Death of an Intern (20 page)

R
eagan National Airport was into its rush hour, bringing and sending people home or plying their commerce. It was nearly 5:30 when George Manchester emerged through the security gates carrying a large briefcase.

He was on his cell phone. Airport security was so tight that his driver and car could not hang around and wait for him. So now he called his driver. The two could time it to within seconds of each arriving at the curb simultaneously.

He went out the sliding doors opposite baggage pickup and walked to the curb. He saw his small limo coming and moved to an open area on the roadway. He was quickly in and on his way. Good organization.

Salutations were exchanged. These two men had known each other since childhood. “How's everything at home?” Manchester asked Milo Bannini.

“You know, the wife misses the grandchildren.”

“You got a nice house. Get your kids to come visit the nation's capital. There's a lot here for folks to enjoy.”

“I told her. I also told her this is where we live. You'd think after nearly two years…”

The limo escaped the confines of the terminal building and gained the ramp to the George Washington Memorial Parkway heading north. Most commuter traffic was going the other way making it an easy trip to the Watergate.

“What about your daughter with the MBA? You want we try to get her a job around here?” he asked.

“She wants to work in Atlanta.”

“Well, if it gets too bad, maybe Benny could switch with you. Besides he's single.”

“Naw, not right now. I like it here. I'll work on my kids to make some visits.”

“Good. Book the flights through the office. No sweat. Same for your wife, she wants to make a short trip home. Round trip to Atlanta doesn't cost much. You work it out.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“I liked it better when it was Georgie.”

“It's not respectful. I like calling you boss. You're the guy that put everything together. I don't know where a bum like me would have been, weren't for you.”

“Hey, we all work together. We all share.”

“You get no complaints from me,” Milo said.

They drove across Memorial Bridge, under the overhang of the Kennedy Center, turned right on Virginia Avenue, and then onto the service road in front of the Watergate. The Howard Johnson's Motel of Nixon fame was still across the street.

“I'll be about twenty, twenty-five minutes, and then we go to the White House.”

“I'll be right here.”

A half hour later, Milo drove the limo up 17th Street to Pennsylvania and stopped at the corner. The portion of Pennsylvania Avenue that went in front of the EOB, White House, and Treasury Building had been closed to traffic back in the Clinton Administration.

“I'd say 9:30, Milo. Oh, you won't have to pick up Velma. She's having dinner with a girlfriend and will cab it to the Watergate.”

“That's too bad, I don't get to see her. She's some looker.”

“That she is. I'll call when the dinner's over. Remember me to Isabella.”

“Always do.”

George Manchester walked the short distance to the steps leading up to the entrance of the EOB. With his name at the door, he showed his ID and went quickly through the normal security precautions. He didn't carry or wear anything that would set off the buzzer. His travels had taught him the ins and outs of the new security. He knew what kicked off the scanners. He sailed right through.

Frankie Grayson and Adam Smith were waiting for him in her office. They greeted each other as old friends do. The three were very comfortable with each other. All knowing the agenda, they got right to it.

He reported Sarah had had an abortion and they'd given her a week off to get settled in before starting work in sporting goods. “I don't want her back in films.”

Smith was greatly relieved.

Manchester asked Frankie, “How's Alma? Doing okay in the office?”

“Fits right in, does a good job. She's got a good head on her shoulders, along with her other attributes.”

“Good. Eh, she's pretty straight from what I hear,” he said, looking right at Frankie, who caught his meaning. “What do you hear from Beth Carr?”

“She's playing softball with us. I saw her over the weekend, played some tennis.”

“So no problems?”

“Nobody knows about us. We'll see each other occasionally. She seems happy.”

“She should be,” Smith joined in.

Manchester smiled. “Nothing on the Rausch girl? No leads?”

Smith answered. “We had a problem with a newspaper reporter from the
Star,
but that's quieted down.”

“We don't talk publicly about Janet,” Frankie interjected. “That
Star
reporter, Wolfe, hasn't written anything since we complained. Friday there was a short piece about the investigation, but she didn't write it.”

“It was a horrible thing. Janet was a lovely girl,” Smith said.

“Yeah, you never know about people these days,” Manchester lamented.

“True,” Smith said. “I just hope our insistence she have an abortion didn't drive Janet to her demise.”

“I don't see how one thing has anything to do with the other,” Frankie rejoined. “She didn't take the proper precautions. I was surprised with Sarah.”

“She and I have talked about that. She had forgotten to renew her prescription. She thought she was all right. She's a pro. There won't be a problem with her. We're still interviewing for her replacement.”

“That's one thing I wanted to talk with you about, George,” Smith said.

Manchester caught an edge of nervousness in the chief of staff's voice. “I assure you, Adam, you have no worries about any of my girls, even if they screw up.” He chuckled at the double-entendre.

Smith said, “We're looking at that whole situation.”

