Simple Genius (6 page)

HORATIO BARNES PARKED HIS HARLEY outside the rental apartments near Fairfax
Corner,
took the keys to Sean and Michelle’s place out of his pocket and then hesitated. Should he check out the truck or condo first? He decided on the Toyota Land Cruiser. It was parked near the entrance to the apartment building.

Horatio unlocked the driver’s side door of the truck and swung it open.

“Holy shit!” was his first reaction. Sean hadn’t been kidding about getting his tetanus shot and wearing a mask. The middle and back cargo areas were so filled with stuff that Horatio couldn’t see the floorboards. Sports equipment, melted PowerBars, bottles of Gatorade, trash, moldy food, a box of twelve-gauge shotgun shells, wrinkled clothes, and a pair of plastic-coated dumbbells littered the truck’s interior. Horatio picked up one of the dumbbells with some effort, then glanced through one of the martial arts magazines piled in the back.

“Okay, note to esteemed but cowardly psychologist. Never really piss the lady off because she will kick your scrawny, middle-aged ass.”

He sat in the middle seat for a bit with the windows down and thought it over. A type-A wound tighter than a golf ball’s innards, and this is what he was looking at?
Total, trash-filled chaos?

He walked up to the apartment on the second level and went inside. He easily discerned Sean’s very ordered influence here and also which bedroom was his. The second bedroom had Michelle’s things stacked neatly, clothes hung in the closet, and no trash on the floor, only because the woman had never been here. There was a locked gun safe in the top of the closet where presumably Michelle kept her pistol.

Out on the small balcony was Michelle’s racing scull. It was polished to perfection with a pair of pristine oars next to it. Horatio went back inside. On the table just inside the small foyer was a stack of mail, which he looked through. Most were addressed to Sean, having been forwarded from his previous address. Others were the typical bills and marketing pitches that all of humanity suffered through. Yet there was one more piece of mail; it was a letter addressed to Michelle Maxwell, and it was from her parents in Hawaii. This was probably just a note to let Michelle know how much fun they were having.

As he was wandering around an idea struck Horatio. He called Bill Maxwell in Florida. The man picked up on the second ring.

“This a bad time?”
Horatio asked. “If you’re on a high-speed chase just put me on hold and I’ll wait until either you nail the bad guys or I hear the sounds of a car crash.”

Bill chuckled. “I’m off-duty today. I was actually getting ready to do some fishing. What’s up? How’s Mick?”

Horatio had quickly learned from Bill Maxwell that all her siblings called their sister Mick. It was a very brotherly thing to do, he understood.

“Getting better all the time.
Look, do your parents still live in Tennessee?”

“That’s right. In a new house they had built after
Pop
retired. All the kids chipped in to help. Police chiefs make pretty good money, but with so many kids, there wasn’t a whole lot of savings. This was a way to say thanks.”

“That’s really cool, Bill. So do you see your parents much?”

“Probably four or five times a year. I’m way down here in Tampa. Flights are expensive and it’s a long drive to Tennessee and I’ve got three kids of my own.”

“Your other brothers see them much?”

“Probably more than I do. They live closer. Why do you want to know?”

“Just trying to flesh things out.
And Michelle?
I’m assuming she sees your parents a lot. She lives just next door in Virginia.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Mick was never at Mom and Dad’s place when I was there. And I talk to my brothers pretty regularly. They never mention seeing her at our parents’.”

“Maybe your folks went to see her.”

“She never really lived in a place that had room for visitors,” Bill replied. “I tried a couple times, because my kids love her to death and they think it’s really cool that their aunt is an Olympian and guarded the president. But I got some weird vibes from her and never took the kids.”

“What sort of weird vibes?”

“She was always too busy. Now when she was with the Secret Service I could understand that. But when she went into the private sector, you’d think she’d have some free time, but it never happened.”

“When’s the last time you saw your sister?”

