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“Unfortunately, rice plants soak up arsenic like a sponge. In fact, while all plants absorb some arsenic from the soil, rice plants absorb 20 TIMES more arsenic than other grains. And because organic rice soaks up arsenic from the soil just as greedily as conventional rice, heading to Whole Foods isn’t going to save you!” — Nutrient Insider e-letter, Advanced Bionutritionals, Norcross, Georgia, 2016
Kim Su Baek sat at a small table in the back of Joe’s Malt Shop sipping a fountain Coca-Cola through a straw. She was wearing her dark glasses. Her legs were crossed. Her loose foot moved up and down nervously. On the floor by her chair was a suitcase and next to it a leather bag with a shoulder strap. Fulghum had just joined her as they had planned.
“It’s good to see you. Did you have a pleasant trip?”
“John, I’m tired. I drove all through the night. I’d like to find a safe place, shower, and sleep for the rest of the day. My car across the street has a ticket on the windshield. A strange man is watching, so I’m avoiding it.”
“Why don’t I drive you to my place? You can shower there and get some sleep. When you feel up to it, we’re going back to Pittsfield.”
“I just got out of there again. Why would I want to go back?”
“We’re going back to catch your father’s murderer.”
“Can’t you go back alone and leave me at your apartment?”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re in danger. I need to keep you close for your own safety. I’ll also need to have you interpret what’s happening in the investigation at the estate.”
“I brought a sample notebook from the safe deposit box in Seoul. It’s in the bag on the floor next to my suitcase.” She touched the bag by way of illustration. “I placed the other notebooks in a new box at a different bank in Seoul. The notebook I brought is the last in the series by date. I can explain it to you when you like.”
“Sue, the police found the cache of notebooks under the marble slab at the estate. A team of experts is working with them now.”
She laughed. “John, the police will never be able to decipher those documents.”
“I’m inclined to agree, but the team is not from the police.”
“You’re telling me the CIA is involved now?”
“Is it surprising? Are you finished with your Coke?”
“Yes. We can go now.”
“You’re going to take my arm. We’ll take the back way out and walk to my car. Now stand up. I’ll carry your suitcase. You bring the bag with the notebook. Let’s go.”
The couple left the malt shop by the rear exit and found Fulghum’s car parked behind it. He quickly checked the vehicle for any signs of tampering. Then he put the luggage in the trunk. They climbed in, and he drove her to his apartment. While she showered, the detective paged through the notebook. The text was in Hangul except for the dates and a few names spelled out in Roman script. He found a yellow pad and a pencil. He copied the names and dates. When Sue emerged from the bathroom, she wore a plain cotton tunic with her hair tied in a towel. She walked up to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.
“John, I’m going to go back to your bed and sleep. I won’t be setting an alarm. I see you found the notebook and written some names. Other names are in Hangul. I’ll help you decipher the text after my nap.”
She stumbled back to his bedroom and closed the door behind her. Fulghum silenced his cell phone. Since he would need Sue’s help to decipher the notebook, he decided to clean his .38 police special pistol while she was sleeping. He took off his shoulder holster and laid it on the table. He fetched his rag and gun oil and a box of ammunition. Though his office might be a mess, Fulghum was always careful to keep his firearms in pristine condition. He efficiently unloaded, cleaned and oiled his gun. He found it ironical he had recently visited his makeshift shooting range in the field in Milford but only to burn documents. He carefully reloaded his weapon and was about to reinsert it in his holster when he heard someone tinkering with his front door.
Shots were fired, and Fulghum’s door was splintered near the lock assembly. He rolled to the floor as two men kicked his door open and came inside firing their weapons. He shot the lead man in the head. When the man’s follower pulled his gun towards where Fulghum was lying, the detective shot the man in the shoulder of his shooting arm. The man kept coming, pulling another gun with his left hand. Fulghum coolly shot him in the head before he could take aim.
Fulghum heard movement and a gasp behind him. He wheeled and trained his weapon. He did not shoot because he saw Sue standing in the doorway to his bedroom with one hand over her mouth. In her other hand was a small pistol aimed at the front door. A third man barged into the apartment with his gun drawn. Sue shot him once in the heart and once in the head.
