Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos (18 page)

Claire leaned back in one of the shaded chairs, enjoying the light breeze coming off the bay, which kept the heat from being unbearable. The voices of the croquet players as they coached and heckled their fellow players blended with the calls of birds in the trees, the cries of the gulls over the bay and the hum of bees busily seeking nectar. The heat made her drowsy, or maybe it was the late night. She was just considering going to her room for a nap when she spied Jack heading across the lawn. She sat up suddenly alert. Her heart pounded with anxiety. She realized she had been waiting for him. She was hoping he had some answers for her.

Jack helped himself to a glass of iced tea and then pulled another lawn chair close to hers under the umbrella, so they could share the same pool of shade.

“Looks like a wicket game.” He grinned at his play on words.

“You better believe it. Don’t they look like nice harmless souls? Well, they’re sharks.”

“Sharks?” He grinned. “You lost, huh?”

She nodded sheepishly. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve played a little croquet in my day. The more harmless they look the more ruthless they seem to be.”

“Well, they sure suckered me. First a practice round. That wasn’t too bad and I was feeling pretty confident, but then we played a
real
game.”

He laughed. “I wish I had been here to watch.” Then he changed the subject. “How’s Tuffy?”

She shook her head, pushing her words past the tightness in her chest. “Not good. Dr. Milhouser wasn’t too optimistic about saving him unless he finds what caused it.” She leaned toward Jack. “Did you hear from the laboratory about their analysis?”

“I’m still waiting. Hopefully we’ll hear soon.”

They lapsed into a glum silence. Tuffy would have been having a great time right in the middle of the croquet game if he had been there, perhaps even providing enough distraction to level the playing field.

“Claire, they found our man.”

Claire perked up. “They did? Oh my God! What did he say? Did you see him? Did he tell you anything?”

Jack shook his head, now looking even gloomier. “He was shot several times.”

The blood drained from her head in a rush; her mouth opened but words didn’t come.

“Shot?” she finally stammered. “Shot? As in dead?”

He nodded.

She leaned closer, grasping his arm urgently. “Jack, this is really scary. Why was he killed? What does it mean? What’s going on?”

“All good questions. Unfortunately I don’t have any of the answers. But I think we all agree now that his attack on you in the Mall was not just a random act of violence in the big city. There is some purpose, some plot, and we haven’t even got a clue as to what it is.”

“So it is the Guiness affair then?” She managed to sound calm even though she could feel the goose bumps on her scalp.

“We don’t know.” His face was pensive. Claire could imagine the wheels turning in his brain. “Of course, that was our first thought. But it could be something entirely different.”

Claire felt tears well up behind her eyes and she shook her head determinedly, refusing to give in to her frustration.

Then she had a horrible thought. “Jack. Did he follow me? Have I put the Lickmans in danger by coming here?”

Jack looked at her with sympathy. “We just don’t know. Perhaps. But remember, Claire, you didn’t want to come here. We all insisted. The Lickmans were certain you would be safe here.”

He watched her digest his words and persuaded softly, “You are not responsible for this situation, Claire, whatever it is.”

But he didn’t comfort her. She only thought about Amy and JoJo, Mrs. Kramer, Cook, Charlie, and the Lickmans. They had been so kind to her, and she had apparently led a killer right into their midst.

“What do we do now?” she asked, totally depressed.

He shrugged. “Maybe go in and see what David thinks. Wiley went to update him while I came out to find you.”

She got up, putting her empty glass on the table. Amy was engrossed in hitting her ball through a wicket, so Claire waved good-bye to JoJo and headed for the house.

Jack was right behind her, but he was hanging on to his iced tea glass, which he had refilled. His phone gave a discreet little chime. He fished it out of his pocket with one hand, managing to turn it on and get it to his ear without upsetting his iced tea.

“Jack here.” His voice was crisp. Then there was a long series of nods, umhs and uh-huhs, then, “Okay. You’re sure? All right. Thanks for the quick work.” He was walking faster now, Claire almost running to stay with him.

