Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [82]
Who were the two mugs who’d attacked him? He’d probably never know. Two things were certain. The first was that they’d let Justin’s people know that the camera had been wielded by Robert Brixton, private eye, and Justin wanted to tie up that loose end with a bribe. The second obvious truth was that the two goons who’d mugged him either were smart enough to examine the photos and link them to Justin—which he doubted—or knew someone else who could.
When Cynthia walked in later that morning, Brixton asked her if she’d told anyone about his having identified the man in the newspaper photo as the Don Juan at the motel.
“Just Jim and—”
“And?”
“I don’t know, I might have mentioned it to some friends at dinner last night. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong, Cynthia. But don’t spread it around any further, okay?”
“Sure. Okay.”
He was glad she’d be leaving town.
He met later that day with the restaurant owner, collected an advance, and said he’d start the assignment when he returned from Washington.
“How long will that be?” he was asked.
“Just a couple of days,” he answered, without having a clue as to how long he’d be away.
He called Mac Smith at five and told him he’d be in Washington in two days. Smith invited him to dinner, which Brixton accepted. He booked a room online at the Hotel Rouge, on Sixteenth Street NW, where he’d stayed the last time he’d been in D.C. Flo had also stayed there on his recommendation and liked it. It wasn’t the cheapest hotel in the nation’s capital but it wasn’t one of those venerable Washington hotels where you paid through the nose for their vaunted reputation. He also called Jill and Janet to say he’d be in the Washington area and wanted to visit with them. Jill sounded pleased and suggested they meet at her mother’s house. That wasn’t what Brixton had in mind but he agreed. Janet was vague; “I’m real busy,” she said. “Let me know the day you’ll be here and I’ll try to find time.”
Find time. For her father. Maybe I had it coming, he decided as he got ready to leave to meet Flo at Lazzara’s for dinner. He was almost out the door when Wayne St. Pierre called.
“Just leaving,” Brixton said.
“And Ah wouldn’t think of stopping you, Robert. I was just callin’ to see if you and Ms. Flo might like to join me and a few other guests for dinner tomorrow night, nothing fancy, just good booze, good food, and stimulating conversation.”
“Sounds nice, Wayne, but I’ll be out of town for a few days.”
“Oh? Going home to visit your Yankee friends up north?”
“No, Washington.”
“As in D.C.?”
“Right.”
“Goin’ there to give our esteemed president a piece of your mind, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I might stop in and give him a few pointers. Wish we could make it, Wayne. Thanks for asking. Maybe when I get back.”
“You can count on it, Robert. Travel safe.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
He and Flo enjoyed dinner at a Lazzara’s and spent the rest of the night at his apartment. Contemplation of making the trip was bittersweet for him. On one hand, he was glad to be taking action instead of simply mulling things over. What did the shrinks say? Any action is better than no action. At the same time, he didn’t look forward to returning to the scene of his initial foray into his law enforcement career, and where his overactive male hormones had led him into a disastrous marriage. He would visit his daughters while there but hoped that it wouldn’t entail spending much time with Marylee and her mother. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. It was more a matter of their not liking him and making it obvious.
The following morning he placed a small suitcase in the trunk of his car, kissed Flo goodbye, and headed for Washington, D.C. The reality of the situation into which he’d plopped himself hit him hard soon after he’d left Savannah’s city limits and was cruising on the highway.
He had a Savannah mayoral candidate angry at him and possibly after his head.
He was hoping to involve Washington, D.C.’s most influential hostess in a twenty-year-old murder.
And if he was successful, he might end up exposing the first