The Inner Sanctum

by Stephen W. Frey

  “Can I help you, Mr. Mitchell?” Rich Grainy stood in the doorway, looking at the opened bank envelope in David’s hand.

  David made a snap decision. It would be better to go on offense rather than try to explain this. He stood up slowly, then dropped the envelope onto the desk. “What’s the meaning of this?” He pointed down at the envelope.

  Grainy shifted from foot to foot nervously.

  “Rich,” David tried again, “what the hell is this?”

  Still Grainy did not answer.

  “Rich!” David slammed his fist down on the metal desktop. “Have you been stealing money from Doub? Should I call the police right now?”

  “You might want to call Art Mohler first.” Grainy’s voice was barely audible, but there was no fear in it. “He set that account up, and said not to tell anyone about it. I’ve never looked in that envelope because I don’t want to know what’s there.” He stopped for a moment. “I don’t appreciate your accusing me of stealing. I’ve worked at Doub for twenty years. I’m an honest man.”

  But David didn’t hear Grainy’s rebuke. He was swimming in his own pool of resentment. First Mohler had visited Finnerty at the Middleburg farm without telling David. Now he had been here at Doub Steel without acknowledging that either. Worse, he had opened a secret account and was paying significant amounts of money to something called LFA and forging David’s signature to do it.

  Mohler was setting him up. There could be no doubt of that now. But why? And then an eerie sensation crawled up his spine, and he shook his head violently. No, that couldn’t be possible.

  Chapter 20

  “So why here?” Todd wanted to know. He touched his stomach gently. It was sore from the punishment Harry the Horse had inflicted.

  “This was the only place I could think of that you’d recognize without my actually saying the name.” Jesse slipped into the seat as he held it for her. “I don’t feel comfortable talking on my office phone,” she said quietly.

  “You’re serious?” he asked, sitting down in the seat across the table.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Hi.” The waitress interrupted their conversation. “What can I get for you?”

  “Diet Coke,” Jesse answered quickly without looking up.

  “And I’ll have a chocolate milk shake, please.” Todd smiled pleasantly at the woman.

  “Sure.” The waitress ambled slowly away.

  Todd put his elbows down on the table. “It’s a great old place, don’t you think? Hasn’t changed at all since we used to come here in high school.”

  Jesse laughed. “It’s changed a lot. The furniture is different. They used to serve pizza and burgers, now it’s Mexican. And the name is different.”

  Todd smiled. “I was talking about the flavor of the place. Take a look.” He nodded. “Boys in letter jackets still chasing girls in short skirts. Those things never change.”

  “I should tell the girls to watch out for those kinds of boys.”

  “Hey, I had one of those jackets.”

  “Exactly,” she teased.

  The waitress was back quickly with their drinks. She served them and then moved to a table of loud teenagers.

  “So what did you do this weekend?” Todd picked up his chocolate shake and sucked on the straw.

  “Studied.” There was no need to get into the day of sailing with David.

  “I called you at midnight on Saturday and got your answering machine.”

  She knew he would be hurt if he heard the truth, and she always avoided causing someone else pain if she could. “I was home, but I let the answering machine pick up. I was tired.” She began tearing the paper napkin into small pieces.

  “Nah, you’re just like me that way. You can’t let a phone ring without answering.” He watched her fidget.

  “I was home,” she said firmly.

  Todd put down the milk shake, and his expression became serious. “Jess, I’ve missed you.”

  “What?” She had heard him, but was trying to buy time. Trying to figure out how to respond. He had taken her completely off guard.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about you. I guess I realized at lunch last week how much I’d like to see you more. I know how good it feels to see you tonight. You’ve been avoiding this for a long time, and I think I know why. But hasn’t enough time passed?”

  She didn’t want to deal with this now.

  “I’d really like for us to date again,” he continued. “I want to take you to dinners and just hang out together. We’ll take it slow, and I’ll be very much a gentleman until you tell me it’s okay. I won’t assume anything. If too much comes back, we’ll stop.”

  “I can’t.”

  “It’s that guy who picked you up in the limousine, isn’t it?” Todd was suddenly angry.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No! I told you, I just met him last week. He works at Sagamore.”

  “Were you with him Saturday night?”

  Jesse looked away quickly. She couldn’t deny it.

  “I knew it.”

  “It’s not like that, Todd. We’re just friends. We were just talking business.”

  “At midnight on Saturday?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a suit, Jess. He’s boring.”

  For the first time she heard real emotion in his voice. “Let’s talk about why I wanted you to meet me here,” she said. Jesse suddenly needed to talk to Becky. Maybe she could still reach her tonight.

  Todd held up his hands. “Is it that you’re worried I can’t make a commitment, that I’m not serious about anything? That I do these things on the weekend that are going to get me killed? I can change, Jess. Really.”

