The Fix Page 8

  in all his children. Along with ambition.”

  She suddenly looked away, and for a moment Decker thought she might burst into tears. She rubbed her mouth and turned back to them.

  “My father is…was a huge influence on me.”

  Decker said, “I’m sure. And you wanted to meet with us because your father told you something?”

  “Things,” she said. “I wrote them down on the flight in.”

  She handed the paper to Decker. He looked down at it.

  Bogart said, “Can you read them out loud, Decker?”

  Decker appeared not to have heard him.

  Jules stared impatiently at the silent Decker for a few moments and then said sharply, as though she were giving a business presentation, “One, he told me to take care of my mother. Two, he said for me to get married and have a family. Because life was too short. Three, he told me that above all I was to remember that he loved me.”

  Bogart said, “And was this unusual?”

  “My father was attentive and caring, but, yes, these particular statements were unusual because he had never spoken to me about these things before. At least not like that.”

  Jamison said, “So were you concerned?”

  “I point-blank asked him if something was wrong. He said no. Just that he’d been thinking about life in general and wanted me to know these things. He joked that he must be getting old, but it still struck me as odd.”

  “Did you talk to anyone else about it?” asked Bogart.

  “No. I was going to phone my siblings to see if he’d a similar conversation with them, but then I got busy. By the time I got around to thinking about doing it I got the call about Dad.”

  Decker held up the list. “You have a number four marked here but nothing beside it.”

  Jules reached in her pocket and pulled out a key. “He sent me this the next day.”

  Decker took the key and looked it over. “Appears to be a safe deposit box key,” he said, handing it across to Bogart.

  “It is,” said Jules. “He has a box at a bank in downtown McLean. He’s had it for years.”

  “Do you know what’s in it?”

  “I assumed it was just things one puts in a safe deposit box. I’ve never seen inside it.”

  “Why would he send you the key?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to call him, but then, like I said, I got distracted with business. I assumed I would have plenty of time to talk to him about it. I just thought it might have something to do with his estate planning. It would make sense that he would involve me. He’d named me executrix a couple of years ago.” She added in an explanatory note, “I’m the oldest. That stuff sort of fell to me by virtue of birth order.”

  “But your father obviously had confidence in you too,” said Jamison.

  “I hoped he did.”

  Decker looked at Bogart. “Can we look inside it?”

  Bogart glanced at Jules. “If your mother is a signatory on the box we’ll need her permission. Otherwise, we’ll have to get a warrant.”

  “Get the warrant, because I’m not disturbing my mom right now. She needs to rest, not worry about signing papers.”

  Bogart pulled out his phone and stepped from the room.

  Jules looked around the space and her expression changed from flint to despair. “I grew up in this house. I love every nook and cranny of it.”

  Jamison said, “I can see why. It’s beautiful. So warm and inviting. Did your mother do the decorating?”

  Jules nodded. “She had an eye for that. Dad was great at his business. But Mom did everything else. She was the perfect partner. Wonderful hostess, a great sounding board when he needed it. And she raised four kids, mostly on her own because Dad was always traveling back then.”

  Jamison said, “Wealth like this doesn’t come easy. A lot of hard work went into it.”

  “Yeah,” said Jules absently.

  “So his words to you, given what happened, make sense,” said Decker. “Sort of parting advice?”

  She looked up at him, her face reddening. “So you’re suggesting he told me to get married and have kids before he goes and murders someone and then blows his own head off? How screwed up is that?” she added shrilly.

  Decker said imperturbably, “But he might not have thought he had a choice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Did you know your father was sick?”

  “What do you mean, sick?”

  “He had an inoperable malignant brain tumor. He was terminal.”

  Jamison gave a little gasp at Decker’s blunt words, but he kept his gaze squarely on Jules.

  Tears appeared in Jules’s eyes. “W-what?” she stammered.

  Decker sat down across from her. “The autopsy revealed the tumor and an aneurysm. He had maybe a few months left to live. You’re saying you didn’t know?”

  She shook her head as the tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.

