A Slow Walk to Hell (25 page)

W
hat did Simon know and how did he know it?

Those were the two questions I felt compelled to answer during the ride to the Days Inn. To gain insight into what Simon was thinking, I compiled a list of additional questions in my notepad, based on comments he’d made that I hadn’t understood.

With Amanda’s input, it took me five minutes to complete the list, which included remarks and possible explanations.

1. Why was Simon interested in the color of Talbot’s sheets?
   
   • Timing?
     
   • If so, did it really matter how long Talbot had been using white sheets?
     
2. Why did Simon want Billy to tell him how long the video camera had been installed in Talbot’s bedroom?
   
   • Again timing?
     
   • If so, why was it important to know how long Talbot had been videotaping his lovers?
     
3. Why did Simon say the videotapes were meant to confuse the motive?
   
   • He said tapes, not tape.
     
   • Was he referring only to the tapes that were left behind and not the one taken to blackmail Talbot and Sam?
     
   • Makes no sense. The missing tape was the one that suggested the blackmail angle.
     
   • If true, why didn’t Simon say so?
     
4. Why did Simon tell Enrique the gay club was crucial to the case?
   
   • Did he believe a gay member was the murderer?
     
   • Possibly. Two of Talbot’s lovers were celebrities.
     
5. Who was the third marksman?
   
   • Congressman Harris?
     
   • Roland Slater?
     
   • A member of Harris’s staff?
     
   • A club member? (A celebrity?)
     

Except for question number four, Amanda and I discussed each entry. We knew there had to be a pattern, but we couldn’t see it.

It was frustrating.

We felt foolish.

We wanted to give up.

But instead of doing so, she hunched over the wheel, her brow knitted in thought. Following her lead, I fixated on the page, forcing my tired mind to wander over each line.

Nothing on the first pass. Or the second. But during the third I finally saw it.

A connection.

I began to tremble. My eyes shifted between the words “timing” and “sheets.”

They darted to the second entry: “Why did Simon want Billy to tell him how long the video camera had been installed in Talbot’s bedroom?”

I looked at the fourth question. The one about the club. I focused on a single word.

“Celebrities.”

Then back to the third question: “Why did Simon say the videos were meant to confuse the motive?”

And he said “tapes.”

All of them.

That’s when I knew. I murmured, “Oh, God—”

Amanda’s head swung around. “You got something?”

My mouth felt like sand. “Yes. I think…yes.”

“Well?”

I glanced over to tell her. More than anything, I wanted to tell her. Share this revelation.

But I’d made a promise.

“I can’t say.”

“What?”

“I can’t say,” I repeated.

She stared at me in disbelief. That reaction instantly gave way to anger. “What the hell is this, Marty? You pulling a goddamn Simon on me?”

“No. I just can’t—”

“Son of a bitch.
I can’t believe you. I really can’t. We’re supposed to be cooperating together—”

She was completely incensed, looking at me more than the road. I said, “Amanda, take it easy—”

“Screw you.
I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull—”

“Watch out!”

Her head snapped around to the front. Simon’s limo had stopped at a light and we were about to plow into the back. She jammed on the breaks and we were thrown against our shoulder harnesses. We squealed to a stop, a foot from impact.

The car was quiet. No one said anything.

The light changed and she stepped on the gas.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

We rode the rest of the way in silence.

Press Wars II.

That’s what we were confronted with when we drove into the Days Inn parking lot.

The east end was packed with press vans and satellite trucks, the occupants held at bay by two cops. One was Officer Hannity, the guy who’d been with us at Coller’s place.

An armada of police vehicles were parked by the hotel entrance, a knot of officers visible on the steps. Two men in civilian clothes—probably hotel employees—were setting up a wooden podium on the sidewalk out front.

They’re looking for political cover and Kelly is it.

Here’s how the arrest is going down…

I shook my head. Arresting Kelly was one thing. That I could stomach. But to make a public spectacle of it, parade him in front of the—

I stared at the TV cameras and glanced at my shirt. While I’d lost the war over this thing, I was at least going to win a minor battle. When Charlie and the SECDEF saw me on TV, they would be a couple of very pissed-off campers. They would consider my attire unprofessional and embarrassing to the good name of the military. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t much of a victory.

But it made me feel a little better.

Amanda followed the limo to the west side of the building, where two more police cruisers sat, noses angled toward a tan Explorer. A couple patrolmen and a plainclothes detective waited between the vehicles, eyeing us expectantly.

The limo’s brake lights came on and we stopped behind it. By the time Amanda and I got out, Simon and Enrique were strolling over to the detective, a pint-sized guy with a goatee. The guy held up something to show them. We couldn’t tell what it was because Enrique blocked our view. Two steps later, he angled to one side of the detective and we got a good look at the item.

A large knife in a leather sheath.

Amanda slammed the door of the Saab, to remove any doubt that she was still thoroughly ticked off. I trailed her at a safe distance.

“It was in the glove compartment, Lieutenant,” the detective said to Simon, as I sauntered up. “It’s clean. No blood.” He offered the knife to Simon who declined with a head shake.

