The Simple Truth by David Baldacci
“No. I did it on my own.”
“Why?” Chandler asked. From his vague conversation with Fiske in the Court’s cafeteria, he already had a notion as to what the truth was. But he needed to hear it from her.
Sara let out a deep breath and looked once more at the army aligned against her. She wished that Fiske would suddenly appear to help her, but that was not going to happen. “One day I happened to see what looked like an appeal with Rufus Harms’s name on it. I checked at the clerks’ office, because I didn’t recall seeing it on the docket. The clerks’ office had no record of it.”
“Where did you see this appeal?” Ramsey interjected, before Chandler could get the same question out.
“Just somewhere,” Sara said, looking miserable.
“Sara,” Knight said harshly, “it’s no use covering up for somebody. Just tell us the truth. Don’t throw your career away for this.”
“I don’t remember where I saw it, I just saw it. For maybe two seconds. And I only saw Rufus Harms’s name, not what was in the filing,” Sara said stubbornly.
“But if you suspected it was an appeal that was not logged into the system,” Perkins said, “then why didn’t you take it down to the clerks’office and have it logged in?”
How was she supposed to answer that? “It really wasn’t convenient at the moment, and I didn’t get another chance.”
“Wasn’t convenient?” Ramsey looked ready to erupt. “It’s my understanding that you just recently inquired at the clerks’ office about this ‘missing’ appeal. Was it still not convenient for you to have it logged in then?”
“At that point I didn’t know where it was.”
McKenna spoke up forcefully. “Listen, Ms. Evans, either you tell us or we find out from another source.”
Sara stood up. “I resent your tone and I don’t appreciate being treated this way.”
“I think it’s in your interests to cooperate,” McKenna said, “and stop trying to protect the Fiske brothers.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We have reason to suspect that Michael Fiske took that appeal for his own purposes, and that somehow you’re involved in all of that,” Chandler informed her.
“If he did and you knew about it but remained silent, that is a very serious ethical offense, Ms. Evans,” said Ramsey.
“You’re doing all of this running around, asking questions, because John Fiske put you up to it, didn’t he?”
“This may come as quite a shock to you, but I can think and act all by myself, Agent McKenna,” she said hotly.
“You know that Michael Fiske had a half-million-dollar insurance policy naming his brother as beneficiary?”
“Yes, John told me.”
“And do you also know that Fiske has no alibi for the time of his brother’s death?”
Sara shook her head and smiled tightly. “You’re wasting valuable time trying to pin Michael’s murder on his brother. He had nothing to do with it, and he’s trying as hard as he can to find out who did murder Michael.”
McKenna put his hands in his pockets and studied her for a moment, changing his tactic. “Would you say the Fiske brothers were close?”
“What do you mean by ‘close’?”
McKenna rolled his eyes. “Just the ordinary meaning of the word, that’s all.”
“No, I don’t think they were particularly close. So?”
“We found the life insurance policy at Michael Fiske’s apartment. Tell me why he insured his life for all that money and made his not-so-close older brother the beneficiary. Why not his parents? From what I’ve found out, they can certainly use the money.”
“I don’t know what Michael was thinking when he did that. I guess we’ll never know.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Michael Fiske who did it at all.”
Sara was momentarily stunned. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know how easy it is to take out a life insurance policy on somebody else? There’s no photo identification necessary. A nurse comes to your house, takes some measurements and fluid samples. You forge a few signatures, pay the premiums through a dummy account.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting that John impersonated his brother in order to take out the life insurance policy on him?”
“Why not? It would make it a lot clearer why two estranged brothers would have such a big financial pact.”
“You obviously do not know John Fiske.” McKenna gazed at her in a way that she found unnerving. “The point is, Ms. Evans, neither do you.”
McKenna’s next words almost put her on the floor.
“Did you also know that Michael Fiske was killed by a slug fired from a nine-millimeter?” He paused for effect. “And that John Fiske has a nine-millimeter registered to his name? And this appeal, I’m sure he’s telling you it’s connected to his brother’s murder, isn’t he?”
Sara looked at Chandler. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well, none of it’s been proven yet,” Chandler said.
Perkins nodded thoughtfully, his arms crossed. “We received a phone call from the Office of Special Military Operations, Ms. Evans. A Master Sergeant Dillard. He said you had called about Rufus Harms, that you said an appeal had been filed by Rufus Harms with the Court and you were checking into his background.”
