The director sat forward in his chair. “Well, the purpose of this hastily formed task force is to figure out this mess as quickly as possible and hope and pray it doesn’t become some enormous scandal. And you, Parks, you’re already in the loop with them, so just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“The other variable is Joan Dillinger,” said Parks. “I can’t read that woman.”
The director smiled. “You’re not the first person to say that.”
“No, it’s more than that. I had a recent conversation with her, and she was saying some strange things. Like she owed Sean King. For what, she wouldn’t say. But she was working real hard to convince me he was innocent.”
“Well, not so unusual—they were colleagues.”
“Right, and maybe something more. And they were both on the Clyde Ritter detail, weren’t they?” said Parks, letting the question hang out there.
The director’s brow was now very furrowed. “Joan Dillinger was one of the best agents we’ve ever had.”
“Right, and now she’s with some big-shot private firm. And she’s investigating the kidnapping of John Bruno, and if she finds him, I bet the lady gets an enormous payday. And I found out she’s asked King to help her in the investigation, and I doubt he’s doing it for free.” He paused and then added, “Of course, it’s easy to find someone if you already know where he is.”
“Meaning what?” said the director sharply. “That two former Secret Service agents kidnapped a presidential candidate and are now looking to be paid a fortune to recover him?”
“Yeah, meaning that,” said Parks bluntly. “I’m assuming I’m no there to sugarcoat things and tell you what you want to hear. I’m not real good at that. I can send you another marshal who can if you want.”
“And you think Howard Jennings was killed by King?” said the director angrily.
“I really don’t know. What I do know is, King’s gun matched and he was in the vicinity with no real alibi.”
“Pretty stupid for a man plotting murder.”
“Or pretty smart, because maybe a judge and a jury thinks the same thing and believes he was set up.”
“And the motive for killing Jennings?”
“Well, if King and Dillinger plotted to kidnap Bruno, and Jennings stumbled on that plot while working for King, I think that might be a motive for murder.”
The men were all silent for a few minutes until the director broke the quiet with a long sigh. “Well, we have them all on our radar now. King, Maxwell and Dillinger—a most unlikely triumvirate when you think about it. Get back out in the field and keep us informed.”
Parks looked around at them. “All right, but don’t expect results overnight. And don’t expect only the results you may want.”
“Right now,” said the director, “I think we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” As Parks turned to leave, the director added, “Marshal, when that other shoe does drop, just make sure you’re not under it.”
In the parking garage Parks saw the woman getting into her vehicle.
“Agent Maxwell,” he said. Michelle stepped back out of her truck. “I hear you’re taking some much-needed vacation.”
She looked at him strangely, and then realization spread across her features. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“Where are you headed? Wrightsburg?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“How’s your neck?”
“Fine. I’ll be able to scream in no time. You didn’t answer my question. Are you the reason they let me walk?”
“Maybe, though I feel more like a pawn than a full-fledged reason. If you’re going to Wrightsburg, I’d like to hitch a ride.”
“Why?”
“You’re a smart lady, I think you know the answer to that.”
As they climbed into her truck, Parks said, “It looks like you and Sean King have really struck up a friendship.”
“I like him and respect him.”
“Almost got you killed, though.”
“That was hardly his fault.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
The way he said it made Michelle glance sharply at him, but the lawman was already looking out the window.
45
Joan and King were staying at a hotel in Washington when Joan received the news about Mildred Martin’s murder. She called King’s room and told him.
“Damn it,” he exclaimed. “There goes another potential witness.”
“And you know what this means, Sean.”
“Yes, whoever killed Loretta Baldwin killed Mildred Martin.” He added sarcastically, “Unless you buy that two different killers would murder their victims in the exact same way.”
“So it’s confirmed. She was lying. She made the call to Bruno. She poisoned her husband, and the Lizzie Borden stuff was made up. So why kill her?”
Neither one of them had the answer to that.
It was late morning when they drove back to Wrightsburg. By prearrangement they met Parks and Michelle at King’s house for lunch.
Michelle and Parks had brought carryout Chinese, and they all gathered on the rear deck to eat and discuss the case.
“Figured you two would be really hungry from all your detective work,” said Parks as he pushed sweet-and-sour chicken into his mouth. “Heard from the FBI that you been burning up the frequent flier mileage on this Bruno thing.”
“A lot of miles and not a lot of results,” answered King.
Joan took a few minutes to bring them up to date on their investigations and interviews with Mildred Martin and Catherine Bruno as well as their noninterview with Sidney Morse.
“Sounds like Peter Morse hit the jackpot,” said Michelle. “I wonder where he is?”
“My bet wouldn’t be Ohio,” said King. “I’m thinking a tiny island in the sun.”
“Sounds wonderful,” said Joan. “I’d love to try it.”
Parks looked at some notes and then said, “Okay, Michelle filled me in on your talks with Ramsey’s buddy at Atticus College, Horst?”
“Jorst,” corrected Michelle.
“Right. And it didn’t look like he could shed much light on anything.”
“Ramsey obviously had a problem with Clyde Ritter,” said King.
“Just political,” asked Parks, “or something more?”
King shrugged. “Ramsey was a Vietnam War protester, a Berkeley-educated turbocharged radical, at least in his youth. Ritter was a former TV preacher and as conservative as Ramsey was liberal. Hell, if Ritter had had a gun, he probably would have shot Ramsey first!”
“I believe Thornton Jorst is worth another look,” said Michelle. “Everything he told us made sense—too much sense, as though he were filling in the numbers for us, telling us exactly what he thought we came to hear. And there was something about his demeanor that wasn’t quite right.”
“Interesting,” said Joan as she sipped her tea.
“And we’re going to follow up with Kate Ramsey as soon as she gets back to Richmond,” Michelle added.
“What happened to your reassignment?” asked King.
“They turned it into vacation instead.”
Joan said, “My, I don’t remember the Service being that accommodating.”
“I think the good marshal here had something to do with it.”
They all stared at a very uncomfortable-looking Parks.
He put down his chopsticks and took a swig of wine. “Good stuff.”
“It should be,” said King.
“Expensive?”
“Price often has little to do with how good a wine is. That bottle is maybe twenty-five dollars, and you’d be hard put to find a better Bordeaux at three times the price.”
“You really have to educate me on this, Sean. It’s so impressive,” said Joan before her gaze fell fully upon Parks. “So, Jefferson, this rescue of Agent Maxwell you orchestrated. To what do we owe this magnanimous gesture?”