Death of an Intern (27 page)

I
awoke a little after 9:00 a.m. and enjoyed Jerry's doting. He had called my doctor, who agreed I was probably stronger carrying a baby than he had predicted. He gave Jerry a list of symptoms that could spell trouble. I didn't appear to have any of them.

“The doctor insisted you rest and rest and rest.”

“I've got to get back to being a reporter sometime. Besides, I've allowed hubris to overtake my judgment.”

“How so?”

“It's exciting to have the FBI think I can create contacts within the Vice President's office, to aid them in their investigation.” I waited for a response that didn't come. Jerry looked like a father watching a shovel being dug deeper and deeper. “I have written nothing in over a week, except that piece I did on school vouchers.”

Still no comeback.

“This whole thing with the sex lives of the Graysons has got me completely discombobulated. My experience is I investigate and I write. But here, I investigate and can't write. Some of what I want to write, Lassiter would burn. Maybe even suggest I seek employment with the tabloids.”

He laughed. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“I'm dealing with a tight-lipped group at the White House. Why would anyone attack me? I'm not writing. That's normally when I get into trouble.” I peeked at him, hoping for a reaction. None. I was thirsty and began to get up.

“No,” he said firmly. “What do you need? I'll get it.”

“No, I will,” I said, continuing to swing my legs off the sofa.

He was up in a flash. “No. Come on. That's what I'm here for. You rest.”

His move stopped me. Or was it his caring tone?

“Please lie down,” he insisted.

I did as he asked. “I need water and could use another pillow.”

“You got it.” He went to the bedroom, returning with two pillows. He propped one under me. “Okay? Do you want the other one?”

I snuggled into it. “No, this is fine.”

“One water coming up.” He ditched the other pillow and briskly went to the kitchen. I could see he had a genuine concern for me. Why wasn't I accepting that? I also knew that with his legal training, he preferred to listen to my undiluted comments like he would a client. He wanted to hear me tell it my way and not guide me through it with questions.

I know questions can be based on an interrogator's opinion. News people and talk show hosts are superb at that. Some practically give the answer in the question.

“Here you go.” He gave me a bottle and returned to his chair, similar to a person returning to their seat after intermission. He sat waiting for act two to begin.

I took a long drink, and then asked. “Have you talked to Max or called Lassiter?”

“No to both. I called Mary and Marsha.”

“You wouldn't have interfered in anything if you had called them.” I smirked. “Mary will tell the boss. But you knew that.”

“Right, but I think you need to talk with Avery Lassiter. What you were saying tells me you are concerned about your job performance, how all this is affecting your work relationship.”

“Is that what I was doing?” I asked, surprised.

“It's what you normally do when you think you're in a bind,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I'm concerned I'm not earning my paycheck,” I said seriously.

“Do you want to call her from here or in the bedroom?”

“Here is fine.”

He stood and started collecting his things.

“Where are you going?”

“Giving you some privacy.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Yes it is. You need to be able to talk with her the same way you do in the office, and my presence could prejudice that. Besides, I'll feel better not hearing it.”

“Give me a hug?” I extended my arms.

He laid his things on the coffee table and sat on the sofa's edge. He pulled me up in a gentle hug. He felt so good and I gripped him as strongly as I could. When we relaxed our holds, we shared a gentle kiss.

“Now I can handle the world,” I said triumphantly.

He tapped my nose with his index finger. “Lassiter will be fine for now.” He collected his things and went off to the bedroom. “Wake me up for lunch.” He closed the bedroom door.

I started to call Lassiter, but changed my mind and called Max. He answered after the first ring.

“I see we're at home. Did Jerry have to strap you in?”

“No, I'm reclining comfortably on my sofa with eunuchs seeing to my every need.”

“That's a terrible thing to say about your adoring husband.”

“Thank you for last night.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “I've really been getting into some tough spots, haven't I?”

“The perils of Pauline do come to mind. But no, this is nothing of your creation. I have a new development that comes straight from our friends. While we were playing on New York Avenue, Sparrow and Hawk were sharing their nest with Number Six.”

I practically fell off the sofa. “You're kidding?” Six was Lisa Sherra. “Both? Together? You think at the same time?”

“There are no eyes to confirm it, but there are strong feelings that say ‘tis so.”

“The…both…together?”

“Yup.”

“This could explain what happened to Number One. The bad relationship.”

“We can talk about that another time. Our friends talked with M. He admits to being B's employer, but had no knowledge of his activities last night.”

“Sounds shady to me.”

“Maybe, but our friends tend to believe him. He and his missus are arriving later today to be with the bereaved widow and assembling family members. There are some other interesting activities being put into action that I will impart at a more private time.”

“My, you are filled with tales from the crypt.”

“I talked with your young friend at the hospital a short while ago. Although I am at the office, I'm officially off duty; my office door is closed. The chief hopes to get me back on as quickly as possible.”

“Great. We were thinking…well, I was actually…I haven't consulted with my caretaker, but I was thinking about making a run to the hospital later.”

