by JP Ratto
“Wow. Are you opening up the Holt case again?”
“Not exactly. I tried to access the files on the daycare center fire and was denied access.”
“Hmm, that’s odd. When I left, there were no restrictions on those files. Any idea when it was done or who ordered it?”
“No, but it’d have to be someone up the ranks. In any case, I want to know what you remember about the case. Holt and I were officially off anything to do with Marnie’s abduction and Bardinari’s death in the fire.”
“It figures; the two best detectives in the precinct and you were pulled from the investigation. I can understand Holt being too close to be objective, but you? I’ll tell you what I thought was strange at the time…that Hamlin and Burke were given such a high profile case. They had rank but hadn’t much under their belt in the way of closing cases. Hamlin was more concerned with his impending retirement and moving on to his next career. I know Burke was always a favorite of Captain Sheppard, and now we can see how that paid off for him. But as a detective, he was never a closer.”
Scully remembered Holt’s anger at the assignment of Scott Hamlin and Roy Burke. It was why he resigned from the department. “A lot of us thought the same thing. You read the files. I know the official cause of the fire, and that before she died Bardinari was cleared as a suspect in the kidnapping. Do you recall the name Frank Giaconne? He’s the victim in the case I’m working.”
“No. Name doesn’t ring a bell. From what I recall, Bardinari had few connections. Some family upstate. I think she lived alone and the daycare center was pretty much her whole life. Reading Burke’s report, I know he thought she was too distraught to have had anything to do with the kidnapping. If she did, she was a damn good actress.”
“Sounds like there isn’t anything in the files that would help me. I’m at a loss as to who would want this guy dead, and I don’t believe it was a random shooting. Was there anything in the files that caught your attention…anything at all?”
Dougal took a long drink of his ale and glanced around the bar. “Actually there was. Hamlin and Burke didn’t quite agree on Rose’s innocence, although Hamlin always deferred to Burke. I read their notes—which were hand-written before everything was computerized—and they differed on one point. Besides not buying into her absolute lack of involvement, Hamlin thought Rose Bardinari had a child staying in her apartment. Burke’s notes didn’t mention it.”
“A child?”
“Yeah, there were signs that a child was in there. A—what do you call those things—a playpen and a few toys. After she died they searched her place again and they found some clothes.”
Scully pushed his empty beer bottle aside and leaned against the back of the booth. “She ran a daycare center. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to have done babysitting at home.”
“That’s what Burke thought. But Bardinari denied she did daycare in her home. She told Burke the stuff belonged to a cousin who had visited with a baby girl. At least, that’s what was in his report.”
“And did that check out?”
“Yeah, Burke reported the neighbors confirmed that a woman with a baby, who they believed was visiting Bardinari, was there for part of one day.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well, for one thing, it was around the time Holt’s daughter went missing. No one could verify if it was the same day.”
Scully looked at the time on his phone. Regina would be wondering where he was. “But Burke checked it out and it was a coincidence, right?”
“Yes and no. Hamlin came down to the records room for something a while after they closed the case. The guy always looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He couldn’t wait to retire. So I asked him what was wrong. He shrugged it off and asked for the Bardinari files. He took them to a desk, and I saw him writing something before he gave them back to me. Of course, I sifted through them before re-filing and noticed a handwritten note. Could have been there all along, but it sparked my interest. Apparently Hamlin did some double checking on Burke.”
Scully leaned forward, the muscles in his back tensed. “What did it say?”
“It said that Rose Bardinari’s cousin never gave birth to a girl.”
Scully was stunned. Bardinari’s cousin didn’t have a daughter. He grabbed the glass of water Joe had set on the table, wet his parched throat, and glared at Dougal.
“And you kept that to yourself?”
Dougal recoiled from the daggers in Scully’s eyes. “Of course not! But I couldn’t say that I’d been reading all the files searching for discrepancies. How would that look? So under the guise of concern for Hamlin’s mental health, the next time I saw his supervising officer, I mentioned Hamlin’s visit to records. I suggested the kidnapping and Bardinari’s death were still on his mind. They were tough cases with no closure.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, it wasn’t like he had to keep me posted. He thanked me for bringing it to his attention.”
Scully was impatient. There was more, and he needed Dougal to spit it out.
“What else?”
Billy Dougal lowered his eyes, his face lined with pain. “You’ve got to understand there was no more I could do. If I pushed the issue, I could have risked my pension.” He brought his beer bottle to his lips, but it was empty. He slammed it down hard on the table; the noise brought them attention from the bar.
“You guys need anything over there?” called Joe.
Scully waved him off and shook his head. He waited for Dougal to speak.
“Someone must have taken the file when I wasn’t there. There’s no record though.”
“How do you know someone looked at it?”
“Because a few months before handing it off to be scanned into the new computer system, I checked the file and the note Hamlin wrote was missing.”
Scully’s stomach yearned for another Zantac.
CHAPTER 34
Vilari’s last words swirled in my head, reminding me I had a sympathy call to make in Chevy Chase. It had been a long day, and I decided to wait to visit Francesca Vilari. I’d give her time to digest the news of her husband’s death. One more day wouldn’t make a difference.
