David Baldacci - Split Second

Digging under the piles on the desk, he found an appointment book, but it was singularly uninformative. He next moved upstairs.There were two bedrooms there, and only one was ostensibly in use. Here Jorst was neater. His clothes were arranged nicely in his small closet, his shoes stacked on a cedar rack. King looked under the bed and was greeted only by dust balls. The adjoining bathroom revealed only a damp towel on the floor and some toiletries stacked on the sink. He went across to the other bedroom, obviously a guest room. There was a small adjoining bath here too, but there were no towels or toiletries. There was a shelf against one wall that held no books, but did have some photos on it. He shined the light on them one by one. They were of Jorst with various people, none of whom King recognized until he looked at the last face.

The voice calling from below startled him. "Sean, get your butt down here. Jorst is back."

He looked out the window in time to see Jorst pulling his massive old car into the driveway. He turned off the light, put the photo in his pocket and carefully but quickly made his way down the steps and back toward the kitchen where Michelle was waiting. They exited via the back door, came around the side of the house, waited for Jorst to go inside and then knocked on the front door.

The professor came to the door, flinched when he saw them and cast a suspicious glance over their shoulders. "Is that your Lexus at the curb?" King nodded. "I didn't see anyone in it when I passed by. And I didn't see either of you on the sidewalk."

"Well, I was stretched out in the backseat waiting for you to come home," said King. "And Michelle had gone to one of your neighbors' homes to see if they knew when you'd be back."

Jorst didn't look like he believed the story, but he ushered them in, and they settled in the living room.

"So you talked to Kate?" he asked.

"Yeah, she said you gave her the heads-up about us."

"Did you expect that I wouldn't?"

"I'm sure you two are very close."

Jorst stared intently at King. "She was a colleague's daughter, andthen she was a student of mine. Implying anything else would be a mistake."

"Well, considering that you and her mother were talking about getting married, you'd at least be her stepfather," said King. "And here we didn't even know you were dating."

Jorst looked very uncomfortable. "And why should you, since it's none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm rather busy."

"Right, the book you're writing. What's it about, by the way?"

"You're interested in political science, Mr. King?"

"I'm interested in lots of things."

"I see. Well, if you have to know, it's a study of voting patterns in the South, post-World War II to the present, and their impact on national elections. My theory is that the South today is no longer the ‘Old South.' That, in fact, it's one of the most heterogeneous, teeming pools of immigrants this country has seen since the turn of the last century. I won't say that it's quite yet a bastion of liberalism or even radical thought, but it's not the South depicted in Gone with the Wind , or even in To Kill a Mockingbird. In fact, the fastest-growing population element in Georgia right now is Middle Eastern."

"I can see how the Hindus and Muslims coexisting with the bubbas and the Baptists must be fascinating," opined King.

"That's good," said Jorst. "Bubbas and Baptists. Mind if I use that line for one of my chapter headings?"

"Feel free. You didn't know the Ramseys before Atticus, did you?"

"No, I didn't. Arnold Ramsey was at Atticus about two years before I arrived. I'd been a professor at a college in Kentucky before coming here."

"When I said the Ramseys, I meant both Arnold and Regina."

"My answer is the same. I didn't know either until I came here. Why, did Kate say otherwise?"

"No," Michelle said quickly. "She did tell us that her mother was good friends with you."

"They both were friends of mine. I think Regina saw me as ahopeless bachelor and took it upon herself to make me feel welcome and comfortable. She was a truly remarkable woman. She worked with the drama class at the college and even performed in some of the productions. She was an astonishing actress, she really was. I'd heard Arnold talk about her talents, especially when she was younger, and assumed he was merely exaggerating. But when you saw her up there onstage, she was mesmerizing. And she was as kind and as good as she was talented. She was loved by many people."

"I'm sure she was," said King. "And after Arnold died, the two of you-"

"It wasn't like that," Jorst interrupted. "Arnold had been dead a very long time before we started seeing each other as anything more than friends."

"And it got to the point where you were talking marriage."

"I'd proposed and she'd accepted," he said coldly.

"And then she died?"

Jorst's features became pained. "Yes."

"In fact, she committed suicide?"

"So they say."

Michelle said quickly, "You don't think so?"

"She was happy. She'd accepted my proposal of marriage. Now, I don't think I'm vain in saying that it seems pretty far-fetched that the thought of being married to me would have driven her to suicide."

"So you're thinking she was murdered?"

"You tell me!" he snapped. "You're the ones running around investigating. You figure it out. That's not my area of expertise."

"How did Kate take the news of your upcoming nuptials?"

"All right. She loved her father. She liked me. She knew I wasn't looking to replace him. I truly believe she wanted her mother to be happy."

"Were you a Vietnam War protester?"

Jorst seemed to take this abrupt change in direction smoothly. "Yes, along with millions of other people."

"In California ever?"

"Where exactly is this all going?"

King said, "What would you say if we told you a man came to visit Arnold Ramsey for the purpose of enlisting his aid in killing Clyde Ritter and that this person mentioned your name?"

Jorst looked at him coolly. "I'd say whoever told you that was seriously mistaken. But then again, if it's true, I can't control other people using my name in conversation, can I?"

"Fair enough. Do you believe that Arnold Ramsey acted alone?"

"Until I'm presented with credible evidence to the contrary."

"By all accounts he wasn't a violent man, yet he performed the most violent act of all, murder."

Jorst shrugged. "Who knows what beats deeply within the hearts of people?"

"That's true. And Arnold Ramsey was involved in some serious protests in his youth. Perhaps one of which led to someone's violent death."

Jorst looked at him sharply. "What are you talking about?"

King had revealed that piece of information solely to gauge Jorst's reaction to it. "One more thing. Did you drive separately or with Arnold Ramsey to the Fairmount Hotel on the morning he killed Ritter?"

To his credit Jorst didn't show any reaction. His features were impassive. "You're saying I was at the Fairmount that morning?"

King stared right at the man. "You're saying you weren't?"

He thought about this for a moment. "All right, I was there. With hundreds of other people. So what?"

"So what? Along with dating Regina Ramsey, that's a pretty significant detail you forgot to mention."

"Why should I have? I did nothing wrong. And in answer to your question, I drove separately."

"And you must have run out of the place the very second after Ramsey fired, or else you wouldn't have had time to pick up Regina and go and tell Kate in the middle of algebra."

Jorst looked stonily at them; however, several beads of perspirationhad appeared on his broad forehead. "There were lots of people running all over the place. I was as terrified as anyone else. I saw what happened. And I didn't want Regina and Kate finding out on the news. So I drove as fast as I could to tell them myself. I thought I was being considerate. And I don't appreciate how you seem to be drawing a negative conclusion from what I thought was a selfless act."