Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [118]
Mitzi straightened in her chair and smiled at him again. “I’ve agreed to meet with you, Mr. Brixton, and have kept my promise. What I’ve said to you in this room will not be what I will say to any reporter who questions me about what happened in Savannah years ago. From what you’ve told me, you don’t have any proof to back up your allegations, just an assortment of theories. I have no obligation to be truthful with the press. This is not a matter of national security. The fate of the nation doesn’t hang in the balance. No one has died because of—”
“Whoa,” Brixton said. “Louise Watkins died right after she came out of prison, gunned down on a street corner. You—your father—wouldn’t know anything about that I suppose. This guy who was stabbed in the parking lot died. Don’t tell me that nobody died because of what happened in Savannah.”
Mitzi turned to Smith. “I’ve had quite enough, Mac,” she said. “I’ve been gracious enough to meet with your friend and to listen to his theories. This is all so—” She muttered something that the others in the room couldn’t hear. She leaned forward in Brixton’s direction. “I’m going to ask you, Mr. Brixton, to apply some common sense. I respect the fact that you’re working for this girl’s mother, who wants to know the truth. But is the truth so important that you would bring down good, decent people who’ve lived exemplary lives since that one, unfortunate night twenty years ago? I’ve worked hard to establish my reputation here in Washington. I bring together important people who make life-and-death decisions for a nation, your nation. The first lady of this land and her husband, the president of the United States, have an agenda that could determine the fate of the free world. Is it money you’re after? I can see to it that whatever you lose by shelving this witch hunt will be more than compensated for. Don’t you see? Can’t you put things in perspective? Please, try to be reasonable.”
Brixton slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair and almost came to his feet. “Buy me off the way you and your father bought off Louise Watkins? You know, Ms. Cardell, I came here tonight without any intention of hurting you or your family. I didn’t vote for Fletcher Jamison but I’m not out to derail whatever the hell he intends to do with the country. I don’t know the first lady and I don’t want to know her. But I’ll tell you this.” He pointed a finger at Mitzi. “You and your kind make me sick. Keep your money. I’ve heard enough here to convince me that Louise Watkins’ mother was right. If the press wants to probe deeper, that’s their business.” He turned to Smith. “I hope I haven’t crossed the line, Mac, but frankly, this woman disgusts me.”
Brixton got up and stood with his back to the others.
“I need to call my driver,” Mitzi told Smith. She picked up a phone—“I’m ready to leave,” she said—and a minute later the Town Car appeared in front of the gallery.
Smith walked her to the door. “I know this has been upsetting, Mitzi, but I’m glad you had a chance to confront him.”
“Well, Mac, I am not pleased to have had to confront this … this, this vile man. I never should have listened to you.”
Smith held open the door and she disappeared into the chauffeured car, which drove away. He returned to the office, where Annabel was preparing to close up for the night.
“I’m sorry that it turned out this way,” Brixton said to them. “I lost my cool and—”
“It’s okay, Robert,” Smith said. “It’s obvious that what you’ve said is true. She didn’t admit to it in so many words, but there’s no doubt that she and her friend Jeanine were involved in the stabbing, and that her father paid off the girl.”
“There’s something else you should know,” Brixton said.
“What’s that?” Annabel asked.
“Her father’s right-hand man, a guy named Jack Felker, hired the gunman who killed Louise Watkins after she got out of prison.”
Mac and Annabel looked at him. “You’re certain of that?” Mac asked.
Brixton explained about the dying inmate who had confessed to having killed Louise Watkins and who had further claimed that he’d been