Jack hung up and pondered the matter. The police wanted him for murdering two people. His fingerprints were all over a weapon he had never even touched. He was a fugitive from justice. He smiled wearily, then he stiffened slightly. A fugitive. And he had just hung up from talking to a policeman. Frank hadn’t asked where he was. But they could have traced the call. They could have done that easily. Only Frank wouldn’t do that. But then Jack thought about Kate.
Cops never told the whole truth. The detective had suckered Kate. Then he had felt sorry about it, or at least he had said he had.
A siren blared outside and Jack’s heart stopped for an instant. He raced to the window and looked out but the patrol car kept on going until the flashing lights disappeared.
But they might be coming. They might be coming for him right now. He grabbed his coat and put it on. Then he looked down at the bed.
The box.
He had never even told Frank about the damned thing. The most important thing in his life last night, now it had taken a back seat to something else.
“Aren’t you busy enough out there in the boonies?” Craig Miller was a D.C. homicide detective of long standing. Big, with thick, wavy black hair and a face that betrayed his love of fine whiskey. Frank had known him for years. Their relationship was one of friendship and the shared belief that murder must always be punished.
“Never too busy to come over to see if you ever got any good at this detective stuff,” Frank replied, a wry grin on his face.
Miller smiled. They were in Jack’s office. The crime unit was just finishing up.
Frank looked around the spacious interior. Jack was a long way from this kind of life now, he thought to himself.
Miller looked at him, a thought registering. “This Graham fellow, he was involved in the Sullivan case out your way, wasn’t he?”
Frank nodded. “The suspect’s defense counsel.”
“That’s right! Man, that’s a pretty big swing. Defense counsel to future defendant.” Miller smiled.
“Who found the bodies?”
“Housekeeper. She gets in around four in the morning.”
“So any motive work its way through that big head of yours?”
Miller eyed his friend. “Come on. It’s eight o’clock in the morning. You drove all the way in here from the middle of nowhere to pick my brain. What’s up?”
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. I got to know the guy during the case. Surprised the shit out of me to see his face on the morning news. I don’t know, it just stuck in my gut.”
Miller eyed him closely for another few seconds and then decided not to pursue it.
“The motive, it seems, is pretty clear. Walter Sullivan was the deceased’s biggest client. This fellow Graham, without talking to anybody at the firm, jumps in and represents the dude accused of murdering the guy’s wife. That, obviously, didn’t sit too well with Lord. Apparently, the two had a meeting at Lord’s place. Maybe they tried to work things out, maybe they just made things worse.”
“How’d you get all the inside scoop?”
“Managing partner of the place.” Miller flipped open his notebook. “Daniel J. Kirksen. He was real helpful on all the background shit.”
“So how does that lead to Graham coming in here to pop two people?”
“I didn’t say it was premeditated. The video time tables show pretty clearly that the deceased was here several hours before Graham showed up.”
“So?”
“So the two don’t know the other’s here, or maybe Graham sees Lord’s office light on when he’s driving by. It overlooks the street, it’d be easy enough to see someone in the office.”
“Yeah, except if the man and woman were getting it on, I’m not sure they’d be showcasing it to the rest of the city. The blinds were probably down.”
“Right, but come on, Lord wasn’t in the best of shape so I doubt if they were doing it the whole time. In fact the office light was on when they were found and the blinds were partially open. Anyway, accidental or not, the two run into each other here. The argument is rekindled. The feelings accelerate, maybe threats are made. And bam. Heat of the moment. It could be it was Lord’s gun. They struggle. Graham gets the piece away from the old guy. Shot’s fired. Woman sees it all, she has to eat a round too. All over in a few seconds.”
Frank shook his head. “Excuse me for saying so, Craig, but that sounds awfully farfetched.”
“Oh yeah? Well we got the guy blowing out of here white as a sheet. The camera got a clear shot of him. I’ve seen it, there was no blood left in the guy’s face, Seth, I’m telling you.”
“How come Security didn’t come and check things out then?”
Miller laughed. “Security? Shit. Half the time those guys aren’t even looking at the monitors. They got a tape backup you’re lucky if they even review on any consistent basis. Let me tell you it is not hard to get into one of these office buildings after hours.”
“So maybe somebody did.”
Miller shook his head, grinning. “Don’t think so, Seth. That’s your problem. You look for a complicated answer when the simple one’s staring you in the face.”
“So where did this gun mysteriously appear from?”
“A lot of people keep guns stashed in their office.”
“A lot? Like how many is a lot, Craig?”
“You’d be surprised, Seth.”
“Maybe I would!” Frank shot back.
Miller looked puzzled. “Why do you have such a bug up your ass about this?”
Frank didn’t look at his friend. He stared over at the desk.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I got to know the guy. He didn’t seem like the type. So his prints were on the weapon?”
“Two perfect hits. Right thumb and index. Never seen clearer ones.”
Something in his friend’s words jolted Frank. He was looking at the desk. The highly polished surface had been defaced. The small water ring was clearly visible.
“So where’s the glass?”
“What’s that?”
Frank pointed to the mark. “The glass that left that mark. Have you got it?”
Miller shrugged and then chuckled. “I haven’t checked the dishwasher in the kitchen, if that’s what you’re asking. Be my guest.”
Miller turned to sign off on a report. Frank took the opportunity to check out the desk more closely. In the middle of the desk was a slight dust ring. Something had been there. Square in shape, about three inches across. The paperweight. Frank smiled.
A few minutes later Seth Frank walked down the hallway. The gun had perfect prints on it. Too perfect more like it. Frank had also seen the weapon and the police report on it. A .44 caliber, serial numbers obliterated, untraceable. Just like the weapon found next to Walter Sullivan.
Frank had to allow himself a smile. He had been right in what he had done, or more accurately, what he had not done.
Jack Graham had been telling the truth. He hadn’t killed anybody.
“You know, Burton, I’m becoming a little tired of having to devote so much time and attention to this matter. I do have a country to run in case you’ve forgotten.” Richmond sat in a chair in the Oval Office in front of a blazing fire. His eyes were closed; his fingers formed a tight pyramid.
Before Burton could respond, the President continued. “Instead of having the object back safely in our possession, you have managed only to contribute two more entries to the city’s homicide fiasco, and Whitney’s defense attorney is out there somewhere with possibly the evidence to bury us all. I’m absolutely thrilled with the result.”
“Graham’s not going to the police, not unless he’s real fond of prison food and wants a big, hairy man as his date for life.” Burton stared down at the motionless President. The shit he, Burton, had gone through to save all their asses while this prize stayed safely behind the lines. And now he was criticizing. Like the veteran Secret Service agent had really enjoyed seeing two more innocent people die.