Murder Inside the Beltway - Margaret Truman [114]
“I’m sure you’re right, Jerry, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
His words were snuffed out by another takeoff, this one seeming even lower than previous jets. Rollins looked to where the few other people in the park were intent upon watching the planes. “You see the same people out here all the time, Matt. It’s a perfect place to see raw power in action.”
Jackson didn’t know how much longer he had with Rollins. The man obviously had something profound on his mind and was trying to express it—for what purpose, Jackson could only guess. Guess? He decided to push it.
“What about those tapes, Jerry?” he asked, not sure whether the question would elicit an angry response, or open up the conversation. He was pleasantly surprised.
“All right,” Rollins said, “let’s say such tapes existed, and that they played a part in Samantha’s kidnapping and return. I’m not saying they did, but let’s accept it as a hypothetical for this conversation. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough.”
“I said before that politics in its purest sense is a positive thing, but that it can turn ugly, the way a war can turn ugly for either side. And let’s face it, politics is war. People may not want to accept that, but it’s the truth, and like any war things are done to hurt the enemy. Am I making sense?”
“I don’t know,” Jackson said. “What I do know is that a woman, a prostitute, was murdered, the same woman who taped clients, including some well-known people.”
“And it’s your job to find that murderer.”
“Exactly.”
“And you further think that murderer might be the next president of the United States.”
Rollins introducing Governor Robert Colgate so directly into the conversation threw Matt off guard. And it was at that moment that he decided he didn’t care about the tapes as a tool in the political war Rollins referenced. It didn’t matter whether Colgate or Pyle occupied the White House next January. Nothing really mattered except Walt Hatcher and the conclusion Matt had come to regarding his involvement in the Rosalie Curzon murder.
“Did you buy those tapes from a detective?” he asked bluntly.
Rollins didn’t answer.
“A detective named Hatcher, Walter Hatcher?”
Another jet snuffed out Rollins’s response.
“You know more than you let on,” Rollins said when the jet’s engine noise had faded. “I’m impressed.”
“Was it Hatcher?”
Rollins bit his lip.
“If it was,” Jackson said, “it was Hatcher who killed the woman for the tapes. I want to nail him, and I’m sure you don’t want to see a murderer go free.”
“What I want, Matt, is why Samantha was kidnapped put to rest,” Rollins said.
“I can’t promise that,” he said. “We’ll try to identify and prosecute those who took her, of course. Personally, I really don’t care as much about the tapes, Jerry, or why you bought them or where they’ve ended up. But I do care about seeing a murderer prosecuted and punished. It must have occurred to you when Hatcher brought them to you that he might have killed in order to get them. The murder of the call girl was in the papers.”
Rollins started the car. He waited for another aircraft to pass over before turning to Jackson and saying, “Go get your murderer, Matt, but leave me out of it.”
“I’m not sure I can. His selling you the tapes confirms that he took them.”
“And I’ll deny having ever had this conversation with you. It’s like politics, Matt. You give some, you take some. You negotiate and hope you end up with the better end of the deal. I intend to be sure that I do. Where would you like me to drop you off?”
“My apartment. It’s in Adams Morgan.”
Despite Jackson’s pleas for Rollins to drive at a saner speed, the attorney floored the Porsche as he headed for Jackson’s neighborhood. As he sped by an intersection, Jackson spotted the patrol car parked at the corner. The officer turned on his flashing lights and siren and swung in behind the Porsche. Rollins saw him and pulled to the curb.
The tall, burly officer swaggered up to Rollins. “License and registration,” he demanded.
Rollins obliged. As he did,