Death of a Washington Madame (13 page)

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.

"He was ... what's that word ... oblique. Yeah
oblique." the Eggplant said." Could have been worse. Told me he was
acting more as an advisor than a carping critic. Went into this song and dance
about the respect he harbors for the police." The Eggplant pronounced it
'Poh-Lease' in a mocking tone. "Says he might have a lot more confidence
in the outcome of his mother's case if a more experienced detective was teamed
with FitzGerald here."