Shoot (19 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Five of her guys were murdered on her watch and she didn’t prevent it. And it happened right here, under her nose, in the good ’ol USA, not in some terror spot in the Middle East. She even had a rifle loaded for terrorist bear and didn’t use it.”

“Jesus, you’re right,” Tiffany agreed. “Shoot! The Calhoun campaign will probably come out blasting on that one. See, Shepherd, I really could use your help on this campaign. It’s crazy—jumping in like this. I need you.”

“You’ve already got me—I’m onboard until we nail the killers.”

“No, let the cops and the feds do that. Come work with me on the campaign trail. You’re a natural.”

“Actually work in politics?” I laughed. “No way. When it’s not boring, it’s stupid or disgusting.”

“That’s the only way I’ll get to see you for the next four months,” she said, moving closer, slipping her hand in mine. “I would like that. You could work directly under me.” She smirked wickedly.

“Yeah, I’d like that too, but I’ve got this job to do first.”

“A man of your word?”

“What else is there?”

“Adventure? Destiny? Sex?”

“You forgot food and booze. Listen, can I grab your new boss for a few moments? I just have a few more questions for her.”

“I thought you were done with her?” Tiffany replied coolly, withdrawing her hand from mine.

“Are you kidding?”

“Not now, Shepherd. This is her moment. Tell me what you need, I’ll ask her during a break and get back to you.”

“That’s not the way it works, Tiffany, you know that. You were there when she lied to us.”

“Hold it! I don’t know any such thing.”

I reminded Tiffany about Carroll’s disconnected smoke detector in her suite, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air there and how she lied to us in front of her daughter.

“You can’t possibly think she had anything to do with this,” Tiffany said.

“I don’t know. She seems to be the only politician targeted by the killer who survived. Why? She is certainly the one who benefitted from this mass murder. Yesterday she was Senator Who? Today, she’s running for the White House with mountains of money that was supposed to elect your old boss. Why is she lying? Maybe she made it happen.”

“That’s not funny, Shepherd.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Okay,” she snapped. “I’ll ask her as soon as this live segment is over.”

While Tiffany returned to her candidate, I called Izzy and told him what was happening. He said the bodies of Chesterfield and the others had been removed for autopsies but the murder rooms were still sealed crime scenes, as was Carroll’s. I checked my paper’s website.

It’s not her day. Within minutes of becoming a murder suspect in the slayings of five members of Congress, Tea Party Darling Miranda Dodge was outfoxed by GOP stalwarts and left out in the cold. Spouting profanity, the family values politician vowed to run a spoiler campaign that… (Continued…)

Tiffany delayed for ten minutes and then told me it would be at least an hour until the senator could speak to me. Maybe.

“We’ll try to fit you in then,” she said, with a lovely smile.

“Super,” I told her, returning her fake smile.

When Izzy and Phil arrived, we chatted and then approached Tiffany. They were all business. Tiffany also tried to stall them, saying her boss was speaking on live TV with FAX News.

“Miss Mauser,” Izzy told Tiffany. “This is a multiple murder investigation. Either you make the senator available to us right now or I will join her on the couch and ask my questions live on FAX News.”

That worked. Five minutes later we were in a dressing room with Katharine Carroll. Izzy kicked off proceedings.

“Senator Carroll, I don’t think you were being completely honest with us earlier, at your suite, when you said you did not have your smoke detectors disconnected.”

“Of course I was, Lieutenant. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Because your detector
was
disconnected. The hotel says your people asked them to do it. You also said you had not been smoking in there but we smelled tobacco. Want to try again?”

The senator, ruffled at Izzy’s lack of awe, stared at us for quite a while.

“I apologize, Lieutenant. May we speak in confidence?”

“Of course.”

“My daughter is fourteen years old and she thinks I have given up smoking. Sometimes… actually very often… I still smoke, at the office and elsewhere. I didn’t want her to know. It would be embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as being busted for five murders,” I pointed out.

“You can’t seriously think I had anything to do with that?”

