“Shit,” Holly said. “Where is your car?”
“Illegally parked down the street. Don’t worry, you’ll get the ticket.”
“Run for it. I’ll keep an eye on where it’s headed and direct you.”
“I’ll call you back when we’re on the move.” He ended the call. “Come on, Dino, we’re going to chase that phone.” The two of them sprinted a block and a half down the avenue, got into the car, and got it started. Stone called Holly’s cell number.
“I’m here. Go straight ahead for four blocks and turn right on Fourteenth Street. It’s about ten blocks ahead of you.”
“There’s a lot of traffic,” Stone said.
“You’ve got flashers on that car,” she said, “use them, but don’t use the siren.”
“Dino, find the switch for the flashers!”
Dino found the switch. “Have we got a siren?” He found the switch, and the noise began.
“Damn it, Stone,” Holly yelled, “I told you not to use the siren!”
“What? I can’t hear you! Dino, turn off the damned thing!”
Dino found the switch again, and now Stone could hear Holly screaming.
“You don’t have to yell, now,” he yelled. “It’s off.”
“All right. When you get to Pennsylvania Avenue, turn right. The White House will be to your left.”
Stone muscled the car in and out of lanes and began to make headway. “I’m turning right on Pennsylvania!”
“Tell Dino to call out the landmark buildings as you pass them, that way I’ll know whether you’re catching up,” Holly said.
“Dino, call out the names of buildings as you see them!”
“Okay, we’ve got the IRS on the right,” Dino said. “Hoover Building coming up, now the National Archives, now the Federal Trade Commission. I can see the Capitol up ahead.”
“Hold it!” Holly shouted. “I’ve lost it.”
“Where?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know-somewhere on Pennsylvania Avenue. It just vanished.”
“I’m pulling over and waiting until you locate it again,” Stone said, then did so. He sat for fifteen minutes.
“Nope, it’s gone,” Holly said. “Nice try, though.”
“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.
“Well,” Dino said, “that’s gotta be our last clue. The battery is going to run down eventually.”
Stone struck the steering wheel with his open hand. “Shit! We’re not going to be able to claim the March Hare is dead while that cell phone is out there!”
50
Stone, Dino, Holly, and Shelley dined at Clyde’s,in Georgetown, just to get out of the hotel suite. As they entered, Stone whispered to Holly, “Don’t tell Shelley about Fair’s cell phone. We’re meeting with Kerry Smith tomorrow morning, and we may not want to introduce that information into the mix.”
“I’m invited, too,” Holly replied, “and don’t worry, I don’t want to bring it up either.”
Everybody ordered a steak, and Stone ordered a bottle of a good California Cabernet. The mood was less festive than it usually was.
A camera flash went off, temporarily blinding everyone.
“Who the hell was that?” Dino demanded.
“I can’t even see you,” Shelley replied, “let alone whoever pulled that trigger.”
“My vision is coming back,” Holly said, “and I don’t see anyone with a camera, or even anybody looking at us.”
“I didn’t know Washington had paparazzi,” Dino said.
“Forget that,” Holly said. “Kate Lee got back this afternoon, and we had the conversation.”
“What conversation?” Shelley asked.
“The one where I told her that the investigation is over, that we all think Charlotte Kirby is the March Hare and that she killed herself.” She explained their thoughts about the lack of fingerprints on the magazine and ammo.
“Is that what you’re telling Kerry tomorrow morning?”
“Yep.”
“I’m on board with that. I’m as sick as you are of this whole business.”
“Unanimity can’t hurt,” Stone said. “You think Kerry will back us?”
“Stone, if you believe it, and if I believe it, we can make him believe it, too.”
“That’s fine, unless Kerry suddenly comes up with some evidence we don’t know about.”
“Kerry has been up to his ears with our new budget since you got here,” Shelley said. “He hasn’t had time to deal with anything else.”
“Good. My son is opening his first play at Yale this weekend, and I want to be there.”
“I want to be there, too,” Dino said, “since my boy is the producer. I’m counting on him to make a big success so he can take care of me in my old age.”
“I want Kerry to issue a press release,” Holly said, “saying that the investigation is now closed. We need that.”
“That’s problematical,” Shelley said. “Kerry is a cautious man. He’s not going to want to nail himself to that kind of statement. I think it’s better if the White House issues the announcement.”
“I don’t think the president is the person to issue a statement about a criminal investigation,” Holly said, “and I don’t think the first lady will think so, either.”
“The attorney general, then,” Shelley said.
“He’s not involved in this,” Holly pointed out. “This should be done at Kerry’s level. I’m not suggesting that the director of the FBI put his imprimatur on it.”
“You can try, but I’m beginning to get the feeling that I’m going to be the one to carry the water on this.”
“Maybe an assistant director is good enough,” Holly said, “but Kerry is worth a shot.”
The following morning, Stone and Dino drove over to the Hoover Building, parked in the basement garage, and took the elevator up to the executive floor, where Kerry Smith received them. Holly and Shelley were already there.
After offering them coffee, Kerry tossed a copy of the Washington Times onto the coffee table, open to an inside page. “You all look as if you’re enjoying yourselves,” he said.
Stone picked up the paper and saw the photograph taken of them the previous evening. They were all named, except Holly, who had a menu in the way, and she was called “an unidentified woman.”
Stone passed the paper around.
“Why couldn’t I be the ‘unidentified woman’?” Shelley asked.
“We were just having dinner, Kerry,” Stone said. “We can’t worry about some gossip guy with a camera.”
“Of course not,” Kerry replied. “Okay, tell me where you are and where you’re going with your investigation.”
“Where we are is at the end,” Stone said. “Where we’re going is back to New York.”
“Have you told the president this?”
“We thought we’d let the first lady do that.”
“She told him last night,” Holly said. “He apparently took it well.”
“And who’s going to explain all this to the media?” Kerry asked.
“That would be you,” Holly said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“It shouldn’t come from the director, nor from someone any lower than you.”
“Just what would you like me to say?”
“Send a fax to the AP and Reuters, and to the big papers, if you want to, saying that an investigation has determined that the probable murderer was Charlotte Kirby, who then took her own life.”
“The ‘probable’ murderer?”
“All right, the likely murderer. Or just the murderer. You shouldn’t sound uncertain.” She explained about the absence of fingerprints on the gun’s magazine and the ammunition.
“I guess that’s a decent theory,” Kerry said. “Where is the Arlington PD in all this?”
“I took it away from them as soon as I heard about it, I heardt i” Kerry Shelley said, “on the grounds that Kirby was a federal employee. Dave King and his people own the case.”
“Have Dave King write a memo to you, recommending that the case be concluded, and copy me.”
“I’ll get it done this morning,” Shelley replied.
“I’m going to have to run this by the director.”
“Of course, Kerry, by all means,” Holly said. “Nobody’s trying to hang you out to dry. We’ve all bought into this.”