“You find the gun, Hal?” Simon asked him.

“Yeah,” the detective grunted. “Under the couch where the caller said it would be. It’s a forty-five, recently fired. Show the man, Paul.”

One patrolman stepped over to a cruiser, reached into a cardboard box sitting on the passenger seat, and produced a large automatic.

He brought the gun over to Simon, who slid on latex gloves. Hal trained a penlight on the weapon, so Simon could inspect it.

After sniffing the barrel, Simon popped out the clip and thumbed out the remaining rounds. “At least six are missing.”

Which matched the number of shots fired at the rectory.

After reinserting the clip, Simon returned the pistol and rounds to the cop. “Have you finished searching Kelly’s room, Hal?”

“Just about.”

“Did Kelly resist?”

“He was asleep. Had no clue about the CNN video or what we were doing there. Practically keeled over, when we found the gun. Swore he didn’t know anything about it.”

“Did he have an explanation for how it got under the couch?”

“You better believe it. Said it had to be the guy who showed up in his room a little after ten tonight. Here’s a grabber, Lieutenant: He said it was that Air Force major who was killed by the sniper—”

“Major Coller,” Simon said.

“Colonel Kelly went off on Coller big-time. He said he was the bastard who suckered him into going over to Talbot’s place this afternoon.”

Amanda cut me an I-told-you-so look. One punctuated by a withering glare.

I sighed.

Simon eyed Hal, “So Kelly
had
expected to meet with Talbot at his home?”

Hal nodded. “Some crap about a promotion. According to Kelly, Talbot was going to put in a good word for him with his uncle, the congressman. Convince him to help Kelly get promoted to general. Kelly said he thought it was all bullshit, but figured he had nothing to lose by showing up.”

“Who answered when he called on the intercom?”

“Nobody. That’s what pissed Kelly off. He figured Talbot was fucking with him, so he decided to fuck with him back. That’s why he pulled the knife.”

“He always carry the knife in the car?”

“For the last couple weeks. Since we had those car jackings in Old Town.”

“No rifle has turned up?”

Hal shook his head. “I checked out the obvious places in the room, Lieutenant. I got a guy crawling through the Dumpsters. We get through here, I’ll have my men sweep the area, see if we can find a likely place where Kelly might have dumped it.”

Amanda was frowning at this part of conversation, as was I. I tossed out, “Was the rifle also mentioned in the tip?” If it was, Simon never told us.

“No,” Simon said. “We’re only trying to preclude the possibility that someone might try and link the rifle to Colonel Kelly. Frankly, I’m curious why they didn’t do so; it would have sealed the case against Kelly.”

A valid concern.

Simon asked Hal if Kelly had an alibi for 8
P.M
. tonight.

“Uh-uh.” The detective gestured across the street, toward Quigley’s bar. “He was over at that bar from nine to ten. Other than that, he was in his room.”

“No visitors?”

“Only Coller.” He hesitated, as if to add something.

“Yes?”

Hal shrugged. “Probably nothing. Colonel Kelly had just returned from the bar, when Coller knocked on the door. Kelly thinks he was waiting for him.

Simon digested this with a nod. “You have the arrest warrant?”

Hal patted his jacket.

“Let’s go,” Simon said.

W
e entered through a side door, to avoid the reporters. Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, we emerged into a quiet corridor. Midway down, we saw an open door, a cop the size of a house standing outside. As we approached the room, two female forensic technicians materialized, carrying evidence boxes and bags of clothing—items they would check for blood or fibers, anything that could connect Kelly to Talbot’s killing.

When Simon asked, they shook their heads no. They’d found no other weapons.

We filed inside the room to find Colonel Kelly seated on an unmade bed. He was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and slacks. A tough looking female detective and another uniform hovered over him. In contrast to his arrogant demeanor at Quigley’s, Kelly appeared docile, almost frightened.

The colonel knew he was in trouble.

He watched us enter with blinking eyes. Seeing me, he sprang to his feet, his voice containing more than a trace of panic.

“Collins,” he said. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Talbot. What you saw on the video. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only trying to scare him—”

“Don’t say another thing,” I said. “Not one word until you get a lawyer.”

Hal and the female detective glared at me, but Simon nodded his approval.

“I didn’t do it.”
Kelly’s voice rose shrilly. “Someone had Coller set me up. That person must have killed him. Why can’t you guys see it? I’m being set up.
Someone is setting me up.”
His eyes darted around, searching for a face who believed him. Everyone gazed back with practiced, detached expressions.

Including me.

Simon came forward with the warrant and formally placed Kelly under arrest. As Kelly was being cuffed by the female detective, he continued to protest his innocence.

“I told you,” he said to me. “I told you I was the easy choice.”

His eyes locked on mine accusingly, implying that this was somehow my fault.

I wasn’t going to respond, but couldn’t help myself.

“Yes,” I said. “You told me.”

He continued to stare at me, as if he expected something more. But there was nothing else I could tell him. No reassurance I could provide.

