Death of a Washington Madame Read online

  "Gail, why are we having this discussion ... why now?"

  "Because this case has made it clear."

  "This case? Christ Gail. The killer is a black juvenile of dubious mentality."

  "Whose confession was beaten out of him by a white man who thought he had the right to pluck this kid off the street and beat the bejesus out of him."

  "For which he was duly charged."

  "That's beside the point. He felt empowered to do it."

  Fiona was having a hard time following her logic. Nevertheless, she persevered.

  "But you don't deny the evidence? This crime was perpetrated by a fourteen year old boy who apparently still cannot distinguish between right and wrong."

  "Where did right and wrong ever get him?"

  "Do I have to invoke the social worker theme again, Gail? We are not in that business."

  "This boy was created by decades of white bigotry, hate, prejudice and indifference."

  "Too bad Deb Shipley no longer has a chance to vote on that contention."

  "But she did vote. And her vote, like yours, perpetuated the system."

  "Pardon me, Gail. Are you suggesting she had a hand in her own demise?"

  "Indirectly. Yes."

  "Is this Gail Prentiss talking? The privileged black Princess, elite of elites, the best of the better. Come on Gail. Don't hold me hostage to your guilt. I'm not putting down your epiphany, but you don't have to lay it on the rest of us."

  Fiona felt the heat of her anger, her attempt at cool understanding demolished. It occurred to her suddenly that this was a no-win argument. Gail was in thrall to an irrational certainty that led nowhere. Surprisingly, Gail held her temper as if she had calculated just such a response from Fiona.

  "Never too late to discover truth."

  "The boy did it Gail."

  "And you had better heed his message. There are battalions of them being created."

  "Who creates the white killers, Gail?" Fiona sighed.

  Fiona was sorry now that she had opened this Pandora's box. There seemed no point to further discussion on the politics of race with Gail, and Fiona clammed shut until they arrived back at the headquarters parking lot. Then suddenly Gail spoke. Fiona noted with relief that some semblance of reason and concern had returned to her tone.

  "You think they'll press a complaint?"

  "They were pretty hot."

  "I guess it's something I have to work out in my own head."

  "I told them you should seek counseling," Fiona said.

  "Do you really think so, Fi?"

  "Like chicken soup. It couldn't hurt."

  "It wasn't only the race thing that lit my fuse, Fi."

  "You could have fooled me."

  "I was in LAPD for three years remember. I had it up to here with Movie Kings and Queens. Most of them were stupid, narcissistic, cruel and ambitious, ready to offer themselves to anyone, male, female or gorilla to give them a career boost. They're sponges for celebrity, sucking up adulation to fill these big empty holes in themselves. Their life is a delusion. And if they stepped out of line, they couldn't understand why they were treated the same as the rabble and a herd of paid protectors came in for the quash."

  "O.J. and spousal abuse," Fiona opined.

  "Tip of the iceberg. DUI was a biggie. Also accidentals, lots of accidentals. Rape was another. I had one myself. Boy said he was raped by this big action hero. He was big all right. You should see how he tore apart the boy's underside. Protectors came, paid off big and that was that. The problem was keeping it away from the media. Sometimes the industry boys had clout enough for that as well, but less so, they tell me, than it had been in the early days."

  "That was L.A. Gail. You can't hang the woman for the sins of her industry."

  "I suppose," she sighed. Fiona wondered if all the heat had passed out of her. She took a chance.

  "Well we did discover some things out of that mess. Lionel Carpenter for starters." She watched Gail's face and saw no sign of an impending storm. "A logical prime suspect, the fired employee."

  "Maybe," Gail muttered.

  "That's all I'm saying. Dealing with maybe."

  Gail grew reflective and made no move to leave the car.

  "Nevertheless," she said, drawing it out.

  "Nevertheless what?"

  "Let's not discount the obvious."

  "Meaning?"

  "Our superstar hated Madame."

  "Wishful thinking, Gail."

