A Slow Walk to Hell (21 page)

That’s why we’d never go skiing together.

A
fter we turned into Sam’s apartment building, I made the cop cruise the lot to check out the cars. We didn’t spot anyone watching nor did we see a black BMW M5. By the time we circled back, Enrique was parking the limo against the concrete island across from the entrance. The cop pulled in beside him and as I got out, I almost choked at the shirt Enrique was holding.

Charitably, the color could be described as green. More accurately, it was luminescent aquamarine.

The cop was laughing as he drove off.

I glared at Enrique as I took the shirt. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. Right after I talked to you, Amanda called. She suggested the shirt. She also has a message she wanted me to pass on. How’s the ear? I meant to ask before. Jesus, that was close, huh?”

“For me. Coller wasn’t so lucky.”

“I heard. I wish I would have been there. Maybe I could have done something to stop the guy.” This wasn’t bravado. As a former SEAL, he had a supreme confidence in his abilities.

“You couldn’t,” I said. “The shooter was too good. He couldn’t have had more than a six-inch opening to hit Coller. Yet, he got him on the first shot from at least three hundred yards.”

“So we’re talking a professional trigger man.” He paused thoughtfully. “Or someone like me. With military training.”

I nodded. Along with a possible cop connection, the latter was something I’d been tossing around.

Following up on the obvious, Enrique asked if either General Baldwin or Colonel Kelly had sniper or marksmanship training.

“Possibly Kelly. He was Army Ranger. Sam…General Baldwin’s out. He’s an Air Force pilot and never trained as—” A memory floated back, one that had nothing to do with Sam’s gun collection. “Correction. Sam does have marksmanship training. All the Baldwin boys were trained to shoot expert, in case they joined the Army.”

Interest flashed in Enrique’s eyes. He knew Sam had been spotted outside of Major Talbot’s home prior to the murder. Now if he could also be placed in the vicinity of Coller’s at the time of—

“Forget it,” I said. “Sam didn’t shoot Coller. Why would he?”

He shrugged. “Just covering all the options. It’s what, ten, twelve minutes from here to Coller’s. Baldwin could have taken him out and beat us here easy.”

I was about to tell him that wasn’t possible because of my call to Sam. Then I remembered I’d phoned him a good twenty minutes after the shooting. Mentioning Sam’s dinner guests as his alibi was also out; I didn’t know what time they left.

I settled on option number three.

“Sam knows who the killer is and has agreed to tell me.”

End of discussion. Enrique looked dumbfounded. “No
shit.”

“No shit.”

“So we’ll soon know—”

“Everything.”

I stepped over to the back of the limo to change. As I opened a door, I reminded him of Amanda’s message.

“Oh, right.” He dug out his notepad and began flipping pages.

“Must be some message,” I said dryly.

“She told me to write it down, so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding.” Tilting the pad toward the limo’s interior light, he read, “Tell Marty he’s petty, childish, and vindictive. Tell him my actions were completely justified and that he is wrong about everything.”

He glanced up, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “She also mentioned that you should rent the video
Sleepless in Seattle.”

I just looked at him.

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m only the messenger. That’s the Tom Hanks movie, right? About a guy who was widowed and ends up falling for Meg Ryan.”

I was nodding. I remembered the story because it had come on HBO only last month. Obviously Amanda was making some comparison between me and—

And then I realized what it was. Amanda was telling me to be more like Tom Hanks’s character. Accept Nicole’s death and move on emotionally.

Cute. Like I said, Amanda always had to get in the last word.

“I understand you and Amanda had a little disagreement about her engagement to Bob,” Enrique said.

“She told you that?” This surprised me. I didn’t think she knew Enrique that well.

“Simon mentioned it.” He said this with an odd smile.

I read it, saying, “I take it you know Bob.”

“We’ve met.” Still smiling.

“Cut the shit. Who is he?”

“Simon said not to tell you.”

“Oh, for—”

“He met Amanda through Simon. That’s all I can say.”

“At least tell me if I know the guy.”

His only response was that silly smile. I sighed, realizing that was the only answer I was likely to get. But as I stripped off my jacket and laid it on the back seat, his head dipped once.

I knew Bob.

I finished buttoning up the green shirt. I was wearing it untucked not as any kind of fashion statement, but because I wanted to hide the gun holstered to my waist. I’d opted not to don my jacket because it gave me the willies, walking around in clothing stained with a dead man’s blood.

I began emptying my jacket pockets. As I removed my credentials and the faxes of Talbot’s phone calls, I asked Enrique if he had the folder with the names and addresses of Talbot’s acquaintances.

“Simon stuck it in one of the storage compartments.” He ducked inside the limo, fumbled around in the area near the swing-out desk, then reappeared with the folder. I handed him the phone list to file inside it.

As he did, he frowned at something in the folder. Glancing down, I glimpsed the picture of General Baldwin.

He shut the folder and handed it to me. “Mind waiting until I talk to Simon?”

“Why?”

“We have a problem. It’ll just take a minute.”

“What kind of problem?”

He hurried away and took out his cell phone. He kept walking until he was well out of earshot. As if that wasn’t enough, he spoke to Simon in low tones. Watching him, I realized there could only be one explanation for his reaction; he’d recognized Sam. But why all the secrecy and what was this comment about a problem?

Enrique’s conversation with Simon crept into the third minute. He seemed to be arguing with him. To hell with it. I had to question Sam.