“Like, maybe Rick should get married?” Manchester shot back.

“Not an option right now,” Frankie jumped in. “We're looking at the entire security picture. Our biggest concern as always is being associated with a negative event. We can't let anything cast a bad light on Rick.”

“So we're talking about bad publicity?” the man from Atlanta impugned.

Frankie nodded. Adam looked at his watch. “It's only a few minutes to dinner. I better get with the Vice President.” He left.

Manchester waited until Smith closed the door. “Before we get into something else, I gotta say this. Rick needs a better arrangement than going to your place a couple of times a week.”

That surprised Frankie. “Why?”

“With a steady, he can have fun and rely on her not to mess up. He's got his needs, we all do. But we're not the Vice President of the United States.”

“This is the first problem—”

“True, but it was a lot easier when he was a senator; no parade every time he went someplace. I am concerned about Wolfe too. She's feisty. Got a lot of…you know.”

“There's a complication: Janet. The Monday before she was killed, she and I had a verbal fight in here.”

“Was your door closed? Anybody know?”

“It was, but you never know. I was angry because she refused to get an abortion. When she came to me about wanting to participate, I was concerned whether she could handle it. Then one time, Sarah was under the weather so I asked Janet to fill in. She was thrilled. I could have assigned Alma. In retrospect, that would have been the thing to do.

“Janet was eager. She was a bright, engaging person. Rick was comfortable with her. She accompanied him I think four times. It was the third and fourth time they went to the townhouse. Rick asked about Sarah after, so I put her back into the schedule.”

“He liked Sarah better?”

“He had fun with Janet, seemed satisfied, but Sarah was a lot more experienced, and that's what he liked. That's what it's all about. And to answer your earlier comment, he doesn't want to date. He's not ready.”

“You're doing the right thing. It's easier when he comes to Atlanta; we set him up, no one's ever the wiser. Alma will take good care of him. It's too bad about what happened to Janet. What would you have done if…?” he let that hang.

“That would have depended on Janet. Abortion was the best thing. Next best would have been to set up a guy from outside of here to admit to the paternity.”

He shook his head. “There are many complications to a story like that.”

“Oh, believe me, I was planning to talk with you for help. If she had agreed to the abortion, it would have all gone away.”

He shifted his bulk in the chair. “Why wouldn't she abort?”

“Strong religious beliefs.”

“But not strong enough beliefs to keep her out of the sack.”

“Well, that's what got me. I told her we'd take care of everything. Our argument got hot, and she stormed out of the office. Nothing more was said. She showed a lot stronger will than I thought she possessed.”

“So nobody knew?”

“I haven't asked. Possibly Kat. Everybody seemed surprised when it came out after she was killed. Except for the reporter, the gag order was working fine. The girls know things, but they're not hassled by it. I don't think they gave any of that a thought, except when Janet died the way she did.”

“So nobody speculated about who got her pregnant? We need to get a cover for that, especially with that reporter looking for dirt.”

“Right.”

“All right, so I'll work on the cover and have a guy ready if needed.”

“Fine. Oh, we had a mishap the other day.” Frankie told him about the Secret Service fiasco at Janet's townhouse. “One was Marsha Hines, Janet's roommate, and the other the agents identified from pictures was Wolfe. I don't know what Hines knows or what she might have told Wolfe about Janet. The reporter's not writing about Janet, but she is definitely sniffing around.

“Hines was at the softball game last Thursday and the practice Friday, hanging with Kat. I asked Kat about it when we finished the workout. She said it had to do with Janet, missing her. I don't think Wolfe has tried to talk with any of the girls, but we need to keep a tight lid on things.”

“What about Talbot?”

“She's the only other one, outside of you, I've talked with. This could become a security issue. With her background, I thought she might have some ideas. She felt keeping things as quiet as possible was the best way to go. Deniability was crucial.”

“She's right.”

“I don't want this to balloon into an unmanageable situation. I thought you could arrange something, that way—” Frankie's phone rang, interrupting her. “Frankie Grayson…We'll be right there.” She hung up. “Dinnertime.”

“Outside of Talbot, don't get anybody else involved. Play your cards close to your chest,” Manchester suggested.

“Okay.” She stood. “Who knows, maybe there'll be another killing. Remember the sniper? Each shooting got things hotter.”

“Yeah, you're right.”

“We better join the others.”

“Fine with me. I always enjoy the great food you folks serve here.”

I
was itching for something to do and was in the office before 8:00. I felt good after a relaxing weekend. Message slips sat on my desk, calls that had come in after Mary and I went home. I sorted through them and saw one that was from the Virginia Hospital administrator in Arlington. Before I could do anything, my office phone rang. “Laura Wolfe.”

“Good morning, Ms. Wolfe, how are you this fine day?” Max asked cheerily.

“Stronger, well-rested, and I love my new diet. I'm really into it.”