“What? Was it the lab? What did they say?”

He nodded. “It was the spinach. It was botulism. Deadly! Thank God, Tuffy tripped the waiter and knocked it all on the floor, or who knows how many people would be deathly ill right now.”

They had come through the solarium and down the hall, bursting into the library without even a polite knock on the closed door. Startled, Wiley, David and MiMi looked at them.

“Jack, Claire? What is it? Is it Tuffy?” MiMi’s voice was tight with fear.

Claire went to her and took her hand while Jack repeated the news.

“Botulism? Oh my God!” MiMi collapsed onto a chair near the fireplace. “I’ve used that caterer many times. They have always been so good. How could they have let this happen?”

Then she seemed to get it. She turned a ghastly white. “Oh, my God. If Tuffy hadn’t tripped the man, it would have gone on the table, and who knows how many would have gotten sick.” She paused, taking a deep breath; she tried to be calm as she looked to Jack. “Is it fatal?”

He nodded. “Can be, or worse.”

“Worse? What could be worse?” David was indignant and clearly frightened. After all, except for Tuffy’s antics, he would have certainly fallen victim to the spinach.

“It attacks the nerve cells. Some victims are paralyzed, their brains only partly functioning. It can cause a person to become a vegetable, if they survive. It’s very dangerous.”

Still clutching Claire’s hand tightly, MiMi put her other hand to her mouth. “Tuffy? Is there an antidote? Can we do anything for him?”

Jack nodded. “The lab technician has already sent some anti-toxin to Dr. Milhouser. It should be arriving there soon. The only problem is that he doesn’t know how it will work on dogs. He says it’s frequently successful on adults, but they’ve never used it on animals. So it will be risky.”

Almost as if on cue the library phone extension rang and David picked it up. Mrs. Kramer said Dr. Milhouser was on the line.

David nodded. Then asked his wife, “Do you want to talk to him, or should I?”

“You! You talk to him.” And then they all sat and listened to David’s side of the conversation.

“Well, Dr. Milhouser thinks using the anti-toxin is Tuffy’s only chance. I told him to go ahead.”

MiMi broke into tears but she nodded, agreeing with him. What else could be done? Claire bent over and hugged her, feeling a big lump in her own throat.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I think we should get Marcus Ng from the FBI and Charlie and anyone else you can think of in here to try to make sense of this?” Jack looked to David, who seemed dazed but recovered himself enough to nod his agreement.

“MiMi, do you want to cancel your house party? I mean, people will understand.” Wiley was concerned.

MiMi shook her head, looking through her tears at her husband for agreement. “We only do this once a year, and I think we should just finish it. We have the cookout scheduled for tomorrow afternoon with all the houseguests and about thirty more people expected. But we’re doing all the food preparation here, so that should be safe enough. It’s almost easier to go on as planned than to cancel and try to explain why to everyone.”

David looked at her intently then nodded. “Whatever you think, my dear.” He smiled lovingly at her and she tried her best to return it.

Jack stepped over by the windows and used his cell phone. He looked up and said, “Is four o’clock here okay with everyone?”

They all nodded, and he spoke into his phone again before joining them. “Ng’s bringing a couple others and probably Detective Maynard, too. Who else should come?” He looked at Wiley.

“Charlie, and a couple of people who work for me. I’ll call them.”

“Neil should be here,” David said. “Let’s meet back here at four.”

MiMi went to meet with Mrs. Kramer about details for dinner and the cookout the next day. David said he would call Neil and then go socialize with the guests.

“Claire, we brought some pictures for you to take a look at. You know, to see if you can identify the man who attacked you?” Jack nodded to Wiley who reached into his briefcase for an envelope. He handed it to Claire.

She pulled the little stack of pictures out and looked at them carefully. The photos were of tough desperate men, shot in black and white and none of them looked like people anyone would like to know. She easily separated the two shots of the man in the Mall, the same man in the kitchen last night.