“There’s no law that says I can’t make a phone call to clarify something, is there?”
“So you admit having called him,” Perkins said triumphantly, looking first at Ramsey and then at Knight. “That means you admit to having used Court facilities and Court time on some personal investigation into some escaped convict. And you happened to have lied to the military, since no such appeal is on file here, as you pointed out.”
“Your offenses are quickly adding up,” added McKenna.
“I admit to no such thing. As far as I’m concerned, it was Court business and I had a perfect right to do it.”
“Ms. Evans, are you going to tell us who exactly had that appeal?” Ramsey was staring at her just as he had peered down at the lawyers during oral argument that morning. “If someone at this Court stole an appeal before it was filed — the very idea is unthinkable — and if you know who it was, you have a duty to this institution to tell us who it was.”
They all knew the answer to that question, Sara realized, or at least they thought they did. However, she wasn’t providing any clarification. Summoning a reserve of strength she was unaware she possessed, she rose slowly. “I think I’ve answered enough questions, Mr. Chief Justice.”
Ramsey looked over at Perkins and then at Elizabeth Knight. Sara thought she could see a slight nod pass among all of them.
“Then, Sara, I have to ask you to voluntarily resign your clerkship, effective immediately,” Knight said, her voice breaking as she made this announcement.
Sara looked at her with very little surprise. “I understand, Justice Knight. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
“Not nearly as sorry as I am. Mr. Perkins will escort you out. You may gather your personal belongings from your office.” Knight abruptly looked away.
As Sara turned to go, Ramsey’s voice boomed out again. “Ms. Evans, be advised that if your actions cause this institution any harm whatsoever, all appropriate action will be taken against you and any other responsible parties. However, if I am reading the situation correctly, I think the harm has already come to pass, and may well be irreversible.” His voice rose dramatically. “If so, then may your conscience haunt you with that damnable fact for the rest of your natural life!”
Ramsey’s face was red with indignation; his gaunt body seemed ready to burst through his suit. Sara could read it all in his smoldering eyes: A scandal on his watch. At the one institution that had been above scandal in a town constantly and infamously mired in it. His place in history, his long-earned career of jurisprudence, to be blemished by the blunders of an insignificant clerk; the history of his professional life reduced to a series of explanatory footnote
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Fiske was waiting for Sara in her office. When she appeared in the doorway, he rose and started to speak, but then Perkins appeared behind her. Sara went over to her desk and started cleaning it out, while Perkins watched from the doorway.
“Sara, what happened?”
“This is none of your concern, Mr. Fiske,” Perkins said. “However, I will let Detective Chandler and Agent McKenna know you’re here. They have something to ask you.”
“Well, why don’t you run off and tattle on me so I can talk to Sara in private.”
“I am going to escort Ms. Evans from the building.”
Sara continued to pack her things into a large shopping bag and then picked up her purse and laid it on top in the bag. As she passed Fiske, she whispered, “I’ll meet you in the garage.”
As she went by Perkins, he said, “I’ll also need all of your keys to this building.”
Sara put her bag down, fished through her purse, pulled the keys off her key ring and tossed them to Perkins.
“It’s not like I’m enjoying any of this,” Perkins said indignantly. “The Court’s in shambles, we’re surrounded by a media army, people being murdered, the police swarming everywhere. It’s not like I wanted you to lose your job.”
Sara wordlessly pushed past him.
On the way down the main hallway, the group slowed as Chandler and McKenna approached from the other way.
“I need to talk to you, John,” Chandler said.
Fiske looked at Sara. “I’ll catch up with you, Sara.”
She and Perkins walked off.
“You want to ask me something?” Fiske said.
“That’s right.”
“Would this be about my brother’s life insurance policy?”
“Yes it would,” Chandler said grimly. “McKenna thinks you might have taken it out yourself in your brother’s name without his knowledge and then killed him.”
“You found the policy in my brother’s apartment?” Chandler nodded. “Well, then he obviously knew about it.”
Chandler looked over at McKenna with an inquiring look. However, McKenna remained silent.
