Suspicion (8 page)

  Kate’s heart sank. Although Alison had made no secret that she was unhappy with the move to Cleveland Park, she had never come right out and said she wanted to leave. "You don’t want to do that," she said, rising from her chair.

  "Yes, I do."

  Then, without bothering to say goodbye, Alison stalked out of the room.

  Kate started to go after her, but it was too late. The front door had already slammed shut.

  Kate was putting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher when the phone rang. Reaching for the extension on the wall, she picked it up. "Hello?"

  "Kate. Thank God you’re there." Eric’s voice was strained, shaky.

  Kate briefly closed her eyes. "Eric, what in God’s name is it going to take for you to understand-"

  "Gina is dead."

  "Who?"

  "Gina! The woman who was blackmailing me. She was strangled. And the police think I did it. Christ, haven’t you heard the morning news? It’s on every radio and television station."

  As the first wave of shock receded, Kate leaned against the wall. "Where are you?"

  "Never mind that. I didn’t do it, Kate. You’ve got to believe me. I wasn’t even in Washington when she was killed."

  "Where were you?"

  His voice dropped. "Passed out in my car. I felt sorry for myself after I left your house last night, so I tied one on. I didn’t wake up until seven-thirty this morning. That’s when I heard the news. And before you ask, no, I have no witness. My only alibi is for the time I spent in a bar between eleven-thirty and midnight."

  The attorney in Kate took over. "Have they established the time of death yet?"

  "I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling. You’ve got to find out, Kate."

  "No, Eric. I’m not getting involved in this."

  "Kate, for God’s sake, I’m not asking you to get involved. All I want is for you to call someone at Metro P.D. and find out when Gina was killed. Is that really too much to ask?"

  The desperation in his voice struck a chord. Why did she always have to be such a sucker for people in trouble? "How do I get back to you?"

  She heard his sigh of relief. "I’ll call you. How long do you think it’ll take? Five minutes? Ten?"

  "Give me fifteen."

  "Okay." There was a short pause. "Thanks, Kate. Thanks a lot." He hung up.

  Preferring to deal with someone Kate knew she could trust, she called the medical examiner directly. What Abe Moskowitz told her, however, wasn’t very reassuring.

  No sooner had she hung up than her phone rang again. "I couldn’t stand it," Eric said when she answered. "Did you find out anything?"

  "I’m afraid the news isn’t good, Eric. According to the medical examiner, Gina died between one and one-fifteen in the morning. So unless you were too far away to make it back to her apartment by that time and can prove it, you’re in trouble."

  "I was less than twenty minutes away," Eric said in a leaden tone.

  "Are you sure no one saw you while you were in your car?"

  "Yeah, I’m sure. The parking lot was empty when I came out of the tavern and it was empty when I woke up this morning. The owner must have parked in the back, so chances are he never saw me." Then in a pitiful voice, he added, "I didn’t kill her, Kate. I swear I didn’t."

  Outside Kate’s kitchen window, the morning sky was heavy with rain clouds, making the situation seem even more ominous. Even if she wanted to, which of course,

  she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to get him out of this one. "Do the police know Gina was blackmailing you?"

  "No, thank God. But they know she and I left Lyle’s party together. And half a dozen people must have seen her at Hollbrook Industries yesterday afternoon. They’re going to want to know what she was doing there."

  She heard him groan. "What is it?"

  "Turn on your TV. Channel 2."

  Reaching for the small set under the kitchen cabinet, Kate turned a knob. As the image slowly came into focus, she saw a snapshot of Eric in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. A blond newscaster with a grave expression on her face was speaking into the camera.

  "The Metropolitan Police Department has been unsuccessful in locating Eric Logan, who is wanted for questioning in connection with the murder of a Washington call girl. Unconfirmed at this time is the finding of an incriminating videotape in the victim’s apartment and the possibility that blackmail may have been a motive."

  "They found the tape," Eric said, his voice barely audible. "I’m dead."

  Kate turned off the TV set. "Eric, listen to me. You’ve got to turn yourself in."

  "That’s brilliant, Kate. Why don’t you ask me to sign my own death warrant while you’re at it?"

