Split Second (27 page)

D
RESSED IN A WARM-UP SUIT
, Kate Ramsey finally left her office in the late afternoon, climbed into a VW bug and drove off. Michelle and King followed at a discreet distance as the VW drove to Bryan Park, on the outskirts of Richmond. Once there, Kate climbed out, stripped off her warm-up suit, revealing shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. She did some quick stretching and took off running.

“Great,” said King. “She could be meeting somebody, and we won’t be able to see a damn thing.”

“Yes, we will.” Michelle climbed into the backseat of the truck.

King looked at her. “What are you doing?”

She grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around. “Just keep your eyes to the front, mister.”

She started undressing. “I keep running stuff in a bag under the backseat. Never know when the urge might hit.”

King’s gaze flitted to the rearview mirror, where one long bare leg and foot and then another appeared as pants came down and shorts were slid over muscled calves and sculpted thighs.

“Yeah,” he said as he looked away when she started taking off her shirt, “you just never know about that old urge thing.” He glanced outside and watched as Kate Ramsey’s efficient strides ate up chunks of distance. She was almost out of sight.

“Michelle, you better hurry up or you’ll never catch—”

He stopped when the truck door opened and closed and he saw Michelle, in a jogging bra, shorts and track shoes, streak across the grass, her long legs pumping and her muscled arms
churning. He could only stare in amazement as she effortlessly burned up the distance between her and Kate.

“Friggin’ Olympians,” he muttered.

At first Michelle kept well out of sight of Kate, until it appeared clear the young woman was out simply to run. Then Michelle changed tactics. Instead of shadowing Kate, she decided to take another shot at talking to her. When she pulled up beside her, Kate looked over, scowled and immediately picked up her pace. Michelle quickly matched her stride for stride. When Kate started to sprint and Michelle effortlessly kept pace with her, Kate slowed down.

“What do you want?” Kate said in a very tight voice.

“To talk.”

“Where’s your friend?”

“He’s not much into running.”

“I told you everything I know.”

“Did you, Kate? Look, I just want to try and understand you. I want to help.”

“Don’t try and be my buddy, okay! This isn’t some lame TV cop show where we’re all of a sudden going to bond.”

“You’re right, this is real life, and a number of people have lost their lives or been kidnapped. We’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on because we want to stop whoever’s doing this, and I think you can help.”

“I can’t help you or anyone else.”

“I don’t think you’ve even tried.”

Kate pulled up, hands on hips, sucking in quick breaths, and looked angrily at Michelle. “What the hell do you know about anything? You know nothing about me.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want to know more. I want to know as much as you’re willing to tell.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve put this all behind me. I don’t want to relive that part of my life.” They started to run again. “And besides, I don’t know anything.”

“How do you know you don’t? Have you gone through every
little detail, been asked every possible question, run down every line of possible inquiry?”

“Look, I try not to think about the past, okay?”

“So I take that as a no.”

“Would you think about it much if he were
your
dad?”

“What I wouldn’t do, Kate, is try to hide from the truth. Have you ever really talked about any of this? If you haven’t, I’m here to listen. I really am.”

As tears started to trickle down the other woman’s cheeks, Michelle put a hand on Kate’s shoulder and they both stopped jogging. She led Kate over to a bench, and they sat down.

Kate wiped her eyes with her hand and glared stubbornly at nothing. Michelle sat there patiently waiting.

Kate started off hesitantly and in a small voice. “I was in algebra class when they came and got me. One minute I’m doing
x
plus
y
problems, and the next minute my dad is national news. Do you know what that feels like?”

“Like your whole world is ending?”

“Yes,” Kate said quietly.

“Were you able to talk to your mother about it?”

Kate waved her hand dismissively. “What was there to talk about? She’d already abandoned my father. That was her choice.”

“Is that how you saw it?”

“How else could I see it?”

“You must have some idea why they separated beyond what you told us earlier.”

“It wasn’t my father’s doing, I can tell you that.”

“So it was your mother’s choice, and you’re saying you don’t know why—other than maybe feeling she’d wasted her life with your father?”

“I do know that when my mother walked out,
his
life was basically over. He worshiped her. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d committed suicide.”

“Well, maybe he did.”

Kate stared at her. “And what, took Clyde Ritter with him?”

“Two birds with one stone.”