“Let me see how my no-schedule day shakes out.”

I laughed. It felt good. “Talk at you later.” I depressed the off switch and released it, got a dial tone and punched in my editor's private number.

“Avery Lassiter.”

“It's Laura. I'm at home.”

“Not well?”

“I was in another accident last night. A big one.”

“The crash downtown near the White House?”

“I was with Kat Turner.” I filled Lassiter in, but didn't mention Max.

“Police are being very tight-lipped on this one,” my editor said.

“It took awhile to identify the body. They initially did it through auto registration. The driver worked for the guy from Atlanta who…”

“I remember,” Lassiter said sharply.

I couldn't remember everything I had told my boss. There was so much criss-crossing and withholding of information.

“Okay. This is all background.” I told her about Hawk, Sparrow, and Six.

“All right. It seems we have two stories here. The serial is dormant. The depravity needs attention. What about Number One? What's with that?”

“Mr. Brown will let that run its course.”

Lassiter grunted. “What gets me is no one in that large office is talking.”

“I agree. But it only takes one idle comment. I'll keep after it.”

“Set it up like an obit file. What's your doctor say?”

That caught me off guard. I was not used to Avery Lassiter asking me something personal. I appreciated it, but realized it was only about my ability to work.

“He told Jerry rest is a must. That comes from everyone.”

“Add me to the list. We can work fine with e-mail and phone calls.” The line went dead.

“Sweetheart,” I shouted to my self-exiled husband, “I'm finished. How about we go for a nice walk?”

We ate at the health food place on Connecticut Avenue. The walk to and from was long enough for me today. On our way back to the apartment, Jerry mentioned he needed to go to his office, but wouldn't until I promised not to go out of the building short of fire or a terrorist attack.

He left with my assurances. Midafternoon, I received a fax from Mary. It was the MPD release on the accident. It followed the events meticulously and identified the driver and his residence. The autopsy revealed no sign of drugs and a very low level of alcohol.

“W
e have to know the implications,” Frankie Grayson stormed at George Manchester. “One of my people is in the hospital because of one of your people.”

Manchester had barely arrived and gotten seated when she opened up on him. He had the demeanor of an overweight, southern male who wanted to be Mr. Imperturbable.

“I told you,” he said quietly in his honeyed southern tone, “I gave Milo instructions to follow Ms. Turner, just as you and I had discussed. I have no idea what happened. He had tailed her a night or two before. A group went to a close place called the Sports Bar.

“He went in, had a beer, and left when they did. His car was back near the Ellipse, and he couldn't follow her when she got to her car. That is why he was driving last night. The cause of what happened we may never know. And let me add this. Milo was a lifelong friend. My family and I feel his loss deeply.”

“I don't know what to think,” Grayson fumed. “I only know what Donna told me. Everything seemed normal until after he turned the corner, then he charged down the street, bouncing off cars and people.”

“That policeman never should have shot at him.”

“Take that up with MPD. We must concentrate on protecting Rick.”

“What about that reporter? Wasn't she injured?” he asked.

“I don't know. She was released. That sneaky bitch was after Kat. She had Janet's roommate schmoozing with Kat, Lisa, and Brenda at the game. Kat's the third person I've lost from the staff in the past few weeks. Two violently. The others are becoming shaky.”

“Get one of those trauma psychologists in to talk with them. As for you and Rick, I'd stick with Alma and my new girl, who is on her way.”

“Lisa seems to be fine.”

“If you say so, but I think you might want to be more circumspect, if you know what I mean. Stick with the pros.”

She nodded. “What's going to happen with Mrs. Bannini?”

“She'll be taken back to Atlanta over the weekend. The services will be Tuesday. We found a house for her back in the old neighborhood, near where they were before they came up here. We'll move the furniture. Benny will move up in a couple of weeks. He's not married.”

“You do take care of your people.”

“I grew up with them. We're all a big family.” A note of sadness showed in his eyes. “Let me think on this whole thing a little. I told the FBI exactly what I told you.”

“That's another problem; it brought them into things,” she said tensely.

“Don't worry so much. From what I heard, the cops won't learn much about this. It's unsolvable, kinda like those killings a couple of weeks ago.”

“Maybe that's what we need, another victim, get the—”

“Hey, hey,” he said concerned, “don't say that even in jest. Walls have ears.”

“I'm worried about us, is what I mean. All this bad karma.” She got up.

“You into that Hindu crap?”

She paced. “No, it's…we're in a streak of bad luck, that's all.”

“Yeah.” He slowly arose from his seat with the extra effort men his size needed to make that simple move. “Ugh, I gotta get some exercise.”

“We've got a gym downstairs in the EOB.”

“I'm only in the thinking-about-it stage. Besides, my boys have outfitted our basement like a poshy spa.”

“What do we do?”

“We,” his tone underlined the word, “do nothing. Get back to work and forget the rest for a while. Don't give the G-men a reason to snoop around. It'll blow over. I hear a storm is coming. Maybe it'll be a hurricane. That's always good for the news people.”