The Washington Lawyer (29 page)

“Paul, you're fantastic.” She felt as if they were almost there.

She watched him pick up Jasper's sheet and stare at it. His hand was shaking. What's going on, she wondered. “Time to call Mary Pat,” Allison said.

With Paul listening, she took out her cell and called. “Hi, this is Allison Boyd. I spoke with you two days ago about my sister who drowned in Anguilla … I'm back in Washington … Yes, I got back without any problem. And thanks so much for the clothes. I'll return them to you. Now I have a favor to ask. I'd like to e-mail you photos of three men who might have been with Vanessa. Would you let me know if one of these is the guy? … Thanks so much. What's your e-mail address? I'll have them to you in a couple of minutes.”

Paul scanned the three bio sheets. Then he typed a cover note. “Here are the three. Were any of these men with my sister, Vanessa, at your restaurant last weekend? Thanks for your help. Best regards, Allison.” He hit the send button.

While they waited for a reply, Paul paced around the room, looking anxious as hell. “What's with him?” Allison asked herself.

“Could you please stop pacing? You're driving me crazy.”

He sat down, staring at the computer. Five minutes later, Mary Pat's reply appeared on the screen. “It's Senator Wesley Jasper from Colorado.”

Before Allison said a word, Paul replied by e-mail. “Are you certain?”

In an instant came Mary Pat's response: “Quite certain.”

“Thank her,” Allison said.

Paul typed that and hit the send button.

“Oh, Paul. We have our man. And it makes sense. He was the chairman of her committee.”

“I guess so,” he said glumly.

“What's bothering you?”

He hesitated for a minute. Then he said, “Jasper is a good friend of Andrew Martin's. I wish it were someone else.”

“Listen, Paul, You've been so great to help identify that scumbag Jasper. Now I'd like you to stay out of this. I can't let you do anything to endanger your job.”

“Don't worry about that. What are you planning to do now?”

“I'm going to confront Senator Jasper face-to-face in a public place—probably in a restaurant.”

“Why? What do you hope to accomplish?”

“I want to find out what happened to Vanessa in her last days? And how she died?”

“You really think he'll tell you?”

“I'll threaten to go to his wife. And the
Washington Post
.”

“If he tells you, will you still go to his wife and the paper?”

“I don't know. But Paul, I can go on now by myself. I can't put you at risk. And Jasper's relationship with Martin does that.”

“No. We're in this together,” he said emphatically.

She didn't want to hurt Paul's career, but he wasn't accepting that. So she changed her approach. “I'm not sure you have anything to add.”

“You'll need a witness when you confront Jasper to avoid ending up with a he said/she said.”

“I have to do this alone.”

“I think you're wrong.”

“Tell you what. If you want to help, come along and wait outside the restaurant. Hide across the street or in an adjoining doorway. If you see any hostile looking Chinese people approach, call me on my cell and let me know.”

“Okay. Will do.”

She recalled the sound of bones breaking in the nose and face of one of her assailants on the loading dock. She expected him to be trying to find her. “Oh, and one of them may have a bandage on his nose. He's angry and dangerous.”

“The guy you hit with your bag?”

“Yeah. How do I get Jasper's office number?”

“Once Martin asked me to deal with him. I kept it.”

Paul punched keys on his computer, printed out a page, and handed to her. “All of his contact info.”

She called his office and said to his secretary. “I want to talk to Senator Jasper. Tell him that Vanessa Boyd asked me to call.”

Seconds later, she heard, “This is Senator Jasper, who's calling?”

In a calm, clear voice, she responded. “Vanessa Boyd asked me to give you something.”

“Who are you?”

“Meet me at noon at Bistro Francais in Georgetown. A booth in the back.”

Allison hung up.

Paul said to her, “You think he'll show?”

“Damn right. He sounded scared to death.”

* * *

As Allison left Paul on M Street and walked into Bistro Francais she wondered what the hell she was getting into.

Don't lose your courage, she told herself, shrugging off fear. She owed it to Vanessa to find out what happened. And she owed it to herself. Then she had to punish Jasper. He shouldn't get away with it.

