stationed at Fort Benning; young and somewhat callous, not quite as stricken by the assassination as most of the country, as most of the other army personnel. He had spent a good part of those four days after the shooting drinking beer at the PX; routine had been completely disrupted, and for him and most of his company that had been an excuse for taking an extended pass. At the exact moment the casket had been taken out onto Pennsylvania Avenue—he remembered this distinctly—he had been standing half-drunk at the PX bar, watching television and arguing with two other MPs over whether the National Football League commissioner had the right idea in going ahead with the schedule on Sunday or whether it showed a lack of respect.
It was not that he himself had been disrespectful. No, it was only that he had never been an emotional man. Until now, these past few weeks. For the first time he could feel the full weight of the assassination, of what the loss of the President had done to the country—and he knew it was because the crisis facing Nicholas Augustine, his President, threatened a similar if not quite so tragic loss.
He turned the Ford north on Twenty-third Street, then northwest again on Massachusetts Avenue. When he reached Cleveland Park—a quiet residential area that had once been the summer retreat of President Grover Cleveland—he pulled to the curb and consulted the map of Washington he kept in the glove compartment. Fifteen minutes later he brought the Ford onto Arden Place, a short dead-end street shaded by Dutch elms and sycamores.
The houses on both sides were all turn-of-the-century dwellings with cupolas and wide front porches, set well back from the street and spaced widely apart. Briggs’s address was in the last block, and the first thing Justice noticed about it was that the driveway was bordered by cherry trees on one side and shrubbery on the other. He drove past, looking at the neighboring houses on each side and across the street. The only ones which showed light were on the opposite side and some distance removed.
He made a U-turn where Arden Place ended at the edge of a park, came back and turned into Briggs’s drive. His headlights picked up a small side porch heavily grown with ivy, the closed doors of a garage that would be empty because Briggs did not drive. Which was good because it eliminated the problem of having to move a car.
Once he had drawn abreast of the porch Justice braked to a stop and shut off the lights. Darkness surrounded him when he stepped out; there was a street lamp diagonally across the way, but its glow did not reach into the driveway. He opened the trunk, reached in to turn the body so that he could get at the pockets in its clothing. It was just starting to stiffen, but not so much yet that it presented a problem. In the right trouser pocket he found a key case, drew it out and then closed the trunk again and hurried up onto the porch.
The third key he tried opened the door there. He slipped inside, stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust. The kitchen: enough moonlight penetrated through a window in the rear wall to let him see the shapes of refrigerator and stove and sink cabinet. Should he leave the body here? Plenty of home accidents happened in the kitchen, and if he put Briggs here he would not have to turn on any lights—
No. The body had lain on the ground beneath the window, it was lying now on the trunk floor; Briggs’s suit would be dirty, maybe even torn in places. The bathroom then, that was the only safe place to put him. Bathroom accidents were even more common than kitchen ones.
Justice made his way carefully to a doorway in the inner wall, found himself in a central corridor. He brushed his fingers along the wall there and located a light switch—he had to risk putting on the lights—and flipped the toggle. A ceiling globe came on, filling the corridor with a pale yellow glow. Blinking, he turned to his left and tried three doors before
Chris Ryan
Ruth Reid
Hayley Faiman
Suzanne Downes
Basil Thomson
Jaci Burton
Sheena Morrish
Julia Sykes
Gilbert L. Morris
Evelyn Grey