“Sue, I’m going to dial 911 now. Give me your gun. I want you to get dressed quickly. Take my keys and drive my car around the area randomly. Be sure to take your phone with you. I’ll call you when it’s clear for you to return.”
“Yes, this is John Fulghum reporting attempted murder by three persons at my residence. All three entered my apartment with weapons drawn and firing. They are all now dead on my living room floor. I’m calling from Apartment 109, East Lake Village Apartments, Bedford. You have my cell phone number from Caller ID. I’ll be here waiting for the first responders.”
“These three men are all Korean,” Sue exclaimed as she opened her suitcase. While she dressed, she said, “They were a hit team sent to kill us. They must have followed us here.”
“Here are my keys. Wear your dark glasses. Go straight to my car and drive. The emergency folks will be here in minutes. Leave your bags here. I’ll keep them safe.”
Sue took his keys, walked over the bodies and out the shattered door. Fulghum closed her suitcase and lugged it to his bedroom closet. He hid the bag with the notebook in the overhead crawl space. Sue had been gone for three minutes when the emergency team plus two black and whites arrived with their flashing lights and sirens on. The police climbed out of their vehicles with their weapons drawn and fanned out to assure the shooting was truly over. One policeman, followed by two paramedics, ran into the building and gingerly stepped over the bodies in Fulghum’s living room. There they found the detective standing and holding his identification high with one hand and the other raised where they could see it. His weapon and Sue’s lay on the table.
“I’m the one who dialed 911,” he said. Pointing to the three intruders, he said, “These are the men who tried to kill me.”
The policeman lowered his weapon and checked Fulghum’s identification. He then made a call to the station. He told the paramedics, “Check these three men for signs of life but leave them exactly where they are. We don’t want to contaminate the scene.”
Fulghum’s cell phone rang. Caller ID indicated Nigel Pounce was the caller.
“Officer, I’m just getting a call from the chief of homicide. May I take it?”
“Go ahead.”
“Hello, Nigel. Has news traveled fast, or is your call coincidental to attempted murder?”
“John, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I can’t say the same for the three corpses lying in my living room.”
“Please give your phone to the officer in charge so I can talk with him.”
“Officer Sweeny, Officer Pounce would like to talk with you on this line.”
Sweeny took Fulghum’s phone and stepped outside the apartment. Fulghum saw Sweeny register the lead paramedic’s horizontal head movement indicating they had found no signs of life in any of the three bodies.
When Sweeny came back to return Fulghum’s cell phone, he said, “Officer Pounce vouches for you, so everything must be okay. We’re going to scour everything that might allow us to identify who these killers are. Gathering the evidence will take time.”
For the next three hours, the police and first responders collected statements and evidence. Fulghum wrote a statement and signed it. Police photographers documented the scene. Police went apartment by apartment to collect information about what people had seen and heard. They found the automobile in which the three murderers came. They called in a tow truck and impounded the car.
Finally, the paramedics were allowed to bag and drag the three corpses to the emergency vehicle for transport to police forensics and then the city morgue. Before he departed, Sweeny secured and collected the weapons plus shell casings that littered the floor of the apartment.
Sweeny told Fulghum, “I guess it will be all right for you to call the people who can put your residence back in order now. If you can think of anything you haven’t written in your deposition that could be of interest, please give me a call.” He handed Fulghum his card.
“Thanks, officer. I’ll do that.” He glanced over the card and placed it in his shirt pocket.
Fulghum gave the police and paramedics ten minutes from the time they had departed before he called Sue to say the coast was clear for her return. He then called the apartment manager and told her he would need a new front door and door sill as soon as possible. He said he’d also need cosmetic work done for the places bullets had damaged the interior of his apartment. When Sue arrived, a work crew was busy making repairs while the apartment manager supervised. Fulghum told the manager he was going to go to his office for a couple of hours.