  Jamison pulled some clean tissues from a pack in her purse and handed them to Decker, who passed them to Jules. She wiped her eyes.

  “Do you think your mother knew?” asked Decker.

  She shook her head. “Impossible. If Mom knew we all would have known.”

  “Even if he didn’t want the children to know?” asked Jamison.

  She took a few moments to compose herself. “Wouldn’t have mattered. My mother is incapable of keeping something like that secret.”

  Decker nodded. “Understood. Is there any reason you can think of for your father having done something like this?”

  She barked, “You might as well ask me why the sun won’t be coming up tomorrow. This is…this can’t be happening.” The next instant, she bent over and started to sob uncontrollably.

  Decker looked at Jamison with an awkward expression. Jamison rose and knelt down next to Jules, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and offering more tissues. “Decker, go get her some water,” she hissed.

  Decker left the room and found the kitchen, a large, airy space that looked like it should be in the pages of an architectural design magazine. He opened some cupboards. In one he saw some medicine bottles. He quickly looked at the labels. One was for increasing bone density; another was Zoloft. He found the glasses in another cupboard, filled one at the tap, and walked back to the library. He handed it to Jamison, who helped Jules to drink it.

  They heard a car drive up to the front door. Decker left the room again and walked down the hall in time to see the front door fly open. A woman stormed in and threw her coat and bag down on the hardwood floor. Behind her Decker could see an airport taxi gliding back down the paved driveway.

  The woman was in her early thirties, with brown hair cut short, glasses, and the same tall, lean build as Jules.

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

  Decker held out his FBI credential. “I take it you’re one of the daughters.”

  “Samantha. Where’s my mother?”

  “Sedated. Your sister Jules is in the library.”

  Samantha Dabney brushed past Decker and hurried down the hall. Decker followed. He got there in time to see her kneel down and hug her still-weeping sibling. Jamison rose and backed off, giving the women space.

  When Jules finally composed herself, she sat up.

  Samantha said, “What the hell is going on? Why is the FBI here?”

  Jules said, “I told you what happened, Sam. Did you think they wouldn’t be investigating? Dad mur…Dad shot someone. Right outside of the FBI building.”

  Samantha collapsed into the chair that Jamison had been sitting in. “I know that’s what you told me. But it…it can’t be, Jules. You know that. Why would he do this? He had so much to live for.”

  “Daddy was terminal. He had a brain tumor.”

  The blood drained from Samantha’s face. She jumped up from the chair and glared down at her sister. “What? And you didn’t tell me?”

  Decker interjected, “I just told her. His autopsy revealed it.
” He paused. “Did your dad phone you recently?”

  “No. About three weeks ago he sent me an email. Nothing special. Just checking in.”

  She shot Jules a glance. “First Dad shoots someone. And now a brain tumor. What is going on? Wait, do you think the tumor affected his mind? Is that why he did it?”

  Decker said, “Anything’s possible. But if there’s another reason, we need to find it. Have either of you ever heard your father mention the name Anne Berkshire?”

  They both shook their heads.

  Samantha said, “Is that the woman he shot?”

  Decker nodded.

  Samantha looked at her sister. “Jules? You kept in touch with Dad more than me. You sure it doesn’t ring a bell?”

  “No. I never heard of the woman.”

  Jamison said, “It might have been random. There might be no connection. Maybe he was affected by his illness. Maybe Berkshire was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Decker said, “I found some medicine bottles in the cupboard. One was for increasing bone density, the other was Zoloft. Who were they for? Part of the labels were removed.”

  Samantha looked at her sister and then back at Decker. “For Mom. She’s had a problem with brittle bones. The Zoloft was for her depression.”

  “How long has she suffered from that?” asked Decker.

  “At least since we were kids,” said Samantha.

  “She also has kidney issues,” added Jules.

  “But she looks so healthy,” said Jamison. “Tall and athletic and robust.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” said Jules curtly. “Anyway, Dad took good care of her. Now, I don’t know. I might have her come and live with me.”

  Bogart returned a moment later. He said, “The warrant is coming in now. Let’s head to the bank.”

