton Patterson on the hook for making calls to Victoria, so we can tie her to the campaign. Whether or not he’ll give up the ringleaders is also in question at the moment. We’ll get Patterson one way or the other—either in actual court or the court of public opinion. We can do a lot of damage by implying he and his sons were behind this.”
“His campaign will be over, that’s for sure.”
“As well it should be.”
Sam’s phone dinged with a text from Tracy: “Congrats Auntie Sam! Ella Holland Radcliffe arrived at five forty-two p.m. Weighing in at 8 lbs, 2 oz, 20 inches. She’s gorgeous! Mom is doing great! Get on over here!”
“Ang had the baby,” Sam said. “Ella Holland Radcliffe. They named her after my grandmother.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Congratulations, Aunt Sam.”
“Same to you, Uncle Nick.”
“Hey, that’s right. I’m an uncle!”
“Yes, you are.” Sam patted his hands. “Let me up.” He backed away, and she stood, turning to him. “Now, let’s do this right.” She stepped into his outstretched arms and let him surround her with his love. The press of his chest against her face, the strong beat of his heart and the arms he kept tight around her went a long way toward fixing what ailed her. “We should get to the hospital.”
“In a minute,” he said. “I need a little more of this first.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight to what mattered most.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Gonzo and Arnold approached Porter Gillespie’s brick-front townhouse in Adams Morgan, Gonzo stopped his partner and listened intently. ���Sounds like a party.”
They followed the music and noise to the back of the house where they found a group of about twenty well-dressed, good-looking young people gathered on a patio. Jimmy Buffet was singing about cheeseburgers in paradise, and several men stood around a grill, smoking cigars and holding glasses filled with amber liquid.
This is going to be fun, Gonzo thought, as he imagined hauling Gillespie out of his home in front of a captive audience. Gonzo’s idea of fun had been skewed by ten years as a homicide detective. Exchanging glances with Arnold, he noted the anticipatory gleam in his partner’s eyes and realized he wasn’t the only one looking forward to this arrest.
“Pardon me,” Gonzo said, loudly enough to be heard over the music.
All eyes turned to them, and the chatter faded to complete silence other than Buffet and the cheeseburgers. Among the group gathered around the grill, Gonzo recognized Colton Patterson.
Gonzo held up his badge, and Arnold did the same. “Detectives Gonzales and Arnold, Metro P.D. We’re looking for Porter Gillespie.”
Mouths fell open in shock as the group parted to reveal Gillespie at the grill. He had immaculately groomed dark hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses, a light blue dress shirt and an apron that said Kiss the Chef.
“I’m Porter,” he said.
“We’ll need you to come with us, sir.”
A buzz of dismay rippled through the group as Porter stared at them stone-faced. “Whatever for?” he asked in the cultured tone favored by rich people.
“We’ll sort it out downtown.”
“Sort what out?”
Since he didn’t seem inclined to come to them, Gonzo and Arnold walked across the grass to the patio. Gonzo nodded to his partner to take the lead.
“Mr. Gillespie, you’re under arrest on the charge of accessory to the murder of Victoria Kavanaugh and the kidnapping of Maeve Kavanaugh. You have the right to remain silent.”
As Arnold slapped cuffs on his wrists and said the word “Murder,” Gillespie’s composure began to crumble. The group gasped and grumbled with outrage.
Gonzo watched Gillespie’s gaze shift to Colton, who moved to the edge of the gathering, as if to separate himself from what was happening to his assistant.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gillespie said. “I didn’t have anything to do with any murder.”
“Tell it to the judge,” Gonzo said as he took Gillespie’s arm to lead him from the yard.
“Colton, tell them! I couldn’t murder anyone! I want a lawyer. Colton, get me a lawyer.”
The word “lawyer” made Gonzo’s day. Arnold flashed a small, satisfied smile. Gillespie had played right into their hands with that statement. Now they could hold him overnight—or until the lawyer who wasn’t coming showed up.
“Don’t worry, Porter,” Colton said. “We’ll figure this out.”
Colton’s assurances seemed to calm Porter.
A blonde woman came running out of the house. “What’s going on? Porter?”
“It’s nothing, Cam.” Porter attempted a calming smile that failed when his lips wobbled. “A misunderstanding. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“I wouldn’t bank on that, sport,” Gonzo said.
Cam grabbed hold of Porter’s arm and held him back when Gonzo would’ve led him away. “You can’t take him for no reason!”
“Oh, trust me, we have a good reason.” Gonzo kept his gaze fixed on Colton, hoping to send the message that they knew a lot more than he thought they did. “And you can either release him or come with us. Your choice.”