“Go right ahead, Mr. Fulghum. By the time you return, your door will be fixed and your interior patched up. Stop by the office for your new door key. If I’m not around then, my son Marty will give you the key. It looks like you’re lucky to be alive.”
“That’s about right, Mrs. Sampson. Thanks for getting right on with the repairs. I’ll see you later.”
Mrs. Sampson watched Sue with curiosity all the way to Fulghum’s car. Fulghum waved to her through the window wondering whether she would want to raise his rate now that he had a new friend visiting.
“You must have been bored to distraction driving for three and a half hours.”
“The New England countryside is beautiful in the sunshine. I drove out to Gloucester Point and watched the sea.”
“Did you have any new thoughts about our visitors? By the way, you did some nice shooting. It was very professional.”
“In reverse order, John. Thank you for the compliment. It pays for a girl to know how to defend herself in these times. I’ve been thinking about the killers. Two broke through the door and rushed into the room, one to each side, high and low. The third man didn’t enter until he thought the shooting was over. He may have been the driver of their car.”
“Did anything about their entry seem familiar to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know how an assassination team operates?”
“John, my ancestors were civilized. They didn’t run around shooting people. They killed quietly, with poison in tea. They never disturbed the neighbors with violence and noise.” She seemed offended by his insinuation.
“Was there any way of telling whether the victims were from the North or the South?”
“I’m going to guess they were from the North.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Their clothes and shoes had poor workmanship. I think your police forensic team will discover they are agents of North Korea. If so, they won’t be the last to try to kill us.”
“I hate to disillusion you, but the police are unlikely to care about anything but the violence of their entry and their evident intent to kill me.”
“Only you?”
“As far as my deposition stated, only me.”
“Will you give me back my pistol?”
Fulghum reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fetched out her gun, which he put on safe and handed to her.
“Thank you. You told your apartment manager we were going to your office. Are we going there?”
“Yes. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. I thought we’d avoid getting in the way of the workers putting my place back together. We don’t have the notebook—it’s hidden in my apartment.”
“I hope it’s well hidden.”
“We’ll see. Do you want a salad or sandwich?”
“I’m starving. Yes, let’s eat.”
They stopped at a Subway and picked up two salads plus soft drinks which they took to eat in Fulghum’s office. While they ate, Fulghum asked Sue for details of her trip to Seoul.
“I flew from New York to Seoul. I stayed only long enough to obtain the notebooks and to place all but one in another bank’s repository. I decided to fly back to Boston Logan rather than New York because you are here.”
“I suppose you didn’t count on being apprehended when you landed?”
“The authorities were a little more efficient than I thought.”
“Not efficient enough to seize the notebook you were carrying?”
“I think not. I was lucky.”
“Okay. Then the police drove you to Pittsfield?”
“Yes,” she said, eating another bite of salad and sipping her drink. She smiled. “When I arrived, Officer Pounce said he wanted to interrogate me.”
“Did that happen?”
“Interrogation in America is a lot different from interrogation in Korea.”
“I’ll bet. No whips nor shock treatment. No shouting and teams of badgers day and night.”
“Is that what Americans think of as Korean justice?”
“What did you tell Officer Pounce?”
“I told him I was willing to help him find the real murderer. I said I’d hired you to help me do that. We only talked for about half an hour.”
“Then what happened?”
“Officer Pounce received a telephone call. His face changed. When the call was over, he told me he had no further questions for me. He said I was free to go.”
“Do you know who called him?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t really care. I left the estate immediately. Now I’m here.” She held out her arms as a demonstration of the fact.
“Let’s take a little time to consider all the employees at the estate and each person who had frequent contact there. Relax and talk. Maybe the best way to start is for you to tell me everything you remember about the day before your mother had her symptoms.”
“The first thing to happen that day was Freddie Hill.”
“Who’s he?”
“He’s the Judge’s prodigal favorite grand-nephew Frederick Hamblin ‘Freddie’ Hill, one of the vultures who was always hanging around the estate waiting for his grand-uncle to die. He stayed at the estate while trying to work out what to do with his life. He’s a rake and a gambler. He has enormous gambling debts yet still plays the horses regularly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with playing the horses,” Fulghum asserted. “I play the horses too. These are racing forms there on the floor against the walls of this office.”
