Stuart Woods - D.C. Dead

“There was a man outside,” Teddy said, “but he’s gone now.”

“There are all sorts of people around here,” Lauren said, “especially at this hour on a Sunday.”

“You’re right,” Teddy said, returning the screen to one large one, with CNN on it. “I won’t worry about it.” He went to his reclining chair to watch the news. “What’s for dinner?”

Dino sat in the living room of the suite and pored over a list of names of White House women, and their assignments and locations, that Tim Coleman, Will Lee’s chief of staff, had faxed over from the White House.

“Who did we miss?” Stone asked.

“Everybody, apparently. There are a couple hundred names on this list.”

“Is there anybody, anybody at all who seems likely?”

“Not to me there isn’t,” Dino replied. He handed the list to Stone. “You take a look at it.”

“Of course, Charlotte Kirby didn’t look likely to us, until we interviewed her.”

“She didn’t seem likely until she was dead,” Dino reminded him.

“I don’t have a clue where to start,” Stone said.

“Neither do I.”

“You know, if the March Hare hadn’t killed Charlotte Kirby, we’d be happily back in New York, and the Lees would have put this whole thing out of their minds.”

“Yeah, and the March Hare would be safe. Charlotte was a murder too far. a murdes r div

“Why was Charlotte a danger to her?” Stone asked.

“Because she was talking to us,” Dino said.

“Yes, but she was through talking to us. The newspaper articles put an end to that. She would never have spoken to us again.”

“I guess the March Hare didn’t know that. The same was true of Milly Hart and Mrs. Brandon. They had told us everything they knew, too, but still Ms. Hare felt she had to kill them.”

Stone put down the list of White House women. “So she didn’t know enough about our investigation to see that we were getting nowhere.”

“Either that, or she just likes killing other women.”

“Dino, can you remember a case of a woman who was a serial killer killing other women?”

Dino thought about it. “Now that you mention it, no. Men who are serial killers kill mostly women, and women serial killers always seem to kill men.”

“Can you remember a case where a serial killer, male or female, killed this many people for this reason-the elimination of witnesses?”

“Well,” Dino said, “maybe that’s happened with the Mafia at some point in the past. They sometimes had a tendency to wipe out a list of people they considered threats.”

“But these people weren’t threats to the March Hare.”

“She didn’t know that,” Dino pointed out. “She just assumed they were.”

“And she didn’t linger at the scenes. She hit these women in the head-or, in Charlotte’s case, shot her-and got out of there, not leaving any trace evidence. Could she be a cop?”

“Stone, everybody in the United States knows how crime-scene evidence is collected and analyzed-you don’t have to be a cop anymore. There are three or four very popular TV shows every week that explain it in detail.”

“Okay, so it didn’t have to be a cop. But she knew which women we were talking to.”

“It’s Washington, remember? Everybody in town seemed to know who we were talking to.”

“There’s one possibility we haven’t discussed,” Stone said.

“Tell me, please .”

“Suppose Charlotte’s death really was a suicide, not a murder.”

“Well, that’s a very attractive notion,” Dino said, “since it would confirm everything we told the president and the first lady the other night. But how do you explain the lack of prints on the magazine and the ammo in it?”

“Look, we know the March Hare is a very careful killer. Assume for a moment that Charlotte was the March Hare. She may have prepared the gun for use in a future killing, thus wiping the magazine and the ammo free of prints.”

Dino looked hopeful. “Now that , I like. It makes perfect sense, and it has the wonderful added advantage of making us look right the first time.”

“So why am I not calling the president right now and explaining that Charlotte Kirby committed suicide?”

The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Holly.”

“Good morning.”

“I’ve had a thought,” Holly said.

“Shoot. We’re about all out of thoughts.”

“What if Charlotte Kirby really did commit suicide? Maybe she just wiped her prints off the magazine and the bullets out of an excess of caution.”

Stone laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“Great minds think alike,” Stone said. “Dino and I were just discussing the same idea.”

“You were not!”

“I promise you, we were.”

“You just like the idea because it makes you and Dino look better.”

“I can’t deny that benefit,” Stone said, “but you had the idea independently, and you aren’t trying to make us look better, are you?”

“Well, since I brought you into this, it makes me look better, too.”

“Tell you what,” Stone said. “You go see the director right now and tell her about our mutual theory. If she buys it, we’re out of here.”

“She’s out of the office today,” Holly said. “Maybe tomorrow, too.”

“Where is she?”

“She goes places unannounced all the time, and she doesn’t share that information with me.”

“Should I call the president and tell him?”

Holly thought for a moment. “No, it’s better if we go through Kate. That way, if she likes it, we’ll have her on our side, and she can take it to the president.”

“I like the idea of her taking it to the president. I’d just as soon not see him for a while, myself.”

“You don’t sound entirely convinced of our theory,” Holly said.

“I’m afraid to be entirely convinced of anything,” Stone said. “Once bitten, you know.”

“I know. Well, we can wait until Kate is back in the office, or you can go to the president now. What’s your choice?”

“What’s your advice?”

“I’d wait for Kate. I’d like to have her on our side.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Stone said. “Dinner tonight?”

“What else have I got to do?” Holly said. “I can shake loose here by seven.”

“See you then.” Stone hung up and explained to Dino.

“Okay,” Dino said, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to the Smithsonian.”

“What part of the Smithsonian? It’s a big place.”

“I’ll go to the part with all the airplanes, if you’ll go with me.”

“You’re on,” Stone said.

Stone and Dino stood under a highly polished DC-3, with Eastern Airlines markings, suspended from the ceiling of the museum. “Isn’t that gorgeous?” Stone asked.

“It sure is,” Dino said. “I took my first airplane ride in one of those, from the old La Guardia Marine Air Terminal to Boston.”iv>

“That airframe could really take it. Some of them did more than a hundred thousand hours.”

Dino tapped Stone’s elbow. “Look at that,” he said.

Stone followed Dino’s gaze to where a woman had set down a large handbag and was rummaging through it for something. This went on and on, with objects being removed from the bag, until she finally came up with a tiny camera. She took a photo of the DC-3, then tossed the camera back into her bag, along with all the things she had removed.

“Can you believe it?” Dino asked. “Why do they carry all that stuff around? Shelley has one just as bad.”

“Holly, bless her heart, takes a more male attitude,” Stone said. “She actually has pockets in some of her clothes.”