“You’re sure?” Wiley looked over the ones she chose, then handed them to Jack. “Those are the same ones Jack picked. I guess there’s no doubt we found our man. Too bad we didn’t find him sooner.”

“Yeah, especially for him,” Jack added dryly.

Claire noticed she now had a full-fledged headache and, since there didn’t seem to be anything else she needed to do right then, she excused herself, deciding an aspirin and a nap would help her clear her mind before the four o’clock meeting.

Jack and Wiley headed for the kitchen, hoping to scrounge some leftovers to make up for their missed lunch.

Claire’s room was blessedly cool. The sheer curtains stirred with the breeze coming off the bay, as well as pleasantly defusing the light in the room. She wondered if the house was air-conditioned, but then noting the opened window decided it was probably the thick stone walls that kept it cool. Her head felt better just coming through the door. She had only been there a few days but the room felt like it was hers.

She had learned on meeting Great Auntie Maude that she usually was given the Rose Room, so Claire had offered to trade with her.

“Oh no, my dear.” Maude’s smile was genuine, her pat on Claire’s arm gentle. “MiMi has told me what a valued guest you are and you should have the Rose Room. You deserve it. I’m perfectly comfortable in the Garden Room. You enjoy.”

So Claire was enjoying it. And after she took an aspirin she removed her shoes and lay on the bed, looking around the lovely room, feeling herself relax, little by little. Her mind drifted as she examined the pieces of the puzzle, looking for clues. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she woke exactly forty-five minutes later knowing two things about the situation.

First, in each of the two occasions when she had previously been in grave danger, she had experienced anxiety and nightmares, subconscious warnings that something was very wrong. So far, she had not had that same experience. Did that mean she wasn’t in danger?

Secondly, the Guiness group displayed a total disregard for human life in their plan to destroy an airplane containing over three hundred innocent people. And that same kind of disregard seemed present last night, if someone did indeed poison the spinach, which was to be served to the guests at the Lickmans’ gala.

But did that similarity mean they were connected? She sat up and put on her shoes, then headed for the bathroom to wash her face and fix her hair suddenly anxious for the meeting to start. Maybe someone could make sense out of this.

The library seemed crowded when Claire arrived. Charlie entered right behind her carrying another chair and set it in the semi-circle that had been arranged in front of the library desk.

“Did you get something to eat?” she asked Wiley. He was easy to spot standing heads above most of the people in the room.

“Sure did.” He grinned. “Cook had tucked a few sandwiches away in the fridge.” Then he gestured to a smaller man standing next to him. “Claire I don’t know if you two have met yet?”

The man shook his head as he moved forward, hand outstretched.

“Claire, this is Marcus Ng, Special Agent with the FBI. He has been assigned to this case and is coordinating the efforts between the agencies involved. And Vantage, of course.”

Marcus’ hand was firm, his voice somber. “I’m very glad to meet you Ms. Gulliver. I’ve certainly heard about you.”

Claire immediately liked this man. He was impeccability groomed and had an air of competence about him which was very reassuring.

“I look forward to working with you,” he continued, releasing her hand. “I know this situation keeps getting more bizarre. But with the talent we have available, I’m sure we’ll come up with a solution soon.” Then glancing at his watch, he announced firmly, “It’s four. Let’s get started.”

Marcus stood behind David’s desk and in a clear strong voice asked everyone to be seated. It took only a few minutes. MiMi slipped into the room in time to take the chair in the front row between Claire and David. Neil sat at the far end of the same row. Jack stood behind Marcus in front of the bookshelves, unobtrusive yet somehow appearing to be the man running things behind the scene. The rest of the chairs were filled with an assortment of people. Some were people who had been in David’s office after the Board Meeting, so Claire assumed they were working for Wiley. Wiley was there, of course, in the back where he could watch everything. And Charlie had taken one of the chairs near Wiley.