“Look, I didn’t know my brother had taken out the policy. The insurance agent talked with me. I’ll give you her name. She actually met with my brother, if you’re really thinking I set this whole thing up myself.” He looked at McKenna and saw the man’s face darken. “Sorry to pop your balloon, McKenna. The money’s going to our parents — Mike knew that’s what I’d do with it. Talk to the insurance agent, she can confirm it. Unless you think I’m also in cahoots with her. Why stop there? I’ve probably got all nine justices in the back of my pocket too. Right?”
“So you talked your brother into taking out a life insurance policy to help your parents. But you and only you are the beneficiary. That’s still terrific motivation to kill him,” McKenna said. He turned to Chandler. “You want to ask him or do you want me to?”
Chandler looked at Fiske. “Your brother was killed by a nine-millimeter slug.”
“Really?”
“You own a nine-millimeter pistol, don’t you?”
Fiske looked at both men. “Been talking to the Virginia State Police?”
“Just answer the question,” McKenna said.
“Why answer it, if you already know the answer?”
“John — ” Chandler began.
“All right, yes. I own a nine-millimeter. SIG-Sauer P226, to be specific, with a fifteen-round mag.”
“Where is it?”
“In my office, back in Richmond.”
“We’d like to have it.”
“For ballistics?”
“Among other things.”
“Buford, this is a waste of time — ”
“Do we have your permission to go to your office and get the gun?”
“No.”
McKenna said, “Well, we’ll have a search warrant issued in about one hour.”
“You don’t need a warrant. I’ll give you the gun.”
McKenna looked stunned. “But I thought you just said — ”
“I don’t want them breaking into my office to get it. I know how cops can be sometimes. They’re not the most gentle souls, and it’d take me forever to get reimbursed on the cost of fixing my door.” Fiske looked at Chandler. “I assume I’m not part of the unofficial team anymore, but a couple of things: Did you talk to the guards on duty the night Wright was murdered, and have the video cameras been checked?”
“I would advise you to say nothing to him, Chandler,” McKenna said.
“Advice duly noted.” Chandler looked at Fiske. “For old times’ sake. We talked to the guards. Unless one of them’s lying, none of them gave Wright a lift home. One of them offered, but Wright declined.”
“What time was that?”
“About one-thirty A.M. or so. The film from the video cameras was checked and showed nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Did Wright give a reason for not wanting a ride home?”
“The guard said he just walked out the door and he didn’t see him after that.”
“Okay, let’s get back to the gun,” McKenna said. “I’m going with you to your office.”
“I’m not driving anywhere with you.”
“I meant I’ll follow you down.”
“Do whatever you want, but I want a uniformed Richmond police officer there, and I want him to take the gun into custody and then have it transferred to D.C. Homicide. I will not let you be anywhere near the chain of custody.”
“I really don’t like what you’re implying.”
“Fine, but that’s the way it’s going to be, or you can go get your warrant. It’s up to you.”
Chandler spoke up, “Okay, anybody in particular?”
“Officer William Hawkins. I trust him and so can you.”
“Done. I want you to leave right now, John. I’ll arrange things with Richmond.”
Fiske looked down the hallway. “Give me a half hour. I need to talk to somebody.”
Chandler put a hand on Fiske’s shoulder. “Okay, John, but if the Richmond police don’t have your gun in about three hours or so, then you got a big problem with yours truly, understood?”
Fiske hustled off to the garage in search of Sara.
A couple minutes later, Dellasandro joined Chandler and McKenna.
“I’d like to know what the hell is going on around here,” Dellasandro said angrily. “Two clerks murdered and now another fired over some missing appeal.”
McKenna shrugged. “Pretty complicated.”
“That’s real encouraging,” Dellasandro said.
“I’m not paid to be encouraging,” McKenna shot back.
“No, you’re paid to find out who’s doing this. And you too, Detective Chandler,” Dellasandro replied.
“And that’s what we’re doing,” Chandler snapped.
“Okay, okay,” Dellasandro said wearily. “Perkins filled me in earlier. You really think John Fiske killed his brother? I mean, okay, he had the motive, but, damn. Five hundred thousand sounds like a lot, but it’s really not these days.”
McKenna answered. “When you’ve got zip in your bank account, anything seems like a lot. He’s got the motive, he’s got no alibi, and in a few hours we’ll see if he has the murder weapon.”
Dellasandro looked unconvinced. “And what about Wright’s death? How does that tie in?”