“The Act is triggered when the attorney general receives information of possible criminal conduct by a covered person. The AG conducts a preliminary investigation. If credible evidence of criminal conduct is found or if it’s determined that the AG has a conflict of interest an application is filed with the court asking for appointment of an independent counsel.”
“I hired you to take care of this problem. Do you think you’ll be able to do it?”
“I usually can, Mr. President, I usually can.”
“God damn it, Chuck, the situation is getting out of hand,” the president complained two hours later when Hawkins walked into the third-floor study after making sure that Travis Holliday would be returned to Andrews Air Force Base without being seen.
“Didn’t you hit it off with Holliday?”
“No, no, Holiday is fine. That’s not what concerns me. The latest polls show I’m dropping like a rock. Holliday says the investigation by the independent counsel can drag on for years. That means it will be front-page news with no clear resolution long after the election. We’ve got to get the FBI to clear me of killing Walsh or hiring someone to do it.”
“There’s still the Ripper.”
“He was arraigned. Every channel covered it. He made a point of claiming that someone was trying to frame him for Charlotte’s murder.”
“What about Cutler?”
“What about her?”
“You’ve read her file. She’s an ex-mental patient. She was following Walsh. She knew where she was parked.”
“What possible motive would she have for killing Charlotte?”
Hawkins shrugged. “That’s for the FBI and the independent counsel to figure out. Don’t forget, Cutler is on the run. That’s what guilty people do.”
“No, no, Chuck. We can’t send an innocent person to prison.”
“We’ve done it before.”
“Clarence Little is a mass murderer.”
Hawkins leaned forward and stared directly into his friend’s eyes. “Your son and unborn child need you. Claire needs you. This country needs you. If Cutler has to be sacrificed it’s a small price to pay.”
“I don’t know, Chuck.”
“I do. You run a strong campaign and steer this country to greatness. Let me handle this.”
The president found the first lady in the sitting room that adjoined their bedroom sipping a cup of tea while she read a novel. When he entered the room, Claire placed her book next to the tea service that rested on the small walnut end table at her elbow.
“How did everything go?” Claire asked. She was calm, and none of the fury that had greeted his confession of infidelity was in evidence.
Christopher sank onto a chair on the other side of the end table.
“We’ll be okay,” he said as he poured himself a cup of tea. “Holliday is smart and he knows what he’s doing. He had all sorts of ideas.”
“Good. Maureen is behind this scandal. The voters will see she’s trying to smear you, and her plan will backfire.”
“I certainly hope so. My God, the press is calling the investigation MurderGate. Every time I try to talk about my platform all I get are questions about Charlotte Walsh.”
“Are you and Clem working on your speech?”
“Yeah. It sounds pretty good. God willing, I’ll nail Maureen at the press conference and we can put this inquisition behind us.”
Claire reached across the small table, and Chris held her hand.
“I love you,” Claire said. “I have complete faith in you. You will crush Maureen Gaylord. On the day after the election, you will still be the president of the United States and our baby will be born in the White House.”
“I hope you’re right,” Christopher said in a voice that lacked conviction.
Claire squeezed his hand hard. “I know I am,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Jake Teeny?” Keith Evans asked the suntanned man in the T-shirt and jeans who answered the door of the suburban ranch house.
“Yes?” Teeny answered, eyeing the agent suspiciously. The photojournalist was five nine with wavy brown hair and hard brown eyes. Evans judged him to be in his midthirties, but he still had the thick chest and narrow waist of someone who stayed in top shape, and his skin had the rugged, leathery look that comes from being baked by harsh suns and blasted dry by cruel winds.
Evans flashed his credentials. “I’m with the FBI, Mr. Teeny, and I’d like your help in an investigation I’m conducting.”
Teeny looked confused. Evans smiled.
“Don’t worry. You’re not involved as far as we know, but your name came up and-like I said-I’d appreciate your help. May I come in?”
“Sure,” Teeny answered as he stepped aside to clear a path for the agent. “Excuse the mess. I’ve been out of the country on assignment and I just got in twenty minutes ago.”
Camera equipment and traveling bags were strewn around the entryway. Evans walked around them and followed Teeny into the living room.
“So, what’s this investigation about?” Teeny asked when they were seated.
“Have you heard of the D.C. Ripper?”
“Sure.”
“And do you know Dana Cutler?”
“Dana? What does she have to do with the Ripper?”
“We came across her name in connection with one of the Ripper’s victims. We’ve tried to find her, but we’ve been unsuccessful. One thing we did get was her phone records, and we found numerous calls to your number.”
“Dana and I are good friends. We call each other frequently.”
“And she stays over?”
“Yeah, on occasion. How did you know that?”
“Her car is parked two houses down. I thought she might be here.”
“She might, but I just got in so I can’t say one way or the other.”
“Could you look through the house to see if she’s staying here?”
“Look, Dana is a good friend. What do you think she’s done? I’m not going to help you if it’s going to get her in trouble.”
“Have you read the article in Exposed?”
Teeny smiled. “They don’t sell Exposed in Afghanistan.”
“Is that where you just were?”
Teeny nodded.
“Okay. Well, I’ll fill you in. A young woman named Charlotte Walsh was murdered by the D.C. Ripper. Miss Cutler works as a private investigator on occasion, doesn’t she?”
Teeny nodded.
“We think she may have been following Miss Walsh around the time she was killed. We know she took photographs of her with President Farrington shortly before Charlotte Walsh died.”
“The president?”
“The story has been front-page news. We want to know what Miss Cutler saw, but we can’t find her. Can you please look around and see if she’s been staying here?”
Teeny led Evans to the bedroom first. “She was supposed to housesit for me while I was away and it looks like she did,” he said, pointing to the women’s undergarments and clothing strewn around the room. Teeny smiled. “Dana isn’t the neatest person. I’m always after her to straighten up.”
In the bathroom, Teeny pointed out Dana’s toiletries.
“She’s probably coming back because her toothbrush and hairbrush are here.”
“Does Miss Cutler have more than one means of transportation?”
“You mean besides her car?”
“Right.”
Teeny suddenly remembered something. “I have a Harley. I let her borrow it the night I went away.”
“So she might be riding the Harley.”
“That would be my guess if her car’s outside.”
“Can you give me the license number of your bike and check to see if it’s here?”
Teeny rattled off the number while he led Evans to the garage. The bike was gone. Teeny had just finished describing the Harley when Evans’s cell phone rang.
“I’ve got to take this,” he apologized. Then he opened the phone and went outside so Teeny couldn’t hear him. Roman Hipple, his supervisor, was calling.
“How soon can you get back to headquarters?” Hipple asked.
“Half hour, maybe less.”
“Well get back here. Justice Roy Kineer has been appointed as the independent counsel in this Charlotte Walsh thing, and he wants you seconded to him because you know all about the Ripper case.”