Death of a Washington Madame Page 9

  "I'd prefer not," the Governor said shooting a glance at Madeline who nodded her agreement to his decision. Fiona shrugged and returned the tape recorder into her pocketbook.

  "We're sorry to have to.... "Fiona began.

  "Never mind," Madeline Newton interrupted. "In the interest of getting to the bottom of this awful tragedy as fast as possible, we've agreed to this interview. This has been an appalling event which both us believe was exacerbated by your Captain for his own agenda. We still believe it could have been downplayed."

  "He did the best he could. The media can be persistent?" Fiona said, put off by the woman's superior arrogance.

  "He could have handled it a lot better," Madeline said.

  "Is everything public relations?" Gail suddenly interjected. "We have a murder here...."

  "Please," Madeline Newton said, raising her palm imperiously. "We know what we have here."

  "Someone paid this boy five hundred dollars to.... "Fiona began.

  "It's too painful at this juncture to go over old ground," Madeline said. "My husband is fully aware of every aspect of this situation. Your wonderful Captain has been painfully detailed in his explanation to us ... and, regretfully.... the media."

  "It's alright, darling," Shipley said after a sip of coffee. He balanced the saucer on his knee. "We can't continue to worry about how it plays. Above all, we need to know the truth. Why was that little monster hired to murder my mother?" He paused and shook his head. "It's so incredibly awful."

  "Sick little rat bastard," Madeline Newton said. "It makes me cringe."

  Peripherally, Fiona could see Gail's eyes flash with anger. Thankfully, she did not react vocally.

  "Did your mother have any enemies?" Fiona asked William Shipley. It was a homicide detective's traditional opener.

  "That's the first question that must jump into everyone's mind. I've thought about that since ... well since. She did have an acerbic wit and could be quite outspoken about people. There was an interview in the Post a few months back that was a good indication of the way she expressed herself."

  "I read it," Fiona said. "But if I recall correctly the people she insulted were all dead."

  "All I'm saying is that she might have given offense, perhaps years ago. Sometimes people harbor animosities for years that grow into obsessions, which in turn are activated by some mysterious circumstances. I'm reaching at straws, I know. But I just can't conceive of her having the kind of enemies that would pay to have her killed."

  "Could it have been some kind of dare?" Madeline Newton asked. "You know ... a gang initiation, a rite of passage kind of thing. These people..." Fiona could see what was coming. She could feel Gail tense beside her. "A gang maybe. You know something like: Go kill someone and bring home evidence of the death, hence the cross."

  "We've found no evidence to support such a theory," Gail said tartly, shaken out of her silence and putting Fiona instantly on alert. "The boy was not a gang member per se. The District of Columbia is not like Los Angeles where the Cripps and the Bloods are dominant."

  "It was a thought," Madeline sighed. "Are you absolutely certain someone put him up to it? He could be lying to save his own skin."

  "We've found what was left of the money," Fiona said. "And so far we have no reason to doubt the boy's story."

  "He could be trying to shift blame," Madeline persisted. "You know what I mean. Like the debil made me do it."

  Gail blew out air between her teeth, an unmistakably sneering gesture of disdain.

  "We've discounted both the gang theory and the possibility that this was a compulsive act on the part of one individual," Fiona said, hoping that stiff official language might disarm Gail. "We are following one line ... that the boy was put up to it by unknown persons for unknown reasons. But it is obvious that whoever it was knew the household routine either from the inside or through careful observation."

  "Is Roy a suspect?" the Governor asked.

  "That is still an open question," Fiona said.

  "What will happen to him?" the Governor asked.

  "He deserves a medal," Madeline said, sucking in a deep breath. "May come to that someday if this keeps up. Citizens taking matters in their own hands. He was absolutely justified."

  "We do not condone vigilante justice in this country," Gail sneered. "He was his own private lynch party."

  "You needn't lecture us on such matters, officer," Madeline said imperiously. "You are in the presence of the Governor of the Capital of the Old Dominion. We do not need history lessons about the horrors of lynching."

