FORTY
Jack drove down Wisconsin Avenue past a rare-cigar shop and an outdoor-gear emporium, looking for Brady Cullifer’s law firm. It was in an older building, grand-looking, really, understated, standing proudly next to a holistic healer.
There were five names on the gold-etched sign on the front doors, two of them Cullifer.
A worried-looking receptionist led them to Brady Cullifer’s office, knocked on the door, waited for the “Enter,” and opened it. He stepped discreetly back, giving them a harried, nearly frantic look.
Brady Cullifer came around from behind a large, well-worn desk that looked like it had belonged to his grandfather, which, Jack supposed, was possible.
Jack said as he shook the man’s hand, “What’s with the receptionist? He looks strung-out.”
“Oh, Rowley, he’s the firm’s major worrier, practically fingers worry beads whenever there’s a big case being tried. One of our lawyers just left to hear the verdict in a big personal-injury suit, so Rowley’s worrying big-time. Rachael, my dear, how are you? It’s good to see you.”
Rachael smiled, let Mr. Cullifer hug her. She liked him, probably because he’d always been so kind to her, always seemed to accept her. He was about Jimmy’s age, with a bit of a paunch she remembered Jimmy kidding him about, lecturing him to get to the racquet-ball court. He was immaculately dressed, as always, in a lightweight gray wool suit, a pale pink shirt, and a dark blue tie that, surprisingly, tied everything together.
When he released her, she said, “I’m fine, sir.”
“Like everyone else in this town, I heard the FBI press conference yesterday morning about Jimmy’s death being classified as murder, not an accident, and that a woman shooter was possibly involved. Now she’s dead. Do you know why she died?”
“Complications of surgery,” Jack said.
“I take it you are Agent Crowne?” He raised a brow at Jack.
“Yes, sir,” Jack said, and shook his hand. “We appreciate your seeing us on such short notice.”
Cullifer waved them to a burgundy leather sofa, offered them coffee, and sat himself in a chair facing them. “Rachael, my dear, tell me what I can do to help you.”
Rachael said, “You remember I told you what Jimmy did, how he accidentally killed that little girl. You acted like you didn’t know anything about it. I’ve been thinking that’s not true. Please, sir, tell me what Jimmy said to you about that little girl.”
Brady sat down and drummed his fingertips on his desktop. Finally, he said, “Why would you think I know anything more about thatpoor little girl than what you told me, Rachael?”
“You’re his lawyer,” Jack answered, “his longtime friend.” He raised his hand. “Please don’t invoke client confidentiality. I don’t think it applies anymore. The senator is dead, and this is an official investigation. It’s important, sir.”
Cullifer slowly nodded. “Very well. Shortly before his death, Jimmy told me about his hitting and killing a little girl eighteen months ago.”
Cullifer’s eyes clouded. “I couldn’t believe it, just couldn’t. When he finished, when I couldn’t think of another question to put to him, I asked him why he didn’t tell me sooner, but he said only that he was telling me now to prepare me because he’d decided to go public. He wanted it in the open, he wanted it done and over with. He told me he’d also informed Rachael, Laurel, Stefanos, Quincy, and Greg Nichols of his intentions. He didn’t know if there would be any blowback on me, but he was telling me just in case.
“And I played dumb with you, Rachael, because he was my longtime friend, my client, as well as the whole confidentiality issue. You’re thinking I know more?”
Rachael said, “He wanted all those close to him to be ready to deal with the media and any fallout, business and personal. He told me his family was furious with him.”
“An understatement,” Cullifer said absently. He sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and tapped his fingers together. “He also told me he’d told Jacqueline and his daughters. They were exceedingly upset, as you can imagine. Jacqueline wanted him to keep quiet. They had several extended phone conversations about it.”
“Were you furious with him?” Rachael asked.
Cullifer said after a moment, “To be honest, I was devastated. You see, I knew something was wrong with Jimmy, knew it to my soul. I remember how distracted he was, how there were new lines on his face—a face, I might add, that was always youthful until the last year or so. But you know, I got caught up in a lawsuit and any concerns about Jimmy dropped out of my mind. Until it was too late. And then you came back from Sicily and told me what you were going to do, Rachael.”
Rachael said, “The guilt was eating him alive; that’s why he was going to confess everything.”
Cullifer said, “Yes, I know. Now, like everyone else who heard the FBI press conference, I wondered and wondered who would want Jimmy dead. Who would take such a risk? And believe me, killing a United States senator is a huge risk. The thing is, even after Agent Savich said he was murdered, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out a motive, not for Laurel or Quincy, not for his ex-wife, who’s very well off financially, believe me, or any of his colleagues. I honestly can’t imagine any of them killing him to avoid a scandal—that’s simply too far out there.”
Cullifer looked thoughtful. “Tell the world what he did—I told him it would mean the end of his career, it would mean a huge scandal, a lawsuit to break the bank, it would have meant beggaring the estate, depending on the sharks the little girl’s family hired. But most of all, I told him he would be tried and convicted of vehicular homicide and go to jail.
“Of course he knew all this. He also fully realized his family would be dragged into it—Laurel and Stefanos, and Quincy, all his staff on the Hill, me because I’ve been his lawyer for nearly forever.”
Jack said, “Regardless, someone took it upon him- or herself to silence him. Rachael is convinced it’s Laurel and Quincy.”
Brady asked, “You’re certain only these people knew what he was preparing to do?”
“As far as we know,” Jack said.
“This was why Jimmy had stopped drinking and driving his car?”
Rachael nodded. “Alter he killed the little girl, he never took another drink, and never drove his car again. That’s what he told me and I believed him.”
“During the press conference, Agent Savich mentioned that a woman was involved.”
Jack said, “Yes, we think so. But we don’t yet know who hired her.”
Rachael said, “Sir, do you think Laurel and Quincy could have murdered Jimmy?”
Cullifer arched a sleek eyebrow at her. “Laurel? Quincy? Kill their own brother? Evidently you believe it. As for me, Rachael, I don’t know. Again, the motive isn’t strong enough. I would prefer Greg Nichols, only because I don’t know him well. And he would indeed go to jail when Jimmy confessed.”
He shook his head. “A real-life assassin, and you brought her down in the Barnes & Noble in Georgetown. Amazing.”
Rachael said, “There’s something else, Mr. Cullifer. Jimmy was committed to telling the truth. After he died, as you know, I decided to make his confession for him because it was what he planned to do, and what he wanted to do. And I told those same people, to prepare them, just as I told you.”
Cullifer didn’t say a word, just continued giving her that emotionless lawyer look until she said, “Someone has tried to kill me— three times.”
It was rare to see a good lawyer caught off-guard. Cullifer leaped to his feet. “No! I can’t believe that, no, Rachael, it simply—” He stopped dead in his tracks. “That’s why you’re with an FBI agent, isn’t it? He’s protecting you?”