David Baldacci - True Blue

“Done,” she said and then clicked off.

Jarvis Burns put his phone down and allowed himself a rare smile. “Now that , Agent Reiger, is chain of command.”

As he turned back to his work, he glanced at his watch. Two minutes later, in the safety deposit box where Reiger had placed his precious orders that would enable him and Hope to walk free after the job was done, the time-released chemicals built into the document’s threads did their work. In ten seconds there was nothing left except vapor.

INCREDIBLY ENOUGH, Joe Cushman, Diane Tolliver’s ex-husband, had just found out that his former wife had been murdered. It seemed news took a while to travel that far west. But then again, Mace thought, it wasn’t like the death of an ordinary citizen would make the national news other than as a one-time blip, and only then because of the rather bizarre circumstances. Joe Cushman did not sound all that upset and was not planning to attend the funeral. Yet that was understandable, Mace concluded. His divorce had been final over a decade ago and he told her that he’d remarried. And as Roy had informed her, it had not been an amicable separation. Cushman had bellowed out the reason for that early on in their long-distance conversation.

“She cheated on me!”

“Who with?”

“Don’t know. I never was able to find out, and then I just stopped caring.”

Every few seconds he would pause and Mace could hear him dragging on a cigarette. He had the smoker’s gravelly voice too, his throat and lungs probably already full of nicotine-induced lumps.

“So how do you know she was having an affair?” Mace had asked.

“All the telltale signs. She bought fancy lingerie that she sure as hell never wore for me. She started working out, lost weight, new cosmetics, weekend ‘business’ trips, the whole shebang. We had no kids so it was basically split up the property and go our separate ways. Still, her law firm played hardball. Hell, I even had to fork up some cash for her attorney’s fees, if you can believe that.”

“Why?”

“She made good money, but I made a lot more. Commercial real estate developer in New Jersey when you could print money doing it.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t have as much money now, but I like the beaches and the trade winds a lot better than the ice and muck in Jersey.”

“You don’t by chance remember the name of the firm that represented her?”

“Are you kidding? I sure as hell wrote them enough checks. Hamilton, Petrocelli & Sprissler. In Newark. Three ladies. Three hellcats more like it. Even my lawyer was afraid of them. They were so good I used them later in some of my deals.”

“Thanks a lot. I appreciate the info.”

“Hope it helps with whatever you’re doing. Diane and I didn’t get along, obviously, but nobody deserves to die like that. I’m thinking of sending some flowers.”

“I’m sure that would be very nice.”

Mace clicked off and looked down at her notes. She called information and got the number for Hamilton, Petrocelli & Sprissler, LLP, in Newark.

She got the receptionist and then the call was put through to Julie Hamilton.

“Yes?”

Mace briefly explained why she was calling. “Diane Tolliver?”

“You probably would have known her as Diane Cushman. She took her maiden name back after the divorce. I spoke with her ex, Joe Cushman. He gave me your name.”

“I do remember hearing something about the killing. The refrigerator, right?”

“Yes, the refrigerator.”

“But I never associated Tolliver with Cushman. I mean, I knew her maiden name was Tolliver, but it just never occurred to me it was her. It’s been over a decade. Murdered. My God!”

“Yes. That’s why I’m calling.”

“And who are you with?” This was the cautious lawyer’s voice now that Mace knew so well.

“I’m in D.C. I’m helping to investigate the matter on behalf of a man charged with the murder.”

“Like I said, it’s been at least ten years. I can’t think of any way I would have relevant information for you.”

“Do you know a man named Jamie Meldon?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he was murdered too, right after he met with Diane.”

Caution had just transformed to ice. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“I just need to ask some questions about-”

The next sound Mace heard was the line going dead.

She immediately called back.

This time the receptionist would not put the call through.

“Please, it will only take two minutes and it’s-”

The receptionist hung up on her.

Mace slowly put the phone down.

AFTER TALKING to Mace, Roy decided to speed up his search of the firm’s records. He took the stairs down to the fifth floor. However, the archives room was locked and he didn’t have a key. He trudged back to the sixth floor and headed to the mail room. Dave was there sorting letters and packages for the last delivery of the day. “Where’s Gene?” Roy asked about the person who manned the archives room.

“Left early. Doctor’s appointment. You need anything from down there?”

“It can keep. I’ll let you get on with your deliveries.”

“Is it true you’re going to be the lawyer for that guy they arrested?’

“Why? You want to bust my chops too?”

“No, I thought that’s what lawyers were supposed to do. I mean, you can’t not represent somebody just because he’s not popular, right?”

“Dave, that’s the first intelligent thing I’ve heard today.”

Dave headed out with his cart while Roy pretended to follow him out, then he circled back and closed the door to the mail room. He jogged to the very back, lifted the door to the dumbwaiter, climbed in, hit the green button, and pulled his arm back. The door closed, the machine gave a little jolt, and Roy was on his way.

On the brief ride down he thought about the other time he’d been inside here. Wrapped around Mace’s body. It had been a flashlight in his pocket, though he couldn’t say he hadn’t been a little aroused, what with her proximity to him and the adrenaline rush that came with knowing your life might soon end violently.

Maybe they should try that technique at the sperm bank.

The dumbwaiter stopped and the doors slid open.

Roy climbed out and looked around. The room was dark but he had to make sure. He did a slow circuit of the large room with its rows of shelves and stacked boxes. He slipped his small flashlight out and shone the beam around. He knew generally how the filing system was set up here and made a beeline to one section. This was where most of his and Diane’s client files were kept. He started opening boxes. Securely attached to the inside top of each box was a small hard plastic case. Inside the case was a flash drive containing an electronic record of everything in that box.

The firm had been in the process of scanning all these documents onto their computer system, but it had gotten complicated, because not all lawyers at the firm were authorized to see everything. And certain clients only wanted the attorneys who worked on their matters to be able to access the documents. The problem could be partially solved by requiring passwords to access certain files, but lawyers were notorious for losing such information or even letting colleagues who were not authorized use the passwords. The firm’s solution had been to keep the paper archives along with the flash drive in this room. An attorney had to be authorized to look through or take boxes out, and the flash drive was password-protected.

Even though Roy was authorized to look at the boxes he needed, he felt sure that Ackerman would put the kibosh on him looking at anything. He quickly went through a dozen boxes and pulled the flash drives from each and pocketed them. This, he told himself, was only a minor crime compared to the felonies he and Mace had been committing lately. He decided against climbing back in the dumbwaiter and riding it back up just in case someone was in the mail room.