The Betrayed (17 page)

Train nodded. “I’m sure it is.” He couldn’t fight off the impression that he knew him. “I’m not really hungry,” he lied.

The man nodded, accepting the explanation. “Were you a friend of Elizabeth’s?” he inquired.

“No, actually,” Train replied. “I’m with the police department.”

“Ah,” the man said, brought up short. “Are you one of the detectives working on the investigation into Elizabeth’s murder?”

“Yes, I am.”

The man put his hand out. “I’m Irskin Elliot, one of the Chapin family’s oldest friends.”

Train looked at the man again, and he realized why the man had seemed so familiar. Irskin Elliot had once been one of the most powerful men in politics. A former governor of Virginia, a one-term senator, and once the United States attorney general, he had been a leading liberal politician throughout the 1970s and ’80s. Train shook his hand. “I knew the Chapins had powerful friends,” he said, “but it’s a true privilege to meet you, sir,” he commented.

Elliot smiled humbly. “Trust me, there’s no privilege in meeting a politician in decline. There are others here far more deserving of adulation.”

“I doubt that.”

“You shouldn’t,” Elliot said. He pointed around the room. “The man in the corner over there is the principal of the largest pharmaceutical company in the world. Worth billions of dollars; and I’m sure you recognize the man he’s talking to.”

“The vice president.”

“That’s right. And over against that wall”—Elliot pointed to the far end of the room—“is the man who’s likely to be the next president of the United States.”

“He looks familiar.”

“Abe Venable. He’s the Senate majority leader for the Republicans. Very conservative. A senator from my own state of Virginia, no less.”

“It certainly is an impressive crowd.”

“Exactly. By comparison, I’m little more than an artifact.” He smiled again, and Train smiled back.

“Well, if not a privilege, it’s at least an honor. I remember when you marched with Martin Luther King. At the time it was a risky thing for a southern governor to do. It meant a lot to many of us, though.”

“It cost me some political support at the time,” Elliot said. “Ah well, sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always the easy or political thing to do.” His eyes evaluated Train. “And as far as whose honor this is, I suspect you’ve got that backwards,” he said. “When I was governor of Virginia, there was a star football player at the University named Darius Train. Judging from your size and your age, I suspect I have the pleasure of meeting him.”

Train’s face turned grim. He hated discussing his football career. “That was me,” he admitted reluctantly.

“You were an All-America your first two years there, if I recall.”

“You have a remarkable memory.”

“Not really. In a state like Virginia, if the governor doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with the University’s football team, he’s dead in the water. Many of the voters seem to think that the primary standard by which the state’s chief executive should be judged is the University’s record under his tenure.” He smiled at the thought. “What happened after your second year?”

“Injuries,” Train said simply.

“Too bad.” Elliot shook his head. “You were one of the best. Still, from what I hear from the Chapins, you seem to have found your calling. They are very pleased with the way the investigation has proceeded. I’d like to convey my personal appreciation as well. It’s such an awful time for everyone, and having confidence in the people handling the investigation is an enormous burden off everyone’s shoulders. Perhaps in the end your injuries were all for the best.”

Train shrugged. “I’m happy enough doing what I’m doing, although I missed out on a lot of football. And you?” he asked, changing the subject. “You’re still in politics, aren’t you?”

Elliot chuckled to himself. “Technically, I’m still in politics,” he said, shaking his head. “Though the fact that you have to ask reinforces my point about politicians in decline.”

“I’m sorry,” Train stammered. “I don’t follow politics very closely.”

“It’s fine, Detective. I’m Secretary of Health and Human Services; it’s not a very glamorous position, and it rarely takes me into the public eye. It gives me the chance to be useful, though.”

“You’re serving in a Republican administration?” Train was surprised. “That’s a little unusual for a lifelong Democrat, isn’t it?”