“You don’t go around pinching my bottom like Freddie does.”
“Not unless you ask me to pinch you, I don’t.” He smiled.
“You’re not at all like Freddie. He’s borrowed extensively against his future trust earnings. Of all the family who stays at the estate, he’s the one person who’d have gained most by his grand-uncle’s death.”
“Excuse me while I make a call.”
She nodded and continued eating her salad.
Fulghum speed dialed Nigel Pounce’s number and left a message on his voicemail. “Nigel, this is John. Have you interrogated Freddie Hill about his debts against future earnings of trust funds of the Judge’s estate? Give me a call about that when you get the chance.”
“So we’re helping with the investigation?”
“Why not? It’s one way of narrowing the field of suspects, isn’t it? Besides, if we’re going to bring the murderers to justice, we can’t wait for them to come shooting their way through our door.”
She shuddered and looked down. “We had a close call today, didn’t we?”
“The more I dwell on it, the more I’m convinced I was their target, not you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The first two came through the door looking to encounter opposition by me. They hoped to shoot me. What bothered me about the third man was his fixation on me. He didn’t seem to countenance you when you entered the room even though you had your gun trained on him. In retrospect, it seems he thought you didn’t matter. Or put another way, he didn’t consider you a threat. If I had been in his shoes, I would have shot you dead before I aimed at me. If he had done that, we both would’ve been lying on that floor. He would have escaped. We wouldn’t be sitting here eating lunch and talking about the suspects.”
“So what scenario do you envision for what happened?”
“I don’t know yet. I have a hunch. That’s all.”
“Why don’t you eat your lunch? The salad’s very good. The lettuce is crispy. If you wait, the salad dressing will make it limp.”
Fulghum took a couple of bites of salad. Then he sat upright. “I’ve got an idea. Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“You needed nourishment?”
“Pardon me while I make another call.”
He speed dialed Silvia’s number. When his call went to her voicemail, he said, “Silvia, this is John. Can you give me the real names and contact data for either Currier or Ives? Just leave a message if I don’t answer. Ciao.”
“So in the middle of our discussions about murder, you’re interested in antiquarian prints?”
“Something like that, Sue. We may be heading to western Massachusetts soon, so I want to cover a few bases out here before we leave. Tell me everything you associate with the Korean word Arirang.”
“It’s the national anthem of South Korea. I associate it with beauty. The music for the song penetrates the soul. It is also the name for an annual athletic competition in the DPRK. There it’s a context for socialist propaganda glorifying the Kim regime.”
“Your name is Kim. Are you related to the clan in the north?”
“John, there are many Kims in Korea. All Kims are distantly related. My people are from the royal offshoots. We shouldn’t be compared with the socialist savages in the current regime.”
“I’m going to ask you a difficult question. Don’t get insulted, please. Can you tell the difference between a North Korean and a South Korean? If so, what differentiates them?”
“That’s an interesting question. I have friends who spend all their time worrying about how to tell them apart because it’s their job to do so. They work in the counterintelligence service.”
“By that do you mean the KCIA?”
“How do you know about that? Never mind. Yes, they are KCIA agents.”
“So what do they look for?”
“They look for distinctions without a difference, John.”
“You’ll have to explain that for me.”
“It’s easy to tell by the anger or fanaticism in the eyes, the rake-thin and wiry bodies, the studious brutality of those who have been reared in the North. The trouble is the enemy has studied the South and Westerners enough to shape their agents, so they blend right into their surroundings.”
“So the usual distinctions would disappear. Perhaps only by a slip of the tongue or a look which betrays them could you discern who they are?”
“The signs are highly technical.”
“Will you explain that?”
“In the North, they have had breeding experiments for many decades. Americans who were taken prisoner were bred with Korean women. Their offspring were raised as Westerners in special camps in the North. They were subjected to surgery and special classes to train them to infiltrate the United States under assumed identities. When you copied down the names from the notebook I brought back from Korea, you wrote names of some of those sleeper agents. My grandmother and mother were used to hunt them down and kill them before they completed their missions against your country.”