“It's another crusade.”

Not quite, I thought, but said otherwise. “Yes, and one I am enjoying.”

“I forgot to mention yesterday that I can honestly say I enjoyed my meal Saturday night. Now to current affairs. Mr. M came to town last night and may be here a few days. He attended a dinner with his friend.”

“He travels in high circles.” I was also concerned about his low circles.

“What is on your calendar today?” he asked.

“Find Janet's killer, and then after lunch…”

“I'd appreciate that. My workload is getting very heavy. That is all I have.”

I punched in Virginia Hospital's number. In the process, I took out my insurance and credit cards, certain one was the reason for their call. After working through the robotic menu, I finally reached the administrator.

“Belinda Wallace,” wafted a pleasant, soft voice.

“Ms. Wallace, I'm Laura Wolfe. You called?”

“Oh yes. How are you feeling?”

This is what she wanted? “I'm doing fine, thank you.”

“That's wonderful. Eh, we have a little situation, rather, eh, an embarrassment for us. When you were brought in by ambulance, eh, we believe we found something of yours. Well, eh, it was found in the EMS vehicle and turned into us.”

Lost, I hadn't lost anything. I'd gone through my bag a couple of times.

“It seems an EMT had put it on the receptionist's desk when she wasn't there. An aide saw it and put it in a cabinet for safekeeping. My assistant discovered it yesterday. Do you, or did you have a small tape recorder with

“You found my tape recorder?” Why had it taken her so long to call me?

“At first, we didn't know where it came from. We asked everybody. No one knew.”

“You found my business card inside the case?” That would have taken five seconds.

“Well, no, before we would do anything like that, we…”

“That's fine. But you are sure it's my recorder?” How many tape recorders get lost these days? Please be it.

“Well, that is what I am trying to tell you.” Southern syrup oozed all over that comment. “It turns out an EMT brought it in the same day you were brought in. I'm so sorry we didn't identify you as its owner sooner. It wasn't until late yesterday when that same EMT was in the office that she asked if the tape recorder had been returned to you. We had you in our files, of course, and called you right away, last evening.”

The woman sounded relieved after she finally got it all out. “We will be happy to bring it to you,” Wallace offered.

“No. Please hold on to it. I'll be over later this morning.” I certainly didn't want it misplaced again.

“We don't mind, after putting you out,” Wallace said sweetly.

“Not a problem, I'll call you when I'm on my way. And thank you.”

“Well, thank you. Goodbye.”

I grabbed my cell phone and called Max.

“My, but I'm popular this morning.”

“They found my tape recorder.”

“Oh they did, did they?”

“Sorry. The hospital. It fell out in the ambulance. How, I don't know, but that's—”

“And they only called you now?”

“It's too involved to go into, but, yes. If you think I go into details, you should have heard that woman. She was determined not to leave out a thing.”

“So do we think the accident was now actually an accident?”

“I don't know about the accident, but I do know about the guy who helped me.” I'd had mixed feelings about him, but deep down had hoped he hadn't taken it. “I think that's all he was, a guy helping out. In fact, I doubt he drove the stolen car.”

“Probably not,” Max said. “That may have been a scared thief running away from his ill-gotten goods.”

“I have to call Jerry.” We'll have some laughs over this.

“I'll call Sergeant Shansky at Arlington PD.” He disconnected.

I called Jerry's personal line.

“Jerry Fields.”

“They found my tape recorder.”

“They?”

I did it again, starting in the middle, leaving people to wonder “where are we?” So I told him.

“That's great. Except for not knowing the unknown driver of the car that hit you, this appears an accident.”

“Max thinks the abandoned stolen car is a separate issue. I've got to tell Lassiter. Maybe this will get me out of editorial purgatory.”

“I wouldn't rush into anything. Tell her about the tape recorder, but hold up on anything else. Let her make that decision. There's no rush to write, is there?”

“No.” I was champing at the bit. “Okay, I'll only tell her about the recorder.”

“I'm glad it worked out as it did. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

We disconnected. I saw Mary had arrived and went to her desk. “Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine and enjoying my new diet, thank you. My tape recorder has been found.”

“Stolen or lost?”

“Lost in the ambulance, then misplaced in the hospital. Their administrator is holding it for me. I'm going to tell Lassiter before the events of the day overtake me.”

I almost floated to Lassiter's office, relieved it had not been stolen. I reached the metro editor's office, did the ritual. “Good morning.”

Lassiter looked up at me.

“My tape recorder was found at the hospital. It had fallen out of my bag in the EMS vehicle, and somebody had put it in a cabinet for safekeeping, where it wasn't discovered until yesterday.”

“You must feel relieved.”

“I am.”

“I don't have anything for you right now,” she said, preoccupied.

“Okay. I'm going to pick it up.”

Lassiter had already gone back to what she had been doing.