After the search for the shooter came up empty, I realized there wasn’t much more I could do there that night. Local law enforcement didn’t really want us around, and even though we could have fought them for jurisdiction, we were already stretched thin trying to investigate all the other cases. It seemed like the best strategy was to let them take the lead on this and keep us updated. That meant I could get back to Asheville and spend tomorrow morning piecing together the overall pattern of the crime series.
Since my shirt was soaked with the wounded man’s blood, I turned it in as evidence and bought a sweatshirt from one of the mall stores that was getting ready to close. After cleaning the blood off my hands in the bathroom, I went to sign the chain of evidence papers. That’s what I was doing when Ralph walked over to me, shaking his head.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yup, you. I need to brief the officers in charge here, Margaret is back in Asheville, and that puts you in charge.”
I didn’t like where this was going. “In charge of what?”
“Meeting with Governor Taylor.”
“What?”
Ralph shrugged his huge shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to look helpless. “He heard about the girl; wants someone to bring him up to speed. Word is he’s got a bunch of speeches next week on national security, and he doesn’t want to get blindsided by questions about serial killers in his own hometown.”
I glanced at my watch: 9:41 p.m. “Does he know what time it is?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Can’t this wait, Ralph?”
He shook his head. “Governor Taylor is one person you don’t keep waiting. He’s spending this weekend at his private residence not far from here, just outside of town. It shouldn’t take you too long to brief him.”
Great. He just had to say the b-word.
“I’m not good with this kind of stuff, Ralph. You know how much I hate-”
But he’d already turned around. “Take Lien-hua along. I hear he likes the women.”
“Who likes the women?” asked Lien-hua.
And before I had a chance to protest any more to Ralph, a car piloted by one of the governor’s security detail drove up, and Lien-hua and I reluctantly climbed in.
“He just lives a few minutes away,” explained our driver. “‘Course, most of the time he’s in Raleigh, but a couple weekends a month he likes to come back home.”
I listened to him but didn’t really listen. Mostly I was thinking about Jolene and the pawn on the dashboard and the killer who was smarter than I was. He put Jolene’s contacts into Mindy’s eyes. Why? I also wondered about the man he shot and the chain of events that had brought me to his side. Time and place.
Time and place.
After a few minutes, my thoughts drifted to the other side of the backseat, where Lien-hua sat silently watching the night slide past the car. I was a little disappointed the car was so roomy. I wished the governor had chosen to send something a tad smaller. A Harley would have been nice.
We didn’t talk until we arrived at the front gate to the governor’s mansion and one of the sentries waved us through. That’s when Lien-hua turned to me. “Good work interviewing that kid back there,” she said.
“Thanks. And good thinking to realize she was looking for her car keys. And to check the prescription for the contacts too. Very nice.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m just glad I wasn’t too sidetracked by looking for motives.”
Yes. Definitely rephrase that in the next briefing.
Governor Taylor’s mansion lay back from the main road behind a grove of looming oak trees that sprawled along the drive just barely within reach of the headlights. As we pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the elaborate manse, I let out a long, slow breath. “Whew… Maybe I’m in the wrong line of work. I didn’t know the government of North Carolina paid its public workers so well.”
“Tobacco family,” our driver said wistfully, pronouncing it tu-backa famlee. “They’ve been in politics forever, but it’s cancer sticks paid for this place.” He opened up the door for Lien-hua. “I wonder how much of it I paid for before I quit,” he mumbled. Then we stepped past him and climbed the steps to the porch.
A young woman greeted us at the door. Mid-twenties, blonde, movie star face, dressed in a skirt that must have taken her an hour to squeeze into. She introduced herself as the governor’s personal assistant. “Ms. Anita Banner,” she said in a crisp, professional voice. “Please follow me.”
She led us down the wide hallway toward the governor’s private office. Ms. Banner turned every step into a Spanish dance. I wondered just how personal her assistance to the governor was. Especially this late on a Friday night.
She asked us to wait for a moment in the great room and then slipped through another set of doors to announce our arrival to Governor Taylor.
I glanced around the room. Paintings depicting Civil War battles hung on the walls: Antietam, Fredericksburg, Bull Run, Chancel-lorsville. Apart from some kind of huge fish mounted above the fireplace, the entire room seemed to be decorated to celebrate the war-and the South. A plaque below one of the paintings read: “First at Bethel. Last at Appomattox.” So, a tribute to the soldiers of North Carolina.
Lien-hua picked up a picture that was sitting on the grand piano. “I wonder where the governor’s wife and kids are tonight?”
“She took the boys to Barbados for the week,” I answered.
Lien-hua stared at me, amazed. “How do you know that?”
“I’m tempted to wow you with my Sherlockian deductive powers,” I said. “But actually I heard it on the news last night while channel surfing. His wife loves the spotlight. She’s twenty years younger than him and used to be a model. She just might be the first governor’s wife in history with her own paparazzi.”
“Oh,” said Lien-hua. She didn’t seem impressed.
Brilliant move, Einstein. Next time try and wow her.
Just then Ms. Banner reappeared and led us into the governor’s private office.
He stepped out from behind a vast mahogany desk to greet us. I extended my hand and introduced myself. The governor looked to be in his mid-fifties, but his grip was firm, almost startlingly so. He had cool, calculating eyes that were offset by his wide, practiced smile. He’d loosened his tie but still chose to wear his impeccably tailored suit that moved with him seamlessly as he strode through the room. A small pin with a Confederate flag hung proudly from his lapel.
I was about to introduce Lien-hua, but she beat me to it, stepping forward and taking his hand. “Special Agent Lien-hua Jiang. Pleased to meet you, Governor Taylor.” The governor’s eyes brightened when he took her hand, and they did not linger long on her hand.
“Agent Jiang,” he said with a honey-sweet Southern accent, “the pleasure is all mine.”
Yeah, that’s an understatement.
“Governor Taylor,” I said, nodding toward the room with the fireplace, “you have quite a collection of paintings.”
He smiled thinly. “All who are warriors must be students of war.” He reached for a bottle on his desk. “Drink?”
I shook my head. Lien-hua said, “No thank you.”
“Well, then.” He considered a decanter of cognac for a moment and then refilled his glass.
“That quote,” I said. “Chekhov?”
He lifted his glass to me with a slight nod. “Taylor,” he said, winking at Lien-hua.