“Why do you ask about Kincaid? I can tell you both Kincaid and the priest were ruled out after a thorough search of the Center and Kincaid’s apartment,” Lyle stated. “I’m certain that if Kincaid or Father Lee had anything that belonged to Kelshaw, they would have turned it over to the police. But there was nothing in Police Property.”
“Did your source know of any other contacts that Kelshaw may have had before he was killed?”
“No, and I believe he was quite sure there weren’t any. Why are you asking, Brad?”
“Could this Kincaid be a problem?”
“It depends; he could be if he had some evidence of a story. He has his nose in a lot of things, including some of my business. He was at the hospital with the priest when Kelshaw died. That was why we gave special attention to searching his apartment. There wasn’t anything there and logically there would be no reason for him to have anything of Kelshaw’s. No, Brad, I doubt that Kincaid ever talked with Kelshaw. From what I can determine he went to the hospital to help Father Lee who is a close friend of his.”
Brad was silent for a moment or so thinking of the letter to Charlene Thayer, but said nothing. Then he said, “I’m sure, Lyle, that you did everything that could possibly be done to get the merchandise. You got the more important job done, the disposition of Kelshaw. I’ll be in town for a few days and I will be in touch with you again before I leave. You know I’m staying at the Olympic if you need to reach me.”
The two men shook hands. Lyle walked Brad to the elevators.
“We’ll be in touch again before I leave, I’m sure,” Brad reiterated as the elevator doors closed.
After seeing Ramsey, Brad was worried. “To hell with anything Kelshaw might have had on him. Right now, he thought, “I may have another problem; Andrew Kincaid. I have to stop Charlene from dredging up the past. I know how headstrong she can be, and now with Kincaid helping. I’ve got to find out what she knows and where she got her information and what her relationship is with this Kincaid. I wonder if she let him read Paul’s letter. I must convince her of my apology.”
After checking to see if there were any messages at the front desk Brad returned to his suite deciding to set the stage and call Olivia. He checked the time, it was mid afternoon in Virginia Beach; he might reach her at Maureen’s apartment. He needed to talk with her.
“Hello, Olivia? Thank God I got you! We really need to talk.”
“Brad? What has happened? You sound,” she paused, “unsettled.”
“I am somewhat,” Brad explained, in a calmer voice. “It’s Charlene, Olivia; we had a serious disagreement yesterday. It centered on the problem she called me about. I won’t go into all of it, but I fear Charlene could be close to a break down.”
“Oh Brad, no! She has always been so strong and rational. I can’t believe it. What happened?”
“Olivia, I tried to reasonably help her work through the problem, which is due largely to an over reaction to something that has happened. We had lunch and then went to her home to discuss the situation in privacy. After hearing her concerns, I tried taking a calm logical approach to the problem. She became very angry and almost irrational; quite honestly she asked me to leave, and although I later called and tried to apologize, I don’t think she believed I was sincere or that my apology was genuine.
“I’m at a loss, my dear. I thought I should let you know how things are.” He spoke in a somber tone waiting for Olivia’s response.
“Brad, there must be some way to get through to her. I’ve never known Charlene to be irrational about anything. Please try; would it help if I called her?”
“No, not now,” he paused. “This may take a little more diplomacy than I had anticipated. I plan to see her again tomorrow, that is, if she will agree; I’ll know more then and I’ll call you after we have spoken.”
“This must be very stressful for you, Brad dear, but I know you will do your best. I have every confidence in you.” Olivia’s voice was filled with love and sympathy.
“Thank you, Olivia; I’ll be in touch in a day or so. Tell Maureen hello for me and give her my love. Goodbye now.”
“Goodbye, dear.”
Brad smiled to himself. He was satisfied that he had covered any possible disconnect that might occur should Charlene decide to call Olivia. Now he could focus on the task of dealing with the problem.
His call to Charlene went better than he had dared to expect. “Charlene, I hope you believe that Olivia and I want to do our very best to be of help to you in any kind of distress you may be experiencing. Olivia was very troubled when I told her of our disagreement yesterday and that you might not accept my apology.”
“Oh Brad, I wish you hadn’t told her, of course, I accept your apology. You were right; we mustn’t let a disagreement ruin our friendship,” Charlene said earnestly.
“Good! Then you’ll have dinner with me and we can begin to get to the bottom of this whole thing. I’ll meet you in the lobby at 7:30 tonight and bring the letter. I want very much to read it again.”
“Fine, I’ll be there and I will bring the letter.”
Charlene was in the lobby of the Olympic at 7:25 and Brad was already there waiting with a small bouquet of violets.
He handed them to Charlene, “These are for you as a peace offering,” he said apologetically. “As I recall you liked violets.”
“Why thank you, Brad, I’m surprised you remembered. They’re beautiful and I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but there’s no need of a peace offering,” she said graciously.
Over dinner Brad went over the letter once again. “Yes,” Brad said thoughtfully. “This could be Paul’s handwriting now that I look at it again. There is one thing I wonder if you would clear up for me. Paul didn’t mention Chernakov’s rank. How did you know he was a General?”
“Why, ah, I don’t really know for sure,” she faltered, “it may have been Andrew Kincaid.” She had nearly said Evan Scott, but caught herself, “My newspaper friend… radio and newspaper; you remember, Brad, he called while we were at the house. Yes, yes, I remember it was Andrew.”
“I see. Then you told him about the letter?”
“I think I told you that Andrew gave the letter to me. Yes, he knows what is in the letter. He has been very helpful to me. Now I have a question for you, Brad. How did you have access to Paul’s personal belongings a year before he died?” Charlene looked at Brad expectantly.
“Assuming this letter is authentic, as it seems to be, I can tell you, Charlene. When Paul was killed, or when we thought he had been killed, his belongings were in his quarters. I naturally gathered up personal items I was sure he wanted you to have. If this is true, the person we all assumed was Paul was not. And why would we not continue in that assumption—we heard nothing from him—until now.”
“I understand,” she said nodding her head. “Of course, that was why the letter was such a shock to you as well. I’m sorry, Brad, that I was thoughtless of your feelings.” She raised her eyes to meet his, “I do not intend to give up until I learn the truth about what happened to my husband,” she declared firmly.
Brad knew it was useless to say any more. “I want to help you all that I can, Charlene. You are a remarkable woman and friend,” he said, while thinking, and a foolish one.
“You’ll never know how much I appreciate your change of heart, Brad. Together I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“It could be a big task,” Brad answered. “When I get back to Washington I will begin looking into the matter thoroughly. We will have to examine the records; everything back to Saigon.”