Murder at Union Station - Margaret Truman [126]
Heads turned as Chief of Detectives Phil Leshin came through the door. He went directly to Mullin, placed both hands on his shoulders, and said, “You won’t believe this, Bret, but I am going to miss you.”
“Come on,” Mullin said. “You don’t have to say that.”
“No, I mean it,” Leshin said. “But you have to answer one question for me.”
“Shoot.”
“What got you to finally go to AA?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to get sober. It’s like, I didn’t mind being drunk on the job, but I sure as hell don’t want to be drunk in my retirement.”
There would be no party this holiday season at one home.
A jogger running through Rock Creek Park in the first day of December stumbled upon a lifeless body, which was partially obscured by brush and low bushes. Chet Fletcher had died of a single gunshot to his right temple. The remaining bullets in the revolver gripped in his right hand matched the shot that had taken his life. His were the only fingerprints on the weapon.
The police thoroughly searched the area surrounding his body and found little in the way of useful evidence—a discarded jogger’s shoe, a hiker’s map of the park, a ballpoint pen, a discarded fresh Good Humor toasted almond ice cream wrapper, a used condom, an earring of the costume jewelry variety, and a Washington Redskins T-shirt that had obviously been there for a very long time.
His wife, Gail, told the police that her husband had become increasingly depressed since resigning from his White House position, particularly after rumors found their way into second-tier media that he’d resigned after having ordered the murder of Louis Russo and the killing of Russo’s assailant, Leon LeClaire.
“The people circulating these vicious rumors, and the irresponsible media that reported them, killed my husband,” Mrs. Fletcher said in the only press conference she gave before packing up their home and moving away. She characterized the city she left behind as “a place where the only thing that matters is personal gain and greed, winning and losing, and where the lives of decent people like my husband mean nothing. He was driven to take his life, and those who drove him to it should rot in hell.”
The president called Chet Fletcher a brilliant man, whose contributions to the political process and to the nation were incalculable. “He was my friend,” said the president, now about to begin a second term. “I shall miss him, and so shall this wonderful nation. God bless America!”
«——THE END——»
Table of Contents
Murder at Union Station
Dedication:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR