Read Do You Want to Know a Secret? Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Do You Want to Know a Secret? (50 page)
Detective Colburn scanned
the
Daily News
headline.
WINGARD NOMINATED TONIGHT, JOY WOWS ’EM WITH AIDS SPEECH
. Colburn wasn’t sure yet whom he would vote for in November. As far as he was concerned, President Grayson seemed like a nice enough guy, but he hadn’t gotten all that much accomplished in the past four years. Wingard didn’t really excite him either.
He had been tied up most of yesterday with the high-rise robbery and he knew that he had more work to do on it today. First, he wanted to tie up loose ends on the graffiti case. The homeless man was still in the cell downstairs. Had he been the one who had taken the knocker from Bill Kendall’s door the night after his suicide and left it next to the body of Dr. Leo Karas? Colburn hoped to God it didn’t turn out that the mentally ill man had murdered the psychiatrist.
He called Tiffany’s, identified himself and made his request, reciting the identification number on the silver key ring tag. The woman at Tiffany’s was exceedingly polite but said that it was contrary to company policy to give out such information over the telephone. If the detective would like to come in person, with the proper identification, Tiffany’s would be delighted to cooperate.
Colburn sighed. It had been worth a shot, but he hadn’t really expected Tiffany’s to give him the information over the phone. He’d have to find time to drive down to Fifty-seventh Street.
Father Alec Fisco
sat in his living room on the quiet third floor of the cathedral rectory and watched as the huge red, white and blue balloons fell from the top of the Astrodome. Fireworks exploded in an ambitious pyrotechnic display. The delegates danced, sang and cheered, delirious with their promising choice. It was the grand finale of Haines Wingard’s convention.
Watching Haines and Joy Wingard smiling ecstatically from the Astrodome stage, Father Alec thought of Wingard’s acceptance speech. It had been a masterful piece. The camera had cut to the intense little man who had been with Joy that day at St. Michael’s.
NATE HELLER, CAMPAIGN MANAGER
was the identification at the bottom of the screen. Nate had a reverential, almost trancelike expression on his face.
Would the presidential candidate develop AIDS?
Father Alec rose, switched off the television set and walked over to the window. From Cathedral Hill in Newark, the whole New York skyline, from the Twin Towers to the George Washington Bridge, sparkled in a summer night’s haze.
The president of the United States and AIDS. Maybe it was God’s plan. Maybe that’s what it would take.
Breakfast had been
good and the homeless man wondered what they would be serving for dinner. The beef stew had been delicious last night. He hoped for meatloaf and mashed potatoes. He hadn’t had meatloaf in a long, long time.
He wished he could stay in this place. He ate well and slept well. No one bothered him or poked him along, urging him to keep moving. In fact, that cop had actually been nice to him.
What did he say his name was? Cochran? Kelberg? Something like that. Oh no, Colburn—that was it.
He wasn’t bad to talk to. He had listened to the treasured safari stories, the stories that represented the only pleasure and satisfaction the homeless man derived from his life. Detective Colburn seemed really interested. He had a list all drawn up of the animals in the menagerie. He knew all about the fox, the wolf, the cat, the lion, the horses and even the unicorn. The policeman knew about some that he himself had forgotten all about.
Then the cop asked about the elephant. Ah, his favorite. He explained that the pretty woman on television told him to take that one. Like she told him to follow the doctor.
Then Colburn asked him about the key ring. The friendly policeman left the cell when the graffiti artist told him where that had come from.
Tit for tat. Tit for tat.
Yelena insisted on
sitting with Eliza on the flight back from New York.
“You were almost killed,” Yelena cried as she took a long drink of her Scotch. “And I’m so afraid.”
“I’m afraid, too.”
“But you don’t understand. I told Pete things about you, about your hospitalization, about your seeing Dr. Karas. I didn’t want to face it, but he was using me. I knew it, but I so wanted someone in my life.”
She was now openly weeping. Eliza found herself feeling sorry for her. Like all human beings, Yelena needed love. But she had lost her self-respect in trying to get it.
“Pete’s afraid that I want his job,” Eliza stated.
“Not anymore. Not now that Wingard’s going to the White House. He was only after you in case Wingard didn’t make it.”
“So he planted the
Mole
stories and he tried to kill me?”
Yelena took another drink.
“The Mole
, yes. But he has no reason to kill you. He’s going to get what he wants. I know—I think I’ve always known. But he’s not a murderer.”
Eliza was scared, for herself, for her child.
“Well, somebody wants me dead. Somebody thinks I know something. My psychiatrist is dead. And Jean, poor Jean. I didn’t listen. She wanted me to know something about Bill. Something in his computer. She was concerned about Pete. But there was more. I have to get into Bill’s files.”
“Well, I have a key to Pete’s office,” Yelena said.
He didn’t want
to lose her.
He wanted to stay by her side as much as possible but no matter how many strings he tried to pull, Mack couldn’t get a seat on the plane back to New York with Eliza. He was booked instead on a flight forty-five minutes behind her.
The
Mole
smears, the murder of Leo Karas, the death of Jean White, Dennis Quinn with Wingard, the digitalis poisoning. It had all gone too far.
Mack checked his watch. He still had a few minutes until boarding. He pulled out his cell phone, called information and dialed the number for
The Record
in Hackensack, New Jersey.