COLLATERAL CASUALTIES (The Kate Huntington mystery series) (6 page)

            “Stop! I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Jill paused and looked around herself. She lowered her voice. “But you and I both know that Miller was murdered.”

            What the hell could she say to that, without flat out lying?

            “I need your advice,” Jill said, “but we can’t talk here. Can I come to your office tomorrow? Do you think that would be safe? For you, I mean.”

            “You know what’s going on then?” Kate whispered.

            “Some of it. I need to figure out what to do.”

            Kate pulled one of her cards out of her wallet and slipped it to Jill. “Can you come at noon?”

            Jill nodded. “The funeral’s in the morning. When we get home, I’ll tell people I want to lie down. My folks’ll cover for me and watch the kids.” She stood up and took Kate’s hand. Kate rose and they walked back toward the coffin.

            Kate suddenly stopped, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t...”

            Jill squeezed her hand. “I understand,” she said under her breath, then in a normal voice added, “Thank you so much for coming. It really helps to know that Miller touched so many people’s lives.”

            Kate squeezed her hand back. “Be careful, Jill,” she whispered.

~~~~~~~

            At noon the next day, Jill Dawson perched on the edge of the loveseat in the corner of Kate’s office. Kate sat in an armchair facing her. Jill dispensed with the niceties. “I found an envelope in Miller’s best suit when I took it out of the closet to take to the funeral home. Writing on the outside said, ‘Jill, only open this if I don’t come home Friday evening.’ There were two anonymous letters inside along with a rather vague explanation of what they meant.” She handed Kate two sheets of expensive stationery, one of which she had seen before.

            “I was hoping you could fill in some of the blanks and help me decide what to do,” Jill said.

            “Knowing Miller, he told you what to do,” Kate said softly.

            Jill dropped her gaze to her lap. “There were instructions on how to access a bank account in the Caymans, and how to establish new identities. He said to take the kids and go away. Start over somewhere else.”

            She raised her eyes to meet Kate’s. “So my first question is, was my husband losing his mind?”

            “No,” Kate said. “I had my doubts, but not now. Did he say who the letters were from?”

            “Not exactly, but I think I know who he meant. He said he had to be vague, that he couldn’t say too much in writing, but that his past had, quote, ‘come back to haunt him.’”

            “I think you should go away,” Kate said, “at least for awhile. Miller said there were some attempts on his life, things that would have looked like accidents. Do you know what he was talking about?”

            Jill gazed at the ceiling as she thought about that. “A few times he seemed preoccupied. One of them was the day after that party. Then, a couple weeks ago, I came home and he was all scraped up. He said he’d been running and slipped and fell down an embankment. He kept changing the subject when I asked for details. I wish I could remember that ambassador’s name. I could ask my neighbor.”

            “No! Miller would not want you to investigate. Anything you do that lets on that you know he was killed and why, then you’re in jeopardy.”

            Jill’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. In a much gentler voice, Kate said, “One of the last things he said to me was that if things went wrong on Friday, at least
they
would leave his family alone. If you try to investigate and get yourself killed, his death will be for nothing, and your kids will be orphans.”

            Tears streamed down Jill’s face. Kate handed her the box of tissues she kept close at hand. “Is there someplace safe you can go?”

            Jill dabbed at her eyes. “I’ve been giving that some thought. I have a friend in Colorado. We’ve lost touch the last few years so there’s no record of recent contact, but I know she wouldn’t move without telling me. It’s the kind of friendship where we just pick up wherever we left off, no matter how long it’s been. If I show up on her doorstep, she’ll take me in.”

            “Can you give me her address and phone number?” Kate asked.

            “I didn’t think to bring them with me.”

            “Okay, here’s what I suggest. Go home and pack. Do you have a garage?”

            Jill nodded.

            “Pull your car in there so no one can see you loading it up. Just clothes and your most precious small mementos. Nothing more than will fit in your trunk. When you pull out of there tonight, it should look like you’re taking the kids to McDonald’s for dinner.”

            Kate’s brain was scrambling for a way to safely get the contact information from her. Wait, she could have Rose pick it up.

            “Write down your friend’s address and phone number, then take with you or destroy anything that might lead someone to her, old Christmas cards, anything. Give me your address. A friend of mine will come by this afternoon. A short Hispanic woman with her hair tied back in a bun. She’ll pretend to be taking a survey or have a fake petition to sign. Slip her the contact information.”

            Jill nodded again as she pulled a small pad out of her purse to write down her address.

            “I’ll be in touch in a week or so, after the dust settles some,” Kate said, leaning forward to take the slip of paper. “It might be a good idea for your parents to leave town as well. If you have to call me, use a prepaid cell phone, then destroy it after we talk.”

            Jill let out a short humorless laugh. “We sound like a bad spy movie. How did this happen? How did my life end up in this place?” She started to cry again.

            Kate gave her a moment, then softly said, “You know Miller never imagined this would happen. He thought all of that was well behind him. A different lifetime.”

            “He only mentioned it a couple times, and then rather vaguely. He said he’d done some things he wasn’t proud of, but that were necessary.”

            They talked for a few more minutes, Kate doing the best she could to be supportive in a situation that was totally beyond either of their experiences.

            After Jill left, Kate used her cell phone to call her friend and the co-owner of her husband’s private investigations agency.

            “Hernandez,” Rose answered brusquely.

            “It’s Kate. I have a big favor to ask. Are you willing to do something for me, no questions asked, and you can’t tell your partner about it?”

            Silence for a beat. “Yes to the favor, but I do have to ask why I can’t tell Skip?”

            “It has to do with a client, and if he knew what was going on he wouldn’t be able to resist investigating.”

            “Okay, one more question which you can refuse to answer,” Rose said. “Why would that be a bad thing?”

            “Because it would probably get him killed.”

