Part 40 (2/2)

He hesitated. Not a good sign.

I nodded at Bian, who is much nicer than me, and she said, ”Barry, you're a smart guy. I think you know what's going down. A cover-up. Conspiracy. You don't know why, and maybe you don't care. But I suspect you do do care.” care.”

Bian and I looked at each other. No reply.

Bian said, ”Barry, please.”

”Okay . . . one minute. Drummond, make your case.”

This was less than a commitment but more than the phone slamming down.

So I confessed, ”Maybe I misled you about the trouble Daniels was in.”

”Wow, no s.h.i.+t. Didn't they teach you at law school that it's a crime to lie to the cops?”

”Cut the c.r.a.p, Barry. One minute. You promised.”

”If you want the full minute, speak more clearly.”

”Okay. Possibly Cliff Daniels betrayed this country. Possibly he gave enormously sensitive information to the wrong people in Iraq and compromised a very important operation. You wondered why a CIA person and a military policewoman were sent to his apartment. Now you know--espionage.”

There was a long, contemplative pause. He said, ”My oldest boy--Elton--he's a Marine. First Marine Division. Already been to Iraq once.” After another moment he mentioned, ”Did my own four years as a Jarhead before I became a cop. Semper Fi.”

”Couldn't get into the Army?”

”Hey, I tried. Only the Army recruiter, he said I possessed two irreconcilable issues: My parents were married, and I don't look sufficiently stupid.”

”Really? You look stupid enough to me.”

We both laughed. He said, ”All right, I'll give you more than a minute. Go ahead, blow some more smoke up my a.s.s.”

So I gave him part of the story, essentially that Daniels got in over his head and gave a foreign agent some information, though we didn't yet have a clue what that information was, because it was in code, and the code was a ballbuster. Nor did I clarify how how we learned about this. we learned about this.

He was a smart guy, though. He knew that when dealing with a federal government official, he was not hearing one-third of the story, another third was sprinkled with fairy dust, and the final third was total bulls.h.i.+t. But I fed him enough truth and his cop brain was filling in some of the blanks. I wrapped it up, saying, ”Here's the big piece you were missing--motive--why somebody wanted to murder Cliff Daniels. In fact, the list of people who somebody wanted to murder Cliff Daniels. In fact, the list of people who didn't didn't want Daniels dead would fill a matchbox. There are people in Was.h.i.+ngton, and here in Baghdad, who would benefit greatly from his death. We're sure his killer was a woman, and possibly she was hired help, but don't exclude the possibility she was working on her own.” want Daniels dead would fill a matchbox. There are people in Was.h.i.+ngton, and here in Baghdad, who would benefit greatly from his death. We're sure his killer was a woman, and possibly she was hired help, but don't exclude the possibility she was working on her own.”

For a moment, Barry said nothing. He needed time to process these clues and revelations, and he eventually asked the right and proper question. ”What do you want me to do about this?”

Bian had done some thinking on this topic, because she immediately responded, ”Now you know know there was a murder. That simplifies your problem. Focus on the killer.” there was a murder. That simplifies your problem. Focus on the killer.”

When he made no reply, Bian added, ”Colonel Drummond has a theory that all murderers make mistakes. Is that your theory as well?”

”Yeah, most do. We also have a thick file of cold cases that dates back to 1969. See if you can talk him into examining it. We'd love to know what mistakes they made.”

”But this killer may have left trails,” Bian insisted. ”That high-priced wig. Probably hers. Wigs are no longer fas.h.i.+onable for women--how many stores in the D.C. area sell expensive hairpieces these days? And that triple-X video . . . we a.s.sumed it was his and maybe we a.s.sumed wrong. Likewise, how many stores in the area sell p.o.r.n?” I gave Bian a look and she asked Barry, ”Am I overstating the obvious?”

”Yeah, I do this stuff for a living. And you're overlooking that people purchase wigs and p.o.r.no on the Internet these days. I'll check around, though.”

Bian looked at me to see if I had anything to add. I suggested, ”They had to have gone out together once or twice before. Dated, slept together, whatever. Check his charge-card records. See where he socialized lately. Maybe somebody will remember her.”

”Long shot. We already know the guy had a lot of lady friends, right? Who knows which ones people will remember.”

”There are no short shots here, Barry.”

”You out of bright ideas?”

So I explained my new theory about how the murder was more stylistic than we initially surmised, including a few ideas about the possible symbolism in the staging of his death. On that topic I suggested, ”You might spend a little time thinking about what that was intended to convey. If any profilers owe you a favor, call it in. If we get a better idea about how he was killed, maybe we'll get closer to why, and by whom.”

”You realize I'll have to do this on my own time.”

”You'd better do this on your own time.” I added, ”And watch your back.”

”I figured out that part on my own.” He asked, ”Say I find something--how do I get in touch with you?”

”You don't. I'll check in with you.”

”Got it. So what are you two doing in Baghdad?”

”Vacationing.”

”Aw, come on. This has something to do with Daniels's murder. Right?”

”It's the hottest thing in adventure tourism. They advertise it as a safari, only you're the prey. Very exciting.”

He laughed. ”My boy, Elton, he said it sucks over there.”

”Your boy has a good head on his shoulders.”

”Let me tell you, he used to be a little a.s.shole. Not all cops' kids are angels. The Corps straightened him out.” He chuckled. ”The first time he made his bed, his mama wanted to know who manufactured the robot that looks like her kid.”

”Barry, listen. If you don't want Elton to spend the rest of his career over here, find something.”

”Stay in contact.” He hung up.

Bian lifted her beer can and we performed a quiet aerial toast. She said, ”They failed to close the back door.”

”But they didn't forget. These people aren't stupid, Bian. They won't ignore it.”

”I know. What happens if he's caught?”

”He'll be okay. He's a big boy. He understands the risks.”

”You're sure about that?”

”He's not a federal employee so they can't screw up his paycheck, or . . . say, rea.s.sign him here. You and I, on the other hand, might have a big problem.”

”Screw them.”

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