Gates’s house was quiet, which surprised me. I expected to see Cynthia and Spencer. Johnson told me the commander wanted to see me in his office.
“Lucas,” his voice boomed, “glad you’re here. Sit down; I have news.” Having his grandson home safe and sound had restored his vigor. It was good to see him returned to his old self.
“What’s up, sir? Are your son and daughter-in-law here?”
“They were. Had a conversation with Brandon, which they didn’t like much, and left. They’ll come around.”
“What do they have to come around to?”
“Brandon is going to Lebanon with that girl. No one can talk him out of it. You know, if you can’t beat ’em…”
I nodded and let him continue.
“I’ve arranged for them to go on my private jet. Took care of the visas and all of that. Mac will accompany them. He has some business to attend to, and I’ve had a few inquiries about GGP from people there. It should be a productive use of time.”
Gates was always conducting business. No wonder he was so successful. I found it cold, though, and if I hadn’t seen his reaction to Brandon’s abduction and return, I would’ve never thought him capable of deep affection.
“When are they leaving?” I asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon.” He read my stunned look. “Yes, it is rather quick, but Brandon’s quite anxious to go. Doesn’t want anyone or anything to interfere in his decision.”
“What about Ghada?”
“Who?”
“Ghada Shaheen—the girl.”
“Oh, right. I forgot her name for a moment. She’s apparently as anxious as Brandon is. Her relationship with Brandon, her brother’s actions toward her, and his death has caused her a great deal of negative attention from her com
munity. I’m not convinced her family in Lebanon will be more receptive, but that’s their business.”
More detachment. The commander was the master of his emotions. “I want to pay my respects to Francesca Vilari tomorrow,” I said, and Gates gave me an odd glance. “Vilari had some words for his wife before he died. I think they’d be of some comfort to her in spite of what he did.”
“Hmm, that’s your call, Lucas. We have no proof he bears any responsibility in Brandon’s kidnapping, so I have no opinion on the matter.”
“Good. In any case, I’d like to see Brandon and Mac before they leave.”
“There’ll be time in the morning. Mac will pick up the girl…eh…Ghada, and bring her here.”
“Great.” I half rose from the chair. “If that’s all, I think I’ll turn in.”
Gates smiled. “Of course, son. You’ve earned a night’s rest. See you in the morning.”
“Night, sir.”
***
Moonlight streamed through the uncovered windows and reached the foot of the bed. Guy watched Stella as she moved above him, her soft moans urging him toward release. She’s amazing. She shuddered first and he a moment later. Stella collapsed into his embrace. He rolled her to her back, kissed her long and hard, and raised his head to look at her.
“Mm, that was wonderful,” she said. “I’m going to miss you, but it will just be a few days.”
“As soon as I take care of some business, I’ll meet you in Monte Carlo. I’ve never been there.”
She widened her eyes in mock disbelief. “I can’t imagine a player like you not ever having been in the French Riviera.”
“It’s true. I’m not as worldly as you think. It’s all a sham.” He stroked her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. “You on the other hand…”
“I…will gladly spend as much time showing you what you’ve missed for as long as you’re willing to let me.”
“Sounds great,” Guy said. He lifted off her and left the bed. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
Stella sat, grabbed the sheet, and covered herself. “I understand, darling. Just keep in touch.”
Guy dressed in silence, the sad realization of their future together displacing his earlier excitement. He shook off his gloom and leaned over the beautiful woman he’d made love to and kissed her goodbye. “I’m going to miss you too.”
CHAPTER 35
The next morning, I joined the gathering in Gate’s office. Brandon and Ghada sat holding hands on the sofa and Mac stood near the commander’s desk. As Gates spoke to Mac about his business in Lebanon, I approached the happy couple to congratulate them on their engagement.
“Thank you, Mr. Holt,” Ghada said. “Of course, Brandon must finish his Islamic studies before we can marry. After all that’s happened, we feel lucky to be together.”
Brandon, who had cleaned up nicely since the day before, stood and shook my hand. “I want to thank you too…for all you did.”
He exhibited lingering mental and physical effects of his ordeal. He stooped, spoke haltingly, and winced when I squeezed his hand. “It’s going to take time,” I told him, and he nodded in agreement. I wondered why the rush to travel, then I realized who was missing from the party. Again, I was surprised by Spencer and Cynthia’s absence, especially since their son was going away for an indefinite period of time.
Gates and Mac finished their discussion and Gates called to me, “Lucas, we have to leave for Dulles soon. The plane will be ready in two hours. Will you be here when I get back? I’d like to spend time with you to catch up.”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Vilari yet. I’ll do that and come back here to get my things together. We can talk then.”
Although I enjoyed the commander’s company, I needed to return to New York and begin the search for Marnie. I’d put it off long enough. I would explain later; he would understand.
Mac had moved to the Palladian window overlooking the garden and appeared uncharacteristically forlorn. I walked to him and laid my hand on his shoulder. “Going to miss me that much, huh?”
Instead of a clever comeback, he shook his head. “Sure.”
