Suspicion (24 page)

  Standing just inside the door, Mitch surveyed the already crowded room as waiters rushed by carrying bowls of steaming Irish stew and pints of foaming Guinness.

  Tom, whom he had called earlier and invited to lunch, was sitting at a table on the other side of the room, nursing a club soda.

  Mitch came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."

  His old friend turned around. "There you are." He gave Mitch a troubled look. "What’s this I hear about your resigning?" he asked as Mitch sat down. "It’s bullshit, isn’t it?"

  "It’s no bullshit." Catching the eye of a waiter, he called out for a Harp beer and two bowls of Irish stew before returning his attention to Tom. He told the detective about his argument with Jarvis.

  At the mention of his unceremonious handling of the lieutenant, Tom’s lips twitched. "You’ll never get a commendation for diplomacy, that’s for sure."

  "I never claimed to be a diplomat. And if Jarvis didn’t

  have marshmallows for balls, none of this would have happened."

  "McKackney must have come down hard on him."

  "So what? We all have to deal with overbearing politicians at one time or another, especially in this town. Since when do we let them dictate how we run an investigation?" He looked across the table at his friend. "Is there anything you need to know about the case? Anything Jarvis may have left out?"

  Tom waved his hand. "We can talk about that later. You’re not out of the force yet. In fact, if I were to talk to Landers, you’d be reinstated in a minute. I bet he doesn’t even know what happened. If he did, you’d have heard from him by now. The old man likes you, Mitch. And he hates losing good cops."

  Mitch shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to involve the chief of police. Landers was a good man, and a Mason, the fraternal organization Tom belonged to, which explained their friendship. But going over a superior’s head and using a friend to do it wasn’t Mitch’s style. "Let’s not bring Landers into this," he said flatly. "Not just yet anyway."

  Tom’s shrewd eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Mitch?"

  Mitch feigned innocence. "Who says I’m up to anything?"

  "Like I said before, I know you. And I know McKackney. He’s not going to like having some stubborn cop revive that old rape case."

  "Tough. I’m a private citizen now. I don’t have to answer to anyone." A customer had just dropped a quarter in the jukebox and Mitch leaned across the table, trying to be heard over the strains of "Danny Boy." "However, I’m not too proud to ask for help from a buddy."

  Tom let out an exaggerated sigh. "How did I know there were strings attached to this lunch?"

  "Just a small one." Mitch glanced both ways to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. "It’s about Maddy Mays, the owner of the Europa Hotel. There was a rumor a few years back that she was running a call-girl ring. I wasn’t in D.C. at the time, but you were. Is there any truth to that story?"

  As their lunch arrived, Tom attacked his stew with great gusto. "I heard something to that effect," he said between mouthfuls. "But that was a long time ago, around the time Maddy opened the hotel." He tore off a piece of bread and dunked it in the thick brown gravy. "Why are you so interested in Maddy Mays?"

  "Because if the rumor is true, Gina Lamont could have been working for her."

  "Hmm." Tom chewed slowly as he thought about that possibility. "So what do you want from me?"

  "You have friends on the vice squad. Find out who ordered the investigation on Maddy stopped and why."

  Tom lowered his glass. "What are you saying? That the department is dirty?"

  "It wouldn’t be the first time. All it takes is one bad apple."

  "Okay, I’ll see what I can find out." Tom pushed his bowl aside. "With one condition."

  Mitch grinned. "How did I know there were strings attached to this favor?" He made a grand gesture. "But go ahead. Anything for a friend."

  "Is it true that you’ve been seeing quite a lot of Kate Logan lately?"

  Mitch held his friend’s gaze. "If by ‘seeing’ you mean sleeping with, then the answer is no."

  "You didn’t spend last night at her house?"

  "How do you know about that?"

  "Povich from the Chronicle has been watching Kate’s house, hoping Logan would show up. He told his cousin that he saw you going in there at about eleven last night."

  "Did that vermin bother to mention that Kate’s secretary was with me?"