“They must have had excellent intelligence to know those agents’ names.”
“Yes, and all such intelligence about DPRK agents in America flowed through Stephen Anderson. When I first came to know of these things from my family, I thought my father was a god, all knowing and all seeing. He received information from couriers who stayed at the estate briefly. They brought intelligence and orders from the South. He gave them intelligence and operational reports about the assassinations my people carried out. The notebooks are shorthand accounts of those assassinations.”
“Experts say it’s hard to tell the allegiance of agents on either side of the Demilitarized Zone. What do you think about that idea?”
“The experts are right. The reason is simple. Both sides want Korea to be reunified. We are all one big family, after all. You’ve heard our nation was once called the Hermit Kingdom. We stood for ourselves against all outsiders - Chinese, Japanese and all Westerners. The DPRK continues the tradition fanatically.”
“You sound as if you approve of their position.”
“It’s hard not to admire juche, what you would call self-reliance, yet Ralph Waldo Emerson extolled that quality as a virtue. So see what I mean, John. It’s very hard to find a difference which has a clear distinction. Koreans are like a dysfunctional family. We’ll kill each other en masse, but we’ll stand against all outsiders in the end. Germans in Europe are the same.”
“External threats cause unity on a temporary basis, but when the threats cease, the factions tear the unity apart.”
“Exactly.”
They contemplated this enigma for a few moments. Then Fulghum received a call from Pounce.
“Hi, Nigel. Are you returning my voicemail?”
“What possessed you to bring up Freddie Hill today? The man’s just been murdered.”
“How did he die?” Fulghum asked as he switched his phone to speaker and held a finger to his lips to keep Sue quiet.
“We had scheduled his interrogation in the Judge’s study in two parts. This morning was the first part. Hill broke down and confessed his desire to kill his great-uncle but not to the killing itself. He spelled out how he accumulated his enormous debts saying the Korean mafia was behind the loans. The way he put it, Korean women handle the money for the community, but the men are the enforcers. He was being plagued by the enforcers, holding them off by promises of repayment when he received his inheritance.”
“That all makes sense. You said you planned a second interrogation.”
“It was scheduled for two o’clock this afternoon. When he failed to show up, I sent Riley to Hill’s room. Hill was lying on his back in the middle of his bed. He wasn’t breathing. Riley dialed 911. The medics came at once, but found no vital signs in Hill. He was declared dead on arrival at the emergency room. He succumbed exhibiting the same symptoms as the Judge. I ordered an autopsy. We’ll have to wait for the results. I fear we have another case of arsenic poisoning. Absent a suicide note, he is therefore eliminated as a suspect in the other poisonings, but everyone on the estate is again a suspect in his murder.”
“Ouch. This seems like a nightmare plague, only it’s poison and not microbes doing the killing. I suppose the timing exonerates Kim Su Baek?”
“Yes, on the surface of things, it does exonerate her. Speaking of killing, I’m glad you could defend yourself. I’ve gotten a preliminary report about the three gunmen who tried to kill you. Guess what?”
“No ID, no prints on file, no trace on their weapons?”
“Right on all counts and there’s more. Our favorite Agency stepped in to curtail any further investigation. They confiscated the bodies and flew them out—to one of their black anatomy theaters most probably. We’ll never hear what they discover from their forensic analysis. You should be glad to know you’re in the clear. You may not want to tell me who your backup shooter was. I don’t care. You were lucky, my friend.”
“What about the trust funds?”
“We found among the grandnephew's effects a portfolio of documents with all prior versions of his uncle’s wills and trust documents. Evidently, the Judge changed these documents frequently according to whim. The latest documents in Freddie’s portfolio were much more generous to him than the documents that the lawyer’s partner claimed superseded them.”
“What was the date of the latest will in the portfolio?”
“It was executed in the month of May seven years ago. That version left everything to Hill, who was described as ‘my favorite grand-nephew.’ Against that was built a scaffold of debt that will astound you.”
