opener.
"That's the first question that must jump into
everyone's mind. I've thought about that since ... well since. She did have an
acerbic wit and could be quite outspoken about people. There was an interview
in the Post a few months back that was a good indication of the way she
expressed herself."
"I read it," Fiona said. "But if I recall
correctly the people she insulted were all dead."
"All I'm saying is that she might have given offense,
perhaps years ago. Sometimes people harbor animosities for years that grow into
obsessions, which in turn are activated by some mysterious circumstances. I'm
reaching at straws, I know. But I just can't conceive of her having the kind of
enemies that would pay to have her killed."
"Could it have been some kind of dare?" Madeline
Newton asked. "You know ... a gang initiation, a rite of passage kind of
thing. These people..." Fiona could see what was coming. She could feel
Gail tense beside her. "A gang maybe. You know something like: Go kill
someone and bring home evidence of the death, hence the cross."
"We've found no evidence to support such a
theory," Gail said tartly, shaken out of her silence and putting Fiona
instantly on alert. "The boy was not a gang member per se. The District of Columbia is not like Los Angeles where the Cripps and the Bloods are
dominant."
"It was a thought," Madeline sighed. "Are
you absolutely certain someone put him up to it? He could be lying to save his
own skin."
"We've found what was left of the money," Fiona
said. "And so far we have no reason to doubt the boy's story."
"He could be trying to shift blame," Madeline
persisted. "You know what I mean. Like the debil made me do it."
Gail blew out air between her teeth, an unmistakably
sneering gesture of disdain.
"We've discounted both the gang theory and the possibility
that this was a compulsive act on the part of one individual," Fiona said,
hoping that stiff official language might disarm Gail. "We are following
one line ... that the boy was put up to it by unknown persons for unknown
reasons. But it is obvious that whoever it was knew the household routine
either from the inside or through careful observation."
"Is Roy a suspect?" the Governor asked.
"That is still an open question," Fiona said.
"What will happen to him?" the Governor asked.
"He deserves a medal," Madeline said, sucking in
a deep breath. "May come to that someday if this keeps up. Citizens taking
matters in their own hands. He was absolutely justified."
"We do not condone vigilante justice in this
country," Gail sneered. "He was his own private lynch party."
"You needn't lecture us on such matters,
officer," Madeline said imperiously. "You are in the presence of the
Governor of the Capital of the Old Dominion. We do not need history lessons
about the horrors of lynching."
"The boy's confession was beaten out of him,"
Gail pressed, her agitation accelerating. Fiona shot her a look of rebuke.
"Are you saying you doubt his confession?"
Madeline said with biting sarcasm. "The evidence is indisputable."
"Only the means by which it was obtained. He was
tortured and beaten," Gail shot back.
"So much the better," Madeline said, her anger
controlled, deliberately baiting Gail. "It certainly accelerated the
investigation."
"This is America," Gail shot back. "We have
due process here."
"And if this boy is an example of what we are raising
in America. God help us. Due process be damned if it doesn't result in due
justice."
"Justice dispensed by whom. Movie stars?"
Madeline again turned to her husband.
"We have here a runaway mouth. Is this woman exceeding
her authority?"
"Really, Officer..." Shipley began, addressing
Gail.
"Prentiss," Gail blurted belligerently.
"Your remarks are beyond the pale," the Governor
said calmly, turning to Fiona for confirmation. Fiona, embarrassed by Gail's
words, averted her eyes.
"And actionable," Madeline threatened. "I
wouldn't be so self righteous Officer Prentiss. There is such a
"That's the first question that must jump into
everyone's mind. I've thought about that since ... well since. She did have an
acerbic wit and could be quite outspoken about people. There was an interview
in the Post a few months back that was a good indication of the way she
expressed herself."
"I read it," Fiona said. "But if I recall
correctly the people she insulted were all dead."
"All I'm saying is that she might have given offense,
perhaps years ago. Sometimes people harbor animosities for years that grow into
obsessions, which in turn are activated by some mysterious circumstances. I'm
reaching at straws, I know. But I just can't conceive of her having the kind of
enemies that would pay to have her killed."
"Could it have been some kind of dare?" Madeline
Newton asked. "You know ... a gang initiation, a rite of passage kind of
thing. These people..." Fiona could see what was coming. She could feel
Gail tense beside her. "A gang maybe. You know something like: Go kill
someone and bring home evidence of the death, hence the cross."
"We've found no evidence to support such a
theory," Gail said tartly, shaken out of her silence and putting Fiona
instantly on alert. "The boy was not a gang member per se. The District of Columbia is not like Los Angeles where the Cripps and the Bloods are
dominant."
"It was a thought," Madeline sighed. "Are
you absolutely certain someone put him up to it? He could be lying to save his
own skin."
"We've found what was left of the money," Fiona
said. "And so far we have no reason to doubt the boy's story."
"He could be trying to shift blame," Madeline
persisted. "You know what I mean. Like the debil made me do it."
Gail blew out air between her teeth, an unmistakably
sneering gesture of disdain.
"We've discounted both the gang theory and the possibility
that this was a compulsive act on the part of one individual," Fiona said,
hoping that stiff official language might disarm Gail. "We are following
one line ... that the boy was put up to it by unknown persons for unknown
reasons. But it is obvious that whoever it was knew the household routine
either from the inside or through careful observation."
"Is Roy a suspect?" the Governor asked.
"That is still an open question," Fiona said.
"What will happen to him?" the Governor asked.
"He deserves a medal," Madeline said, sucking in
a deep breath. "May come to that someday if this keeps up. Citizens taking
matters in their own hands. He was absolutely justified."
"We do not condone vigilante justice in this
country," Gail sneered. "He was his own private lynch party."
"You needn't lecture us on such matters,
officer," Madeline said imperiously. "You are in the presence of the
Governor of the Capital of the Old Dominion. We do not need history lessons
about the horrors of lynching."
"The boy's confession was beaten out of him,"
Gail pressed, her agitation accelerating. Fiona shot her a look of rebuke.
"Are you saying you doubt his confession?"
Madeline said with biting sarcasm. "The evidence is indisputable."
"Only the means by which it was obtained. He was
tortured and beaten," Gail shot back.
"So much the better," Madeline said, her anger
controlled, deliberately baiting Gail. "It certainly accelerated the
investigation."
"This is America," Gail shot back. "We have
due process here."
"And if this boy is an example of what we are raising
in America. God help us. Due process be damned if it doesn't result in due
justice."
"Justice dispensed by whom. Movie stars?"
Madeline again turned to her husband.
"We have here a runaway mouth. Is this woman exceeding
her authority?"
"Really, Officer..." Shipley began, addressing
Gail.
"Prentiss," Gail blurted belligerently.
"Your remarks are beyond the pale," the Governor
said calmly, turning to Fiona for confirmation. Fiona, embarrassed by Gail's
words, averted her eyes.
"And actionable," Madeline threatened. "I
wouldn't be so self righteous Officer Prentiss. There is such a
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