“A few years ago, and it was only because I was in Washington for a cop convention. We had dinner. She was still with the Service back then.”

“Do you feel that she’s estranged from your family?”

“I didn’t until you started asking all these questions.”

“I’m sorry to seem to be prying, Bill, but I’m doing all I can do to get her better.”

“Look, I know that. I mean, she is cool if quirky.”

“Quirky, yes.
I was just looking at her truck.”

Bill laughed. “You call the infectious disease people yet?”

“I assume you’ve seen it.”

“She gave me a ride to dinner when I was in town that time. I held my breath and took two showers when I got back to my hotel.”

“You ever see any excessive hand washing, checking doors before going out, or chairs before sitting down?
Anything like that?”

“You mean OCD stuff?
No, nothing that I recall.”

“And age six, things changed, you said? You’re sure?”

“I’d finished college, and wasn’t around much, but when I came back home for a couple months I remember she was a different person. They were living in a little town about an hour south of Nashville.”

“And it couldn’t simply be put down to a kid’s personality changing as she grows older? That happens you know.”

“It was more than that, Horatio. My kids have changed too, but nothing that abrupt.”

“You said outgoing to withdrawn.
Gregarious to shy.
Trusting to suspicious.
And she would cry?”

“Only at night.”

“And she became sloppy in her personal habits?”

“I remember it being mostly the floor in her room. Before, it was as neat as a pin. Then, overnight, there was junk everywhere. You couldn’t even see the carpet. I always just put it down to her being an independent hellion.”

“That would explain some things, Bill, but not
all
the things I’m seeing. And in my field when things are inexplicable, I have to find out why, because
somewhere,
and it may be buried deep, there
is
an explanation.” Horatio paused. “Okay, I’m glad you’re about a thousand miles away because of the next question I’m going to ask.”

“Mick was never abused.”

“I see you’ve given this some thought.”

“I’m a cop. I’ve seen abused kids, some real nightmare situations, and Michelle wasn’t like that at all. She never exhibited any of the signals. And Pop would never, I mean, he wasn’t like that. And being a cop he wasn’t home that much anyway. I tell you this, I love my old man, but if I thought for a second anything like that had been going on,
I
would’ve done something about it. I didn’t become a cop because I like looking the other way.”

“I’m sure, Bill. But did your parents have an explanation for the change in her? Did they ever seek professional help?”

“Not that I knew of. I mean it wasn’t like she was throwing nonstop tantrums or cutting up small animals. And back then, you didn’t run to a shrink with every little thing and put your kid on Ritalin because he can’t sit still for ten minutes; no offense, Doc.”

“Hey, I know plenty of psychiatrists who should properly be labeled pharmacists. Do you ever talk to your parents about Michelle?”

“I think we’ve all just decided to let her go her own way. If she ever wants to rejoin the family, we’re here for her.”

“And you didn’t tell them about her current situation?”

“Nope.
If Mick didn’t want them to know, it wasn’t my place to tell them. Plus, you think I want a black belt Olympian dead-eye shot pissed at me, sister or not?”

“She scares me too. Anything else you can think of that might help me?”

“Just give me my little sister back, Horatio. You do that, you’ve got a friend in Tampa for life.”

LEN RIVEST LED SEAN AROUND the grounds of Babbage Town.
Behind the mansion was a network of buildings of various sizes. Sean observed that every door had a security panel next to it. One of the largest buildings covered about a quarter of an acre and was surrounded by a seven-foot fence. It had what looked to be a grain silo attached to it.

Sean pointed to the silo. “What’s in that thing?”

“Water.
They need it to cool some equipment.”

“And in the other buildings?”

“Other things.”

“And which one did Monk Turing work in? And what did he do here?”

“I was hoping I could avoid saying.”

“Len, I was under the impression that
you
hired
us
to help find out how Monk Turing died. If you don’t want us to do that, just say so and I can get on back home and stop wasting everybody’s time. I’ve just spent a half-hour being told nothing by that Champ guy, I don’t intend on repeating the process with you.”

