Split Second (14 page)

W
HEN HE CLIMBED
into her truck, King quickly observed the interior of Michelle’s vehicle and could not conceal his disgust. He picked up an energy bar wrapper off the floor by his foot that still had a hunk of stale “power chocolate” inside. The backseats were full of items haphazardly strewn around: water and snow skis, assorted oars and paddles, gym clothes, sneakers, dress shoes and a couple of skirts, jackets and blouses and a pair of pantyhose still in its packaging. There were warm-up suits, books, a northern Virginia yellow pages, empty soda and Gatorade cans and a Remington shotgun and a box of shells. And that was just what King could see. God only knew what else was lurking in here; the smell of rotten bananas was hammering his nostrils.

He looked over at Michelle. “Make a note to never, ever invite me to your place.”

She glanced at him and smiled. “I told you I was a slob.”

“Michelle, this is beyond a slob. This is a mobile garbage dump; this is total and complete anarchy on wheels.”

“So philosophical. And call me Mick.”

“You prefer ‘Mick’ to ‘Michelle’? Michelle is an elegant, classy name. Mick sounds like a punch-drunk boxer-turned-doorman in uniform braids and fake medals.”

“The Secret Service is still a guy’s world. You go along to get along.”

“Just drive them around in this truck one time, and you’ll
never be mistaken for anything but a guy, even if your name was Gwendolyn.”

“Okay, I get the point. So what do you expect to find down there?”

“If I knew that, I probably wouldn’t be going.”

“Will you visit the hotel?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been back since it happened.”

“I can understand that. I’m not sure I could ever go back to that funeral home.”

“Speaking of, anything new on the Bruno disappearance?”

“Nothing. No ransom request, no demands of any kind. Why would you go to all the trouble to kidnap John Bruno, including the murder of a Secret Service agent, and possibly the man he was going to pay his last respects to, and then do nothing with him?”

“Right, Bill Martin, the deceased. I thought he must have been killed.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

“They couldn’t very well plan this whole scheme and hope the guy croaked in accordance with their time schedule. And they couldn’t exactly work it the other way. The guy dies, and then they scramble to put it all together in a couple of days, coincidentally right when Bruno is passing by. No, he had to be murdered too.”

“I’m impressed with your analysis. I heard you were the real deal.”

“I was in investigation a lot longer than I was a human shield. Every agent works so hard to get to protection and especially the presidential detail, and then once there they can’t wait to get out of it and back to investigation.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Ungodly hours, in control of nothing in your life. Just standing around waiting for a shot to be fired. I pretty much hated it, but it’s not like I had a choice.”

“Were you assigned to POTUS?”

“Yes. Took me years of hard work to get there. I spent two years at the White House. It was great for the first year, and then after that, it wasn’t so great. It was just constant travel, having to deal with some of the biggest egos in the world and being treated like you were a couple of notches below the White House gardener. I especially like the staff members who were all of about twelve years old and truly didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground busting our chops over everything they could think of. Ironically enough I was just coming off that assignment when they put me on Ritter’s detail.”

“Gee, that’s heartening considering I’ve spent years of my life trying to get there too.”

“I’m not saying don’t go for it. Riding on
Air Force One
is a thrill. And having the president of the United States tell you you’re doing a good job is damn nice too. I’m just saying don’t believe all the hype. In many ways it’s like any other protection gig. At least with investigation you get to actually arrest bad guys.” He paused and looked out the window. “Speaking of investigation, Joan Dillinger recently came back into my life and made me an offer.”

“What sort of offer?”

“To help her find John Bruno.”

Michelle nearly drove off the road. “What!”

“Her firm’s been hired by Bruno’s people to find him.”

“Excuse me, doesn’t she know the FBI is on the case?”

“So? Bruno’s folks can hire anyone they want.”

“But why involve you?”

“She gave me an explanation that I don’t really buy. So I don’t know why.”

“Are you going to do it?”

He looked at her. “What do you think? Should I?”

She glanced quickly at him. “Why ask me?”

“You seem to have your suspicions about the woman. If she was involved in Ritter’s killing and now she’s involved in another third-party candidate matter, don’t you find that interesting? So should I or shouldn’t I…
Mick
?”

“My first inclination would be no, you shouldn’t.”

“Why, because it might turn out to bite me in the butt?”

“Yes.”

“And your second inclination, which I’m sure is a lot more self-serving and conniving than your first?”

She eyed him, saw his amused expression and smiled guiltily. “Okay, my second inclination would be for you to do it.”

“Because then I’d have the inside track on the investigation. And I could feed you everything I find out.”

“Well, not everything. If you and Joan rekindle your romance, I don’t really want to know the details about that.”

“Not to worry. Black widows eat their mates. I barely escaped the first time.”

A
LITTLE OVER
two hours after leaving Wrightsburg they arrived at Loretta’s home. There were no police cars around, but yellow police tape was across the front door.

“I guess we can’t go in,” she said.

“Guess not. How about her son?”

