Stuart Woods - Palindrome

"Thanks, Mike," Williams said. "Now you'll have to excuse me. I've got this meeting." Hopkins handed him the written report and left. Williams quickly put the report and the bagged stake in a desk drawer, then he rose to greet Baker Ramsey.

"Morning, Lee," Ramsey said, sounding somewhat subdued. "This is Henry Hoyt, the team's lawyer. You said to bring one."

"Morning, Bake," Williams said, trying to settle himself down and sound normal. "Morning, Mr. Hoyt, I'm glad to meet you. Bake, I want to express my sympathy for the loss of your girl. I know it must have come as an awful shock." He managed to say this with a straight face.

"Thank you, Lee," Ramsey replied softly. "Yes, it was a shock. I can't imagine who'd want to hurt Mary Alice." His voice rose. "I'd sure like to get my hands on the guy for five minutes." If you would just do that, Williams thought, you'd save us all a lot of trouble.

"Is Mr. Ramsey under suspicion?" the lawyer asked.

"We don't have a suspect, yet, Mr. Hoyt," Williams lied. "It's just that Bake seems to have been one of the last people to see Miss Taylor alive, and I need his statement on the record." He went to the door and beckoned to a woman. She came in with a stenographic machine, plugged it in, and sat down next to a desk. "Miss Jordan, here, will take down everything we say, then she'll type it up. Later, I'll ask Bake to read it and sign it, if it's accurate."

"I see," Hoyt said. "This is standard procedure, Bake."

"Now, Bake, the department insists that I tell you that you have the right to remain silent, and you have the right to have an attorney, which right you have availed yourself of. If you choose to answer my questions, and you're later charged with a crime, your answers could be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand these rights?"

"That's standard, too," Hoyt said.

"Sure, I understand my rights," Ramsey said.

"Let the record show that Mr. Henry Hoyt, Esquire, is present, representing Baker Ramsey; also present are Sergeant Lee Williams of the Atlanta Police Department and Miss Evelyn Jordan, a stenographer and court reporter. Are you willing to answer my questions, Bake?"

"Of course," Ramsey said. "I'll do anything I can to help. I'm very upset about Mary Alice's death."

"I'm sure you must be. Let's begin at the beginning. When did you meet Miss Taylor for the first time?"

"When I checked in to the hospital for my knee surgery a few weeks ago."

"By the way, how's the knee coming?" Williams asked. "You can keep this out of the record," he said to the stenographer.

"We thought I'd be ready next weekend, but the doctor and the coach want to wait another week."

"Okay, back on the record. Did you see Mary Alice Taylor often?"

"Yeah, we were going out steadily."

"Did you have an intimate relationship with her?"

"Yes."

"By that, I mean were you having regular sexual intercourse with her?"

"When did you last see Mary Alice?"

"Last Thursday night. We had dinner at her house."

"Did you have sexual intercourse with her that evening?"

"Yes, a couple or three times."

"Did she exhibit any signs of distress during your sexual relations?"

"Well, there was some blood."

"And yet you continued to have sex with her?"

"It was only the last time that she bled some, and it wasn't all that unusual. She didn't want to stop; she never did."

"Did you leave a deposit of semen on her bed that night?"

"I guess so."

"Was the sexual intercourse entirely voluntary on her part?"

"Entirely. She loved sex."

"Did you have to persuade or force her?"

"No, not at all. It was pretty much the way we usually made love. Listen, is this really necessary? It's pretty personal."

"I'm afraid so, Bake." It's a little late to object, isn't it? Williams thought to himself. "Let me change the subject, if talk of sex makes you uncomfortable."

"It's not that I'm uncomfortable; it's just private."

"Let's talk about dinner. You say you ate at her apartment?"

"Yeah, she cooked." Ramsey suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, uh, she was cooking, but we didn't exactly eat it. We, uh, started fooling around in the kitchen and she spilled something, and then we went into the bedroom and made love."

"And this lovemaking was entirely voluntary," Williams said.

"Yes, I said so before."

"Bake, you later left a message on Mary Alice's answering machine which was apologetic, as if you'd done something to offend her and were sorry. What was that about?" Ramsey suddenly looked furtive.

"It was, uh, just something personal."

"This is a very personal interview, Bake. What was your apology for?"

"I'm not going to talk about it," he said vehemently. Williams paused and pretended to jot a note on a pad. Ramsey would talk about it as soon as he had time to make up a good story.

"What time did you leave her apartment that night?" Williams said finally.

"I went home some time after midnight, maybe twelve-thirty."

"And you did not see Mary Alice Taylor again?"

"No, I didn't. The team left for Miami on Friday afternoon, and we didn't get back until Monday."

"And you went with the team?"

"Yes."

"How did you travel?"

"By air. We always do."

"Who did you sit next to on the airplane going down?"

"An assistant coach, Manny Davis."

"And coming back?"

"Manny again. We're good friends; we sometimes room together on the road."

"Did you room together that weekend?"

"No, I had a room to myself."

"What did you do on Friday evening?"

"I had dinner with Manny in the hotel restaurant, and then I went to bed early, about ten."

"What time did you get up?"

"I usually wake up about eight."

"Where did you have breakfast?"

"In the dining room with Manny and a couple of other players, Ralph James and Bobby Martino."

"What time?"

"About nine. There was a light workout that day, and I went out to the practice field on the team bus."

"How long did you stay there?"

"Until about four in the afternoon. When the bus got back, I had a nap."

"And what did you do between that time and the game the next day?"

"I watched some TV, and I had dinner with Manny again. We went out to a seafood place and had a couple of drinks at a sports bar called the End Zone."

"Anybody see you there?"

"Everybody. I got into a little altercation with a guy there."

"Were blows exchanged?"

"Nah, just some name-calling. The bartender broke it up."

"What time did you get back to the hotel?"

"Around midnight. I wasn't playing the next day."

"And what time did you get up?"

"Around eight. I had breakfast downstairs with the same guys." The rest of Ramsey's story was much the same. His time, except when he was alone in his room, was accounted for, and that time overlapped the period when Hopkins had said the girl had died.

"On Friday night, did you leave your room again after you went to bed at ten o'clock?"

"Not until breakfast the next morning."

"Is there anyone who can corroborate that?"

"No, I slept alone."

"Do you know how to fly an airplane?"

"Nope. Never had a lesson."

"Do you know anyone in the Miami area who has a private airplane?"

Ramsey looked puzzled. "No."

"Do you know anybody in Atlanta who has one, or who sometimes rents one?"

"No. Well, yes, a couple of guys on the team fly those little single-engine jobs."

"Have you ever chartered an airplane, Bake?"

"Not for several years."

"When was the last time?"

"About four years ago, when my mother got sick."

"How did you go about chartering the airplane?"

"The team fixed it up. They're real good about stuff like that."