“Except the whole financial edifice has all come tumbling down. Someone must be glad it happened. I know the money lenders can’t be very unhappy.”
“Unless his death was caused by them. Look, I’ve got to get back to my interrogations. Keep the ideas coming. FYI, I’m no closer to a solution now than when we last talked. Thanks for your continued inputs. It would be great to have you out here for nightly debriefings, maybe out on the water. Don’t feel pressured. Goodbye for now.” Pounce terminated the call on his end.
“Well, Sue, you are off the hook for Hill’s death.”
“Perhaps, but not for the others - if anyone wants to bring me back into the picture.”
“What do you know about the trust funds? They seem to be on a separate track from the wills.”
‘The trusts are the corpus of the estate, with notable exceptions. They were established decades ago when there were thirteen children and my father wanted to protect his legacy from his brothers’ and sisters’ plundering.”
“What were the notable exceptions?”
“You may remember from your childhood hearing the tales of the Arabian nights?”
“Vividly.”
“You’ll remember accounts of fabulous caves filled with gold, silver, precious jewels and pearls.”
“Where are you heading with this?”
“My father believed governments can take everything away that they can seize.”
“And your point is . . .”
“My point is, he sequestered a lot of his wealth in untraceable assets and squirreled them away in unlikely places.”
“So, like the documents he hid under the marble on the back entrance, he built something like the Cavern of the Forty Thieves that Ali Baba rifled.”
“Only there is no ‘open sesame’ to open the door. There’s more.”
“I’m listening. I’m also fascinated. Go on.”
“My father placed his treasures all over the world. He also played with cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin.”
“That has to be very recent—since 2012. Your mother wouldn’t have known about that development.”
“He asked me to look into cryptocurrencies for him and manage a separate experimental portfolio. He pooled Bitcoin before the big run up in value to twelve hundred dollars. Then he sold everything and crashed the market before having me invest everything in small lots again at between one hundred and two hundred fifty. We sold out again when the price hit four hundred twenty. We made a fortune that was totally invisible to outsiders. My father called me his Cryptocurrency Queen. That’s of course nonsense because he guided all the investments. I just found the way for him to invest his money and juggle it. I might have done better work for him because I was still working my way through college and graduate school at the time.”
Fulghum’s phone rang before he could ask his next question.
“Look, I have a question about that, but it’ll have to wait while I take this call. Excuse me.”
Fulghum stood up, walked out his door and down the stairwell while he answered the call from Silvia.
“This is Silvia. John, where are you?”
“Hi, Silvia. Thanks for returning my call. I’m near my office.”
“I’m relieved. Your neighborhood has been the subject of radio reports all afternoon. Three men were killed in a shootout in your apartment complex. I was worried you might be involved.”
“Don’t worry. I survived. The men who came to kill me did not. I’m not in the least sorry they died.”
“Oh, John! Why are you always getting into these situations?”
“Just be glad they didn’t burst in on us the other night. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, John. I just worry about you all the time.”
“Me too. Anyway, please watch your back for both our sakes. Did you dredge up anything on Currier and Ives?”
“You’re going to have to move fast. Currier died five years ago of terminal cancer. Ives is in a nursing home in Needham under the name Clancy Frew. That’s his pseudonym. He’s written over one hundred westerns with that name as the author. I made a call to Needham Pastures. He can receive visitors. Do you want me to meet you there? His visiting hours are between ten and three, with a break for lunch between eleven and one.”
“Let’s set up a meeting at ten o’clock. I’m going to bring another person to the meeting.”
“I’ll bet she’s your new friend Sue. Am I right? Well, from your silence, I’ll guess I’m right. I’d like to meet her. I really would. See you both at ten tomorrow. Be there or be square.”
“Silvia, be nice in the sandbox.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t punch her lights out while you’re watching.” She laughed wickedly and terminated the call.
Fulghum saw a tow truck backing up to take Sue’s car away. He went up to the driver and said, “Wait a minute. What do you need to forget about towing this vehicle?”
“I don’t know what you mean, mister,” she said. “I’ve got a towing order. This vehicle is going to the Bedford pound. With proper identification and one hundred dollars, he can bail it out and do whatever.”