Kate studied her hands. “It started out like a fairy tale. My father was an activist in college. Civil rights marches, war protests, sit-ins, the whole works. My mother was the beautiful actress poised for stardom. But they fell in love. My father was tall and handsome and smarter than everybody, and he wanted to do all this good. He was noble, he really was. He had great substance. All the people my mother knew were actors; people from the stage, basically all fluff. My father was something totally different. He didn’t just act the part, he went out and risked his life to make the world better.”

“Pretty hard for a lady to resist,” Michelle said quietly.

“I know my mom loved him. What I just told you are things I learned from her and some of her friends. And I also found some of her diaries from when she was in college. They really did love each other. So I don’t know why it didn’t work out. Maybe it lasted longer than it should have considering how different they were. But maybe if she hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

“But maybe he didn’t do it alone, Kate. That’s what we’re trying to get at.”

“Your new evidence that you can’t tell me,” she said scornfully.

“A gun,” said Michelle firmly. Kate looked startled but said nothing. “A gun that we found and that we believe was hidden in the Fairmount Hotel on the day Ritter was killed. We think there was a second assassin in the building, but that person didn’t fire.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t know. Maybe he lost his nerve. Maybe he and your father had a pact to do it together, and then he didn’t, leaving your dad with the full responsibility.” Michelle paused and then added quietly, “And maybe it was that person who talked your dad into doing what he did in the first place. And if he did, maybe you saw or overheard something that can help us.”

Kate looked down at her hands and nervously picked at
her nails. “My dad didn’t have many visitors and not any real friends.”

“So if somebody did come to see him, you probably would have noticed,” Michelle suggested.

Kate remained silent for so long that Michelle almost rose to leave.

“It was about a month or so before Ritter was killed.”

Michelle froze. “What was?”

“It must have been two o’clock in the morning, I mean some crazy hour. I was asleep but some noise woke me. I slept upstairs when I was with my father. He could be up at all hours, and at first I thought it was my dad talking, but then the voice was different. I crept to the top of the stairs. I could see a light on in my dad’s study. I heard him talking to someone, or rather this person was talking and my dad was mostly listening.”

“What was he saying? This other person? Wait, was it a man?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“I couldn’t make out much of it. I heard my mother’s name used. ‘What would Regina think?’ Something like that. And then my father answered that times were different. That people changed. And then the other person said something I couldn’t hear.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

“No. My father’s study had a door to the outside. He must have left that way.”

“What else did you hear?”

“Nothing. They started speaking in lower voices. Probably realized they might wake me up. I thought about going downstairs and seeing who it was, but I was scared.”

“Did your father ever mention who the visitor was, anything about it at all?”

“No. I was afraid to let him know I’d overheard, so I never brought it up.”

“Could it have been someone who worked at the college?”

“No, I think I would have recognized his voice.” There was something in her manner, a furtiveness, that Michelle didn’t like, but she chose not to push it.

“Did you ever hear the name Ritter mentioned by the man? Anything like that?”

“No! That’s why I never talked to the police about this. I… I was scared to. My father was dead, and I didn’t know if anyone else was involved, and I just didn’t want to drag anything up.”

“And the person had mentioned your mother, and you thought it might reflect badly on her somehow.”

Kate looked at her with hurt, swollen eyes. “People can write and say anything they want. They can destroy people.”

Michelle took her hand. “I’ll do everything I can to solve this case without doing any further harm. You have my word.”

Kate squeezed Michelle’s hand. “I don’t know why I should, but I believe you. Do you really think you can find out the truth, after all these years?”

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

As Michelle rose to leave, Kate said, “I did love my father. I
still
love my father. He was a
good
man. His life shouldn’t have ended that way. That it did makes you feel like there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

To Michelle, Kate sounded almost suicidal. She sat back down and put her arm around her. “Listen to me. Your father’s life was his to do what he wanted with. Your life is exactly the same. You’ve endured so much, accomplished so much, you should have more hope than anyone. I’m not just saying that, Kate, I mean it.”

Kate finally let out a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

Michelle jogged back to the truck and climbed in. While King drove she filled him in on her conversation with Kate.

King slapped the steering wheel. “Damn, so there
was
someone. The guy who was talking to her father could have been the man with the gun in the closet.”

“Okay, let’s break this down. There were two assassins but
only one followed through. Intentional or not? Cold feet, or was it all about setting up Ramsey?”

