M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

Jim nodded soberly, “I would guess that you’re telling us that Mr. Kelshaw was carrying something with him that was pretty ‘hot’. I would also suspect that was why he was murdered and the Center was raided. Someone was looking for something. They didn’t get it and that’s why there could still be a threat to Andy and Father Ben because they were the last people to interact with him and perhaps even Mrs. Thayer. Do we know if the information is safe?”

“Neil smiled and nodded, “I believe it is.”

Father Ben broke his silence saying, “But surely there was more that Mr. Kelshaw was looking for…”

“Yes, Father Lee. Much of it had to do with the betrayal of Paul Thayer and General Chernakov, but I think it would be unfair of me to discuss that aspect in Mrs. Thayer’s absence. I plan to meet with her and include her in discussions about her husband and General Chernakov.” Looking first at Andrew then to Ben he said, “I will rely on one of you to set up a meeting with Charlene Thayer; Monday evening, if possible.”

There was that take charge tone that Andrew had heard on the phone the first time he had talked with Neil, only this time he knew that Neil was in fact in charge.”

“Detective Savalza, do you have anything more you would care to inquire of me?”

“No, Mr. Scott, I think you have answered any questions I would be allowed to ask regarding Mr. Kelshaw. I will say now that I’m all the more determined to find out who killed him and why,” Jim said tacitly.

“Then I think we’re finished for today. Thank you, Father Ben and Detective Savalza. I will see you again.” Evan was standing evaluating the three men with whom he had been meeting. He was satisfied that he had covered all that could be shared in the presence of the Seattle Police Detective. Now he would have to consider what further information could be given to Mrs. Thayer, Father Lee and Kincaid.

Driving back to the Washington Athletic Club Andrew asked, “How long will you be in town?”

“It will depend on the investigation, of course, but I would like to finish my business in the next few days. As soon as possible I would like George’s body released. I am standing back and letting your policeman have his day. He seems very competent so I won’t get in his way. If the Department drags its feet too long though, I may have to consider other options.”

“You mean playing the ‘federal card’, right? You have made it very clear that you don’t want it known who Kelshaw was.” Not waiting for Neil to answer, he went on. “In fact everything points to this being a robbery and murder of some poor guy who got off a merchant ship. I can understand the secrecy at first, but you have the ‘luggage’ now, so does it matter if word gets out?”

“Andrew, consider for a moment why George Kelshaw was murdered. You have just described a scenario that seems well planned.

“Someone knew when and how George was arriving. They knew who to look for and they obviously knew he carried something with him that was potentially dangerous to someone.

“I have let the Seattle PD and the media run with the random attack because whoever arranged this is close and watching. When I play the ‘federal card’ as you call it, and I will have to, I will level with Savalza’s Department Head at least; but I will still maintain that we believe it to have been a chance act and make certain the Department believes that we don’t see this as an agency connection.”

“So you think this was a ‘hit’ that was locally directed?”

“Yes, I do so I don’t really expect there to be a problem keeping the story low key until we know more. Whoever ordered it doesn’t want publicity either.

“I hope getting together Monday night for dinner won’t be a problem for you or Charlene Thayer. I’m sure she will want to hear whatever I can tell her.”

“I’m sure she will; I’ll be seeing her tomorrow and mention it then.”

Andrew dropped Neil at the WAC and decided to go directly home. He was tired and needed to assimilate the events of the last few days with what he had heard regarding George Kelshaw. He thought about Jack Hubbard and wondered how his and Kelshaw’s paths had crossed. As he turned into the garage of his apartment building he didn’t notice a man watching him from an unmarked car parked across the street from his apartment. If he had, he would have wondered why Detective Maxwell had him under surveillance.

Sunday, September 21, 1980

It was 6:00 AM Sunday morning when Charlene Thayer’s phone rang. Expectantly she answered and was gratified to hear Bradley Coleman’s voice. “Hello Charlene, sorry for the early call,” he said warmly. “Olivia told me you called and seemed distressed. How can I help you?”

“Brad, thank God. You won’t believe this, but I have in my possession a letter from Paul, but it was written eight months after he died—officially that is.” She tried to present the information calmly but her voice betrayed her emotions.

“Charlene, my dear,” he spoke soothingly, “I am sorry you are so upset. I find it unconscionable that someone would perpetrate such a cruel act. It’s outrageous; who would do such a thing?”

“I don’t know who would do such a thing, but I do know that the letter I received was from my husband. I know his handwriting, Brad, and more than that, he was preparing to die,” she asserted.

“Oh now, now Charlene, let’s just be calm. How did the letter come to you?” Brad asked in a concerned tone.

“It was hand carried by a man, a stranger, to be given to me.”

There was a short silence, then “Who was this man, Charlene?” Brad was serious now. “What was his name?”

“His name was George Kelshaw,” Charlene was about to continue to tell of the events that followed when Brad broke in.

“Kelshaw, did you say Kelshaw?” Brad’s tone had changed.

Something in his voice caused Charlene to hesitate, there was something wrong.

“Go on Charlene, I am sorry to interrupt like that.”

“Brad, do you know this man?” she asked sharply.

“No, no, it was just that the name sounded familiar… go on; tell me exactly how you received the letter.”

Charlene’s response was measured. “I would rather not discuss this anymore on the telephone; perhaps I should make a trip to Washington.”

“Tell you what, Charlene; I have a business trip scheduled for the Pacific Northwest in a week or so. I’ll just advance my plans and be in Seattle next Wednesday and we’ll get to the bottom of this. I wouldn’t take it too seriously. I’m sure there is a logical explanation, but in the meantime I wouldn’t discuss this with anyone just yet.

“It will be good to see you after such a long time. I wish Olivia could come with me, but unfortunately she will be visiting our daughter who has been ill. Just relax now and don’t be concerned.”

Charlene placed the telephone carefully in the cradle. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It would be good to see Andrew today and talk with him, she decided.

Brigadier General Bradley H. Coleman now attached to the Defense Intelligence Agency sat down quietly and looked across the breakfast table at his wife, Olivia. Her dark hair was clasped neatly at the back of her neck and she wore a loose fitting blue garment that complimented her coloring. She was always perfectly groomed, even in the morning; he couldn’t help admiring that quality. He realized how fortunate he had been to marry Olivia. She had class, and she was beautiful.

He had met Olivia through Paul Thayer his second year at the Academy. When Paul’s family visited him at West Point, Olivia often came with them. Her family and Paul’s were very close. Olivia and Paul had grown up together and both came from what Brad termed ‘a privileged’ background.