Rivest dug his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, Sean. I know you were at the Service with Joan, and I don’t like playing cat and mouse like this with a fellow fed. Between you and me I think the powers-that-be are having second thoughts about private investigators being here.”

“And who are the powers-that-be?”

“If I knew that I’d tell you.”

Sean gaped. “Are you telling me you don’t know who you’re working for?”

“If someone has enough money they can cover their tracks pretty well. My paycheck says I work for Babbage Town, LLC. I got curious once and tried to track down the corporate identity a little further and was told any other attempt to do the same would result in my ass being canned. This job pays far better than anything I’ve ever had before. I got two kids in college. I don’t want to blow it.”

“So how do you know they’re having second thoughts?”

“I get private communications on my computer each day. I told them you were already on the plane, and that you should at least have a chance to take a crack at this thing.
Because it might get dicey.”

“Because of the FBI’s and CIA’s involvement?”

Rivest scowled.
“Camp Peary of all damn places.
But if you can solve it fast and hopefully show it has nothing to do with Babbage Town then maybe our problems go away.”

“But if it does have to do with Babbage Town?”

“Then I probably start looking for another job.”

“Champ Pollion thinks it has to do with some big conspiracy orchestrated by the military-industrial complex.”

Rivest groaned. “Please, I’ve got enough problems without wasting time on bullshit theories coming from that geek.”

“Okay, let’s focus on the basics. How did Monk Turing die?”

“Gunshot wound to the head. Gun was next to the body.”

“Where exactly was he found at Camp Peary?”

“Extreme eastern end of the complex that fronts the York River.
You would’ve passed it coming down here if you’d looked across the water.”

“Fenced-in area?”

“Yeah, his body was lying just inside it. Evidence on the corpse indicates he climbed over. I’m sure the area’s patrolled, but apparently not 24/7. There’re thousands of acres to Camp Peary, and much of it undeveloped. Even the CIA doesn’t have the money to secure every square inch of it. Monk got in there somehow.”

“Where’s the body now?”

“A temp morgue was set up in White Feather, a small town fairly close to here. A medical examiner from Williamsburg did the post. There’s no doubt about the cause of death. I’ve seen the body and the report. But feel free to take a look.”

“Okay. Was Turing married?”

“Divorced.
We’re still trying to locate the ex. No luck so far.”

“Kids?”

“One.
Viggie Turing, age eleven.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Right here.
She lived with her father in Babbage Town.” He inclined his head toward some cottages. “The buildings on the perimeter over there are housing for the people working here. Some of them live in the mansion too.”

“Is Viggie a nickname or a family name?”

“It’s short for Vigenère or so I heard.”

Sean said, “After Blaise de Vigenère?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.
Turing have any known enemies?”

“Well, he had at least one
unknown
one.”

“But what about the suicide theory?
Near contact wound, gun found nearby?”

“Could be,” Rivest conceded slowly. “But my gut tells me otherwise.”

“Sometimes the gut is wrong.”

“It worked for me at the FBI for twenty-five years. And it’s telling me something’s wrong here.”

“I’ll want to talk to Viggie.”

“You’re going to have a hard time pulling anything out of that kid.”

“Why’s that?”

“If she’s not a little autistic, she’s something close. Monk could reach her, but nobody else really can.”

“Does she even know her dad’s dead?”

“Let’s put it this way, no one really knows how to break it to her. But it won’t be pretty.”

“Why, is she a violent child?”

Rivest shook his head. “She’s quiet and shy and one helluva pianist.”

“So what’s her problem?”

“She lives in her own world, Sean. You can be talking to her normally and all of a sudden it’s like she disappears. She just doesn’t communicate on the same level as you and me.”

“Has she been evaluated by a professional?”

“Don’t know.”

Sean thought of Horatio Barnes. “If it comes down to it, I might have someone who can help. Who’s looking after her now?”