  "He did, but he also said that she left thirty minutes later and you stayed. He claims he resumed his watch at six o’clock this morning and your car was still there. Needless to say, the U.S. attorney wasn’t happy to hear that. If you hadn’t left in such a hurry this morning, he probably would have called you in and demanded an explanation. He may still do that."

  On the table, Mitch’s hands balled into fists. "One of these days I’m going to have to shut that sleazy reporter’s mouth."

  "Then it’s true."

  "It’s not what you think." Remembering his promise to Kate not to mention her attack, he added, "Kate was sick last night and didn’t have anyone to take care of her."

  "Come on, Mitch, don’t play me for a fool. What’s going on between you and Kate Logan? Are you falling for her?"

  "I wasn’t aware that being my friend entitled you to every detail of my personal life," Mitch said defensively.

  Tom laughed. "Go tell that to Mary Beth. Her theory is that since you saved my life once, I’m now responsible for yours-every facet of it."

  Mitch shot his friend a startled look. "Mary Beth knows about Kate?"

  "Uh- huh. She found out from Lucy Yeardon whose sister works in the U.S. attorney’s office."

  "Christ."

  "You’ve got another problem. A small one."

  "What now?"

  "Mary Beth wants to meet Kate." He laughed. "She wants to make sure you’re not letting another Ava sink her claws into you."

  Mitch groaned, knowing that once Mary Beth had made up her mind about something, she hardly ever changed it. The only reason he tolerated her intrusions into his life was that he knew her actions stemmed more from a need to protect than a desire to meddle. Convinced she could never repay Mitch enough for saving her husband’s life, she showed her appreciation in the only way she knew-with an outpouring of love and affection.

  "I tell you what," Tom said. "Why don’t you bring Kate by this afternoon? Mary Beth is baking one of her famous pumpkin pies and I get off duty at four. I may even have something on Maddy Mays by then."

  There was no getting around it. To try would simply make Mary Beth more suspicious.

  "I’ll mention it to Kate," Mitch said noncommittally.

  By the time Mitch returned to Kate’s house at two o’clock that afternoon, he found her dressed in a loose khaki jumpsuit and moving much better than she had earlier. A tantalizing vanilla smell wafted from the kitchen.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked as she let him in. "I thought you had the twelve to eight shift."

  "I did." He climbed on a kitchen stool and glanced at the bowls, wooden spoons and other baking apparatus spread out on the island. "I thought Russell told you to stay in bed."

  "I told Alison I’d bake her a batch of her favorite Christmas cookies." She dipped a finger in the thick, creamy dough and licked it. "That’s more rewarding than

  staying in bed.’" She picked up a cookie gun from the island and waved it in front of his nose. "And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?"

  "I handed in my shield. I’m no longer on the force."

  "You did what?7’

  "You heard me. I’m no longer on the force. I quit."

  "But why? What happened?"

  "Jarvis found out that I went to Baltimore to question Sean McKackney. On the senator’s orders, he took me off the case. I didn’t like that, so I walked."

  The Christmas cookies temporarily forgotten, Kate leaned against the sink. "Took you off the case! Isn’t that as good as an admission of guilt on his part?"

  "It depends how you look at it, and who’s doing the looking."

  "Mitch, you have to do something. Go over Jarvis’s head-"

  "Bad idea," he broke in. "McKackney’s accusation that I’m harassing his son could be regarded as justified. I need actual proof of his participation in Sean’s alibi before I do anything rash."

  "Do you think he’d be stupid enough to have left proof?"

  "I’m counting on it." He watched her as she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "How well do you know McKackney?"

  "Not very well. He and Douglas often go hunting together at the senator’s cabin in the Catoctin Mountains. He was always charming, but for some reason, I’ve never cared much for him. Neither does Rose. Too overbearing perhaps. And phony."

  They looked at each other. "So the question is," Mitch mused, "how far would Senator McKackney go to save his son’s ass?"

  "I think you already know the answer to that question, or you wouldn’t have gone to Baltimore."