~~~~~~~

            Kate came out of her last session of the day to find a stocky man with swarthy skin sitting in her waiting room. She stifled a gasp. For a moment, she considered walking right out the door with her client.

            The man stood up, holding his hands out, palms up. “I assure you, Mrs. Huntington, I mean you no harm. I was hoping to talk to you about my grief regarding the death of a friend.”

            Kate’s client gave her an apprehensive look.

            “It’s okay, Amanda.” Kate ushered her to the outer door.

            Turning back to the man, she said, “How can I help you?”

            “May we go into your office?”

           
Good idea!
In her desk was the .32 revolver her friend, Mac Reilly, had purchased for her when she went into private practice, insisting that a woman in an office by herself needed some means of protection. Kate locked the outer door of the waiting room, just in case this guy had a few henchmen out in the hall. She made an after-you gesture toward her office.

            Pointing to the chair in front of her desk, she moved around it and sat in her own chair. Heart in her throat, she casually rested a sweaty palm on the handle of the desk drawer containing her gun. At least, she hoped the gesture looked casual.

            “I assume the person you’re referring to is M–”

            He held up his hand. “No names, please.” He took out a cloth handkerchief and wiped his brow.

            Kate waited in silence. Her heart was pounding, but anger was starting to override her fear.

            “I am deeply grieved by our mutual friend’s death,” the man said. “I wanted to personally reassure you that I was not responsible for it. I believe that I have identified the person who was responsible and I have dealt with him accordingly.”

            “And why, Mr. No Name, should I believe that?” Despite herself, the anger crept into her voice.

            He gave her a sad smile. “You have every reason to be angry. Even though I did not kill the gentleman, he died because of his acquaintance with me. I had great respect for him and it saddens me that his young children are now fatherless.”

            “You had respect for him? He tried to–” Kate caught herself.

            The man shrugged. “He was just doing his job, and quite frankly his agenda at the time was more noble than my own.”

            Kate raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Let me tell you a story, Mrs. Huntington. Once upon a time, a young boy, just sixteen years old, left his parents’ farm to become part of a group that was attempting to overthrow the corrupt government of his country, a government that cared nothing about the poor.

            “This young boy fought for their cause for several years, until he was twenty. By then he was not quite so naive. He had come to realize this group was corrupt in its own way. They had begun to take money from those who grew crops that would then be exported to the United States and turned into addictive drugs. The leaders justified this by saying that the drugs would happen anyway. At least this way, a good cause was being financed, and when we had taken over the country we would help the farmers learn how to grow more respectable crops.

            “Then they made this young man a lieutenant and put him in charge of those responsible for collecting the
fees
from the farmers. He was not at all comfortable with that role. He was shamed by the looks of terror and hatred on the poor people’s faces, people like his parents. But this was an army, a war. Soldiers are not allowed to question or complain. They are expected to follow orders.”

            “And anyone attempting to leave would be treated as a deserter,” Kate said, drawn into the man’s story despite herself.

            “Exactly.” The man leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Our mutual friend did that young man a great favor. He woke up in a hospital, with no papers, no identity, his face scarred by the fire in which his body was supposed to have been consumed.”

            Leaning back again, he scratched his chin through his beard. The coarse black hairs didn’t completely conceal the shiny surface of old burn scars.

            “That young man pretended to have amnesia. A doctor took pity on him and did some rudimentary reconstructive surgery. When he was released from the hospital, he made his way to a place where he had been burying most of his wages for years, intending to someday go back to his village and buy his parents a better farm.

            “Instead he bought himself a new identity and, through bribery, got a job with the very police force he had once fought against. He had an uncanny ability to know where the rebels were hiding and where they might strike next. This helped him advance through the ranks. His contributions to establishing relative peace in his country eventually earned him a place in the government he had once despised.”

            “So why should I believe that you wouldn’t see... my friend’s recognition of you as a threat?” Kate asked.

            “Oh, I did, for a moment or two, until he reassured me, indirectly, that he had no more desire to dredge up the past than I did.”

            “Then how did anyone else even know that he’d recognized you?”

            “That is what I so deeply regret, Mrs. Huntington. I discussed the matter with my wife, and apparently a member of my household staff was eavesdropping. I am as mystified as you are as to why that person felt the need to protect my current identity. If anything, I would have expected him to turn me in to our country’s authorities, hoping for a reward. But instead, he eliminated what he perceived to be a threat to his employer.”

            “What happened to him?”

            “Do you really want an answer to that question?”

            “I guess not.” Kate already knew the answer, but there was no sense of justice, only sadness that yet another person had died because Miller and this man happened to run into each other at a party.

            “There is another reason I have come to see you this evening,” the man said. “I wanted to warn you to leave all of this very much alone. Do not ask any questions, make any phone calls. Don’t even look up anything related to me, my country or our friend on the internet. I am not at all sure that the killer was working alone. It has crossed my mind that members of the group to which I once belonged might attempt to blackmail me with exposure, in order to use my influence within the government to their own ends. I am currently investigating that possibility. Until I know for sure that my employee acted alone, there is indeed some reason for concern and caution.”

            “So you have come here, drawing attention to me,” Kate said, fury in her voice.

            “I assure you that I know how to enter a building without being seen, and I did not tell anyone, not even my driver who is my most trusted employee, where I was going. He thinks I am getting a massage at a spa five blocks from here.”