D.C. Dead (24 page)

“You make it sound as though Brix was not a considerate lover,” Stone said.

“Oh, I don’t mean to make it sound that way,” Kirby said. “He took pride in giving them what they wanted, the way they wanted it. He was very . . . proficient. If he was seeing Milly Hart, he’d be gone for a couple of hours. She liked
everything
.”

“Ms. Kirby,” Dino said, “would you describe Brix Kendrick as a sex addict?”

She laughed at that. “What else? He practically turned me into an addict, too, except I was addicted only to him.”

“Did you like him?” Stone asked.

“I loved him, and I loved working for him, too. He was a good boss, and he got a tremendous amount of work done every week, in spite of his extracurricular activities. I made a lot of that possible, of course, but he always gave me a list of things to accomplish before he went out.”

“Ms. Kirby,” Stone said, “this is important. Early in the afternoon of the day he died, he had sex with a woman in the family quarters—in the Lincoln Bedroom, in fact. Who was she?”

“Yes, he came back, went to work, and then, a little after five, he changed and went to play tennis on the White House court.”

“Who was she?” Stone asked again.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but he called her ‘the March Hare.’”

38

STONE AND DINO WERE QUIET ON THE DRIVE BACK TO THE Hay-Adams. When they were back in the suite Stone called Holly.

“Hello?”

“We’ve just left the White House, where we conducted a very important interview. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, so can you come over for a drink or dinner?”

“I can come over for a drink
and
dinner,” she replied. “Seven o’clock?”

“Good. See you then.”

Dino picked up the phone. “I think it will save time if I ask Shelley over, too.”

“We may as well have all the principals here,” Stone said.

Dino looked at Stone closely. “You seem a little down, pal. I would have thought you’d feel great about our interview.”

“You’re right, Dino, I should feel that way, but I’m sort of depressed about the direction this is taking.”

“What, too many suspects?”

“Right, and nobody knows who they are, except Brix, and he took the shortcut out of here.”

“Well, we know three of them,” Dino said, “but two of them are dead. All we’ve got is Charlotte Kirby and the March Hare. That’s from
Alice in Wonderland
, isn’t it?”

Stone nodded. “The Tea Party. It’s where the expression ‘mad as a March hare’ comes from.”

“Well, Brix seemed to give a meaning to each of his nicknames: the Rabbit, the Doggie, et cetera. So maybe the March Hare is a nut job.”

Stone nodded. “She’d almost have to be,” he said. “I mean, jealousy is one thing, but to kill Brix’s wife, then two of his lovers, well . . .”

“Maybe,” Dino said, looking thoughtful, “the March Hare is Charlotte Kirby herself. Maybe Brix drove her crazy with all of his descriptions of his sex life. Maybe masturbation really does drive you around the bend.”

“That’s a perfectly valid theory,” Stone admitted, “but it goes against the grain.”

“What grain is that?” Dino asked.

“The grain of Charlotte Kirby. I bought her story—hook, line, and sinker.”

Dino nodded. “I know what you mean. I had the feeling that we had stripped all her pretense away and we were getting the unadulterated truth. That happens in a successful interrogation, you know? The perp finally has no place to go but the truth.”

“You’re right,” Stone said.

“Maybe she still knows something she hasn’t told us, though,” Dino said. “Maybe she’s holding back the final tidbit.”

“The name of the March Hare?”

“Yeah.”

Stone shook his head. “No, I think she would have told us, if she knew.”

“Maybe she suspects?”

“I think she would have told us her suspicion. I think she’s sick of all this, and she wants an end to it.”

“I can’t disagree with you,” Dino said. “And I still think the March Hare is a nut job.”

“Agreed,” Stone said.

SHELLEY AND HOLLY ARRIVED, and drinks were poured. “Why so glum, fellows?” Holly asked.

“Because,” Stone said, “we’ve had a breakthrough.”

The room became very still.

“How so?” Holly asked carefully, looking from Stone to Dino.

“It’s like this,” Dino said. “We broke through, then found ourselves staring at another stone wall.”

“Explain, please,” Holly said.

Stone recounted their interview with Charlotte Kirby.

“Nineteen!”
Holly exclaimed. “And if Charlotte’s timeline is accurate, that’s over a two-year period.”

“That’s about right,” Dino said.

“Brix was a busy boy.”

“To paraphrase Frank Sinatra,” Dino said, “I don’t know why he isn’t in a jar at the Harvard Medical School.”

“Oh, come on, folks,” Shelley said, speaking for the first time, “that’s less than one a month.”

“Yeah,” Holly said, “but he was doing it multiple times with each one.”

“It’s hard to know how he had the energy for tennis,” Dino said, and everybody laughed. “And for all we know, he might have been doing that for years.”

They ordered dinner and took a break from the case for a while. Finally, when they were on coffee and brandy, Stone spoke up. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Dino replied.

The phone rang and Stone went to the desk to answer it. “Hello?”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Charlotte Kirby.”

“Yes?”

“I thought of something else.”

“Yes?”

“Brix had another nickname for the March Hare. He used it only once.”

“Yes?”

“He called her ‘RoboCop.’ I’m afraid that’s all I have for you.”

“Thank you very much,” Stone said. He hung up and returned to the table.

“Who was that?” Dino asked.

“It was Joan,” he said.

“Your secretary Joan?” Holly asked.

“Right. Another brandy anyone?” Nobody wanted another. They repaired to their respective bedrooms.

39

TODD BACON WAS AT A TECHNICAL SERVICES MEETING AT THE Agency, where a schematic of a new cell phone was being displayed on a large screen as the designers presented it.

“Our phone,” the designer said, “operates perfectly as an Apple iPhone Five, except that it will also broadcast a message that has been composed on the phone’s keyboard, then automatically compress, encrypt, and transmit on a high radio frequency of our choosing. And, as you can see, the phone is indistinguishable from the Apple phone.”

Todd’s phone began to vibrate on his belt, but he ignored it. “That’s obvious,” he said, “but what about if you open the phone and expose the works? Is it indistinguishable then?”

“It is,” the man replied, “except that the battery is marginally smaller. We’ve added three new chips to the phone, but each looks exactly like the ones they replaced, even to the serial numbers.”

“And if you crack the parts?”

“All you’d see is circuits which, visually, are identical. What’s different is what the circuits are used for, and the software contained therein.”