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, she thought. She better let him talk. Start with an open mind.

Allison walked past the bar and the wooden tables in the front of the bistro to the booths in the back. The restaurant was nearly empty. Dinner was their main business.

She spotted Jasper in a booth in the rear, his back to the wall. With determined steps, she headed that way. Across the room, she saw two elderly, gray-haired women eating salad.

“Senator Jasper,” Allison said.

He stood up and looked at her with a petrified expression. “My God. You startled me. You look just like Vanessa.”

“I'm Allison, Vanessa's twin.”

“What did Vanessa give you to pass along to me?”

“Sit down, Senator. We have to talk.”

Despite her intent to let him talk first, she was about to unload, but Jasper preempted her. “I knew your sister professionally at the Senate Armed Services Committee. We all liked her. I, of course, learned about her death, and I'm very sorry.”

Astounding
, Allison thought. He
learned about her death
.

“I believe you knew her a little more than professionally.” Allison forced herself not to raise her voice.

“No, you're mistaken. Whoever told you … ”

“Senator, I have an eyewitness who saw you with Vanessa last weekend in Anguilla.”

“That's not possible. Last weekend I was in Colorado.”

“Her name's Mary Pat, the proprietor of the Hibernia. You ate there with my sister Saturday evening. You had the duck and ordered two expensive bottles of wine, a white and a red Corton. You sat along the wall. At the end of the dinner, you told Mary Pat to tell her husband in the kitchen how much you enjoyed the duck. Is that enough for you?”

Allison, even in the dim light, could see the color draining from Jasper's face. He leaned forward and whispered, “What do you want? How much?”

“You're contemptible.”

“Well then, what do you want?”

“First, to know what happened to my sister. All the details.”

Jasper sat back up, seeming to recover.

“I wasn't with your sister. I already told you that.”

“Give up, Senator. If not, I'll go to your wife with the e-mails I have from Mary Pat. Your wife knows you weren't in Colorado. After I talk to her, I'm going to the
Washington Post
. Then the
Denver Times
. I won't stop until I ruin your life.”

Jasper sucked in his breath. “And if I tell you, just assuming that I do have something that would satisfy you … then how do I know you won't go to my wife and the papers anyway? All I'll be doing is giving you rope to hang me.”

“To continue your metaphor, it doesn't take much rope to hang a man, and I already have plenty. So a little more won't matter.”

Jasper's mouth hung open as if frozen.

While the Senator pondered this, a young waitress came over, placed two glasses of water on the table, and held out menus. “Would you like to look at these now?”

Allison wanted her away fast. “Pick your best fish dish. Bring two of them with ice tea.”

Jasper looked beaten. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened Sunday evening?”

“Your sister was a wonderful woman. We were having a terrific weekend …”

“No, no, not now. I don't want to hear any of that.” Her voice was quavering. “Sunday night, what happened? And the truth. No more idiotic stories.”

“Okay. Okay. We were having a blast, living it up in a private villa on the beach.”

“You weren't staying on a boat?”

“No, I hate those things. We had a great dinner Sunday evening at a place along the water. Then we went back to the villa. We stretched out on some chairs on the beach, sipping wine. She'd concealed a joint in her purse. She smoked that.”

“What about you?”

He shook his head. “I don't do that.”

“Oh I see. You're a boy scout. An adulterous boy scout.”

“Anyhow, she said, ‘It's time for a swim.' That was insane. With all the drinking we had done. And then the pot. I told her that. She laughed. Said ‘you sound like my sister, Allison. Always worrying about me.' She stood up and pointed out to the sea. ‘Look how calm it is. There's nothing to worry about. Come in with me,' she said. ‘C'mon Wes.' But I refused. ‘You're an over–the-hill creep,' she said. She pulled off her clothes and ran into the water. When it was up to her waist, she dove in and began swimming out. I watched her, following her bobbing head getting smaller and smaller, hard to see even with the moonlight. I thought I heard a noise, but I couldn't see a thing. I got up and looked around. Nothing there. Must have been a dog, I decided.

