I picked Kate up at the police department just before eight thirty Monday morning, and we headed right on over to Harper’s offices.
“Where’s your boy?” I asked, referring to her new partner, Lonnie Guest.
“Left him at his desk. He wasn’t happy, but what the hell.”
We headed for the elevator, and she punched the button for the top floor. I watched her as we rode on up. Kate is really two people: one is the nice girl with the bright smile and easygoing attitude everyone loves, and then there’s the tough, intimidating no-nonsense cop that nobody dares to fool with. I watched her attitude change from one to the other as we rode the elevator. By the time we reached the top floor, the transformation was complete.
The elevator doors opened and, without a glance in my direction, she strode out into the corridor. She opened Harper’s outer office door and strode in, badge in hand.
“I’m here to see Congressman Harper,” she told the young man behind the reception desk.
“Is there something I can help you with? I’m afraid he’s busy.”
“Me too.” She looked at me. I pointed to Harper’s inner office door. She walked past the receptionist, opened it, and strode inside.
“What the hell?”
“Congressman Harper. I am Lieutenant Catherine Gazzara.” She held out her badge. “I need a moment of your time. I have some questions about Michael Falk. I believe he’s an employee of yours.”
“He is, but what the hell is Starke doing here? He’s not a police officer.”
“He is here at my invitation, as a consultant, and with the full knowledge of my superiors. If you have any objections, you may take it up with them. Do you need the number?”
He shook his head, looking around her at the man seated on the far side of the room, opposite the window, at a desk that was far too small for him. “Take notes, Jackson.”
Jackson Hope took a small digital recorder from his desk drawer, turned it on, and then swiveled his chair around to face us.
“Take a seat, Lieutenant. You, too, Starke,” Harper said.
We sat. He looked across his desk at us, switching his gaze from Kate to me and back again.
“So, what about Falk? What’s he been up to?”
“He’s dead. That’s what he’s been up to,” Kate said, looking at him steadily.
He sat back in his chair and stared at her. He didn’t even twitch an eyelid.
No reaction. He already knew.
“Dead? How? An accident? What?”
“Murder, Congressman. He was murdered. Shot twice in the head. We took him out of the river at Ross’s Landing late Friday night.”
“The hell you say. All right. What does that have to do with me? He worked here, that’s all. I let him go last Friday, more than a week ago. Jackson here”—he twitched his head in the other man’s direction—“escorted him off the property, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“So you fired him. What for?”
“He was one of my speechwriters, but he thought he knew what I wanted to say better than I did. He wouldn’t listen to me so I let him go. No big deal.”
I watched him carefully as he said it. It rang true, but… Why have him escorted off the property for such a minor infraction?
“You fired him for bad writing?” Kate asked. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
“I fire people for all sorts of reasons, Lieutenant. I can’t abide inefficiency, nor a lack of willingness to learn or take direction. Falk was all of that.”
This interview was going nowhere fast. Harper wasn’t giving her an inch.
“What about his office? His computer? Can we take a look?”
“His office has been reallocated, and his computer has been recycled. It was an older laptop and needed to be replaced. I have no idea what happened to it. Anything else, Lieutenant?”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“That Friday morning when I let him go. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”
“How about your staff? What about him?” She nodded in Jackson’s direction.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Harper beat him to it.
“He hasn’t seen him either, and the only permanent staff I have here is Jackson and my receptionist, and he never leaves this office. Now, if there’s nothing else…”
I decided it was time for me to jump in.
“I have something,” I said smoothly. “When I left this office the other day, you had me followed. Why?”
Harper stared at me, unblinking, so did Hope.
“Starke, you have a vivid imagination. No one from this office followed you.”
“That’s a typical politician’s answer. I didn’t say it was someone from this office. I said you had me followed. Care to try again?”
Hope started to rise. So did I. Kate put a hand on my arm. Harper raised his hand and gestured for Hope to sit, which he did, reluctantly. Very wise of him.