As if Porter had suddenly burst into flames, she released him and stepped back as tears rolled down her face. “I don’t understand,” she said softly. “What has he done to deserve this treatment?”
“Nothing, Cam,” Porter said. “It’s all a big mistake.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Gonzo said. “Enjoy your dinner, folks,” he said, still looking directly at Colton Patterson. “Sorry for the interruption.”
He and Arnold walked Gillespie to the car.
“You people have no idea wh
o you’re messing with.”
“Oh, we know, and shockingly, we’re not the slightest bit intimidated,” Gonzo said. This had been even more fun than he’d thought it would be. “Are we, Arnold?”
“Nope. Not scared.”
“You will be when the full fury of Arnie Patterson comes down on you and your department of Keystone Kops. You’ll be intimidated then.”
“Is that so?” Gonzo said, choosing to ignore the insult as Arnold drove them to HQ. “Well, your buddy Jerry Smith has been on ice in our cooler for what? About four hours now, Arnold?”
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
Gonzo turned so Gillespie could see his face. “He hasn’t figured out yet that Arnie and the boys have cut him loose.” Gonzo was gratified to watch the Adam’s apple bob in Gillespie’s skinny neck. “Wonder how long it’ll take before he gets it? What do you think?”
“They won’t cut him loose.” Gillespie all but spit the words at them. “He practically grew up in their house. He’s family to them.”
“Is that so? Huh. Well, if I contacted my family and asked them to get me a lawyer because I’d been arrested, my sisters would’ve called out the cavalry within minutes of receiving the call. They certainly wouldn’t have me waiting hours in jail. That’s for sure.”
“They probably couldn’t get anyone this late in the day.”
“You know, that’s probably it,” Gonzo said, enjoying this more by the minute. “I’m sure it’s got nothing at all to do with blood being much thicker than water, not to mention what ambition does to people.”
“You’ve got nothing on me, because I didn’t do anything.”
“So you’ve said, but I’m afraid we do have something on you, or we never would’ve gotten a warrant for your arrest from the assistant U.S. attorney.”
The words “warrant” and “assistant U.S. attorney” caused more frantic bobbing of the Adam’s apple.
“I suppose you consider yourself rather close to the Patterson family too?”
“I am close to them. Colton has been my best friend since we were in prep school.”
“So he’ll send someone to get you out of this jam?”
“Of course he will.”
“Probably the same guy who’s coming to take care of things for Jerry, right?”
Porter’s eyes narrowed, and he began to seethe. “Are you going to tell me what you have on me?”
“Not yet,” Gonzo said, turning to face the front. “Our lieutenant likes to do those honors herself. She’s a real barracuda that way.”
A minute later, the distinctive smell of urine filled the small space in the car.
As Arnold grimaced and rolled down the windows to let out the stink, Gonzo noticed his partner trembling with silent laughter.
Gonzo bit his bottom lip to hold back his own desire to laugh his ass off. As their jobs were so rarely as much fun as this had been, they had to get their kicks where they could.
Arriving at HQ a few minutes later, Gillespie recoiled when he saw the media gathered out front. “You’re not taking me in that way.”
“Oh yes, we are,” Gonzo said, grabbing his arm and hauling him out of the backseat. The entire front of his dress pants was wet with piss.
“You can’t do that! I haven’t been charged with anything. You’ll ruin my life, not to mention the damage you’ll do to the campaign.”
“You think we give a shit about any of that? You should’ve been thinking about your life and the campaign when you acted as an accessory to Victoria Kavanaugh’s murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that!”
“You can tell the judge all about it when you’re arraigned.”
“Arraigned?”
“What do you think happens after you’ve been arrested?”
“We’re not going to even talk about this? I have rights!”
“You absolutely do, including a right to a lawyer, which you’ve invoked. As a result, there’ll be no talking until he or she shows up.”
The reporters had thinned from the usual brigade, but those still braving the evening heat tuned in to the fact that something was happening behind them.
Gonzo could hear them muttering, “Who is he?” “Where have I seen him before?” “Did he piss himself?” “Doesn’t he work for the Patterson campaign?” “Detective, what’re the charges?” “Is this related to the Kavanaugh case?” “Does Arnie Patterson know his aide has been arrested?”
Gonzo didn’t respond to any of the questions as he hauled Gillespie through the gauntlet. Gillespie kept his head down the way arrestees often did when they were trying to avoid being photographed. Despite the effort, Gonzo fully expected to see Gillespie’s face on the front page of the morning papers.