  Fiona remained silent as they unbuckled their seat belts and got out of the car.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Eggplant's call came in on Fiona's second line in the middle of her conversation with Hal Perry from Hong Kong. After her trying day, Hal's voice was like a tonic to her frayed nerves, although she detected an ominous note in his voice.

  "I'll be in next week, Fi," he told her. She had not expected him back in Washington for three more weeks.

  "Something's come up?" she asked cautiously.

  "You have, Fi," he said. He cleared his throat and she sensed a tremor of nervousness in his voice. Obviously, he was gathering his forces for the moment of truth.

  "Me?"

  It was an irrelevant question. She knew what he meant.

  "I don't like this feeling," he said. "It's interfering with my peace of mind. I need it resolved."

  Her heart thumped in her rib cage. He was exerting pressure and she knew that the dreaded deadline had arrived in his mind, far sooner than she expected.

  After days like this, she felt more vulnerable to the idea of being Mrs. Hal Perry and a world of plusses opened to her speculation. He was, undeniably, exciting, brilliant, commanding, attractive and sexy. A man to die for, as the expression went. He would be loving, thoughtful, generous, sensitive. She wished he were beside her at that moment and she was wrapped in his arms.

  "You make it sound like I'm on some kind of priority list," she said, keeping a light touch.

  "You are. On top of that list. Fi, I don't like this feeling of unrequited longing."

  "Either do I," she admitted. "I need you beside me. Right now."

  "Goes double," he sighed.

  "Maybe we'll have virtual reality some day."

  "It'll never be the real thing. Never."

  At that point in their conversation the Eggplant had called.

  "Just a sec Hal."

  She punched in the button.

  "Dammit FitzGerald," he began. No salutation. No niceties.

  "What's up Chief?"

  "I'll tell you what's up. It's your partner...."

  "Be with you in a sec," she told him, hearing the beginning of an outburst. Then she punched in Hal Perry's number.

  "I can't talk. It's my Chief."

  "The Eggplant?"

  He seemed mildly irritated, but she ignored the change in mood.

  "None other. We got a problem with my partner."

  "I understand." He seemed disappointed.

  "Shall I call you later?"

  '"Yes," he said. "You have the number."

  "I love you Hal," she said.

  "Well then. Show me just how much. Marry me."

  "Not now Hal, please."

  He hung up. She wondered if he was angry. Then she punched in her second number.

  "Sorry Chief," she said.

  "Don't do that to me, FitzGerald," the Eggplant said.

  "It was a friend in Hong Kong."

  "I don't care if it was a friend from Mars. Never leave me hanging like that."

  "Sorry Chief. The call was important."

  There was a moment of silence. She suspected he had put his hand over the receiver and was sending a few well-directed and inflammatory words in her direction.

  "What are we going to do with her, FitzGerald?"

  "What's wrong?"

  "She's in the emergency ward of Washington Hospital Center."

  "Oh God!"

  Very unpleasant scenarios jumped into her mind. She dreaded any further revelation.


  "I'm calling from the car. Meet me there pronto."

  He hung up.

  She threw aside the covers and ran to the bathroom gagging for a moment from the dry heaves as she hung her head over the toilet. Recovering, she dressed hurriedly and was on her way in ten minutes.

  Gail was sitting in a cubicle while a young female doctor was putting the finishing touches on what looked like a row of stitches just under her brow line. The Eggplant was sitting on a stool watching the procedure.

  "Well the gang's all here," Gail said when she spotted Fiona. Except for the stitches and a purple swelling around the eye, she looked in reasonably good shape.

  "What happened?" Fiona asked, relieved that the dire conclusions she had imagined were pure fantasies.

  "Later," the Eggplant said, looking toward the doctor.

  "I got into a bit of an altercation," Gail said.

  "We'll go into that as soon as the doctor finishes up," the Eggplant said.

  "They won't talk in front of me," the doctor explained with amused contempt. "And I won't leave the patient until I've finished my handiwork." She was a dark brunette with a feather cut, very young with a mouth.

  "Ouch," Gail cried.

  "Sorry big girl," the Doctor said. "I'm pretty good at this, but this isn't exactly petit Pointe. You've got to keep your head steady."

