The Advocate's Daughter

Sean thought about Kenny Baldwin. I just told her what he wanted me to say. Sean remembered his hunt through the attic, Jack saying Abby was up there looking in the JAPAN box. After Kenny approached her, maybe she went snooping and found the newspaper clipping Sean had kept about the storekeeper’s death and made a copy. She was a great researcher. Maybe those led to more newspapers. It hit him again that the last thing she would have thought about her dad was that he was a killer.

Emily pressed on. “Did you help her get them translated?”

“I didn’t know anyone who spoke Japanese, so no.”

“Do you know if she ever got the translation?”

Michelle shook her head. “I would have come to you if I thought it was something serious, but I didn’t—”

“Do you have any idea who the man she was seeing is?” Sean asked. “Did you ever see him?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Michelle said. “But I know someone who got a look at him.” Apparently Abby had once borrowed Michelle’s apartment in Adams Morgan to meet with her mystery man. Michelle shared the place with her older brother, and he’d come home early, interrupting Abby and the guy.

“Do you think we could speak with your brother?” Emily asked.

Michelle nodded and began tapping on her phone. A return chime came quickly. Sean was surprised when Michelle said, “He’s on his way.”





CHAPTER 56

In the cramped seat of Douglas O’Leary’s bicycle rickshaw, Sean held his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun as he and Emily bumped and jerked down New Jersey Avenue. Sean had been surprised that Michelle’s brother could meet with them so quickly until she explained that he worked nearby: a bike taxi shuttling tourists around the National Mall. In the first of many quirks her brother had, he would speak with them only if they agreed to take a ride. Douglas wore cutoff shorts, white tube socks pulled to his calves, and a straw fedora over unruly ginger hair. He had pale skin with acne on his cheeks and chin. And, unlike his sister, whose eyes brimmed with intelligence, Douglas avoided eye contact. He also had a slight stutter, but that did not slow down his urge to fill all silence with the sound of his voice.

Douglas peddled intensely, twisting around to talk every minute or so. The back of his shirt had a large oval sweat stain. “The groundbreaking for the Capitol was in 1793 and George Washington laid the cornerstone,” he said, pointing at the dome. “The District is divided into quadrants and the Capitol is the center of the divide.” He curved onto Northwest Drive, then made his way to Madison where he stood on the pedals all the way down the center of the National Mall toward the Washington Monument. He pointed to the Smithsonian building, a red Norman structure that looked like a castle, and told them that the Smithsonian had nineteen museums and nine research centers. He started to explain why the base of the Washington Monument was made from a different color marble than the rest of the monument, but Sean, growing impatient, asked Douglas to pull over near one of the food carts lining the street. Sean pried himself out of the rickshaw and bought three bottled waters from the vendor. He handed one to Douglas. After the man took a long gulp, Sean said, “Douglas, I appreciate the tour, but we have something important to talk with you about, like your sister mentioned.”

Douglas exhaled loudly. “I only have a little more of the tour to tell you about.”

“I know, but I have an appointment soon and don’t have much time. I’d love to finish it on any other day. You’re very knowledgeable about the city.”

At this Douglas nodded.

Emily spoke next. “Did Michelle tell you what happened to our daughter, Abby?”

Douglas’s lips tightened and he looked out in the distance. “Abby was always nice to me.”

“You may be able to help us catch who hurt her,” Emily said.

Douglas nodded again and then took a long gulp of his water. He crunched the empty bottle and launched it toward a trash can, missing the shot.

Sean said, “Michelle mentioned that one day you came home, and Abby and a man were in your apartment?”

Douglas stared at the tree limbs that swayed above, thinking. “Yes, I remember that day.”

“Did you get a look at the man she was with? Could you tell us what he looked like?”

Douglas wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “He wore a suit, I remember.”

“That’s helpful. Do you remember anything else, how old he was, for instance?”

Douglas tilted his head, his blotchy forehead wrinkling. “Older than her. Maybe your age.”

Sean felt a sting in his chest.

“Had you ever seen him before?”

Douglas nodded.

Sean looked at Emily. “You’d seen him before? At the apartment?”

“Not at the apartment.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure. Hey, do you want to finish the tour?”

Sean took in a breath. Patience.

Emily pulled her iPhone from her handbag and tapped on it until an image appeared. Sean looked at the screen. It was a photo of Senator James.

Emily said, “Was this the man?” She turned the screen toward Douglas. He leaned forward for a look.

“Nope. That’s not him.”

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