“Lieutenant, I suggest you leave my office and take your half-wit sidekick with you, right now. I am a United States Congressman, and I don’t have to put up with your crap. You can be sure that I’ll call the mayor and lodge an official complaint about your conduct—yours and your amateur G-man’s. Now get out of here, and don’t come back, either of you.”
We both rose to our feet. “Oh I’ll be back, Congressman. You can bet on it.” She wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. “In the meantime, if you think of anything that might be helpful, especially about Michael Falk, I’d appreciate a call. Here’s my card.”
She offered it to him, but he didn’t lift so much as a finger. She placed it in front of him on the desk, and we left. I could feel his stare burning a hole in the center of my back.
“Whew.” She heaved a big sigh as we walked toward the elevator. “Nice one, Harry. You sure know how to get under someone’s skin. We were not there to antagonize him, just to feel him out.”
“We did that, Kate. They already knew Falk was dead; you know that. You could tell by their reaction, or rather the lack of it. Not much from Harper, and none at all from Hope, which tells me that he at least must have known that Falk was dead. The media hasn’t gotten hold of it yet, have they?”
She shook her head.
“Okay then. So how could they have known? I guarantee it was that son of a bitch Hope that killed him. But why? Fire him? Yes, I can see why he might do that, but kill him? He must have gotten himself into something… but what?”
Kate pushed the down button and we waited.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But you’re right; neither one of them seemed surprised.”
“Precisely. We know Falk must have worked closely with Harper. Had to have. He was his speechwriter, for God’s sake. You’d think there’d be some reaction or surprise, at least some small sign of shock when they heard.”
“Stranger things, Harry. Stranger things.”
“By the way,” I said as we entered the elevator. “Did you notice Harper’s ring?”
“I did. It’s a smaller version of the pendant, right?”
“Yup. I noticed it the first time I interviewed him, but I didn’t mention it then because I wanted Tim to see if he could find out anything about it. He hasn’t so far, but here’s the thing. I had dinner with Dad last night at the country club. I showed him the pendant. He thinks he might have seen it before, on one of the lady members. He couldn’t remember who it was, but he said he’d try to find out. That’s three of them. It can’t be a coincidence. There has to be a connection. We need to find out what it is. I asked Harper about his ring when I was here the other day. He showed it to me. Said it was a gift from a friend and that he had no idea what it meant.”
“So what’s your plan?
“I don’t have one yet. I need to go back to the office. There’s a couple of things I need to do. After that, I’ll get some lunch. You want to join me?”
“Hmm. Me, too, go to the office, that is, so I can’t.”
“Okay. I’ll drop you off, then.”
---
It was less than an hour later that Kate called. I took it in my office.
“What do you know, Harry? I’d barely walked in the door when I was called in to see the Chief. Harper didn’t waste any time. He’d called the mayor, and the mayor called Johnston. I got my ass chewed and I’ve been warned off. I have to stay away from Harper, and I was told to tell you to stay away from him, too. I can’t go near him now unless I have probable cause.”
“But it’s a murder investigation. How’re you supposed to conduct it if you can’t question Falk’s employer and his staff?”
“I can’t, unless I have a good reason, and even then I have to clear it with Johnston first.”
“Now you know why I quit the job. Too much damned bureaucracy. Too many rules. Well, I don’t have any rules. I can do as I please. As far as I’m concerned, Harper is just another bad guy, and I’m going after him.”
“How did I know that? Be careful, Harry. Harper’s a very powerful man, and he won’t hesitate to cut you down, if he can. You may not have to follow the same rules I do, but they can pull your license any time they want.” That might be tougher than you think, Kate.
She was right, of course, but what the hell. I have powerful friends, too, including a Federal judge.
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good. I’ll help any way I can, but you must keep me in the loop. Don’t let me get sideswiped. You know what I mean, right?”
“I do. Don’t worry. I have your back.”