“It’s a beautiful day. What if the car wasn’t here when you arrived to tow it away? What then?”
“How can a car just disappear like that?” she asked, with a wily smile.
He held up a hundred-dollar bill. “Hocus pocus dominocus,” he intoned.
She grabbed the hundred and smiled. “I see what you mean. I mean, I don’t see any car here. Of course, if I come again and discover it’s returned, I’ll just have to tow it. So I’ll check in two hours. If it continues to elude my gaze, I’ll report it has having been reclaimed by the owner. It’s happened before. Of course, I’ll have to split the hundred to be sure.”
Fulghum knew where her conversation was heading.
“Look, what’s your name?”
“Sondra Fleming, that’s Sondra with an O.”
“Well, Sondra with an O, would two Jacksons help in this situation?”
“Better make it quick. Soon it’ll be Tubmans.”
“You are so right. She was a gun toting chick, a real badass dame.”
“A lesson for us all,” Sondra said with a broad smile opening her vest to reveal her concealed weapon. Fulghum handed her the two twenties. Then as she drove her tow truck away, he looked around and skipped up the stairs to his office.
“Sue, bring your purse. While the coast is clear, we’re going to reposition your vehicle. I sure hope it’ll start.”
Sue climbed in and inserted her key. The engine turned over without a hiccup. She drove the car to the back of Joe’s Malt Shop then came through the rear entry of the eatery. She met Fulghum out front and went back up to his office. Fulghum noticed she had in her hand the ticket that had been slipped under her windshield wiper. He held out his trash can so she could file it appropriately.
“We’re going to have to find a place to store your car while we take our summer vacation in the Berkshires. Before we depart tomorrow, we’re going to pay a visit to an elderly scribbler in a nursing home in Needham. I hope you’re game to go. I’d also like you to meet one of my oldest friends.”
“Is your friend female?”
“As a matter of fact, she is. I hope you’ll be able to play nice in the sandbox.”
“I promise I won’t kill her, if that’s what you mean.”
“Maiming, injuring and threatening are also out.”
“She must be very special to you.”
“Yes, Sue, she is. She is also very special to you though you don’t yet realize it.”
“How’s that?”
“I think she holds the key to the mystery we’re trying to solve.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“At this stage, I can’t. It’s only a feeling I have.”
“You sound like my grandmother.”
“Was your grandmother’s intuition largely right?”
“John, my grandmother was never wrong about a feeling. So I’ll give this person a break. I’ll know when I meet her whether she’s going to be what you say she is.”
Fulghum began to dread the very meeting he had set up. Perhaps he should tell Sue to stay at his apartment while he and Silvia went to see Frew. Then he had another feeling that excluding her would lose an opportunity.
The couple talked about the other denizens of the estate until after nightfall. Then they drove in tandem to his apartment complex. He retrieved the new key to his home from his apartment manager’s son.
“Your place is as good as new, Mr. Fulghum. You must be a dead shot to have killed all three of those murdering scum. The good thing from my mother’s point of view was the publicity. No one will forget what happened here today. The bad thing from my point of view is the rep your gun fighting skills gave this neighborhood. Fort Apache in the Bronx comes to mind. I had three offers for your apartment from known drug dealers late this afternoon. I knew you’d be back, so I refused deals they thought I couldn’t refuse. Anyway, I hope you like the fix-up. Mom asked whether your lady friend would be your companion from now on. She thinks a rate adjustment might be in order.”
Sue’s eyes widened at this prospect. Fulghum said, “We’re only here to pick up her things. She was storing them temporarily in my place while she got her life in order. She’s staying in a motel tonight and driving out to western Massachusetts tomorrow midday. Tell Mom it’s going to be okay—until the next bunch of scumbags arrives to get me.”
Fulghum laughed. The boy laughed and winked, leaning his head towards Sue with a leer. She scowled daggers at both men and folded her arms with a huff.
“This place reeks of testosterone,” she muttered. The boy laughed harder when he heard her comment.
