conclusion that would amaze even him.
He picked up the phone on his desk and looked around the highly polished
cherry paneling of his study as he dialed the number.
In a moment he had been put through to Seth Frank.
Unimpressed with the man early on, Sullivan had grudgingly given him his
due with the arrest of Luther Whitney. But now?
“Yes sir, Mr. Sullivan, what can I do for you?”
Sullivan cleared his throat. His voice had a humble note to it that was
as far from his customary tone as was possible.
Even Frank picked up on it.
“I had a question regarding the information I had given you earlier
about Christy, um, Christine’s sudden departure on the way to the
airport for our trip to the estate in Barbados.”
Frank sat up in his chair. “Did you remember something else?”
“Actually I wanted to verify whether I had given you any reason for her
not going on’the trip.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Well, I’suppose my age is catching up with me. MY bones aren’t the only
thing deteriorating I’m afraid, though I don’t care to admit it to
myself much less anyone else, Lieutenant. More to the point I thought I
had told you she had taken ill and had to return home. I mean I thought
that’s what I had told you in any event.”
Seth took a moment to pull his file, although he was certain of the
answer. “You said she didn’t give a reason, Mr. Sullivan. Just said she
wasn’t going, and you didn’t push it.”
“Ah. Well I guess that settles that. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Frank stood up. One hand lifted a cup of coffee and then put it back
down. “Wait a minute, Mr. Sullivan. Why would you think you had told me
that your wife was sick? Was she sick?”
Sullivan paused before answering. “Actually no, Lieutenant Frank. She
was remarkably healthy. To answer your question, I believe I thought I
had told you differently because, to tell you the truth, aside from my
occasional memory lapses, I think I’ve spent these last two months
trying to convince myself that Christine staying behind was for some
reason. Any reason, I guess.”
14 Sir?”
“To, in my own mind, justify what happened to her. To not let it be just
a damn coincidence. I don’t believe in fate, Lieutenant. For me,
everything has a purpose. I suppose I wanted to convince myself that
Christine’s staying behind did too.”
“Oh.”
“I apologize if an old man’s foolishness has caused you any unnecessary
perplexity.”
“Not at all, Mr. Sullivan.”
WHEN FRANK HUNG UP THE PHONE HE ENDED UP STARING AT the wall for a good
five minutes. Now what the hell had all that been about?
Following up on Bill Burton’s suggestion, Frank had made discreet
inquiries into Sullivan having possibly hired a contract killer to make
sure his wife’s presumed killer never stood trial. Those inquiries were
going slow; one had to tread cautiously in these types of waters. Frank
had a career to think about, a family to support, and men like Walter
Sullivan had an army of very influential friends in government who could
make the detective’s professional life miserable.
The day after the slug had ended Luther Whitney’s life, Seth Frank had
made immediate inquiries as to Sullivan’s whereabouts at the time
although Frank was under no delusions that the old man had pulled the
trigger on the cannon that had propelled Luther Whitney into the
hereafter. But murder for hire was a particularly wicked deed, and
although perhaps the detective could understand the billionaire’s
motivation, the fact was he had probably gunned down the wrong guy. This
latest conversation with Sullivan left him with even more questions and
no new answers.
Seth Frank sat down and wondered briefly if this nightmare of a case
would ever leave his watch.
A HALF HOUR LATER SULLIVAN PLACED A CALL TO A LOCAL television station
of which he happened to own a controlling interest. His request was
simple and to the point. In an hour a package was delivered to his front
door. After one of the staff handed him the square box he ushered her