“One more thing, I have the autopsy results on Falk. The cause of death was two in the head: nine millimeter. One was mashed all to hell when it hit the skull; the other has some damage, but there are clear lands and grooves. If we can find the weapon, we should be able to make a match.”
“Anything on the time of death?”
“Not much more than we had,” she said. “Midnight, Friday night, the sixteenth, give or take eight hours. That puts it roughly between four in the afternoon and eight in the morning on Saturday. Dressed as he was, I’d put it earlier rather than later. You said he was in the Sorbonne at nine thirty, so say between then and midnight, but it’s just a guess.”
“Yeah, maybe. It’s something to think about.”
“All right. Talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone, sat back in my chair, and stared up at the ceiling.
Okay, so Falk is murdered and tossed into the river on Friday evening between nine-thirty and midnight. His ex-girlfriend is scared out of her mind and throws herself off the bridge two days later. Why was she so scared? Did she know Falk was dead? Duvon and Henry? Had to be. But why? Nasty pair of… What were they after? Had to be something for Shady… or Harper. Nope, Harper wouldn’t be seen dead around those two… but, if Shady works for Harper… And who the hell killed Falk, and why? Hmmm. Harper, Hope, Shady, Stimpy and Ren. And then there’s this.
I fished in my pocket for the pendant. Turned it over and over in my fingers. What are you all about?
I picked up my phone, dialed, and waited. He picked up on the second ring.
“Dad, it’s me. Any word on who was wearing the pendant?”
“No, Harry. I’m at the club now, for lunch. I’ll see what I can find. If I come up with anything, I’ll call you back.”
Click.
I dialed again. “Kate. Can you go and check out the gym? Today, if possible. Maybe you should join, work out, and shop at the two clothing stores. I can’t do it. Tree and his crew know me.”
“Okay. It’s about lunchtime. I’ll head over there now.”
“Great. And don’t make any plans for tomorrow night. We’re going to dinner at La Maison Ducat. Call me if you find anything. Later. Bye.”
I hung up.
More. I need to know more.
---
I was just about to leave the office to get some lunch when my cell phone rang.
“Harry, it’s me.” It was my father. “I found her. She’s the wife of one of the members. Can you come over? I’ll introduce you.”
“Good timing. I was just heading out to lunch. I’ll be there in twenty.”
When I walked into the club lounge, I spotted them sitting at a table in one of the bay windows overlooking the ninth green. She was quite something, a little older than I’d expected. Why I was expecting someone younger I had no idea, but I was. Anyway, from the way she was dressed, she’d obviously been playing tennis. She seemed quite tall, although it was hard to tell, sitting at the table as she was. I could tell she was fit: her calf muscles were sharply defined, and so were her arms. Her blond hair was short, sculpted to the nape of her neck. I figured she must be in her mid to late forties, but she didn’t look more than thirty-five. This was one classy lady.
I approached the table. My father rose, but she remained seated.
“Ah, Harry. There you are. This is Olivia Hansen. Olivia, this is my son, Harry.”
“Hello, Harry.” The voice suited her looks, breathy, mid-toned. “It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit down.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Hansen.”
“Oh please, call me Olivia.”
I nodded, smiled, and sat down opposite her; my father was between us with his back to the window, facing the room.
“So, Harry. You look fit. Sports?” She was making small talk. Oh my… there it is.
Hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck was a twin of the pendant I had in my pocket. For a moment, I was speechless.
“What’s the matter?” She leaned forward as she said it. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head. “Nothing, really. I just had a funny thought, that’s all.”
“Oh please, share it with us.”
“Nah, it wasn’t that funny, and probably not appropriate.” I could have bitten my tongue off. What a damned stupid thing to say.
“Not appropriate. That sounds intriguing.” And the look she gave me as she said it was intriguing, too. She tilted her head slightly to one side, lowered her chin slightly, and looked up at me through her eyelashes.
The drinks waiter came and took our order. Dad had a gin and tonic, Olivia had a Mimosa, and I had a Blue Moon beer, no orange slice.