  "I admit in advance that what I did was stupid," Gail said.

  "Very," the Eggplant said. He obviously knew a lot more about the circumstances of her injury than Fiona did. "And I'll explain just how stupid."

  "There," the young doctor said. "Isn't that beautiful? My mother would be proud of me." She looked toward the Eggplant and Fiona. "Now you flatfoots can confabulate." With an amused look and a shake of her head, she turned and left the cubicle. "When you've finished with the city's business, check in with me."

  "Whatever you say it won't be enough. I deserve it."

  "Tell her," the Eggplant ordered.

  "I went to see Lionel Carpenter," Gail said, shaking her head. "Gloria's brother. She gave me his address."

  "Alone?"

  "It was stupid. I know it." She turned to Fiona. "I should have told you Fi. We should have done this together." She paused, shook her head, and winced." Alright I know. It was wrongheaded. Bad procedure."

  "But why?" Fiona asked.

  "I got it into my head.... "She looked toward the Eggplant. "I feel like a damned fool. I got it into my head that he was the logical perp and that I might vindicate myself by getting a confession out of him and a quick resolution of this case. Look. I admit it Chief. I got hung up on this race thing. It's making me crazy. But the way it played. He was a prime suspect and I saw in it an opportunity."

  "Keep your voice down, for crying out loud," the Eggplant cautioned.

  "He had a rap sheet as long as your arm. Drunk and disorderly. Possession. I think he's a junkie as well. Worse than that, I arranged to meet him at a bar."

  "Smart. Real smart Prentiss," the Eggplant hissed.

  "I know. I know. I've become a problem child." She turned to Fiona. "Forgive me, Fi. It was a blunder."

  "No kidding."

  "After I posed the first questions, he became indignant. He's not stupid. Then he became outraged. And after a few more drinks, he became violent. I had all I could do to deck him."

  "She broke his shoulder," the Eggplant said unable to hide his amusement.

  "I had no time to call for back-up. And I was lucky the bar was nearly empty."

  "Is he our man, Gail?" Fiona asked, ducking any rebuke that might spark any official disciplinary action, concentrating instead on putting more of a professional spin on the episode. She hoped, too, that she might find an upside to Gail's action.

  "When he was reasonably lucid, he admitted that getting canned by Mrs. Shipley was all his fault.

  "Did he say when that was?" Fiona asked.

  "I asked him that. All he could remember was that it was about ten years ago. He seems to regret what happened. Holds no grudge against Mrs. Shipley. But he did say that the old lady made some heavy material promises to Gloria in the event of her death."

  Fiona remembered that Gloria had evaded a clear-cut answer to that question.

  "Like what? Any number?"

  "He wasn't specific."

  "You said heavy," Fiona pressed.

  "Those were his words," Gail explained. "He seemed to believe that his sister would share a lucrative inheritance with Roy Parker."

  "And, naturally, such a prospect, impacted on him," Fiona interjected.

  "He made it clear that he was very close to his sister," Gail said. "Said he had let his sister down more than once. I sensed a strong element of contrition in him on this point. Called her a saint."

  "Which could mean that this saintly sister has given him some assurances about his future," the Eggplant said, snickering.

  "Like an expectation for an improvement in his fortunes?" Fiona said, putting a forward spin on his comment.

  "I did note that," Gail admitted. "He mused about hoping to be free some day from money worries."

  "He said that?" Fiona asked.

  "Yes." Gail sighed.

  "Could be useful," Fiona said, glancing at the Eggplant, her object being to buttress Gail's action.

  "It was when I started pushing for more details about himself, and his so-called lifestyle that he realized where I was heading. He got increasingly pissed. He was quite vehement in denying having anything to do with the murder. Although..." She shook her head. "He hangs in the neighborhood where the boy was picked up. In fact, he knew the boy's name, and knows his mother."

  "The neighborhood grapevine." the Eggplant said. "The real information highway."

  "It's a link," Fiona said hopefully with a glance toward the Eggplant, who seemed impassive.

  "Maybe more," Gail said.