“Is your daughter here?” I asked. “So she can confirm that? And it also doesn’t explain why you were the only one of the smokers who is still breathing.”

Tiffany glared at me.

“I have no idea, Mr. Shepherd. I hope the police will find out and tell me. Good luck. And no, you may not interview my daughter. Now, if we’re done, I have quite a few more interviews and a campaign to plan.”

Izzy shrugged. “We’ll be in touch.”

As we left, I saw Carroll shoot a glance at me and whisper something to Tiffany, who nodded and followed us out.

Outside the dressing room, Phil stated the obvious: “There’s no evidence against her.”

“Nice job,” Tiffany said to me.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“You’re fired,” she said. “I’m sorry, Shepherd. I tried to stop you. Will you leave now or do I have to call security?”

“I’m fired? So I guess I won’t have the pleasure of serving under you?”

She walked away without answering.

“First fight?” Phil asked.

Phil was right. I’d never been fired before. It felt weird.

“Hey,” Izzy said. “You were going after her new employer. Did you see Carroll whisper something to her? If your friend ignored a direct order from her boss to can you, she would also be out on her ass.”

“Tiffany signed onto this new candidate pretty quick,” Phil countered.

“I was wondering the same thing,” I told him. “We don’t know who did this yet.”

“This kind of thing happens all the time in politics,” Izzy said.

“But that’s when candidates drop out—not drop dead,” I pointed out. “Carroll lied about the smoke alarm and won’t let us talk to her daughter. Why is the senator still alive?”

“Are you saying you like her for it?” Izzy asked. “That Carroll and maybe Tiffany planned this whole thing?”

“I’m not saying anything yet,” I said. I had a sudden thought. “Do you guys know anything about Karl Bundt?”

“The security guy who looks like a jerk?” Izzy asked. “No. Why? You think he was too dumb to be true?”

“I’m not saying anything,” I repeated myself. “I’m just asking.”

“We’ll check him out, but a few more facts to rub together would be nice,” Phil said. “While the troops continue interviews here, we’re going over to the ME’s office for the post on Chesterfield. You coming, Shepherd?”

My trendy lunch shifted in my stomach. An autopsy would round out my perfect day.

“Sure. I just need to change clothes and check in with Amy. I’ll meet you over there.”

As I dialed Amy’s number, I saw dozens of delegates fleeing, ducking into limos, glancing around nervously—presumably trying to spot assassins. At this rate of retreat, there’d be no Republicans in town to hear Carroll’s acceptance speech at seven tonight, just before the big fireworks display.

“You got fired?” Amy asked when I reached her. “They can’t fire us. We have a contract.”

“That was with the previous management,” I pointed out. “He’s on the slab over on First Avenue.”

“Well, the good news is they’ve already paid us in full,” Amy told me. “But I don’t see how we can file for new expenses.”

“Does this mean I don’t have to save receipts anymore?”

“No.
I
still need them. So, you’re coming back here? Your dog is eating me into bankruptcy.”

“Skippy has a healthy appetite. Yeah, I need to change and then I’m meeting Izzy and Phil over at the Medical Examiner’s office for the post-mortem on Chesterfield.”

“But we don’t work for the Republicans anymore.”

“I’m on this ’til we get the bastards. If I still have my job with you, that is. We have to save our rep.”

“Yes, you still have your job. And I agree with you… up to a point.”

“Up to what point?”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know when we get there,” she said, and hung up.

Aces. The sunshine outside was hot, a blue sky filled with Disney-white clouds. In twenty-four hours I was dumped by my girlfriend, found a new girlfriend—who then fired me and kicked me out of her bed—after the guy I was supposed to keep alive was murdered, along with four others. The day couldn’t get worse.

That was when I spotted my parents, still at the barricade. My mother was autographing a copy of the
New York Mail
—the one that labeled them commies—and having her photo taken with a fan. My father was a few yards away, giving an MSNBC TV interview about the political violence. My parents had Liberal groupies. Just shoot me.

I walked over. If my father used the phrase “the violence inherent in the capitalistic system,” I would shoot him. If I still shot people.