Elliot shrugged. “It’s unusual, but not unheard of. Particularly in today’s world of rancorous partisanship, having one or two cabinet members from the opposing party can help lend an administration at least the appearance of bipartisanship. For good or bad, I’ve reached the unenviable age at which people seem to regard me more as a statesman than a politician. As a result, both sides of the aisle seem to think I can provide them with cover and credibility—as long as I stay reasonably in the background.”

“Do you miss the spotlight?”

Elliot shook his head. “The spotlight often gets a little too hot for my tastes, and there are many compromises that must be made to keep it shining on you.” He pointed over again toward Abe Venable. “Do you think he’s enjoying this?” he asked. Venable stood stiff-backed and somber, his aquiline features judging everything around him with jealous disdain. He was surrounded by sharp-looking business types, each of them looking desperate to keep his attention. “People like Lydia Chapin are crucial to anyone making a run at the presidency, as are those in the oil industry, the pharmaceutical industry, and on down the line. As a result, he has to listen to them—what’s the common parlance these days?—
suck up
to them. It requires a certain flexibility of personality I no longer possess. Besides, I’ve had my time in the sun; in my old age, I prefer the shade.”

Train nodded.

Just then, Sydney Chapin approached them from across the room, her expression heavy with the weight of the occasion. When she reached them, she addressed Elliot. “Uncle Irskin,” she said, her voice carrying equal measures of warmth, affection, and relief. She hugged the older man tightly, almost as if clinging to him for protection. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Elliot hugged her back. “Please, don’t thank me,” he said. “I feel awful that I haven’t been here more over the past few days. I’ve been swamped, and I couldn’t get away. I haven’t been able to forgive myself.”

“We understand, Irskin. We’re just glad to have you here now.”

“And I am here now, child. I’m here for anything you need.” He took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes. “How is the prodigal daughter doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “This isn’t quite the homecoming I would have hoped for you.”

“I’ll be fine eventually,” she said. “It’s hard right now. I’m trying to focus on Amanda, though.”

Elliot nodded in understanding. “Is she going to be all right, do you think?”

“I do,” Sydney said, and there was the force of conviction in her voice. “She’s got a lot of my mother in her.”

“Ah yes, your mother.” Elliot rolled his eyes slightly, but in an affectionate way. “I spoke with her briefly when I arrived, but I’m hoping to sit down with her for more time this afternoon. She seems in control.”

“Any surprise?”

“No, none.” Elliot tilted his head to the side. “Do you think she’s really doing all right inside, though?”

“Mother?” Sydney sounded surprised at the question. “Have you ever known her not to be all right?”

Elliot frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “I know that she’s been under an enormous amount of pressure since your father died. Taking over the company has been very difficult for her, I think, and I’m not convinced she’s really been herself lately.”

Sydney patted his hand. “I haven’t seen a change,” she said confidently. “I think she’s doing just fine.”

He patted her hand back. “Good. But remember, I’m always here if you or anyone else in your family need anything.” They hugged again, and Train, who had been ignored throughout the exchange, felt even more self-conscious. He cleared his throat and looked for a tactful way to excuse himself.

“I’m sorry,” Sydney said, realizing that she had not even acknowledged Train’s presence. “Uncle Irskin, have you met Detective Train yet? He’s one of the detectives investigating Liz’s murder.”

“Yes, we were just reminiscing about both our times in the past in Virginia.”

“I had no idea that you two were related, though.” Train noted the reference to “Uncle Irskin.”

“An honorary title only,” Elliot said. “As I mentioned, I’ve been close to the family for a very long time.”

“Irskin started his career working with my grandfather’s company,” Sydney explained. “That was a long time ago, though; before he got into politics.”

“Seems like a lifetime.” Irskin smiled. “But I was always grateful to your family for the opportunities they gave me.” He looked at Train. “I was also Elizabeth’s godfather, and I was extremely close to her, so I feel like I’ve lost a child myself.”

“I’m very sorry,” Train said.

An awkward silence set in until Sydney addressed Train. “Detective Train, you and your partner said you had something you wanted to discuss with me earlier. Now might be a good time. I’m a little tired of accepting condolences from people I’ve never met, and I could use a break.”