“Then I looked back toward the water.” His voice dropped to a frightened whisper. “At first I couldn't see her. Then I did. Little sticks, must've been her arms waving wildly. Her head, I could see it, then I couldn't, then I could. A faint shriek. ‘Help me … help me.'

“I peeled off my shirt and pants and ran into the water. In college I'd been a lifeguard at a resort during summers. ‘I'm coming,' I shouted. ‘Just hold on. I'm coming.' I swam as fast as I could, but it was tough going, even with the current pulling away from the shore. Remember I'd had a lot to eat and drink. I focused on her head bobbing up and down and moved on a straight line toward her.

“I thought I was only a couple of yards away, but suddenly I couldn't see her. Her head must have gone under. And this time it didn't come up. I dove down, swam madly to where I'd last seen her, found her, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up, choking and gagging. I turned her onto her back. With one arm around her chest, I swam sidestroke, kicking hard as I damn well could, fighting the current back to shore. In the first couple of minutes, I couldn't make much progress. My whole body inside and out hurt like hell. I thought I'd never make it back with her. For an instant, I thought of leaving her and trying to save myself. But I couldn't do that.

“Finally, I could stand up. I placed her over my shoulder, face down, hoping she would start coughing. That water would come out of her mouth. But her body was totally limp. I plowed on through the sand with her over my shoulder.”

Allison's teeth were clenched so hard her jaw ached.

“Once we reached dry beach, I placed her on her back and put my mouth over hers. Blew as hard as I could to force air into her lungs. All the while, praying, pleading silently. Don't die on me. Oh please God, don't let her die on me. Dammit, breathe. Please breathe. But it didn't happen. She didn't breathe. She didn't move.

“Then I turned her head on the side hoping the damn sea water would trickle out, but nothing. Not even a drop. I punched down on her stomach. No response. I looked into her eyes. Not even a flicker of her eyelids.

“I felt her pulse. Nothing. He shook his head. “Believe me. I did everything I could.”

“What happened next?”

“I rolled away and fell exhausted on to my back, on the sand. I shut my eyes tight imagining that this last half-hour was all a terrible dream. A nightmare that would pass when I opened them. But I knew it wouldn't. A naked dead woman, who wasn't my wife, was lying there next to me.”

Oh, you poor philanderer
, Allison thought.
Was she supposed to feel sorry for him?
“So what did you do?”

“Well, I couldn't leave her on the beach. I picked her up and carried her up to the villa. Placed her down on a bed. Covered her body. Not her face.”

“And then?”

“A lot of pacing around trying to decide what to do, spinning out possible scenarios. Each one worse than the other. Then I started shivering despite the balmy air. Well, my life's over, I thought. I'm fucked. Totally fucked! How could I ever have been so stupid? Why did I ever come here?”

“For some great sex,” Allison softly responded. “That's why.”

Jasper ignored her and ranted on. “What the hell had I been thinking? To put my whole life on the line for this? ‘Idiot,' I shouted out loud, pounding my hand against my forehead.

“Desperate, I decided to call the owner of the villa. I grabbed a cell phone and dialed him. He told me to come home. He'd take care of it.”

“So how'd my sister's body end up on the beach in front of the hotel Corinthian?”

“I don't know. I swear. I left her on that bed in the villa and took off … Ms. Boyd. I'm not a bad person. I did all I could.” Jasper began to sob. “He said he'd take care of it.”

“You miserable bastards—‘take care of it'—that's my sister you were talking about. Not a dead fish that washed up on the beach. She was left to rot. Or be eaten by animals.”

The waitress came over with their food, set it down, and departed. Neither of them touched it.

Jasper said, “You may not believe this, but not an hour has gone by that I haven't been haunted by that night. That I haven't regretted running away. I'm not offering that as an excuse. Just an explanation.”

“The hell with that. I want to know who told you he'd ‘take care of it.' Who left my sister's body on the beach and created a bullshit story that she stayed alone at the Corinthian Hotel?”