picture.
“Nothing unusual, Andy. Never in a lot of debt, never a late payment, straight B average in school, paid her taxes. If she lived, she would have had a house on Normal Lane and 2.2 children.”
“Ever do any government work?” I ask.
“Not unless you consider teaching third grade to be government work.”
He takes me through some more of her history, which further confirms my feeling that this is about Richard. Stacy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Thanks, Sam, you did a great job.”
“It’s nothing, Andy.”
“No, really. You’re terrific at it, you’re fast, and you do it right the first time. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. You’re a valuable member of the team.”
“Andy… you had me at ‘Hello.’”
Sam leaves, and I use this alone time to figure out what it is I know, or at least what I believe. It promises to be a short session.
I would bet that Roy Chaney was worried when I showed up. Couple that with the fact that some branch of the government was eavesdropping on me, probably operating without court authority, and it’s a decent bet that whatever it is has to do with Richard’s job with U.S. Customs.
Complicating matters is the incident on the highway. It’s clearly not the government’s style to send shooters after me like that. It’s certainly not a random shooting or a coincidence, but it’s just as certainly beyond my capacity to figure it out at this moment.
One question that will ultimately have to be answered is the one Richard raised. Why, if the bad guys wanted to get him out of the way, did they go to the trouble of killing Stacy and faking his suicide? Why not just kill him?
The only answer I can come up with is that by making the murder-suicide look to be about a personal, domestic problem, it would take the focus off Richard’s work. If he were simply murdered, the police would start searching for motive, and they might look toward his job. That would likely have been dangerous for the real killers. If it’s a suicide, there are no killers to look for, no further reasons to investigate.
When I get back to my office, I am treated, if that’s the right word, to an amazing sight. A three-way conversation is taking place between Karen Evans, Edna, and Marcus Clark. Kevin is sitting off to the side, openmouthed at what he is seeing and hearing.
Karen’s genuine enthusiasm for anything and everything has actually bridged the gap between Edna and Marcus. These are two people with absolutely nothing in common and nothing to say to each other, yet Karen has gotten them connected.
As Edna has her pencil at the ready, Karen asks Marcus, “What’s a three-letter word for ‘foreign machine gun’?”
Edna says, “Second letter is a ‘Z.’”
Marcus thinks for a moment. “Uzi.” For Marcus this is the equivalent of a Shakespearean soliloquy.
Karen practically leaps out of her chair in delight. “That’s right! That’s right!” Then she turns to Edna. “It fits, right?”
Edna smiles and writes it down. “Perfect.”
Karen turns to slap Marcus five, but he clearly isn’t familiar with the concept, and she hits him in the shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.
I can’t overstate what an immense diplomatic and personal accomplishment this is for Karen. Were I president, I would immediately appoint her secretary of state. It makes Jimmy Carter’s achievement at Camp David seem insignificant. Compared to Edna and Marcus, Arafat and Begin were blood brothers.
It’s a mesmerizing sight, and it’s with the greatest reluctance that I pull Kevin away. I’ve arranged for another interview with Richard to discuss his former job in more detail, to try to learn what it might have to do with the murder.
The unfortunate result of my departure will be that Marcus will follow close behind in his bodyguard role, thus breaking up this threesome. I’m not sure that even Karen’s wizardry can ever re-create it.
The
“Nothing unusual, Andy. Never in a lot of debt, never a late payment, straight B average in school, paid her taxes. If she lived, she would have had a house on Normal Lane and 2.2 children.”
“Ever do any government work?” I ask.
“Not unless you consider teaching third grade to be government work.”
He takes me through some more of her history, which further confirms my feeling that this is about Richard. Stacy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Thanks, Sam, you did a great job.”
“It’s nothing, Andy.”
“No, really. You’re terrific at it, you’re fast, and you do it right the first time. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. You’re a valuable member of the team.”
“Andy… you had me at ‘Hello.’”
Sam leaves, and I use this alone time to figure out what it is I know, or at least what I believe. It promises to be a short session.
I would bet that Roy Chaney was worried when I showed up. Couple that with the fact that some branch of the government was eavesdropping on me, probably operating without court authority, and it’s a decent bet that whatever it is has to do with Richard’s job with U.S. Customs.
Complicating matters is the incident on the highway. It’s clearly not the government’s style to send shooters after me like that. It’s certainly not a random shooting or a coincidence, but it’s just as certainly beyond my capacity to figure it out at this moment.
One question that will ultimately have to be answered is the one Richard raised. Why, if the bad guys wanted to get him out of the way, did they go to the trouble of killing Stacy and faking his suicide? Why not just kill him?
The only answer I can come up with is that by making the murder-suicide look to be about a personal, domestic problem, it would take the focus off Richard’s work. If he were simply murdered, the police would start searching for motive, and they might look toward his job. That would likely have been dangerous for the real killers. If it’s a suicide, there are no killers to look for, no further reasons to investigate.
When I get back to my office, I am treated, if that’s the right word, to an amazing sight. A three-way conversation is taking place between Karen Evans, Edna, and Marcus Clark. Kevin is sitting off to the side, openmouthed at what he is seeing and hearing.
Karen’s genuine enthusiasm for anything and everything has actually bridged the gap between Edna and Marcus. These are two people with absolutely nothing in common and nothing to say to each other, yet Karen has gotten them connected.
As Edna has her pencil at the ready, Karen asks Marcus, “What’s a three-letter word for ‘foreign machine gun’?”
Edna says, “Second letter is a ‘Z.’”
Marcus thinks for a moment. “Uzi.” For Marcus this is the equivalent of a Shakespearean soliloquy.
Karen practically leaps out of her chair in delight. “That’s right! That’s right!” Then she turns to Edna. “It fits, right?”
Edna smiles and writes it down. “Perfect.”
Karen turns to slap Marcus five, but he clearly isn’t familiar with the concept, and she hits him in the shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.
I can’t overstate what an immense diplomatic and personal accomplishment this is for Karen. Were I president, I would immediately appoint her secretary of state. It makes Jimmy Carter’s achievement at Camp David seem insignificant. Compared to Edna and Marcus, Arafat and Begin were blood brothers.
It’s a mesmerizing sight, and it’s with the greatest reluctance that I pull Kevin away. I’ve arranged for another interview with Richard to discuss his former job in more detail, to try to learn what it might have to do with the murder.
The unfortunate result of my departure will be that Marcus will follow close behind in his bodyguard role, thus breaking up this threesome. I’m not sure that even Karen’s wizardry can ever re-create it.
The
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