  “I don’t want you to change,” she said softly. “Please, let’s talk about how we’re going to find out if there’s anything going on in the Elbridge Coleman campaign. I found something this morning I think is really important.”

  For a moment Todd said nothing, searching her face for the truth. “Okay.” He smiled as best he could. “What did you find?”

  Jesse reached across the table and touched his arm gently. “Are you all right?” This was so difficult.

  “I’m fine. Don’t you pity me. I hate pity. Come on, tell me what you have.”

  “Todd, are you sure you can do this with me now? Maybe we should forget it.”

  “Jess!” he said loudly, holding up one hand. “It’s business. I can handle it if you can.” He smiled broadly to reassure her. “Whether you agree to date me or not, we’re still very good friends. If somebody is chasing you around shooting out your car windshield, I’m going to find him and make him wish he’d never been born.”

  He was so loyal. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “So what do you have?”

  She took a sip of Diet Coke. “I wanted to get a profile of the people working for Elbridge Coleman, so last week I obtained a list of individuals working for his campaign from the Federal Election Commission. This morning I had a friend of mine in the systems group at the branch run a report for me. It listed any place from which any person working for the Coleman campaign had received wages in the last two years.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “I got the Social Security numbers of the people working for Coleman. Then I gave those numbers to my friend and had him search through the IRS data bank for any employer that had made withholding deposits to us on behalf of those Social Security numbers.”

  “That’s a little Big Brotherish, isn’t it?” Todd asked.

  “It’s nothing compared to what some agents do.”

  “Tell me more about that.”

  “Maybe some other time.” Being a revenue agent meant being able to get almost any kind of information on someone you wanted. It was tempting, and as in al
l walks of life, some individuals gave in to the temptation. “Anyway, I found something interesting.”

  “What?”

  “One of the people currently working for Elbridge Coleman recently received two payments from an organization known as Liberation for African-Americans. And that person received the payments while he was working for Coleman.”

  “Isn’t LFA that militant group headed by the Reverend Elijah Pitts?”

  “The group is headed by Pitts, but it’s far from militant. In fact, it’s done some very good things for Baltimore’s inner city. You know, youth programs, work education programs, that kind of thing. But I still can’t understand why someone who had worked for LFA would also work for Elbridge Coleman. You have to admit that LFA and an establishment Republican like Elbridge Coleman are pretty much at opposite ends of the political spectrum.”

  Todd pushed out his lower lip. “I agree, but maybe the person is a secretary with no particular allegiance to a political party. Maybe the allegiance is simply to their children, who need to eat. Maybe it’s just a case of someone picking up a little money on the side at one job and working full-time at the other.”

  “Good point,” Jesse agreed, “and in the case of the Coleman campaign this individual is receiving regular payments, which would support your theory. The thing is, I can determine the annual salary of the person by reviewing the withholding payments and assuming a tax rate. The person is making almost a hundred thousand dollars a year at the Coleman campaign, if I’ve calculated correctly.”

  “Not a secretary.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What about the money from LFA?” Todd asked.

  “That’s where it gets even more interesting. Judging by the withholding amount, the gross amount must have been almost two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Jesus.” Todd shook his head. “And you’re sure this person was being paid by Coleman at the same time?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is strange, especially given the amounts.”

  “Wait,” Jesse said. “It gets better. A week after LFA made the withholding they came back to the IRS and claimed they had made a mistake. They claimed there had been a computer error in the payroll system. That the withholding payment should never have been made.”

  “Sounds like they were covering up a mistake.”

  “Exactly. So why would someone be working at both places?”

  “Working for one and gathering information on the other,” Todd offered. “That’s what comes to mind first.”

  “Right. And it seems to me it would make more sense if the person was really working for LFA and trying to get information on Coleman.” Jesse was talking quickly now. “Why would Coleman care about LFA?”

  “Maybe he wants to know if LFA is going to hold demonstrations at his functions or something.”

  “That sounds weak to me. It’s a lot for Coleman to risk for not much return.”

  “At least I’m trying.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have criticized you.”

  “It’s okay.” Todd picked up his milk shake and took another sip. “I don’t know, counselor, you’ve stumped me. But why would LFA necessarily want to know what was going on at the Coleman campaign?”

  “Maybe LFA would pass information on to Malcolm Walker. I think Senator Walker is close to LFA—at least, every time I see Pitts on television he’s calling Walker a good friend. Maybe the person is ultimately spying for Walker, stealing strategies, that kind of thing. If the person is making a hundred thousand at the Coleman campaign, he or she is one of the top aides, because that’s a lot of money for a campaign worker, even in a United States Senate race. The person would have access to very sensitive information.”

  “So then this person alerts Walker as to Coleman’s strategies, through LFA, so that Walker can have the jump on Coleman. And if they were ever caught, it would be LFA’s ass and not Walker’s.”

  “Right.”