Enrique stood between me and the entrance and as I walked toward it, he shook me off and drifted back. I ignored him and kept going. When he backed into the steps, he angrily cupped the phone and ordered me to stay the fuck back.

So I pulled up, not because of what he said, but the way he said it. Enrique rarely displayed anger. He consider it uncool and unprofessional. Yet just now, he’d almost bit my head off to prevent me from hearing what he said.

Once his conversation ended, I hurried forward to find out why.

“Simon said I should tell you,” Enrique said.

He spoke with the enthusiasm of a man with a gun pressed against his head. I said, “And you don’t want to because…”

“It’s nothing personal, Marty. A lot of lives will be ruined if the word gets out.”

“What word?”

He hesitated.

“I’ll promise not to kiss and tell. Scouts honor.”

His eyes dissected me. “I’m fucking serious about this. You can’t tell Amanda or anyone in the OSI.
No one.”

“Fine. Anything.”

He drew in a breath, let it out. Still undecided.

I prompted, “You recognized Sam, right?”

A slow, painful nod. “It…it was almost a year ago, in a gay club.”

Big surprise. “And the significance is…”

“Remember when I said Major Talbot looked familiar? That I might have seen him…”

“Right.”

“I’ve been knocking myself out, trying to remember. When I saw General Baldwin’s picture, it hit me. It was in that club. They were both there that night. Talbot and your friend Baldwin. I briefly spoke with Baldwin. I only saw Talbot when he walked up to Baldwin and they went off to dance. You could tell they were a couple.”

This revelation didn’t come anywhere close to explaining his reluctance to confide in me. I said, “You mentioned lives could be destroyed…”

“If the word ever got out about the club. That it even exists.”

I still didn’t get it. I said, “There are a lot of gay clubs around—”

“Not like this one, Marty. It’s exclusive as hell and very private. It’s more like a resort. It caters to wealthy and powerful gays and lesbians. Gives them a place where they can go without fear of being outed.” He saw my eyebrows creep up. “You’re catching on. My guess is the club is where Talbot met Benny Rider and Ross Pelman. A lot of celebrities are members. Politicians too. Occasionally guests like me get invited, but only after we’ve been vouched for by a member and only after we sign documents promising never to reveal anything about the club. Even then, we’re restricted to certain sections.”

“Where’s this club located?”

“In the country. About thirty miles northwest of Manassas. The place isn’t all that large, but it sits on a lot of acreage and is surrounded by trees. You could drive right by it and never know it was there.”

“Who owns it?”

“No clue. A guy in a white dinner jacket seemed to be in charge. I think someone mentioned he was the manager.”

“The name of the club?”

“Doesn’t have one. People refer to it in whatever ways works for them. The club, the farm, the ranch. Not having a name is part of the security angle. It’s hard to talk about a place that doesn’t have a name. And that’s what the members are paying for. Absolute security. Some couples come there and don’t want to mingle, so they don’t. They’re escorted in through a separate entrance and stay in isolated bungalows, guaranteeing their anonymity. Everyone coming in is searched for cameras and recorders. It’s also fenced to keep visitors out. So far, all the security has worked like a charm. Place has existed for years and no one in the straight world knows about it. Hell, most gays don’t either. But this investigation could change all that. If you and Simon aren’t careful, a lot of people could get hurt. It’s not right.”

He shook his head, staring at the folder in my hand. I’d already figured out the connection he was making and held it up, saying, “The problem you mentioned earlier. If Talbot met two of his lovers at the club, he might have met others whose names are listed in here. One of them might be the killer.”

He nodded gloomily.

I smiled. “Relax. I don’t think we’ll have to investigate the members of the club. Sam as much as told me that Congressman Harris was behind the murders.”

Enrique’s reaction puzzled me. Instead of relief, his brow furrowed in confusion. “That doesn’t jive with what Simon told me.”

“Which was…”

“He got excited when I described the club. He said it could hold the answer to the killings.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. I asked him if Simon explained why he’d concluded this. Of course, he hadn’t.

“Wait here,” I said. “Sam will tell me if a club member is involved.”

The same entry drill into the apartment building as before.

Peering through the glass door, I spoke my name into the intercom. At the buzz, I pushed through into the lobby. Since midnight had come and gone, a shift change had occurred and a different guard sat behind the security desk. He was an elderly gentleman with a pleasant face. At the moment, that face was trained on me as I approached.

“General Baldwin left this for you, Mr. Collins.” He held up a white envelope.

I took it from him, sickened.

“Do what you have to do.”

And below: “I’m sorry.”

Those were the only words scrawled on the page inside. It wasn’t even signed.

The guard said that Sam had left not more than ten minutes ago. That told me two things: He’d rushed out the moment he’d hung up and never had any intention of meeting with me.

I’m not afraid any more
.

But of course Sam was still afraid. In the end, when he had to decide, his fear won out.

I tried to feel anger for him, but couldn’t pull it off. In my heart, I realized Sam wasn’t acting to preserve his own self interests. Not entirely. Since birth, he’d been conditioned to protect the piece of plastic he wore on his uniform, the one above his left breast pocket that said Baldwin.

And there was also that videotape.

A charge of homosexuality was one thing. Depending on the proof I could dig up, Sam could still deny it, possibly accuse me of having a vendetta against him. At the least, he could create doubt in people’s minds.

But not if the tape became public.

Before I left, I asked the guard if he knew which vehicle Sam had driven off in.

“He has a green Caddy.”

There were several in the parking lot. “Did you see him drive off in it?”