“Alicia Chadwick among others.”

“And who is she?”

“She works in one of the departments here. I said Monk was the only one who got through to Viggie. But Alicia seems to be able to do it too, if on a limited basis.”

“Who found Monk’s body?”

“A guard on patrol at Camp Peary.”

“Any forensics at the crime scene to suggest any leads?”

“None that I know of.”

“The gun?”

“It was Turing’s. He had a permit for it.”

“Were his prints on the gun?”

“It seems like they were.”

“It
seems
like they were? Either they were or they weren’t!”

“Okay, they were. There was also nothing to suggest he’d been bound and no defensive wounds.” Rivest blurted out, “Look, maybe a damn Camp Peary guard pulled the trigger.”

“Using Turing’s gun?”

“Monk was trespassing. A guard shot him and they’re trying to cover it up.”

Sean shook his head. “If he was trespassing the guard would have a good reason to kill him.
Covering it up just digs the hole deeper.
And you wouldn’t use Monk’s own gun to do the deed.”

“Who the hell knows with the CIA?” Rivest protested.

“The second reason is even stronger. Monk was killed with a near contact wound. If a guard was close enough to do that he could’ve arrested Monk without killing him.”

“They got in a scuffle and the gun went off accidentally?” Rivest suggested.

“But there was no evidence of a fight, you said.”

Rivest sighed. “Who the hell knows where the real truth lies.”

“So what’s the CIA position?”

“That he climbed over the fence and shot himself.”

“You obviously don’t think that?”

Rivest looked around uneasily. “There’re a lot of eyes around here.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning a place like this, there might be spies.”

“Spies?
Why do you think that?”

“No proof.
Just my gut again.”

“Anything turn up in Turing’s personal possessions?” Sean asked.

“The Bureau’s taken all that stuff.
His computer, papers, passport, etc.”

“Who was the last person to see Monk alive?”

Rivest said, “It might have been his daughter.”

“Doesn’t the Bureau have experts who can help with her?”

Rivest seemed to welcome this change in topics. “They brought one of these so-called experts down and she got nowhere with the kid.”

Sean thought again about his Harley-riding friend Horatio Barnes and decided he would give him a call later. He was torn, though, because he wanted Horatio to focus on getting Michelle well.

Rivest continued, “He was seen at dinner the night before his body was discovered. After that he went to do some follow-up work in his department.”

“How do you know that?” Sean said, sharply.

“The computer log showed him leaving there at eight-thirty. His movements after that are just speculation.”

“How’d he get to Camp Peary? Did he swim or take a boat? Or drive?”

“I don’t see how he could have driven. You can’t get to that part of the compound without going through the main gate. And we can’t tell if he swam over or not. Because of all the rain his body and clothes were soaked through. But it’d be a long haul across the river.”

“By process of elimination he probably went by boat. Any found nearby?”

“No.”

“Are there any boats kept here?”

“Oh, sure.
Some rowboats and kayaks; there’s a large sailboat and a few racing sculls. And there’re a couple of powerboats owned by Babbage Town.”

“So lots of watercraft available; but none
missing?”

“Right.
But if someone did take him over, they could have just put the boat back in its place and who would know?”

“Where are they kept?” Sean asked.

“At a boathouse down by the river.”

“Anybody hear a motorboat on the night Monk was killed?”

Rivest shook his head. “But the boathouse is a good ways away with forest in between. It’s conceivable nothing would’ve been heard.”

“We seem to be hitting a wall everywhere.”

“You feel like a drink?” Rivest asked.

“You think I need one?”

“No, I do. Come on, we’ll have some dinner, a few drinks, and then tomorrow I’ll tell you more about Babbage Town than you’ll ever want to know.”

“Tell me this much, is it worth somebody getting killed over?”

In the fading sunlight, Rivest stared over Sean’s shoulder at the mansion. “Hell, Sean, it’s worth countries going to war over.”