  "You’re making things worse by running away."

  "Worse?" He laughed. "A roomful of people saw me leaving Lyle’s party on Saturday night with Gina, my fingerprints are all over her apartment, and the cops just found a tape that will make me a prime suspect, possibly the only suspect. How much worse can things get?"

  "I know it looks bad for you, but you can’t just keep on running. The longer you stay away, the worse it’ll be.

  And anyway, with that red Corvette of yours, you might as well be waving a flag."

  "I’ll get rid of the Corvette." She heard him take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. "Help me, Kate. I know I’m the last person in the world you wanted to hear from this morning, but I’m desperate."

  "I can’t help you unless you turn yourself in."

  "Bull. You can do anything you want, whether the suspect is in custody or not."

  "I’m an officer of the court, Eric. I can’t afford to-"

  "Talk to Gina’s neighbors," he said as if he hadn’t heard her. "Talk to the guy who brought her to the party. His name is Brad Carpenter. Talk to her pimp. Maybe he killed her."

  "Call girls don’t have pimps."

  "I don’t care! Somebody killed her, and it wasn’t me." His voice had turned pleading again. "You know I’m not capable of murder, don’t you, Kate? Hell, I don’t even like to squash bugs."

  It was true. Eric was many things, but he wasn’t a murderer.

  "Oh, Christ," he said suddenly. "A cruiser just pulled in. I’ve got to split. I’ll call you later."

  "Pulled in where? Eric, tell me where you-"

  He had already hung up.

  Kate slammed the phone down. Damn him. Why had he come to her with this? Why hadn’t he called the Fairchilds’ family lawyer and laid all that crap on him? Didn’t she have enough problems with Alison…?

  Her blood turned cold. Alison. Dear God. If the news was on television, then the entire school could have heard it by now. What if Alison found out that her father was wanted for murder from a classmate? Or worse, from a nosy reporter camped outside her school? Prostitutes, even

  dead ones, didn’t normally generate a lot of press, but this was no simple murder. The suspect was engaged to one of the richest women in the country. The media would pounce on the story like a pack of hungry dogs.

  She had to get to Alison before they did.

  Scooping up her car keys from a ceramic dish on the kitchen counter, Kate ran out of the house.

  She was only a block from Alison’s school when her car phone rang. For an instant, she considered not answering it. Sooner or later, Eric would have to understand that she wanted no part of his problems. But on the third ring, she sighed and picked it up. It was Douglas.

  There was no greeting, no small talk. He had obviously heard the news about Eric and was understandably upset. "Have you heard?" he asked.

  She wondered what he would say if she told him that not only had she heard about the murder, but she had heard it from Eric. "A few minutes ago." Then, remembering Douglas had left for Bermuda the day before, she asked, "Where are you?"

  "At the airport. Rose and I chartered a plane back home as soon as we heard. Apparently, the police showed up on our doorstep at five-thirty this morning, looking for Eric." As an afterthought, he added, "Where’s Alison?"

  "In school. I’m on my way to pick her up now. I thought it would be best to keep her out of the limelight for a while."

  "Good idea."

  "Douglas," she said, choosing her words carefully. "You know Eric didn’t do this, don’t you? He’s incapable-"

  "Rose and I are calling a family meeting," he said

  curtly. "I asked Megan and Abigail Hollbrook to join us. I would appreciate it if you came, too."

  She didn’t like his gruff tone. But these were trying times for all of them. "Are we meeting at your house?"

  "Yes. At ten-thirty." As if he’d read her thoughts, his voice softened. "Thank you, Kate."

  "Baby, I know how upset you must be, but we’ll get through this. I swear we will."

  They were in Kate’s car, heading back toward the house. The school principal, who had already heard the news by the time Kate walked into her office, had agreed that Alison’s interests would best be served by staying out of the public eye for a few days.

  Sitting in her red Saab in the school parking lot, Kate had broken the news to her daughter as gently as possible. It wasn’t until an Action News van had come up the road that she had put the car in gear and headed for home.

