He hesitated. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your mother?”
“I saw her last week. Why?”
“Why don’t you go visit her again, honey?”
“Is anything wrong?”
He grinned. “Wrong?” He walked over to the mantel. “You’d better start dusting this off. We’re going to put a Pulitzer Prize here and a Peabody Award here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m on to something that’s going to blow everybody away—and I mean people in high places. It’s the most exciting story I’ve ever been involved in.”
“Why do you want me to go see my mother?”
He shrugged. “There’s just an outside chance that this could get to be a little dangerous. There are some people who don’t want this story to get out. I’d feel better if you were away for a few days, just until this breaks.”
“But if you’re in danger—”
“I’m not in any danger.”
“You’re sure nothing’s going to happen to you?”
“Positive. Pack a few things, and I’ll call you tonight.”
“All right,” Rita said reluctantly.
Lonergan looked at his watch. “I’ll drive you to the train station.”
One hour later, Lonergan stopped in front of a modest brick house in the Wheaton area. He got out of the car, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. There was no answer. He rang again and waited. The door suddenly swung open and a heavyset middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, regarding him suspiciously.
“Yes?”
“I’m with the Internal Revenue Service,” Lonergan said. He flashed a piece of identification. “I want to see Carl Gorman.”
“My brother’s not here.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.” Too fast.
Lonergan nodded. “That’s a shame. Well, you might as well start packing up his things. I’ll have the department send over the vans.” Lonergan started back down the driveway toward his car.
“Wait a minute! What vans? What are you talking about?”
Lonergan stopped and turned. “Didn’t your brother tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Lonergan took a few steps back toward the house. “He’s in trouble.”
She looked at him anxiously. “What kind of trouble?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss it.” He shook his head. “He seems like a nice guy, too.”
“He is,” she said fervently. “Carl is a wonderful person.”
Lonergan nodded. “That was my feeling when we were questioning him down at the bureau.”
She was panicky. “Questioning him about what?”
“Cheating on his income tax. It’s too bad. I wanted to tell him about a loophole that could have helped him out, but—” He shrugged. “If he’s not here…” He turned to go again.
“Wait! He’s—he’s at a fishing lodge. I—I’m not supposed to tell anybody.”
He shrugged. “That’s okay with me.”
“No…but this is different. It’s the Sunshine Fishing Lodge on the lake in Richmond, Virginia.”
“Fine. I’ll contact him there.”
“That would be wonderful. You’re sure he’ll be all right?”
“Absolutely,” Lonergan said. “I’ll see that he’s taken care of.”
Lonergan took 1-95, heading south. Richmond was a little over a hundred miles away. On a vacation, years ago, Lonergan had fished the lake, and he had been lucky.
He hoped he would be as lucky this time.
It was drizzling, but Carl Gorman did not mind. That’s when the fish were supposed to bite. He was fishing for striped bass, using large minnows on slip bobbers, far out behind the rowboat. The waves lapped against the small boat in the middle of the lake, and the bait drifted behind the boat, untouched. The fish were in no hurry. It did not matter. Neither was he. He had never been happier. He was going to be rich beyond his wildest dreams. It had been sheer luck. You have to be at the right place at the right time. He had returned to the Monroe Arms to pick up a jacket he had forgotten and was about to leave the garage when the private elevator door opened. When he saw who got out, he had sat in his car, stunned. He had watched the man return, wipe off his fingerprints, then drive away.
It was not until he read about the murder the following day that he had put it all together. In a way, he felt sorry for the man. I really am a fan of his. The trouble is, when you’re that famous, you can never hide. Wherever you go, the world knows you. He’ll pay me to be quiet. He has no choice. I’ll start with a hundred thousand. Once he pays that, he’ll have to keep paying. Maybe I’ll buy a chateau in France or a chalet in Switzerland.