Long silence. “Lucas . . .”
“Yeah, I may be full of shit.” The memory of the scent was beginning to fade. “Last night, I was sure of it.”
He explained, and Forte reacted the same way Bob and Rae had: “You might be right, but it’s useless.”
“Yeah, I know. So what do I do next? Everyone we had tagged on the Smalls thing is dead. All dead except Grant.”
“And you don’t have a thing on her,” Forte said. “Might be time to wrap it up. I’m sure Smalls will be happy enough.”
* * *
—
SMALLS WAS. Lucas called him on the burner, woke him up in a West Coast hotel. Lucas told him what had happened, including Taryn Grant’s Black Orchid scent trail, and Smalls said, “I almost hate to tell you this, Lucas, but Grant wasn’t there. She was in the same ballroom I was in—I actually had a spat with her.”
“She was there the whole time?”
“Well, the party started at eight. We avoided each other, but I saw her several times. Toward the end—sometime before midnight, I guess—I actually spoke to her. Called her a cunt.”
“Nice,” Lucas said. “I expect we’ll be hearing about that, if I ever get her on a witness stand.”
“Hadn’t thought about that,” Smalls said. “But, anyway, you’re not going to get her on a witness stand. I’ll tell you, though, I’m a happy man. You got the killers. They’re all dead.”
“One disappeared, might still be on the loose. Either that or he’s dead, too.”
“If he’s alive, would he be a threat?”
“No. If he was one of the killers, which we couldn’t prove, he was being paid by Claxson or Parrish. I’m sure he wouldn’t have been directly involved with Grant. I think Grant’s happy to be out of it. She wouldn’t send him after you again.”
“Then let’s call it a day. This has been quite satisfactory, Lucas. Go home, kiss your wife and children, spend some time at the lake.”
“No, wait, wait, Senator. Think for a minute. When did you see Grant last night?”
Smalls thought, and said, “Well, I definitely saw her right at the beginning. She looked good, I admit. Green dress . . . I saw her a couple of more times right after that. And I saw her at the end . . . You know, I can’t remember seeing her halfway through the reception, and she was highly visible. Let me ask around. Huh . . .”
His voice trailed off, and Lucas said, “Yes, ask around.”
* * *
—
LUCAS CALLED Jane Chase in her hospital bed and she picked up instantly.
“I didn’t think you’d be answering,” Lucas said. “You should be all doped up.”
“Nope. It’s a workday. I’m sitting here at Reston Hospital with a major pain in the ass, if you’ll excuse the vulgar language.”
“I can handle it,” Lucas said.
“I’m sure you can. Anyway, I’m working. I’ll probably be here for another two days, they tell me. You heard about Mrs. Woods?”
“The old lady? Yeah. I knew she was dead. Knew before we left last night.”
“Andy told me.”
“I’ve got something to tell you that nobody believes but me,” Lucas said, “not even Bob and Rae. And Senator Smalls told me to forget it and go home.”
He told her about smelling the Black Orchid. She asked a couple of questions, then said, “Well, if it hit you like that, I think you’re probably right. I have a small stock of perfumes, mostly lighter, like Chanel No. 5, because of the office environment. Some people are allergic to scents. Anyway, I tried Black Orchid when it first came out, and it was too strong and lingering, maybe too masculine. It stays in the air.”
“But it would be useless in a prosecution.”
“Unless there was a lot of other evidence.”
“All right,” Lucas said. He rubbed the side of his face. “I’ve gotta go shave. Listen, Jane, I hope your ass stops hurting and you get back on your feet. You’re a good cop. You’ll do well.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Deputy Director Mallard that you said hello.”
“Don’t really have to do that,” Lucas said.
“I know, but it gives me another chance to chat with the deputy director. Make him aware of the bandage on my ass.”
Lucas laughed. “You will do well.”
* * *
—
TOM RITTER CALLED. “There are rumors of a massacre.”
Lucas said, “Guy named Charles Douglas, Claxson, Parrish, all shot to death, probably by a woman. There are some people at the FBI who would be interested in talking with Wendy . . . Suzie . . . whatever her name is.”
“It wasn’t her,” Ritter said. “My folks and I went out to dinner last night, and she came with us. She got over to my folks’ motel about, mmm, six-thirty or so, and we were out until after ten. They had an emergency board meeting over at Heracles this morning, and word from there is, the shooting took place around nine-thirty.”
“That’s right. Anybody besides you and your folks talk to Wendy?”
“Sure. Let me see, there were at least three servers, counting the bread guy and the drinks lady. And Wendy bumped into somebody she knew . . . I could get his name, if you need it.”
Lucas sighed. “No, I don’t need it. I’ll call my FBI contact and tell her that I checked around, and Wendy’s whereabouts last night is accounted for.”
“Thanks. She was Jim’s girl, you know?”
“I’d like to talk to her again,” Lucas said. “If you see her, tell her to give me a call.”
“I’ll do that, if I see her again. I’m headed back to the ’Stan soon as I can get a plane out,” Ritter said. “We got all the paperwork done, Jim will be cremated, but it’ll take a few weeks before the ashes are interred at Arlington. They’ve got quite the waiting list.”
“Good luck, Colonel.”
“Same to you. One last thing. Was it Grant?”
Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
* * *
—
LUCAS, BOB, AND RAE spent the day making statements for the Great Falls Police Department, the FBI, and the Marshals Service. The interviewers at the FBI and Marshals Service both said that Smalls had called to make his own statement, about asking Lucas to initiate an investigation into the assassination attempt.
That, Bob remarked as they left the FBI building, seemed to have a cooling effect.
“Not that we did anything wrong,” Rae said.
“I thought we did well,” Bob said. “Lucas?”
“I’m not happy, but it is what it is,” Lucas said.
* * *
—
THEY HAD A LAST DINNER that night. Bob and Rae planned to fly out early the next morning, before Lucas got up. Rae said, “We’re leaving for the airport at six. Don’t bother to come out and wave to us.”
“I promise I won’t,” Lucas said. His plane was at one o’clock. He added, “But you’re flying Business Class, right?”
“We are,” Bob said. He placed his hand on his chest. “Be still, my beating heart.”
* * *
—
SUZIE/CAROL/WENDY called at ten. “I heard all about it,” she said. “Tom was worried that you might be coming after me. I wasn’t there.”
“I know. I mostly wanted to make sure you were straight on the death of Jim Ritter. What caused it, who caused it, all that.”
“I think I got it. You believe it was Parrish. So do I.”
“Yes. Not long before we think he was killed, he was within a couple of hundred feet of Parrish’s house without any reason we’ve been able to find for being there,” Lucas said. “The phone track looks like he walked around the neighborhood, maybe to check for surveillance.”
“Why would he do that? Nothing wrong with talking to Parrish, not at that point.” Lucas didn’t reply, and she added, “Unless Parrish asked Jim to check because he was planning to kill him and didn’t want anyone to see Jim go into the house.”
“I think that might be it,” Lucas said. “A crime scene crew is going to take Parrish’s house apart, and they may find out what happened there. Look, you knew Jim, I didn’t, except through research and some observation. It seems to me, though, that if Parrish had given him even a hint of what was coming, Jim would have torn him to pieces.”