“So? Was it Miranda Dodge and her neo-confederate trash?” my mother demanded. “Did they do it?”

“I don’t know,” I told her. “It’s possible.”

My father was happy. He was on TV and he’d predicted something that came true. The war inside the party he hated was a gift for him. He loved being right more than anything. My mother smiled fondly at him.

“Several TV stations have interviewed him already. Soon we’ll take the message to Park Avenue, to the evil billionaires behind the Tea Party,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your vacation,” I said. “But I have to get back to work.”

Walking east across the park, I thought about the events of the night before. It was hard to concentrate; I kept getting sidetracked onto the sex. I remembered that she ducked out for a while. That was about nine, right after the steaks arrived. She was gone more than half an hour. Where did she go? What did she do? She never said. Did she have time to run around the hotel, blasting politicos, who opened their doors to the titillating, on-task Tiffany? If so, where was the weapon or weapons? How come no one saw her or heard five separate shots? She was questioned, just like I was. And she was given a Gunshot Residue Test. She had an alibi and the test must have come up negative, like mine, because she had not fired a gun. Or had she? Why didn’t I mention to Izzy and Phil that she was not with me for a period of time during the security video blackout, during the murders? Because she fucked me silly? Because it never occurred that she would have anything to do with something like this? I was her alibi and I never mentioned that she was missing for more than thirty minutes after nine—the time the security video system was shut down by the hacker. A lot of damage can happen in half an hour. Hell, even half a minute. As soon as she got back, Tiffany took a shower and changed her clothes, which would have erased traces of gunpowder. I wondered if Tiffany mentioned her mysterious evening errand to the detectives. Or did she just tell them about her time in bed with me? She gave me one hell of a birthday present but, if she also left out her little evening stroll, I had given her something much more valuable—an alibi.

Skippy almost knocked me over when I walked into Amy’s place. It took ten minutes to get past all the licking and invitations to play before I could have a talk with Amy, take a shower in an upstairs bathroom and change. The walls were bright purple and the style was Victorian oak and white marble. I noticed the ceiling was a painted, starry heaven with golden, floating cherubs. As I was getting dressed in clean clothes, Jane called my cell.

“Hey,” I said, unsure what to say. “What’s up?”

“If you want to talk to me about what happened over at the convention center, I’m available,” Jane said.

What the hell?

“Umm… okay…”

My stomach twisted into a knot. Did Jane know about Tiffany?

“It’s very upsetting,” she said.

Damn. How did she find out?

I just made a non-committal grunt; stalling, hoping for a way out.

“But you had only just met,” Jane continued.

“True,” I agreed, evenly.

“Still, it has to be very painful to have your first client murdered.”

What?

“Yes. Painful,” I stumbled, hoping I was through the minefield. “Exactly. Chesterfield seemed like a nice guy, for a politician.”

“And the others, too,” she said. “Very scary.”

“Yes,” I concurred. “That was very scary.”

Jane talked for a bit, as I tried to pretend I was as upset as she seemed to be. She made a vague apology for being on edge recently and asked when I would be home. Home. She wanted to see me. I told her I would be at her place after I met Izzy and Phil at the autopsy. She paused, maybe wondering how upset I could be if I were going to an autopsy. Then she surprised me.

“Can I come along?”

How could I say no? Quality time at the morgue. Skippy was upset that I was leaving so soon but I knew he would not like my destination and would probably not be allowed in anyway. I hopped in a cab, which had a video of the mayor, Irving Flowers, welcoming me to the Big Apple. I picked Jane up outside her office. She was wearing her white lab coat with the “Dr. Jane” nameplate and a stethoscope around her neck. We kissed on the back seat.

“Well, this is quite a lovely date,” Jane giggled, as we went to the office of the Chief Medical Examiner, a blue-bricked rectangular building on First Avenue at East 30th Street, between Bellevue Hospital and New York University Hospital.

“Hey, this was your idea,” I pointed out.

“Maybe I can help you,” Jane said. “I’m not a pathologist but I have training and experience that may be useful.”

“Also you’re wicked smart,” I agreed. “And a hottie.”