Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“Okay. You need to be my contact with Seth. Outside of you he’s the only one I can trust.”

“But you lost the package. How can he help?” Kate could not hide her dislike of the homicide detective.

Jack stood up and paced. Finally he stopped and looked down at her. “You know how your dad was a freak for control? Always have a backup plan?”

Kate said dryly, “I remember.”

“Well I’m counting on that quality.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That Luther had a backup plan on this one.”

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Mrs. Broome?”

The door opened another notch as Edwina Broome peered out.

“Yes?”

“My name is Kate Whitney. Luther Whitney was my father.”

Kate relaxed as the old woman greeted her with a smile.

“I knew I’d seen you before. Luther was always showing pictures of you. You’re even prettier than your photos.”

“Thank you.”

Edwina jerked the door open. “What am I thinking about. You must be freezing. Please come in.”

Edwina led her into the small living room where a trio of felines were cloistered on various pieces of furniture.

“I just made some fresh tea, would you like some?”

Kate hesitated. Time was short. Then she looked around the narrow confines of the home. In the corner sat a battered upright piano, thick dust on the wood. Kate looked at the woman’s weakened eyes; the pleasures of a musical pastime had also been taken from her. Husband passed on, her only daughter dead. How many visitors could she possibly have?

“Thank you, I would.”

Both women settled into the old but comfortable furniture. Kate sipped the strong tea and she began to thaw out. She brushed the hair out of her face and looked across at the elderly woman to find a pair of sad eyes upon her.

“I’m sorry about your daddy, Kate. I really am. I know you two had your differences. But Luther was as good a man as I’ve come across in my life.”

Kate felt herself growing warmer. “Thank you. We both have had a lot to deal with in that regard.”

Edwina’s eyes drifted over to a small table next to the window. Kate followed the gaze. On the table numerous photographs displayed a small shrine to Wanda Broome; capturing her in happy times. She strongly resembled her mother.

A shrine. With a jolt Kate recalled her father’s own collection of her personal triumphs.

“Yes indeed.” Edwina was looking at her again.

Kate put down her tea. “Mrs. Broome, I hate to jump right into this, but the fact is I don’t have much time.”

The old woman leaned forward expectantly. “This is about Luther’s death, and my daughter’s too, isn’t it?”

Kate looked surprised. “Why do you think that?”

Edwina leaned forward even more, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I know Luther didn’t kill Mrs. Sullivan. I know it as if I’d seen it with my own eyes.”

Kate looked puzzled. “Do you have any idea who—”

Edwina was already shaking her head sadly. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Well how do you know my father didn’t do it?”

Now there was definite hesitation. Edwina leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. When she finally reopened them, Kate had not moved a muscle.

“You’re Luther’s daughter and I believe you should know the truth.” She paused, took a sip of her tea, pressed her lips dry with a napkin and then settled back into her chair. A black Persian drifted across and promptly went to sleep in her lap. “I knew about your father. His past, so to speak. He and Wanda got to know each other. She got into trouble years back and Luther helped her, helped her get back on her feet and get settled into a respectable life. I will always be grateful to him for that. He was always there when Wanda or I needed anything. The fact is, Kate, your father would never have been in the house that night if it weren’t for Wanda.”

Edwina spoke for some minutes. When she had finished Kate sat back in her chair and realized she was holding her breath. She let out a loud gasp that seemed to echo around the room.

Edwina didn’t say anything but continued to watch the young woman with her large sad eyes. Finally she stirred. A thickly wrinkled hand patted Kate’s knee.

“Luther loved you, child. More than anything.”

“I realize that...”

Edwina slowly shook her head. “He never blamed you for the way you felt. In fact he said you were entirely right to feel that way.”

“He said that?”

“He was so proud of you, your being a lawyer and all. He used to say to me, ‘My daughter is a lawyer and a damned fine one. Justice is what matters for her and she’s right, dead right.’ ”

Kate’s head began to swirl. She was feeling emotions she was ill-equipped right now to deal with. She rubbed the back of her neck and took a moment to look outside. A black sedan pulled down the street and then disappeared. She quickly looked back at Edwina.

“Mrs. Broome, I appreciate your telling me these things. But I really came here for a specific reason. I need your help.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“My father sent you a package.”

“Yes. And I sent it on to Mr. Graham, like Luther said to.”

“Yes I know. Jack got the package. But someone... someone took it away from him. Now we’re wondering if my father sent you something else, something else that might help us?”

Edwina’s eyes no longer looked sad. They had collected into twin masses of stark intensity. She looked over Kate’s shoulder.

“Behind you, Kate, in the piano seat. The hymnal on the left.”

Kate opened the piano seat and lifted out the hymnal. Inside the pages was a small packet. She looked down at it.

“Luther was the most prepared man I have ever met in my life. Said if anything went wrong with my sending the package that I was to send this to Mr. Graham. I was getting ready to do that when I heard about him on the TV. Am I right in thinking Mr. Graham didn’t do any of the things they say he did?”

Kate nodded. “I wish everybody thought like you did.”

Kate started to open the package.

Edwina’s voice was sharp. “Don’t do that, Kate. Your father said that only Mr. Jack Graham was to see what was inside of there. Only him. I think it best if we took him at his word.”

Kate hesitated, fighting her natural curiosity, and then closed the package.

“Did he tell you anything else? Whether he knew who had killed Christine Sullivan?”

“He did know.”

Kate looked at her sharply. “But he didn’t say who?”

Edwina shook her head vigorously. “He did say one thing though.”

“What was that?”

“He said if he told me who had done it, I wouldn’t have believed him.”

Kate sat back, thought for several anxious moments.

“What could he have meant by that?”

“Well, it surprised me, I can tell you that.”

“Why? Why did that surprise you?”

“Because Luther was the most honest man I’d ever met. I would have believed anything he would have told me. Accepted it as the gospel.”

“So whatever he saw, whoever he saw, must have been someone so unlikely as to be unbelievable. Even to you.”

“Exactly. That’s exactly what I thought too.”

Kate rose to go. “Thank you, Mrs. Broome.”

“Please call me Edwina. Funny name, but it’s the only one I have.”

Kate smiled. “After this is all over, Edwina, I... I’d like to come back and visit if you don’t mind. Talk about things some more.”

“I’d like nothing better. Being old has its good and bad. Being old and lonely is all bad.”

Kate put on her coat and went to the door. She put the package safely in her purse.