Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fix

Mars motioned to Decker. “That dude’s middle name is ‘complicated.’ What he can’t figure out can’t be figured out.”

“Well, this might be the one,” said Decker, heaving himself to his feet and plopping down on a stool next to Mars.

“Want to tell me about it?” asked Mars.

“You heard about the guy who shot the woman outside the FBI headquarters?” asked Jamison.

“Yeah. Saw the story a few days ago on CNN when I was having lunch. Saw some more stuff when I was waiting at the airport.”

“Well, that’s the case.”

“We know part of what happened,” said Decker. “But we don’t know why Walter Dabney shot Anne Berkshire.”

“We think he was blackmailed by someone to do it.”

“Blackmailed? How?”

“This is confidential, Melvin,” said Jamison.

He chuckled. “Hey, who do you think I’m going to tell? Hell, I don’t know anybody to tell.”

Decker said, “Apparently, Dabney was stealing secrets from a military project he was working on. He sold those secrets to raise money to help his daughter. Her husband was in to some bad guys for gambling debts. Russians. It was either pay or get slaughtered.”

“Damn, so this Dabney guy was caught between a rock and a hard place?”

“He committed treason, Melvin,” said Jamison.

“Yeah, but it was his family, Alex. Tough to turn your back on that.”

“So that part we know,” said Decker. “What we don’t know is the Berkshire piece. We can’t find a connection between them. But there may not be one if he was blackmailed to do it. Which means we have to try to get there from Berkshire’s side and the people who wanted her dead.”

“Bogart and Milligan are tackling it from Dabney’s end,” interjected Jamison.

“And Dabney shot himself, right?”

“Yes, but he had terminal brain cancer,” said Jamison. “He’d be dead in six months or less. So maybe he didn’t care.”

Mars frowned and slowly shook his head. “Wow. Blackmail, gambling debts, brain tumor. This Dabney guy had a dark cloud over him.”

“It is pretty sad,” said Jamison. “You think you’re having a bad day, think about what happened to him. His family is devastated.”

“What about the daughter whose husband got him into this mess?” said Mars.

“What about her?” asked Jamison.

“Well, she must feel pretty bad.”

“She does. We’ve seen that firsthand.”

“Yeah, I get that. But what about something her old man might have told her?”

“Told her about what?”

“Well, I take it this whole gambling thing was a secret between them?”

“It was,” said Decker. “His wife didn’t know anything about it. Neither did the sisters. At least so they claimed.”

“So maybe he had a closer relationship with this daughter. Parents do, you know, have that special thing with certain kids. And if he did something illegal to help her and then he gets blackmailed to do something else bad, he might have talked to her about it.”

“Why?” asked Jamison.

“Because he’d want her to know why he did what he did. He wouldn’t want her to think he was some kind of crazy murderer. If they were blackmailing him for stealing secrets that he stole and sold to help her , I think he’d want her to know.”

Mars looked between Decker and Jamison. “Hey, just my two cents.”

Jamison stared at Decker. “But didn’t Agent Brown say that Natalie knew nothing about what her dad was planning in the way of stealing secrets to pay for the gambling debts?”

“She did. But there’s no way she could know that for sure. I’m not sure she even talked to her.”

“But if Natalie and her dad communicated via phone or email or text, there’d be a record of it.”

“But what about face-to-face? We checked on Dabney’s travel schedule. We never looked at Natalie’s.”

“So you mean she could have come here, or met up with him somewhere?”

Decker looked at her. “If you were sick and suspected what was wrong, would you go to MD Anderson, or any hospital, alone? Or would you want a family member with you?”

“I’d want someone with me,” replied Jamison. “But why not his wife?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to freak her out. She seems the nervous type. And if he was closer to Natalie, like Melvin suggested, she might have gone with him. I mean, she owed him big for saving her husband’s butt.”

Jamison said, “We never asked the hospital if someone was with him. But do you really think Natalie might know who was blackmailing her father?”

“If there’s even a remote possibility that she does, or has information that could lead us to whoever it is, we have to follow it up.”

“But Decker, Agent Brown told us that Natalie—”

He snapped, “I know what Agent Brown told us. That doesn’t make it true.”

“But we’re working the Berkshire angle. Ross and Todd are doing the Dabney side of the equation.”

“I don’t care who’s doing what, Alex. I go wherever a case takes me.”

Decker rose.

Jamison looked at her watch. “What, you mean go now? It’s not even six-thirty yet.”

The next moment, Decker was out the door without responding.

With twinkling eyes, Mars looked at Jamison and said, “Dude doesn’t change, does he?”

“ That’s the problem, Melvin,” retorted Jamison.

It was nearly seven o’clock when they arrived at the Dabney home. A couple of cars were in the circular driveway. They were probably rentals being used by the daughters while they were here. The house looked dark, with only the front porch light on.

Mars had come with them. They had driven over in his car because Jamison’s would barely fit her and Decker. But he waited in the car while they walked up to the house.

Decker knocked on the front door. No one came.

“Do you think the housekeeper’s here yet?” asked Jamison.

“I don’t know anything about housekeepers,” said Decker.

They turned toward the door when they heard footsteps.

Jules Dabney opened the door. She was dressed in sweatpants and a GW sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was barefoot.

She looked at them and said crossly, “Jesus, it’s a little early, you know.”

“Is your sister Natalie here?” asked Decker.

“Yes, but she’s asleep.”

“We need to talk to her.”

“Can’t this wait?”

“If it could we wouldn’t be here this early.”

“Look, I’m going to have to insist—”

Decker held out his creds and said, “We need to talk to her.”

Jamison stepped in front of him. “Just tell your sister that we want to talk to her about Corbett.”

“Corbett? Is he okay?”

“Just tell her. If she still doesn’t want to talk to us, we’ll leave and come back later.”

Jules hesitated and then closed the door. They heard her walking away.

As they were standing there waiting, a small Kia SUV pulled up and parked off the main drive. The housekeeper, an older black woman whom Decker and Jamison had seen on a previous visit, got out of the car and walked past them, nodding and smiling. She opened the front door with a key and went in.

Jamison looked at her watch. “Okay, now we know. Housekeepers to the rich get in at seven sharp.”

Another few minutes passed, and when the door opened again, it was Natalie. She had on an ankle-length robe. Her hair was stringy and matted on one side. Her eyes were bloodshot.

“Jules said you wanted to talk about Corbett?”

“Maybe we can come inside?” suggested Jamison.

“I guess,” she said sullenly. She stepped back and they walked past her.