She pulled the number from her purse and called. The man answered, and she arranged to meet him at a coffee shop in the small downtown area. As Michelle was about to drive away from Baldwin’s house, King stopped her.

“Give me a sec.” He jumped out of the truck and walked up and down the street, and then he went around the block and disappeared from Michelle’s view. A few minutes later he came from around the rear of Baldwin’s house and rejoined Michelle.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Nothing. Except Loretta Baldwin has a nice place.”

As they drove to the downtown area, they passed several police cars parked at various intersections, the officers intently checking the occupants of each car. Overhead they saw a helicopter cutting back and forth.

“I wonder what’s up?” Michelle said.

King turned on the radio and got a local news station. They found out that two men had escaped from a state penitentiary nearby and a massive police search was under way.

When they got to the coffee shop, Michelle was about to park and get out but then stopped.

“What is it?” asked King.

She pointed to a road off the main strip where two county cop cars were parked. “I don’t think they’re looking for the escaped cons. We’re being set up.”

“Okay, call the son again. Tell him you had nothing to do with his mother’s murder, but if he wants to talk, he can do it over the phone.”

Michelle sighed, put the truck in gear and drove off. When they reached a secluded enough spot she pulled off the road. She called Loretta’s son and told him what King had asked her to say. “All I want to know is, how was she killed?”

“Why should I tell you?” replied the son. “You visit my mama, and the next thing I know she’s dead.”

“If I planned on killing her, I wouldn’t have left my name and phone number behind, would I?”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re into some freaky thrills.”

“I came to talk to your mother about what she knew about the Ritter killing eight years ago. She told me she knew very little.”

“Why you want to know about that?”

“I’m into American history. Are the cops with you right now?”

“What cops?”

“Don’t bullshit me. Are they, yes or no?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll just assume you’re lying about that. Here’s what I think. I think my talking to your mother about the Ritter assassination might have led to someone killing her.”

“Ritter? That’s crazy. They killed the man who did that.”

“Can you be sure he was acting alone?”

“How the hell
can
I be sure?”

“Exactly. So, again, how was your mother killed?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Michelle decided to try a different angle. “I only met with your mother for a little while, but I definitely liked what I saw. She was a real pistol who said what was on her mind. You have to respect that. She was a lifetime of wisdom rolled up into one very tough shell.”

“Yes, she was,” said the son. “And go to hell.” He hung up.

“Damn,” said Michelle. “I thought I had him.”

“You do. He’ll call back. Give him time, he has to ditch the cops.”

“Sean, he just told me to go to hell.”

“So he’s not the most subtle person in the world. He’s a guy. Just be patient. We’re not multitaskers like you women; we can only do one thing at a time.”

About thirty minutes later the phone rang.

Michelle looked at him. “How’d you know?”

“Guys are suckers for a good phone voice. And you said all the right things about his mother. We’re suckers for our mothers too.”

“Okay,” said the son over the phone, “they found her in the bathtub, drowned.”

“Drowned? So how do they know it wasn’t an accident? Maybe she had a heart attack.”

“There was money stuffed in her mouth, and the house had been ransacked. I don’t call that a damn accident.”

“House ransacked and money stuffed in her mouth?” repeated Michelle, and King raised his eyebrows.

“Yep, a hundred bucks. Five twenties. I found her. I had called that night but she didn’t answer. I live about forty miles away. I drove over. Damn! Seeing her like that.” His voice broke off.

“I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry that I never even asked your name.”

“Tony. Tony Baldwin.”

“Tony, I’m sorry. I visited your mother to talk about the Ritter assassination. I was interested in how it happened. I found out she was there that day and still lived in Bowlington, and I went to visit her. I talked to two other former maids too. I can give you their names. That’s all I did, I swear.”

“Okay, I guess I believe you. So you got any idea who did this?”

“Not yet, but starting right now, finding out is my number one priority.”

She thanked him, hung up and turned to King.

“Money stuffed in her mouth,” he said thoughtfully.

“My money,” said Michelle miserably. “I gave her that hundred dollars, five twenties, for answering my questions.”

King rubbed his chin. “Okay, robbery wasn’t a motive. They wouldn’t have left the cash. But they searched the house. The person was looking for something.”

“But the cash in her mouth. My God, that’s gruesome.”

“Maybe not so much gruesome as making a statement.”

She looked at him curiously. “What sort of statement?”

“Maybe a fatal one, for both of them. Who would have thought it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I haven’t finished thinking about it, that’s why. It’s just the way I do things.”

Michelle threw up her hands in frustration. “God, you are so maddening.”

“Thanks, I really work at it.” King looked out the window for a while and then finally stirred. “Okay, this is a small town, and we’re bound to attract suspicion, particularly with so many cops around. Let’s head out and find a place to stay. We’ll wait until late tonight before we hit it.”

“Hit what?”

He looked at her. “I can be as nostalgic as the next person.”

Michelle scowled. “Do lawyers always find it impossible to actually answer a question directly?”

“Okay, I think it’s about time I paid the Fairmount Hotel a visit. Is that direct enough for you?”