  "The boy's confession was beaten out of him," Gail pressed, her agitation accelerating. Fiona shot her a look of rebuke.

  "Are you saying you doubt his confession?" Madeline said with biting sarcasm. "The evidence is indisputable."

  "Only the means by which it was obtained. He was tortured and beaten," Gail shot back.

  "So much the better," Madeline said, her anger controlled, deliberately baiting Gail. "It certainly accelerated the investigation."

  "This is America," Gail shot back. "We have due process here."

  "And if this boy is an example of what we are raising in America. God help us. Due process be damned if it doesn't result in due justice."

  "Justice dispensed by whom. Movie stars?"

  Madeline again turned to her husband.

  "We have here a runaway mouth. Is this woman exceeding her authority?"

  "Really, Officer..." Shipley began, addressing Gail.

  "Prentiss," Gail blurted belligerently.

  "Your remarks are beyond the pale," the Governor said calmly, turning to Fiona for confirmation. Fiona, embarrassed by Gail's words, averted her eyes.

  "And actionable," Madeline threatened. "I wouldn't be so self righteous Officer Prentiss. There is such a thing as abusing police powers. And frankly, I think you're approaching the limits."

  Her words seemed to have penetrated Gail's anger. She appeared to be attempting to get herself under control. Pouting, she lapsed into silence.

  But the exchange also gave Fiona some insight into Madeline Newton. She was feisty and outspoken, an endearing trait in a first lady, especially someone so articulate and decorative. She certainly had style, Fiona acknowledged, and knew how to wield words and body language as weapons of intimidation.

  "In answer to your question about Roy, Governor," Fiona said, in an attempt to get the interview back on track. "He is clearly indictable, but that would be a decision for the higher powers."

  "I trust they will be compassionate," he sighed, avoiding any eye contact with Gail, who glared at him. "He was very loyal to mother."

  "For a very long time," Fiona said.

  "Has Gloria been helpful?" Shipley asked, elegantly attempting to defuse any further confrontation.

  "We've spoken to her," Fiona said cautiously. "She's not very forthcoming. I don't think she's reached a comfortable level of reality about this. Your mother was her life's work."

  "I love Gloria," Shipley said. "Like Roy, I've known her my entire life." He shook his head. "Poor woman."

  "Poor woman?" Fiona asked. "In what sense?"

  "Gloria Carpenter," the Governor mused, "is one of those women cursed with demanding relatives that play on her guilt. She's got this sister, whose life has been a shambles. Four children by three men. One an addict. A teenager who is pregnant. Another child sick. And a wastrel brother. Gloria has been a saint." He shook his head in despair.

  "Does she support them?"

  "I'm sure they've sucked her dry financially."

  "Did she ever call upon your mother to help her out?" Fiona asked.

  "You can be certain that Mother was quite good to her." He looked toward Gail. "She treated her with great respect."

  "Has your mother provided for them in her will?"

  "After all those years of loyal service. I would assume so. Mother always did the right thing," the Governor said.

  "You don't know what's in her will?"

&
nbsp; "No I don't. I'm not her executor."

  "Isn't that odd?"

  "My mother kept her personal financial matters a closed book."

  "I just assumed that as her only child..."

  "Is there something sinister in that?" Madeline Newton said, suddenly coming alive again.

  The Governor and Madeline exchanged cryptic glances.

  "Chester ... Chester Brewer, her lawyer, handled these matters. Been her attorney for many years."

  "Is he her executor?"

  "He's quite old. I don't even think he practices any more. I really don't know. Mother kept these matters very close to the vest." He looked briefly toward Madeline, then turned away.

  "I guess then we'll have to check with him. Do you know if she was in good financial straits, Governor?" Fiona asked.

  "You've seen her house, Fiona. It reflects a certain lifestyle." Shipley said. Fiona noted the political intimacy implied by his using her first name. But then, they did have a passing social acquaintance. She wondered suddenly if it would be appropriate to call him Billy. "She never asked us for help."

  "I think she would have died first," Madeline said. Her husband frowned.

  "Why?" Fiona asked.

  "Mother was fiercely independent. That was not her way," Shipley said.