Something was on his mind. Maybe my mention of Mrs. Vilari had triggered doubts as to whether he had jumped the gun, so to speak. I thought he did, but was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Not every situation allows for a thorough assessment before one takes action. As if he read my mind and appreciated my support, he turned to me and smiled. A moment later, the frown was back. “You know they found Harrington’s body this morning.”
It was no shock, but I’d hoped for a better outcome for one of Gates’s trusted team. “That’s too bad. I’d like to know who was responsible.”
“Gates would like to know too. If I wasn’t on my way out of the country, I’m sure that would be my next assignment. Maybe that’s why he wants to talk to you.”
“I can’t help with that. I have a matter of my own to attend to.”
Mac gripped my shoulders and held my eyes in a steady gaze. “It was great to see you again. I wish you luck, Lucas.”
“Same here, Mac. If you’re ever in New York, you know where to find me.”
***
A young man answered the door at Vilari’s home, and after I gave him my card, he introduced himself as Robert, Jr. Inviting me in, he left me at the entrance to tell his mother I was there. While I waited, I glanced along the hallway at the many wall photos of the Vilaris, most taken years before. They were a handsome group—ideal family—one boy, one girl. My sympathy heightened as well as my anger at the destruction of a seemingly happy family. Deep in my soul, I doubted Robert Vilari was a villain.
Staring at the pictures, which brought to the surface my own losses, I longed to say what I had to say and head home. I filled my cheeks with air and blew out an impatient breath.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Holt. I’m Francesca Vilari.” A petite woman with wisps of gray in her brown hair stepped into the hall and held out her hand.
“It hasn’t been long, Mrs. Vilari. I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t mean to intrude in your time of grief, but…” I was hesitant to give her what was nearly a message from the grave. A dying man’s words draw different emotions than speaking about someone who was whole and hale the last time you saw him.
“It’s okay, Mr. Holt. I’m glad you came. Let’s sit down.” Gracious even in her sorrow, Francesca Vilari led me to a living room chair. “You knew Robert.”
It was a statement. Of course, she would assume I knew her husband. Why else would I come to pay my respects? “I’d met with him at ADL—about his research.” That was a half-truth. Vilari’s wife had the clearest gray eyes I’d ever seen, almost ethereal. They demanded honesty. I wondered how Vilari managed to keep what he was doing a secret from her. “To be honest, Mrs. Vilari, I barely knew your husband and my visit to ADL was in an official capacity as a private investigator. I was looking into a kidnapping and thought the intended theft of one of ADL’s products was connected to it.”
That veiled accusation caused Francesca Vilari to flinch. “Are you saying Robert committed a crime? The FBI was not explicit with details. They kept saying it was an ongoing investigation. I knew something was wrong. Robert was not himself for weeks. I would like to know what he was going through. I don’t believe he was capable of committing a crime.”
“I don’t have all the details myself. I actually came here because before your husband died he had a message for you. He wanted me to tell you that he did it to protect his family. He loves you and your children and hopes you will forgive him for leaving you.”
Francesca Vilari bowed her head and quietly sobbed. She excused herself and came back after a few minutes, composed. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her lips swollen from nervous tugging with her teeth. I had imposed long enough and rose to leave.
“Wait, Mr. Holt. I have something for you.” She handed me an envelope with my name on it. “It’s from Robert. I found it among personal items he had locked
in a safe.” I stared at it for a moment, wondering what was inside. I moved to put it in my jacket when she laid her hand on my arm to stop me. “Would you please open it now? I have a feeling it’s some sort of confession, and it might provide answers for me.”
I nodded and ripped open the envelope. Inside were a folded letter and a photograph. Removing the letter, I read it quickly. She was right; it was a confession, but not as detailed as she or I would have hoped.
“Your husband admits to participating in a theft at ADL. He says he had no choice. Someone was blackmailing him and threatening all of you with death. Robert doesn’t divulge who the blackmailer is. He didn’t want to risk the danger of retaliation against you and your children.”
“That’s all he said?” Francesca Vilari asked. “He could have written that letter to me.”
“No, there’s more, but it involves a national security matter. I need to speak with the proper authorities.”
“The FBI?”
“Yes, I would approach them first.”
Mrs. Vilari inhaled sharply. I thought she might begin to cry, but she looked more terrified than sad. “Mr. Holt, is my husband a traitor? Please reassure me. His reputation—the children…”
Tears poured down her face. She was devastated, and I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. “Until I give this to the FBI and they can determine the result of your husband’s actions, we shouldn’t make any assumptions. I’m sorry.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “If you could let me know…”
I couldn’t leave without giving her some solace. “Mrs. Vilari, I believe your husband did what he was forced to do. I think he was an unwilling accessory.”
Her face brightened. “Thank you.”
Giving her a brief nod, I left. Rushing to my Rover, my hands shook as I slid the key into the ignition. I skimmed the letter again and couldn’t believe what I was reading. Vilari admitted that he stole the toxin, however, he then handed it off to someone at the metro center. He didn’t know what was in the vials he delivered to the airpark.