King shook his head. “If intentional and you know you’re not going to use your gun, why even bring it to the hotel?”

“Maybe he and Ramsey met beforehand, and the other guy had to at least make a pretense of intending to carry it off. Otherwise, maybe Ramsey gets suspicious.”

“Right, that could be. Okay, now we need to take a really hard look at Ramsey’s background, probably back to college. If the man knew Regina Ramsey, and Arnold Ramsey talked about times changing, the answer might lie in the past.”

“And it also might explain why a Berkeley superstar was teaching at a little college in the middle of nowhere.”

Michelle once again slid into the backseat. “You drive while I change back into my clothes.”

King focused on the road as his ears picked up the sounds of garments being pulled off and on. “By the way, do you often strip to your birthday suit in the company of strange men?”

“You’re not
that
strange. And, Sean, I’m really flattered.”

“Flattered? About what?”

“You snuck a peek.”

T
HE FOUR MET
back at King’s house late that afternoon. Parks placed a large file box on the kitchen table. “That’s the result of our search on Bob Scott,” he told Joan.

“That was pretty fast,” she commented.

“Hey, who you think you’re dealing with, some Mickey Mouse outfit?”

King looked at her. “Checking out Scott? I told you he couldn’t have been involved.”

Joan eyed him intently. “I like to verify things independently. It’s not like any of us are infallible.”

“Unfortunately the reason it came so fast,” said Parks a little sheepishly, “is because those dummies crammed practically everything in they could find about people named Bob Scott. So a lot of the paper is probably worthless. But there it is.” He put on his hat. “I’m heading back out. I’ll call if anything clicks, and I expect you to do the same.”

After he left, the three had a quick dinner out on the rear deck. Joan told them about her check on Doug Denby.

“So he’s out of the loop,” said Michelle.

“Apparently.”

King looked puzzled. “So according to the woman you spoke with at the law firm in Philly, Bruno didn’t cheat when he was a U.S. attorney in D.C.?”

“If we can believe her. I tend to think she was telling the truth.”

“So maybe Mildred was feeding us a pack of lies about Bruno.”

“Now,
that
I can believe,” commented Joan. She glanced inside to where the box Parks had left was sitting on the table. “We’ll have to go through the files Parks brought.”

“I can start on it,” said Michelle. “Since I didn’t know him, I might not skim over stuff that the two of you might.” She excused herself and went inside.

Joan looked out over the water. “It is really beautiful here, Sean. You picked a nice spot to start fresh.”

King finished his beer and sat back. “Well, I might have to pick another spot.”

Joan glanced over at him. “Let’s hope not. A person shouldn’t have to re-create himself more than once in a lifetime.”

“How about you? You said you wanted out.”

“To go to some island with my millions?” She smiled in a resigned way. “Dreams more often than not don’t come true. Particularly at my stage of life.”

“But if you find Bruno, you get the big payoff.”

“The money was only part of the dream.”

When King shot her a glance, she quickly looked away.

“Do you sail much?” she asked.

“In the fall when the powerboats are gone and the winds pick up.”

“Well, it
is
the fall. So maybe now would be a good time.”

King looked at the clear sky and felt the nice breeze against his skin. They had a couple hours of daylight left. He stared at Joan intently for a few moments. “Yeah, now would be a good time.”

King showed Joan how to manage the sailboat’s tiller. He’d attached a five-horsepower motor on the stern just in case the wind died down. They steered a course out into the main channel and then drifted.

Joan admired the spread of mountains encircling the lake, the green still vibrant, although the nip of fall was clearly in the air.

“Did you ever think you’d end up in a place like this after all those years of hotels and airplanes and pushing till dawn?” she asked.

King shrugged. “To tell the truth, no. I never thought that far ahead. I was always more of a live-in-the-present sort of person.” He added thoughtfully, “I’m more of a long-range thinker now.”

“And where do your long-range thoughts lead you?”

“Nowhere until this mystery is cleared up. The problem is, even if we solve this thing, the damage has been done. I really might have to move from here.”

“Running away? That doesn’t sound like you, Sean.”

“Sometimes it’s just best to strike the tent poles and move on. You sort of get tired of fighting, Joan.”

He sat next to her and took over the tiller. “Wind’s changing. I’m going to tack back into it. The boom’s going to come across. I’ll tell you when to duck.”