  "If she were starving she would never ask us for a crust of bread," Madeline interjected suddenly, again telescoping the tension between her and her mother-in-law.

  "Or ask anyone else," Shipley said in an obvious attempt to leaven her remark.

  "Nor would it have been a strain to help her out," Madeline said, lifting her hand and gesturing around the room.

  "Obviously, she wasn't starving," Fiona said. "She seemed to have been quite comfortable. I assume there is an estate."

  "It would have no relevance to us," Madeline said.

  "Oh I'm sure of that Mrs. Shipley," Fiona said. "But we do have to consider who might benefit materially from her death."

  "I hope you're not suggesting that Roy or Gloria, who I feel certain have been provided for, had anything to do with this?" Shipley asked.

  "There's no evidence to suggest that," Fiona said. "But the possibility can't be ignored."

  The Governor shrugged and exchanged troubled glances with Madeline.

  "In my opinion, a highly unlikely possibility," he said.

  "Unthinkable," Madeline agreed.

  "They both would have died for her," Shipley said. "They loved her."

  He nodded to himself, becoming reflective, his eyes glazing for a moment.

  "Did you know that both he and Gloria were paid in cash?"

  "No. I told you. When it came to finances, Mother held her own counsel. But I wouldn't be surprised."

  "Did your mother ever have any.... well ... lovers?" Fiona asked.

  "Lovers!" Madeline exclaimed. "Buzzwords. More lurid food for the tabloids."

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Shipley." Fiona said calmly. "It can't be avoided."

  "I've heard that before."

  "It's alright, darling. Just stay calm," Shipley said, turning back to Fiona.

  "Mother had no interest in men. Besides, she would never be unfaithful to father. Never. It was a mark of pride with her. There were, of course, escorts. Many of those. Not that she didn't have suitors. I begged her to remarry. She became indignant. Lovers, indeed. You didn't know my mother. I think you can dispense with such curiosity."

  "Martine said a he thought a black man offered him the money for the deed," Fiona said. "Did any black men ever work for your mother?"

  "Yes," Shipley said. "Gloria's brother. What was his name? Lionel. Yes. Lionel Carpenter. She begged mother to hire him. Actually worked out fine for about five years."

  "What did he do?"

  "Odd jobs. Helped Roy if I remember. A quiet fellow. Kept to himself."

  "Why did Lionel leave?"

  "Mother had to fire him. I think it was ... oh I don't know ... ten years ago," Shipley said. "He used to get drunk and violent and abuse Gloria who covered up for him, but soon it became impossible to hide. Mother had no choice but to get rid of him."

  "Was Gloria upset?"

  "I think it was Gloria who pushed the matter."

  "And that was the end of it?" Fiona asked.

  "If I recall," Shipley said. "I think there was a couple of incidents. Once, I believe the police were called."

  "Gloria never mentioned that her brother Lionel worked for Mrs. Shipley," Fiona said.

  "Obviously, she was ashamed," Madeline pointed out. "But I'm sure your police records will confirm it. Could be your man."

  "I wouldn't jump to that conclusion," Gail suddenly interjected.

  "No. I guess you wouldn't," Madeline sneered.

  "It certainly bears checking out," Fiona said. She turned to Gail, who nodded, albeit reluctantly.

  "Think back, Governor," Fiona said. "To that time when your mother was one of Washington's leading hostesses."

  "Those were great times for mother," Shipley sighed.

  "I wish I was here then," Madeline said. "Sounds like fabulous times. All those exciting brilliant people she hobnobbed with. Not at all like Hollywood." She grew suddenly distant and wistful. "Such shallow people scratching for attention. I was part of it once. I hated it."

  Considering her vast worldwide celebrity created in the very cauldron of her now pretentious disgust, Fiona was put off by her disingenuousness. She tamped down her anger.

  "Can you remember any jealousies, friction, confrontations?" she asked, directing her attention to Shipley.

  The Governor grew thoughtful.

  "That was so long ago. But I'm sure there were. Of course, that cast of characters is all gone, I'm afraid. Pearle Mesta and Gwen Cafritz, the old Ambassadors and Senators. All in the great beyond. Like mother...."