  Todd shook his head. “Sorry to throw a monkey wrench in your theory, Jess, but I thought you told me the file you got from Neil Robinson’s summer home indicated that the improprieties were at the Coleman campaign.”

  Jesse didn’t answer for a moment. “I know. That kind of shoots everything down, doesn’t it?” She was suddenly dejected. “So what do we do, private investigator?”

  “There are only two real options,” he answered quickly.

  “And they are?”

  “Try to get a look at personnel files at the Coleman headquarters and/or at LFA.” Todd took the straw out of the milk shake, turned the large glass up, and finished what was left.

  “Do you really think Coleman or LFA is going to just hand over personnel files to us?”

  He smiled brazenly. “Of course not.”

  She caught her breath. “Are you talking about breaking into those places?”

  Todd shook his head. “Not both. If I happen to get caught breaking in somewhere, I certainly don’t want it to be at the headquarters of a man running for the United States Senate.”

  “So then it’s LFA headquarters.”

  “In the dead of night, baby.” Todd slammed his fist down hard on the table. For a moment the buzz of the restaurant went silent as people looked around at Todd and Jesse. Then slowly the sound level returned to normal. “Sorry about that.” He winked as he pulled his head down like a turtle going into its shell. “I got a little carried away for a second.”

  “Are you sure you want to break into LFA?” She shook her head. He was like a bulldog once he got into something. Nothing stopped him.

  “I don’t have any other ideas. I told you I did this morning on the phone, but that thing kind of fizzled this afternoon.”

  “I just don’t want you to get in any trouble.”

  “That’s why you’re going with me to LFA. You’ll be able to talk us out of trouble if we get caught.”

  “I can’t go with you!”

  “You have to. I won’t know what to look for. And I’m not going back if I don’t get the right stuff the first time, that’s for sure.”

  Jesse began to protest again, but she realized he was right. She nodded her head slowly. “All right.”

  Todd rubbed his hands together. Another opportunity to be with her. And it would be dangerous. She would be aroused. Maybe he could finally break down her resistance.

  * * *

  —

  “You’re certain?” The man could hardly contain himself.

  “Absolutely,” Roth replied. “I have a copy of a credit card receipt from last March when she purchased the gloves. And I have the lab telling me that the hair from the glove almost certainly belonged to a blond woman. There are only two women in the department with blond hair as long as the one from the glove.”

  “Kill her right away. But make it look like an accident.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Roth, get that file if you can. But make sure she doesn’t see another morning.”

  * * *

  —

  Becky Saunders had been Jesse’s psychotherapist for twelve years and never charged her a dime for the many visits, even though that flew in the face of professional canons. Becky had been on duty the day Jesse—an emotional wreck—had entered the hospital for the operation. The particulars of Jesse’s case had been so disturbing to Becky that she had stayed in the recovery room for five hours after the procedure talking with Jesse about what had happened, assuring her that she needn’t feel guilt, that it wasn’t her fault. And they had developed a bond that had lasted ever since. Jesse did Becky’s taxes every year, but it wasn’t as if she did it in an attempt to compensate Becky for the visits. They were simply friends helping each other the best way they could.

  Just like tonight. Becky had already seen six patients today, and it was past ten o’clock in the evening. But Jes
se had called and asked for an appointment at the last minute. And Becky had agreed immediately.

  Becky opened her second pack of cigarettes of the day, lighted one, and inhaled. “So Todd Colton is becoming a larger part of your life again.”

  “Yes.”

  “He asked if you two could start dating, is that right?”

  “Yes,” Jesse replied again. “I told him no.”

  “But you thought about saying yes, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Jesse admitted.

  “Do you think that would be a good idea, to start dating him?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  Becky took another puff from her cigarette. “You know what I think.”

  “Tell me again.” Jesse had heard Becky’s opinion so many times, but it was always therapy to listen.

  A column of smoke rose from the cigarette tip and curled around Becky. “I’m going to go through the whole thing,” she warned.

  “I know.”

  Becky felt the beginnings of a headache, but ignored the dull throbbing over her eyes. “You’d been sailing with Todd since early in the morning.” Her voice was raspy from years of smoking. “It’s a beautiful day, you’re having a great time together, and you both realize that you’re crazy about each other. You go back to his parents’ house that evening because they’re away on a trip. You make love for the first time in your life.”

  “Yes.”

  “Afterward, Todd takes you home. He walks you to the door, kisses you good night, and leaves. You come inside. You’re an hour past your curfew. Your stepfather, Joe, is waiting up, and he starts in on you as soon as you come through the door.”

  “Starts in on me,” Jesse repeated sarcastically. “That’s an understatement. He was screaming at me. God, I hated him.”

  “He’s had bourbon. Normally he wouldn’t have been drinking, but your mother is on an overnight retreat with one of her church groups. Joe follows you to your bedroom, still screaming at you.”