After he completed this maneuver, he let her take the tiller back, but he stayed next to her. She wore a pantsuit but had taken off her shoes and rolled her pant legs over her knees. Her feet were small and her toenails were painted red.

“You favored purple toenail polish eight years ago, didn’t you?”

She laughed. “Red is always in but purple may mount a comeback. I’m actually flattered you remembered.”

“Purple toenails and packing a .357.”

“Come on, fess up, it was a wicked, irresistible combination.”

He sat back and gazed off.

They were silent for some minutes, Joan looking at him nervously and King doing his best to avoid eye contact. “Did you ever think about asking me to marry you?” she asked.

He glanced at her with an astonished expression. “I was married back then, Joan.”

“I know that. But you were separated and your marriage was really over.”

He looked down. “Okay, maybe I did know my marriage was
over, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to attempt another one. And I guess I never really believed two Secret Service agents could ever make a marriage work. That life is just too crazy.”

“I thought about asking you.”

“Asking me what?”

“To marry me.”

“You really are amazing. You were going to ask me to marry you?”

“Is there a rule somewhere that says the man has to propose?”

“Well, if there is, I’m sure you’d have no problem smashing it to pieces.”

“I’m serious, Sean. I was in love with you. So much so that I’d wake up in the middle of the night with the shakes, terrified it would somehow all go away, that you and your wife would get back together.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said quietly.

“How did you feel about me? I mean really feel about me?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Honestly? I was amazed you’d let me have you. You were on this pedestal, professionally and personally.”

“So I was what, a trophy to be mounted on the wall?”

“No, I actually thought I was.”

“I didn’t sleep around, Sean. I didn’t have that reputation.”

“No, you didn’t. Your reputation was the iron lady. There wasn’t one agent I knew who wasn’t intimidated by you. You scared the shit out of a lot of tough guys.”

Joan looked down. “Didn’t you know, prom queens tend to be very lonely creatures. When I joined the Service, women were still an anomaly. To succeed, I had to be more ‘guy’ than all the other guys. I had to make the rules up as I went along. It’s a little different now, but back then I really didn’t have a choice.”

He touched her cheek and turned her face to his. “So why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what?”

“Ask me to marry you?”

“I was planning to but something happened.”

“What was that?”

“Clyde Ritter’s getting killed.”

Now King looked away. “Damaged goods?”

She touched his arm. “I guess you really don’t know me very well. It was a lot more than that.”

He looked back at her. “What do you mean by that?”

Joan looked more nervous than King could ever remember. Except on that morning, at 10:32, when Ritter had died. She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

King unfolded the paper and read the words there.

It was written on the stationery of the Fairmount Hotel.

He looked up to see her staring at him.

“Where did this come from?”

“It was slipped under the door to my room at the Fairmount at nine o’clock that morning.”

He stared at her blankly. “The morning Ritter was killed?” She nodded. “You thought I wrote this?” She nodded again. “All these years you thought maybe I was involved in Ritter’s death?”

“Sean, you have to understand, I didn’t know what to think.”

“And you never told anyone?”

She shook her head. “Just like you never told anyone about me on that elevator.” She added quietly, “You thought I was involved in Ritter’s death too, didn’t you?”

He licked his lips and glanced away, his features angry. “They screwed us both, didn’t they?”

“I saw the note that was on the body found in your house. It clearly implied the person was behind the Ritter assassination. As soon as I read it, I just knew we’d
both
been used. Whoever wrote the note that was slipped under my hotel room door pitted us against each other in a way that guaranteed our silence. Or at the very least would have cast suspicion on one or both of
us. But there was a difference. I couldn’t reveal the truth because then I’d have to tell what I was doing on that elevator. And once I did, my career was over. My motive was selfish. You, on the other hand, kept silent for another reason.” She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Tell me, Sean, why did you? You must have suspected I was paid off to distract you. And yet you took the full blame. You could have told them I was on that elevator. Why didn’t you?” She took a long, anxious breath. “I really need to know.”

The jarring sound of the cell phone startled them both badly.

King answered it. It was Michelle calling from the house.

“Kate Ramsey phoned. She has something important to tell us. But she wants to do it in person. She’ll meet us halfway, in Charlottesville.”

“Okay, we’re coming in now.” He clicked off, took the tiller and silently steered the boat back. He didn’t look at Joan, who, for once in her life, had nothing to say.