  He shrugged and took a sip of coffee that he had neglected up to then. Making a face, he put the cup down on a table beside his chair.

  "What about political enemies?" Fiona asked, the idea just surfacing in her mind.

  "Political enemies?"

  "People you might have defeated because of her influence and support. People whose careers you might have aborted by winning."

  "What an odd way to put it?" Madeline said. "But you may have a point. Like actors who don't get the part they want and are beaten out by someone else. Yes I know the drill. It festers inside them."

  "I've had seven political races against various opponents," Shipley mused. "Fact is, they were all soundly trounced. I guess you might say I hurt them. But...."

  "Mrs. Shipley was not involved in the Governor's races, Sergeant. Neither the first or the second," Madeline said sharply, her message clear. "She was completely out of the loop by then." She seemed to regret her words, then cleared her throat. "Of course, she was supportive."

  "But not active?"

  "There was really no need," Shipley said, coming to her rescue. "Besides, Madeline was enormously effective in the Gubernatorial campaigns. Enormously." He paused, glanced at his wife and smiled, although she seemed to have tightened and was less forthcoming in returning his attention. "Mother was wonderfully helpful in the early days. I was in Congress for ten years. She called in many of her social chits to help me."

  "I wasn't around, of course," Madeline said coldly. "But I hear she was reasonably affective in getting endorsements, raising money, pressing people to make speeches in William's behalf. But from the very first time that William ran for Governor, she played no role. None."

  "In that first campaign," Fiona said cautiously," wasn't your primary opponent killed in a plane crash?"

  Fiona had calculated that it was a question that carried an implication that had to be addressed. This apparently was exactly the right moment.

  "A terrible tragedy," Madeline said nonplused, exhibiting neither surprise nor indignation. Obviously she had been asked about this ad infinitum and had expected it to be asked once again, especially now. "He was a fine man."

  "He
was ahead in the polls, I understand."

  "Yes he was. He was enormously popular," Shipley said. "There were those that accused me and Madeline of somehow causing such a tragedy to happen. It was absurd, of course. But you can't stop people from speculating wildly."

  "In his second campaign William won with the largest plurality in the history of Virginia," Madeline said cheerfully, flashing a broad smile of perfect teeth. Well capped, Fiona observed to herself. "He got seventy nine point five percent of the vote. Imagine that." She looked pointedly at Gail. "And sixty percent of the black vote." Gail's eye shifted, avoiding her gaze.

  It was obvious that Madeline Newton relished the political life and played an important, perhaps crucial, role in her husband's career. She was, Fiona knew, enormously popular and sought after, giving of her time generously for any event that redounded to her husband's political benefit. There was no question in Fiona's mind that she was the driving force behind any Presidential plans he was considering. Fiona, daughter of a Senator, understood their public relations concerns.

  "Was it your mother's decision to take a back seat in the Gubernatorial campaigns?" Fiona asked Shipley. He turned to Madeline to answer for them.

  "She was supportive, of course," Madeline said. "As any mother would be. Actually, there was no need for her to take up the slack." The vehemence of her emphasis was revealing.

  "Slack?"

  "My first wife was not very interested in politics," Shipley said, jumping into what he must have perceived as a gap in understanding. "Madeline on the other hand revels in it and does one hell of a job."

  "Thank you dear." Madeline reached out and squeezed her husband's hand. "We're a great team."

  "Did you and your mother-in-law get along?" Gail asked suddenly, as if she had been waiting for the right, most irritating and vengeful moment to pose the question.

  Fiona could see the mechanics of repression in Madeline's expression, although she could not stop the little round flush marks that popped out on her famous cheekbones. She turned to her husband.

  "How do you interpret the implications of that remark, darling?"

  "I'm not sure," he said, turning to Gail for an explanation. Fiona held her peace. It was not uncommon for them to assume good cop/bad cop role-playing, although Fiona sensed some danger here. But she had uncovered a vulnerability that bore watching, despite Gail's heavy-handed approach.