Once inside, they led him directly into processing, where he was strip-searched, fingerprinted and photographed. All the while, Gillespie was threatening to sue the department for police brutality and unnecessary search and seizure. The guy probably had a few law classes in college and thought he knew what he was talking about.
Gonzo had to admit that he took a certain bit of smug pleasure in watching as Gillespie was told to bend over and spread ’em. When the processing officers were done poking and prodding him, he was handed the same wet, smelly clothes he’d been wearing when he came in. As the indignities piled up, Gillespie became more rattled and shaky. His hands were trembling so hard that Gonzo wondered if he’d have to dress the guy. Finally, they deposited him in the interrogation room next to where Jerry Smith was being held.
“Have a seat,” Gonzo said. “We’ll let you know when your lawyer arrives.”
“I need a change of clothes.”
“We don’t keep Brooks Brothers in inventory,” Gonzo said. “All I’ve got handy is prison orange. Will that work for you?”
“Never mind,” he muttered. “I can see you’re enjoying the hell out of this.”
“You bet I am. There’s something extremely satisfying about closing a confounding case and getting the scumbags who murdered a young woman and stole her child.”
Gillespie’s complexion drained of all remaining color. “I didn’t kill anyone or steal a child! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about,” Gonzo said. “I’m off duty, so I’ll see you in the morning. Officer Beckett here will be keeping an eye on you until your lawyer arrives. Good luck to you.”
“Wait! You can’t leave me here. I have rights!”
“Yes, you do, which is why we can’t do a thing until your attorney arrives. The minute you said the words ‘I want a lawyer,’ it was out of my hands. You have a good night now.”
“Wait! Stop! This is insanity! I demand to know what evidence you have that ties me to any of this!”
As Gonzo chuckled his way down the hallway that led to the pit, he heard Beckett telling Gillespie to sit down and shut up. And with that, a very good day came to a very satisfying end.
* * *
Sam’s cell phone rang as Nick was driving them into the parking lot at the hospital. “Hey, Gonzo. How’d it go?”
“It’ll go down in history as one of my favorite arrests ever,” he said, sounding positively gleeful as he related the story of Gillespie’s arrest. “And then he pissed himself in the car. It was awesome.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh as he described the scene. “You’re having way too much fun.”
“I really am. I’m on my way home now. Beckett’s with him as he waits for the lawyer Colton Patterson promised to send right over.”
“Excellent. Thanks for the great work today.”
“Let me know if you need anything tonight.”
“I will.”
“Hey, did Ang have the baby?”
“A little while ago. Ella Holland Radcliffe. We’re heading in to see them now.”
“Oh, great, tell her I said congrats. Alex will be excited. He loves her—and Jack.”
“I’ll pass that along. See y
ou in the morning.” She ended the call and stuffed the phone in her pocket, relaying the story of Gillespie’s arrest to Nick, joining his laughter at the part about Gillespie wetting himself.
“The Patterson camp must be in total meltdown mode.”
“I doubt they are. They think they’ve covered their asses every which way to Tuesday on this, and they may have. If their lackeys don’t roll, we won’t get them.”
“So the worst that could happen to them for plotting this whole thing and ordering Victoria killed is that Arnie’s campaign could be screwed?”
“Yep. I’m a hundred percent certain Jerry’s DNA is going to match what was found under Victoria’s nails, and we’ve got several phone calls from Gillespie to Victoria’s phone in the weeks before she was killed. We know her father once worked for Patterson and that she spent time in their home after her parents died. But we’ve got nothing that directly ties any of the Pattersons to her murder.”
He parked the car and turned off the engine, killing the lovely flow of AC. “You’ve got enough innuendo to bring down the campaign, though.”
“Right.” She eyed the hospital with trepidation.
He kept an arm draped over the wheel as he studied her. “What’re you thinking?”
“A lot has happened to me since the last time one of my sisters had a baby. Jack is six, and Tracy had Abby seven years ago, which is hard to believe.”
“You’re worried about how you might react to this one.”
“A little.” Because she was afraid if she looked at him, she’d lose the tiny bit of composure she was still clinging to, she kept her gaze fixed on the hospital. “I’m so happy for Angela and Spencer and Jack. They’ve wanted another child for a long time.”
“I know that, babe. And they will too. Of course they will.” He reached for her hand. “If you don’t feel up to this, they’d understand that too.”
Sam shook her head. “Angela is my sister and one of my two best friends. Today is not about me. I can’t make it about me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, let it out and opened her eyes, feeling calmer now that she’d talked it out with him. “Let’s go.”