  "You think it was him?" the Eggplant asked.

  "I won't discount the possibility. He's not stupid. He knew what I was there for." Gail shook her head, winced suddenly from the pain, then continued. "I asked him where he had been on that fateful Wednesday night. The question caught him off guard, made him nervous, edgy."

  "Did he have an alibi?" Fiona asked.

  "Said he couldn't remember where he was," Gail said. "I pressed him, pressed him hard. Had two more drinks on top of the ones he was already carrying. Then suddenly he upped and slugged me." She paused. "I reacted."

  "He's downtown in the hospital," the Eggplant said, unable to repress a tiny chuckle. Gail Prentiss at over six feet in her stocking feet, big boned, muscular and well versed in self-defense tactics was a formidable opponent for any man.

  "Connection, motive and a violent reaction. Sounds very close to the bone, Gail." It was another response for the Eggplant's benefit.

  "That's what I thought," Gail said.

  "But if he made the offer to the boy in person, then it seems likely that the boy would have known him and provided us with his identity," the Eggplant said, showing more interest in the case than in Gail's official fate. Which is exactly what Fiona had hoped would happen.

  "He could be withholding," Fiona said.

  "For what reason?"

  "Fear maybe," Gail mused. "Fear for his life. Or his mother's or his grandmothers."

  There she goes, Fiona thought. Giving the little turd redeeming qualities. She doubted he would withhold the man's identity under any circumstances.

  "Or Lionel could have put up a third party to make the offer," the Eggplant suggested.

  "Did you get the impression that he knew what his sister would be getting from Mrs. Shipley?" Fiona interjected.

  "I'm sure he knew."

  "Now I've got a question to put to you," the Eggplant said, addressing Gail. He frowned and his expression grew somber.

  "Yes, Chief," Gail retorted, equally somber.

  "Do you want off this case?"

  Gail exchanged confused glances with Fiona.

  "Off this case?"
Gail grimaced and sucked in a deep breath. "I suppose I deserve to be. I admit it might seem that I've been out of control...."

  "One could make that judgment," the Eggplant said. Fiona held her peace, studying Gail's face.

  "I ... I hate making excuses..." Gail began haltingly.

  "You've got a problem Prentiss," the Eggplant said, with evident reluctance. He was showing his soft side now, which was always difficult for him. Under the no-nonsense veneer, Fiona could see, as she had seen in the past under other circumstances, the man of compassion who deliberately holds back.

  "I suppose I deserve it," Gail sighed, cutting a glance at Fiona. "But I don't want it to happen."

  "The Governor called," the Eggplant said flatly.

  "So that explains it," Gail said, her expression pained.

  "He said you were rude, abusive, aggressive and reckless in your accusations."

  "I suppose he could make that case," Gail said.

  "For Madeline Newton as well," Fiona said. "She wasn't exactly restrained."

  "Beside the point, FitzGerald. I'm talking reality. We're the peons here."

  "The bitch made that clear," Fiona muttered.

  "Made that clear? It was clear to a blind man." He shot Gail a glance of frustration. "And you, Prentiss. Smartass two-degree college girl. Aside from Shipley's sympathetic position as the son of the victim, he's a powerful celebrity Governor and coincidentally a potential, maybe front running Presidential candidate with a voice enhanced by his super-star wife. He has clout. You don't practically accuse his wife of murdering her mother-in-law."

  "He said that?" Fiona asked.

  "In so many words."

  Gail lowered her head and looked at her hands.

  "I told you, Chief. I went over the top."

  "I honestly never believed he'd take action," Fiona said. "I thought it might be a double-edged sword. I guess I miscalculated.

  "Big time," the Eggplant sneered. "As you can see it's not just a petty complaint."

  "I guess I bought it," Gail sighed. "It's worse than I thought."

  "Actually he took the velvet glove approach," the Eggplant explained, showing some discomfort. "He billed his call as unofficial and friendly. Put it on the basis of something that he had to bring to my attention."

  "Which he did," Fiona muttered.

  "How far did he go?" Gail asked meekly.