We sat for several moments, making small talk. I couldn’t take my eyes off her pendant. Then I looked at my father and made a tiny gesture with my eyes; he got the message.
“I wonder if I could leave you alone for a moment or two,” he said as he rose from his seat. “I’m in the middle of an important case and need to make a couple of calls. It shouldn’t take too long. Do you mind?”
Good old dad. Ever the diplomat. We both shook our heads and watched him walk through the lounge and out into the foyer.
“So, Harry. What is it you do for a living? Something… manual, I would imagine, from the look of you.” It was said with a slight smile, but I wasn’t quite sure how to take it.
“Actually, Mrs. Hansen—Olivia. I’m a private investigator.”
“Oh how interesting.” Yes, she was a class act. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her chin rested on top of her hands. “I’ve never met one before, a private eye? Or is it a private dick?”
I had my drink up to my mouth, and I almost choked on it. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that worn-out old tag, but this lady was a trip. I put the drink down, sat back in my chair, and laughed. Really laughed—head thrown back, mouth open—and so did she, evidently very pleased with herself.
And that set the tone for the rest of the conversation.
“Tell me, Harry, are you married?”
“No. Are you?”
“Of course. Who around here isn’t? My husband is in transportation. Hansen Trucking. Have you heard of it?”
Who the hell hasn’t? Their trucks are everywhere.
“Of course. Hansen is a big outfit.”
“One of the biggest. It pays for my rather, shall we say, extravagant lifestyle.”
Okay, time to take the plunge. “Olivia, I noticed your pendant. It’s rather unusual.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it, but that’s all she said.
“Yes. I have one just like it.”
That got her attention.
“You do?”
How can I put it? The way she said it was a question, but also a statement, and the question was, I had a feeling, double-barreled: two questions in one.
I nodded, fished it out of my pocket, and held it up for her to see.
“May I see it?” She held out her hand. I gave it to her.
She turned it over in her fingers, rotated it, with a somewhat enigmatic smile on her lips.
“So you do. Why aren’t you wearing it?” She handed it back to me, leaned back in her chair, and smiled at me. No, it was more than a smile. An invitation, perhaps?
“I went swimming this morning, at the ‘Y.” Where the hell did that come from? I hadn’t been swimming in years. “I took it off and just haven’t put it back on again.”
She had a funny sort of look on her face, as if she was expecting something. I was at a loss. I didn’t want to ask questions. I was trying like hell not to give the game away. I didn’t want her to know that I didn’t know what the pendant was, so I waited, smiling at her. She continued to smile at me. I slipped the pendant back into my pocket, reached for my beer, and sipped on it, looking at her over the rim of the glass as I did so.
After a moment of silence between us, she reached into her purse and took out a pen and a business card. After she’d written something on the back, she slid it across the table, then rose to her feet, turned and walked away without a word. I gazed after her. There’s something alluring about a shapely woman in a tennis skirt, and this one was no exception. She walked quickly, her hips rolling as she went; yes, alluring.
I looked down at the card, at what she’d written. I was stunned. It was an address: 19 Alderney Gardens, Apt 9. Five o’clock. Don’t be late.
I looked up, but she was gone. My father was walking back into the room, looking back over his shoulder as he came toward me.
“Did you learn anything?” He sat down, a half-smile on his face.
“Oh yeah, but what the hell it all meant, I haven’t a clue. What do you know about her, Dad?”
“Not a whole lot. I’ve met her once or twice before. She’s married, though she’s rarely here with her husband. Nice sort, Hansen. Wealthy, very wealthy. She plays a lot of tennis. Not sure if it’s because she likes the game or the instructors. She’s here quite often. Lots of friends. All upscale. No scandal that I know of. That’s about it.”
I looked at my watch. It was already close to two o’clock, and I needed a shower and a change of clothes.
I got up from the table. “Gotta go, Dad. Places to go. People to see. Later, okay?”
He nodded. “Good luck, son.” He said it with a knowing smile.
I nodded and left him there, staring after me.