  Samantha said, “What bank?”

  “Daddy sent me the key to his safe deposit box,” said Jules.

  “Why, what’s in it?”

  Bogart held up the key. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  EMPTY.

  They were staring at an empty safe deposit box.

  Decker gave a disappointed grunt. Bogart glanced up at him. Jamison mimicked this move.

  Decker said, “He cleaned it out.”

  “We’re just assuming he had anything in it,” said Bogart.

  “He sent his daughter a key to access it. Why do that if there was nothing in it?”

  “True,” conceded Bogart.

  Jamison said, “They must have a record of him coming in.”

  Soon they were sitting across from the bank manager, who tapped some keys on her computer. She nodded. “Five days ago Mr. Dabney came in and accessed his box.”

  “And took things from it?” asked Bogart.

  “We wouldn’t know about that,” said the manager. “What’s in our clients’ boxes is private.”

  Decker said, “Then we’ll need to look at your video footage.”

  Ten minutes later they were staring at a computer screen in a small room off the bank lobby.

  “There he is,” said Jamison, pointing at Dabney walking into the bank on the day he’d emptied his safe deposit box.

  “And he’s not alone,” said Decker.

  There was a woman with Dabney. It wasn’t his wife. She was shorter and stout, with dark hair. They couldn’t get a good look at her face because she had on glasses and kept her gaze pointed down.

  “The hair looks like a wig,” noted Bogart.

  A minute later she entered the room next to the vault with Dabney and his safe deposit box. After a few minutes they came out.

  The woman was carrying a small bag that clearly had something in it. From the bulge in the side of the bag that they could see when the manager magnified it, it looked to be rectangular in shape, about six inches long and half that wide.

  Decker said, “Is there any other angle on this video we can look at?”

  “That’s it, I’m afraid,” said the bank manager.

  “We’ll need a copy of it,” said Bogart.

  * * *

  They left the bank with a copy of the video, dozens of questions, and not a single answer to any of them. They returned to the Dabneys’ house.

  Another daughter, Amanda Riley, had arrived just a few minutes earlier. She was shorter than her sisters and rounder, lacking their athletic build. And she had a physical disability, her left arm ending at her elbow. Riley told them she was married with two young children.

  They were surprised to see Ellie Dabney sitting with her daughters in the light-filled kitchen. She was dressed, her hair and makeup done, but the haunted look in her eyes made it clear that the normalcy of her appearance was only skin deep. They showed the video to her and her daughters. None of them recognized the woman.

  “Why was she even there?” asked Jules. “I mean, it was Daddy’s safe deposit box.”

  Decker answered, “She was there to make sure he emptied it.”

  Jules and Samantha stared at him.

  “What exactly does that mean?” asked Jules.

  “That exactly means that your father was involved with some people who sweat the details very seriously.”

  “This is cloak-and-dagger stuff,” said Samantha. “I mean, it’s like a TV show.”

  Bogart said, “Your father dealt with highly classified matters, so it could very well be that he was involved with some folks in that world.”

  Decker added, “And the fact that they sent someone with him to the bank shows that they didn’t trust him to do it alone. You’ll note on the video that the woman was carrying the bag, not your father.”

  “So they were making him do this,” Jules said accusingly.

  “Then maybe they made him kill that woman,” added Samantha.

  Amanda spoke up. “You can’t make anyone kill someone else, Sam. Not really. Dad was the one who pulled the trigger.”

  Amanda’s features were calm and her eyes intelligent. After she spoke she looked at her mother, whose gaze was pointed at her lap.

  “Amanda!” snapped Jules, who glanced quickly at her mother.

  Samantha said, “That is so out of line.”

  “No,” said Ellie Dabney. “Your sister’s right. Your father did pull the trigger. He made that choice. No one else.”

  Jules and Samantha stared at their mother as though they didn’t recognize her.

  Ellie looked over at Decker. “I don’t know that woman. And I don’t know what Walt had in that safe deposit box.”

  To Decker the woman’s demeanor had changed dramatically from