“Jonathan. He was seventeen at the time, a senior in high school when Samantha and Townsend were married, and he remained living there until he went to Dartmouth that fall. He was a wild one, big into drugs—well, but a lot of people were back then.”
Savich rose. “Give me a moment. Our boy is out. Let me go put him down.”
When Savich came back, he leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. “What happened to Jonathan?”
“He lives in Boston now. He’s very well-off, has three boys of his own, all married with children, and he’s still married to his first wife. He seems fine financially and psychologically, as in no public fits or aberrant behavior.”
“Okay, the parents. What happened to the senior Barristers?”
“Now that’s really strange. Both of them drowned in a boating accident on Lake Klister. That was one year to the day after Townsend married Samantha.”
“Was there any suspicion at all of foul play?”
“None that I’ve been able to see. One day they were there, hale and hearty, then the next day they were gone—there was no sudden storm or squall, nothing to explain why both of them fell out of their boat, other than talk of lots of booze. Evidently the senior Barristers liked their martinis, and they liked to be on the lake fishing while they drank—so it could be that simple. The belief is that one of them went overboard, the other went in to make a save, and both drowned.
“Townsend took over everything. Problem is that Townsend wasn’t the businessman his father was. But Samantha was. She began taking over very quickly. Then she got pregnant in 1966 and gave birth to Austin Douglas Barrister on August 14, 1967. Within a year she was running the whole show. It appears from the records that Townsend Barrister became something of a drunk, was arrested a couple of times on DUIs—out of the local area, so it couldn’t be kept out of the regional press, but still he had enough influence to have the charges quashed.
“It wasn’t in the local paper, naturally. Townsend also took up gambling, went to Las Vegas every two or three weeks.
“On August 14, 1973, on the very same day that they’d been married, the same day the senior Barristers drowned, the same day Austin Douglas Barrister was born, Samantha died as well. There was a huge party for Austin on the grounds of the house, a big barbecue for his sixth birthday. Samantha was running around seeing to everything. Townsend was manning the bar, probably drinking pretty steadily, and everyone seemed to be having a good old time, until they found Samantha. Here’s a quote from the Blessed Creek Weekly Journaclass="underline" ‘Samantha Barrister’s body was discovered on the floor of her second-floor bathroom at three o’clock in the afternoon by one of the guests, Mrs. Emmy Hodges, who said she’d wanted to use the facilities and thought that Samantha’s bathroom would be free. “She was lying in blood,” said Mrs. Hodges, “it was under her, seeping all around her. It was horrible. I knew she was dead, knew it right away.” ’
“Then there’s the quote from newly elected Sheriff Doozer Harms, the sheriff we met in Blessed Creek just last Friday. He said, ‘Mrs. Barrister was stabbed through the heart by a person unknown.’ ”
“You’ve got a gleam in your eye, Sherlock. What else did you find out?”
“First thing I did was locate the widower, Townsend Barrister, same as you did. He’s in Boston. I managed to actually speak to him. He wasn’t real happy to hear from the FBI, but I kept after him until he opened up. Turns out he’s remarried to a woman who brought in lots of money that he hasn’t managed to go through yet. He has a new family, two daughters.
“Now, here’s why we couldn’t find out anything about his son, Austin Douglas. When I asked him where his son was, he hemmed and hawed until I threatened to have agents on his doorstep. He finally said that Austin Douglas up and disappeared the day he graduated high school. He’s never heard from him again, doesn’t have a clue where he is.”
Savich was surprised. “I didn’t expect this when I set MAX on Samantha’s murder. Well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll locate him, no problem. I’ll give MAX the task of finding Austin.”
“I already did. It turns out to be quite a problem, for MAX and for everyone. When Austin Barrister up and left Boston at eighteen, he must have latched on to a new identity, because I can’t find him anywhere in the U.S.
“Boston field office is working on tracking him down, starting with interviewing the family and all his former high school friends.”
“Sounds like he was escaping,” Savich said. “I wonder why.”
CHAPTER
25
SUPREME COURT BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
FRIDAY MORNING
ELAINE LAFLEURETTE WASN’T in Justice Califano’s chambers, only Eliza Vickers, who had a phone tucked under one ear, her finger poised above the button of another ringing line. She looked up, nodded at them, and began speaking more quickly into the phone. Ben and Callie moved to the visitors’ chairs and sat down.
Two minutes later, Eliza laid the phone gently back into its cradle, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. “Sorry for the delay. Detective Raven, Callie, it’s good to see both of you.” She ran her hand through her straight hair. “It hasn’t stopped. We’re having to review all of Justice Califano’s unfinished work, decide which Justices and clerks will take over drafting majority and dissenting opinions on case votes already taken, and so much more—concurrences, join memos, bench memos, certs., but that’s not your concern.
“I’ve been offered help, but somehow, I need to do it myself. I also need to speak to Mrs. Califano about all of Stewart’s things.” Her voice trembled a bit, but almost immediately she had herself in control again. She even smiled at them. “I haven’t been able to reach her. Do you know where she is, Callie?”
“She went to the High Style Boutique at Tyson’s Corner,” Callie said. “Don’t you have her cell phone?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to intrude like that, it’s more personal.” Eliza slowly rose and stretched. “I’ve been here since six o’clock this morning, trying to get all the stuff cleaned up. Now, would you like some coffee? I’ve made some in Stewart’s office.”
“No, thank you. Actually, we were looking for Fleurette. Where is she? Why isn’t she here helping you?”
“What time is it?”
Callie said, “It’s nearly eleven.”
“Her uncle was killed in Vietnam on this date in 1975. She visits the Wall every year at this time. She won’t be back until noon.”
Ben nodded, paused a moment, studying her face. “Are you okay? Is there anything we can do, Eliza?”
For a moment Ben thought she hesitated, but then the phone rang, she shrugged, and said over her shoulder, “No, everything is under control. Well, not really, but it will be. The funeral, it was very nice, Callie. The President was eloquent. Your mother and her friends all did very well.”
“Yes, the President was eloquent, but then my stepfather was such a good man. It wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to say wonderful things about him.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Eliza said, then again, looked as if she might say something more—but then she reached for the phone, gave them a small wave, and turned away. Callie heard her say, “Justice Califano’s chambers. Eliza Vickers.”
Ben said, “We’re only about ten minutes from the Vietnam Memorial. You ever been there?”
“Yes. It’s always a two-handkerchief occasion, no matter how many times I go there. I think the Wall is the most moving memorial in all of Washington.”
“Yes, I agree with you. Nearly everyone lost someone in Vietnam. One of my father’s best friends managed to ship home with two shattered legs that healed in time, but his psychological wounds were more difficult. My father came here right after the Wall was finished. He saw his friend in a wheelchair in front of the Wall, looking for other friends who’d been lost over there. My father told me they spoke for some time, but he never saw him after that.”