M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

Lyle went to the bar and poured Scotch over ice in two crystal glasses; handing one to Carr, he returned to his desk, drink in hand, as Harrison settled in a chair across from him.

Raising his glass Carr lamented, “It’s been a hard day, Lyle; I want you to know that what I’m about to say is not personal.”

Finishing his drink and placing the glass on the desk, he calmly continued, “I’ve given this awkward situation a great deal of thought today, Lyle, and it seems to me as a director on the board of GCI that it is in the best interests of the corporation and of the firm as well, that you tender your resignation as a contract officer for GCI,” head nodding his assertion and his eyes narrowing as they met Lyle’s.

Ramsey was stunned. “I don’t know what to say, Harrison; although it’s clear that you have the final word in this matter, have you talked this over with Schneiderman?”

“Schneiderman agrees that your withdrawal is for the best.”

“What do you suggest I do, Harrison? I’m responsible for all those contracts… who… how should I…?” Ramsey fumbled.

Carr interrupted Ramsey’s question, “Lyle, I would like to dictate a personal letter written by you to me; I will send a copy to Schneiderman. It should be handwritten and brief.”

Still unbelieving, Ramsey numbed by surprise acquiesced to Carr’s press, taking stationery from his desk drawer, “Go ahead, Harrison,” he said in a dull voice.

Carr started, “Dear Harrison; I find myself in a situation which I am unable to resolve without scandalizing the firm of Ramsey and Carr. In my role as contract officer for our client GCI, I have made some serious errors in judgment…”

Lyle laid down the pen, “I can’t write this Harrison.”

“Yes, you can—believe me, this is for the best,” Carr insisted. “As difficult as it may be for you, Lyle, perhaps you should know that I am aware that the Bangkok break-in has led to some criminal activities whose repercussions will affect this firm.

“I’m no fool; I know that this morning’s visit by the Seattle Police Detective and the newspaperman, Andrew Kincaid is very much in response to these activities. I am determined to remove you as far as possible from GCI.”

Lyle thought for a moment then shaking his head in shocked silence once again picked up the pen.

Carr continued his dictation, “I realize this is a less than perfect way out, but I see no other way to protect you and the firm than to remove myself from the equation—I am sorry. Sincerely, Lyle.”

Harrison said, “Now sign it Lyle and I will copy it for Schneiderman.”

As Lyle scratched his signature, Carr quickly rose and stepped to the side of Lyle’s chair, a small revolver in his hand he fired into Ramsey’s temple. Wiping the gun clean of his fingerprints he forced it into Ramsey’s dead hand leaving him slumped across his desk, the ‘suicide’ note under his hand.

Harrison looked sadly at Ramsey’s form and looking at the portrait he said, “It had to be done, Lyle… for the good of the firm.”

8:30 PM

The cleaning crew methodically worked their way through the Ramsey & Carr offices; as one of the team opened the door of Lyle Ramsey’s office he yelled, “Hey better call 9-1-1 there’s a guy here and it looks like he’s dead.”

Savalza arrived at 9:15 and seeing the body of Lyle Ramsey he dialed the Convent of St. Helena where he knew Andrew Kincaid would be.

Andrew was preparing to say ‘goodnight’ after a festive dinner celebrating the removal of the bandages from Charlene Thayer’s eyes and the doctor’s report that there was no permanent damage. Charlene had given Father Ben a long embrace saying, “You never doubted, Father Ben,” and turning to Andrew, she smiled, “And neither did you.”

When Andrew took the call he wasn’t prepared for Jim’s message, “Andy, get yourself down here to Ramsey and Carr’s offices, Lyle Ramsey is dead!”

Surprised Andrew turned to Ben and Charlene, “I’m sorry to run out on you so fast. That was Jim Savalza and I have to see him right away, I’ll explain later.” He kissed Charlene on the cheek and hugged Sister Ruth before dashing out the door.

Andrew appeared at Ramsey’s office in less than twenty minutes. “What happened… who killed him?”

“Looks like a suicide, Andy,” Jim said pointing to the body lying across the desk. “And what looks like a suicide note was there, underneath. I’ve put in a call to Harrison Carr. The note was addressed to him, I expect him any minute now.”

“What does the note say?” curiosity urging Andrew.

As Jim read the brief note aloud Andrew looked around and saw the two bar glasses, “Looks like he had company…”

“He did, it was I,” the deep monotone voice of Harrison Carr answered Andrew’s comment.

Harrison Carr looked at the body of Lyle Ramsey and said shakily, “I—I must sit down—this is a terrible shock to me. I was just with Lyle a short time ago. We had our usual Friday afternoon drink together.”

“What time was that?” Jim asked.

“Around 4:30 or 5:00,” Harrison replied.

“Did he seem upset, Mr. Carr?” Jim spoke the questions in a detached manner, writing as the answers were given.

“Well yes, somewhat, but…” Carr shrugged, “As a matter of fact we did talk about…”

“About?” Jim pressed.

“I didn’t think it was this serious,” Carr murmured.

Savalza was writing, “What was ‘this serious’?”

“I’m sorry, Detective; I can’t divulge any more information, it involves some of our clients. I want to help you, however I am in such a state of confusion and shock. I never thought Lyle Ramsey would ever consider this as a way out of anything. May I see the note?”

Jim handed the note that had been carefully placed in plastic, to Carr watching his face as he read.

Andrew pressed, “What did he mean about GCI… what serious errors, Mr. Carr?”

“I’m sorry… I simply cannot answer any more questions. I’m not thinking clearly; I really must go home… may I go detective?” Carr pleaded.

Jim looked at the obviously shaken elderly Carr, “Yes, Mr. Carr; I don’t see any reason for you to stay. I’ll have questions for you later, but right now—go ahead, go home.”

“Thank you, detective,” Carr paused, his voice breaking, “I’ve known Lyle Ramsey all of his life; his father and I,” pointing to the portrait looking down at them, “Started this firm over forty years ago. I cannot imagine life without Lyle.” Jim watched Carr, shoulders bent, walk wearily down the corridor to the elevator.

“Jim, I want to talk with him about GCI and I mean soon! He knows a lot more about this mess than he’s saying,” Andrew was adamant.

“Give it a rest, Andy; he’s an old guy and he’s got a lot on his shoulders right now.”

“Listen, Jim, that man is a formidable old alligator, save your pity…”

Jim cut him off irritably, “Andrew, for crying out loud, have a little compassion! I’ll admit Carr is considered tough, but he’s still an old guy and he’s had a bad shock tonight.”

“And I thought the police were always suspicious of everyone,” Andrew shot back, “So you think it was a suicide?”

“For the moment—the note is pretty self explanatory, Andy. He knew we were after him for the murders of Monte and Kelshaw for starters. I think the note is a clear admission, not to mention the GCI thing. By all means, Andrew, talk to Carr about GCI, but,” he paused, “Not until the Seattle PD are done with our questions. Right now I want to focus on the suicide of Lyle Ramsey and put that to bed. Is that okay with you, Andrew?” Jim asked with light sarcasm.