  Casting a quick glance in Alison’s direction as she drove, Kate reached for her hand, which lay limply on the girl’s lap, and squeezed it. "I’m going to keep you home for a few days. I’ve already talked to Maria. Between the two of us, we should be able to keep the press away."

  "They can’t think Daddy killed that woman," Alison said in a small, trembling voice. "They just can’t."

  "He’s not helping things by hiding from the police."

  Alison yanked her hand away. Her eyes took on that angry, rebellious look again. "He’s scared, Mom. Can’t you see that? He has no one to turn to, no one who will believe him. You would run, too, if you were in his shoes."

  Kate stopped for a red light. A pelting rain had turned the streets of Washington slick and gray. Outside a storefront window, a homeless man huddled in a green plastic

  sheet sat on the soaked sidewalk, his hand extended. "No, I wouldn’t," she said, returning her gaze to Alison. "I would do everything in my power to clear my name. No matter how scared I was, I wouldn’t compound the problem by becoming a fugitive."

  "Right." Crossing her arms against her chest, Alison stared out the passenger window. "You’re so much smarter than the rest of us."

  The words stung, but Kate decided to ignore them. Now was not the time for self-pity. "No, I’m not," she said softly. "I just know about those things. It’s my job."

  The light changed and Kate pressed on the gas, moving through the heavy morning traffic. From time to time, she glanced at Alison, hoping to make eye contact, but all she could see was the girl’s tight, angry profile.

  Five minutes later, she was pulling the Saab into her driveway, grateful that no reporters were waiting for them. She was reaching for the door handle when Alison turned to face her.

  "You’re going to help him, aren’t you, Mom?" Her daughter’s huge gray eyes searched hers. The resentment was gone, replaced by sheer anguish-and something else. Something Kate hadn’t seen in her daughter’s eyes for a long time. Trust.

  That look went right through her, momentarily dulling her thoughts. "Alison, I-"

  "You have to, Mom." Alison’s hand closed on Kate’s wrist as her eyes bore into hers. "I wouldn’t be asking you to help him if I thought he had killed that woman. But I don’t. And you don’t, either."

  At the look of despair in Alison’s eyes, Kate felt her heart break. "No," she said at last, "I don’t."

  "Then help him. Find out who killed Gina Lamont." Fat tears formed at the corners of Alison’s eyes and hung

  on the edge of her lashes before spilling onto her cheeks. This time when she spoke, her voice was trembling with pent-up emotion. "I’m so afraid for him, Mom. He’s out there all alone. He needs to know we’re on his side."

  Despite her earlier resolution not to get involved, Kate’s resistance began to falter. As much as she believed in, and supported, the justice system, there were times when she felt it failed-as it had for Tony. But there was another reason for her change of heart. How could she, in all conscience, turn her back on Eric and not feel she was turning her back on her daughter, as well?

  Alison’s grip on Kate’s wrist tightened. "Mom, please, say you’ll help him. Say you won’t let him go to prison."

  "No," Kate whispered, drawing the frightened child into her arms, "I won’t let him go to prison."

  The Fairchilds’ home was a magnificent estate in Potomac, Maryland, set amid eighteen acres of lush, perfectly manicured grounds. Being there again brought back a wave of memories for Kate-some happy, some she would have preferred to forget.

  As Joseph, the Fairchilds’ longtime butler, ushered her down the long hallway where portraits of Douglas’s famous ancestors were prominently displayed, it dawned on her that although she had spent thirteen years of her life in this house, it had never truly felt like home.

  Now, standing in the doorway of the elegant green-and ivory drawing room, she waited as her ex-mother-in-law, a small, plump woman in a gray pin-striped suit rushed toward her, hands extended.

  "I’m so glad you’re here, Kate." Rose pressed her cheek against Kate’s and spoke in a trembling whisper. "At least I know you won’t jump to conclusions."

  Then, taking Kate’s hand, she led her toward the sofa where Megan and Abigail Hollbrook were sitting and made the introductions.

  Up close, Megan Hollbrook seemed younger than her twenty-seven years and much more vulnerable than the poised, elegant woman whose photographs often appeared in the society pages of countless magazines. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and although she gave