Fulghum turned the key in the new lock of his apartment. His new door and jamb were white oak of demonstration quality. His apartment’s interior never looked better. There was no sign that anything untoward had happened earlier in the day. Fulghum checked out the places where bullets had become embedded in the walls and the forensic crew had dug them out. He couldn’t tell that the walls had been re-plastered and repainted. Sue walked through the place and sat down on the bed.
“Except for a faint smell of drying paint, I’d say you got an upgrade with all the options.” She laughed. “Maybe you should order in assassins on a regular basis, perhaps including some to do a shootout at your office.”
“Sue, I’ve already tried that at my office. You saw the ‘after’ version there.”
“There it didn’t have the je ne sais quoi. Too bad. Anyway, what are we going to do now?”
“We’re going to stow your car in long term parking somewhere and find a motel where you can shower and get some rest, so you’re presentable tomorrow bright and early.”
“Merde.”
“Et merde encoure. Tough, Sue. We’re going to be fresh for tomorrow and ready for a long day’s journey into night. I know just where we’ll camp out in Pittsfield. You’ll like it.”
“Are you slinking off to visit your female friend and leave me all alone?”
“No. I’m leaving you all alone to visit a male friend.”
“That’s kinky.”
“Perhaps, but it may save your life tomorrow.”
“All right. Don’t blame me for not liking that you’ll not be here pleasuring me.” Pouting, she raised her face in his direction. Fulghum pulled her in close and kissed her long and hard until she melted in his arms.
“Oh, John, since New York, I’ve thought of you constantly.”
“Sue, tonight when we reach the motel, get some sleep. I mean it. I’ll pick you up at nine thirty for our trip to the rest facility.”
“That early? I’ll have to set my alarm for seven to be fully ready.”
“So what? The man we’re going to see got the closest to your father while he was in uniform. I want you to look like a million bucks. That way, you’ll bring back memories we need to solve our mystery. Do you understand me?”
“You know I look radiant after we’ve made glorious, passionate love all night.”
“That’s not the glow you’ll need tomorrow. I need for you to look like your father’s intellectual child. I want this man to look into your eyes and see your father, not some moonstruck courtesan who’s been the subject of a randy man’s rutting through the night.”
“John, sometimes you have all the charm of a warthog.”
“Thank you, Sue. I won’t return the compliment. I will, however, say thank you for being Annie Oakley today. You saved my life. I won’t forget it.”
She stood tall, and for a moment, he saw something in her eyes he had not seen before - a quiet pride, the kind of look that must have characterized her father in his early days. Fulghum knew now his choice of having her attend the meeting with Frew was right on target. He kissed her on the cheek.
“Let’s be sure we have everything before we go.”
He retrieved her suitcase and opened the compartment where he had stashed the notebook. They went out of the apartment, and he locked the door. In the parking area, he loaded their baggage into his trunk.
He told Sue where they would be driving and asked her to keep her cell phone handy in case they encountered trouble. Then they drove off, with Fulghum leading.
They dropped her car at an airport long term parking facility and found a Residence Inn in Needham. There Fulghum saw to it that she was settled in their suite and kissed Sue goodbye. He kept the keys to her car in his pocket just for luck.
“I might be back before daylight, but in any case, I’ll pick you up at nine thirty in the morning for the quick trip to the long-term care facility.”
Sue was not consoled. Resigned to a night alone in a strange place, she decided to make the best of the situation. She took a long, luxurious bath and afterward put on her gold silk robe with the embroidered cranes. She set her alarm for seven o’clock and sat in bed leafing page by page through the notebook that detailed her father’s assassinations. She tried to discern patterns in her great-grandmother’s and grand-mother’s activities but finally fell asleep.
Meanwhile, Fulghum drove to the Needham Dunkin’ Donuts and met Ken Mander as he had suggested in a voicemail message earlier in the day. Fulghum knew he had, once again, been drawn into the Agency’s dark web of associations. He did not know where the vectors were going to point him next, but he went into the Agency’s bewildering maze anyway. Though not an agent or even an Agency stringer, when the call to service came, Fulghum always answered it.