However, there was something I could do.

“Simon, can I talk to you for a minute?”

As we moved to the area by the wash basin, I whispered my request to him.

He studied me for a long beat. “Your superiors will be angry. They wanted the arrest telecast.”

“Screw them. Kelly doesn’t deserve to be humiliated.”

A tiny smile.

As he stepped away, I saw Kelly’s eyes focused on me. I told myself to ignore him, but his eyes remained on me.

I turned my back on him and walked out.

It wasn’t my fault.

If anything, Kelly bore much of the responsibility for his predicament. He was the one who left the threatening message, waved the knife into the camera. He’s the one who made himself the perfect patsy.

It wasn’t my fault.

But as I took the elevator to the ground floor, I kept going back to what Amanda said to me, after we’d learned that my daughter Emily had gotten drunk.

Someday you’ll wake up and realize life is a lot more enjoyable when you’re not laying guilt trips on yourself.

It better happen soon because I wasn’t having much fun now.

I was leaning against a wall by the elevators, staring blankly at the lobby entrance. Through the glass doors, I watched the cops position themselves into a human wall before the podium. One spoke on his radio. He said something to the others and everyone looked in the direction of the reporters. Moments later, the first surge of media appeared, running.

The elevator dinged and I pushed upright.

Hal and the female detective emerged first, leading a sullen Colonel Kelly. Instead of continuing into the lobby and the waiting dog-and-pony show, the trio hung a left into a hallway that funneled to the side exit. Kelly would be slipped into an unmarked car and quietly driven away.

Enrique and Amanda appeared next. He acknowledged me with a grim smile, but Amanda blew by without a glance. Simon brought up the rear and eased on over. “Ready, Martin?”

I looked at him as if he were crazy.

His expression turned sympathetic. “If it helps, Colonel Kelly won’t be in custody long.”

The confirmation I’d been seeking. I went with it and said casually, “How much do you know?”

He shrugged. “It’s still not clear who was responsible for the murders.”

“It isn’t?”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “But I know where to find the answer.”

“The gay club?”

He tried not to show surprise and almost made it.

I explained, “Enrique told me you believed the club might be crucial to the case. I didn’t understand why until I put that together with Talbot’s videotapes.”

An approving flicker in his eyes. “So you realize the blackmail went beyond Major Talbot and General Baldwin?”

I nodded. “You got a line on who owns the club?”

“Not yet. I asked Enrique to call his friend, the one who is a club member, to see if he could provide the owner’s name.”

“The friend wouldn’t, huh?”

“Enrique is reluctant to call him. His friend has a high government position and he doesn’t want to involve him.”

“Hey,” a voice called out, “you guys going to do this or what?”

We looked toward the lobby entrance. Amanda stood beside Enrique, her arms folded, one foot tapping.

As we started toward her, Simon observed, “She’s seems irritable.”

“She’s upset because I wouldn’t tell her about the club.” I gave him a sideways glance. “We can’t keep this from her.”

“I’ll talk to Enrique.”

We passed a timid looking woman at the reception desk. I threw her a smile. She stared back mutely, making no attempt to return it. I didn’t take it personally; it was probably the shirt.

I said to Simon, “You mentioned you don’t know who is responsible for the murders…”

“No.”

“But you believe Harris is involved?”

No response. Even now, he was still reluctant to commit himself. We were almost to the glass doors. I said, “C’mon, Simon. We both know he has to be—”

“An unwilling participant, Martin.”

Another suspicion verified. Congressman Harris, it appeared, was also being blackmailed.

We stepped onto the rubber pad and the automatic doors slid open. Instantly, we were greeted by a barrage of questions and the flash of cameras.

“What other evidence do you have besides the surveillance video, Lieutenant?”

“Did Colonel Kelly commit all the murders?”

“Was it a hate crime?”

Simon asked me, “How do I look?”

I gave him a once-over. “Fine. Perfect.”

Apparently my assessment wasn’t good enough, considering he was about to go on national TV. Simon began smoothing imaginary creases from his jacket. My phone rang and I knew it could only be one of two people. One I wanted to talk to; the second I didn’t. After checking the caller ID, I offered the phone to Amanda.

“Tell Charlie that Kelly is in custody.”

“So General Hinkle can read me the riot act because we didn’t arrest Kelly on camera. No thanks.”

“I haven’t got time to talk to him now.”

“So don’t.” She shrugged.

The phone kept ringing. Amanda ignored it and me. Simon said to her, “You can blame me for Kelly’s arrest.”

She just looked at him.

I said to her, “If I don’t answer, he’ll call you.”

That finally convinced her. She made a face and took the phone. I gave her a smile. “Wish me luck?”

“Break both legs,” she said, moving away. She sounded as if she meant it.

“I’ll take the lead,” Simon said to me. “Remember, we need to present a united front. It’s important that you support my conclusions.”

I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He passed through the doors and continued down the steps toward the podium. I followed him, curious why he felt the need to tell me this.

Three minutes later, I had my answer.