“If now works, that’s fine. We just need to grab Detective Cassian.”

As if on cue, Cassian came around the dining room table, a full plate of hors d’oeuvres in his hand. He walked over to the group of three and nodded to Train, who looked back and forth between Cassian’s face and the plate in his hand in disapproval. Cassian didn’t seem to notice. “Hello, Sydney,” he said.

“Detective Cassian,” she replied. “I’d like you to meet Irskin Elliot, an old friend of the family.” Cassian frowned, clearly trying to figure out how he knew the man.

“He was a senator and once the attorney general,” Train said, supplying the information Jack was missing.

The light seemed to go on in Cassian’s mind. “Yes, of course,” he said. He extended his hand, and then, noticing that it was greasy from all the food he’d eaten, he looked around for something on which to wipe his hands. He saw a stack of linen napkins on the dining room table and put his plate down, picking up a napkin and rubbing his hands together on it. Then he turned back to the group and extended his hand again. “Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Elliot smiled. “Don’t worry about it. And I’m sure the pleasure’s mine.”

Train nodded to Cassian. “Sydney was just saying that this would be a good time to talk, Jack.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked Sydney. “We could do it another time—a little later in the day, after everyone has left.”

She shook her head. “I’ll take any excuse to get a break from this. Amanda’s with my mother, and I’m feeling a little claustrophobic. We can go sit out on the terrace if you’d like.”

“That sounds fine,” Train said, cutting off Cassian before he could raise any further concerns.

“I suppose that’s my cue to excuse myself,” Elliot said. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you, Detectives Train and Cassian.” He turned to Sydney. “And you,” he said, taking her hand. “Don’t ever hesitate to call if you need anything.” She nodded. “Take care of Amanda and your mother. They need you right now.” She nodded again, and then reached out and they hugged once more.

After they’d broken their embrace, he smiled supportively and walked off toward the buffet table. She watched him hobble away, his thin frame looking as though it might be knocked over if anyone he passed sneezed. Then she took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, bracing herself. “Let’s go outside,” she said.

“Y
OU SAID YOU DIDN
’
T THINK
Leighton did this,” Sydney said. She

felt as though the walls were closing in on her.

“He may not have,” Cassian said. “But we want to be sure.”

“The papers said you arrested the man who killed Liz—this Jerome Washington person.” She couldn’t believe this was hap
pening. “Why would you have arrested him if you weren’t sure?”

Train answered the question. “He’s still in custody, Sydney. But we don’t have enough to charge him with your sister’s murder yet, so we need to rule out any other suspects. Jack told me some of what you told him about what happened when Liz and Leighton split up. Sounds pretty rough. We were wondering if you could fill in some more of the details.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know that there’s anything more I can tell you,” she said. “I was living in California at the time, and Liz and I weren’t close back then. I knew she and Leighton were getting a divorce, but I had no idea what had really happened until I started talking to Liz more and more this winter.” She shook her head in exasperation. “You may have noticed we’re not the most open family on the face of the planet.”

“Do you know whether Liz had seen or heard from Leighton since they split up?” Train pressed.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “As far as I know, she never had any contact with him again after that night—except through their attorneys.”

“Were charges ever filed against him?” Cassian asked.

She nodded. “Originally. I think there were charges that were filed originally, but they were dropped.”

“Why?” Cassian asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said.

“But you have your suspicions,” Train said, picking up on her hesitation.

“You have to understand, Detective, this family exists in the public eye. I can’t imagine what impact it would have had on my mother’s world if a public trial had been held and the world learned that her daughter had been raped by her own husband—a Chapin Industries executive, no less. I always assumed that my mother found a way around that.”

“You think she convinced your sister to drop the charges to buy his silence and save the family some embarrassment?” Train asked.

Sydney shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Train shook his head, and Sydney thought she sensed some disgust in his expression. She couldn’t blame him.