  Mitch continued to look at her. How did she manage to look so sexy in such a bland outfit? "What do you think?"

  Kate picked up the cookie gun again and started to fill it with the dough. "My scenario is a bit too wild for a conservative cop like you, but here it is." She worked as she talked, her movements quick and precise. "Let’s assume that the call-girl ring Gina worked for was run by Maddy Mays. If Gina, alias Mary Sweeney, was already working for Maddy at the time of Sean’s arrest, Maddy could have provided the girl and the alibi as a favor to the senator."

  "How would Maddy Mays know the senator?"

  Kate laughed. "Come on, Mitch. This is Washington, D.C., where sex and debauchery rival that of ancient Rome. You really have to ask that question?"

  "You think the senator was a client of Maddy Mays?"

  "It’s only a theory, but yes, I think that’s quite possible. He could even have been a valued customer-one Maddy would have been only too glad to help."

  Mitch chuckled. "Counselor, I like the way you think."

  "Thanks." She picked up the tray, which was now filled with wreath-shaped cookies waiting to be baked, and slid it into the hot oven. "The problem is, how do we prove it?"

  "By probing deeper into the McKackneys’ background."

  "That could get you arrested."

  He gave her a disarming grin. "If it does. I know a great lawyer."

  "Just be careful, okay?"

  An amused gleam danced in his eyes. "Why, Counselor, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you cared."

  Kate felt it safer to avert her eyes. "I don’t want to see you getting into more trouble, that’s all. I feel bad enough that you lost your job."

  "Don’t worry about that."

  "What do you mean ‘don’t worry about that’? Your job is your livelihood, isn’t it?"

  "Not really. After I left the force the first time, I went to work for Vargas World Wide, an investigative agency that specializes in finding and rescuing missing children. I made more money there than I’ll ever need. Besides, I’ve always been pretty resourceful. I’ll find something else."

  "But you love the force, or you wouldn’t have given up such a lucrative position to return to it." Suddenly curious to know more about him, she leaned both elbows on the island. "Why did you leave Vargas anyway? Or is that none of my business?" That same expression Kate had seen in his eyes a few days ago clouded his face again, making her regret the question. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry."

  "You didn’t." He shrugged. "Something happened that made me realize I was no longer qualified for the job, so I left."

  "I find that hard to believe. I heard some of the comments that were made about you when you came back to Metro P.D. a year ago. All of them were very complimentary. Some people even called you a hero."

  He was silent for a while, lost in his thoughts, then unexpectedly, he began to talk. "Three years ago, I went out to rescue a child-a little girl. It was something I had done dozens of time-successfully."

  "From what I hear, you were very good at it."

  Bitterness tightened the corners of Mitch’s mouth. "Not that day."

  "You weren’t able to rescue her?"

  He looked at her. His eyes, usually so expressive, had gone flat. She felt as though she was staring into the eyes of a stranger.

  "I got her killed."

  "Oh, no." As her heart filled with sorrow and compassion, she tried desperately to offer comfort, but couldn’t find the right words. "What happened?"

  "I let my emotions get the best of me, something I never should have done."

  "Did it happen abroad? Or here?"

  "In California. I had her in my arms, almost over the wall of the property where she’d been living. In my haste to get her out of there, I didn’t see a second armed guard running toward us."

  "He shot her?"

  "He tried to shoot me. And missed. He got her instead."

  Kate swallowed the lump in her throat. "Oh, Mitch." This time, her hand moved to touch his. He took it, as one might grab a lifeline, and held it.

  "She was only seven years old. A beautiful child, loving and trusting. And I let her down."

  "Don’t do this to yourself, Mitch. I’m sure you did everything you could."

  He didn’t answer. And he didn’t tell her that the child was his daughter. Thanks to Ava, who hadn’t wanted the publicity, and the California authorities, who had agreed to keep the story out of the national media, only a handful of people knew the identity of the little girl who had been killed that awful day.

  He glanced at Kate, aware that the story of Gabrielle’s death had shaken her badly. Her eyes were moist and her voice unsteady when she spoke again.