Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [74]
“What did you do with it?”
He looked up. “Like I said, I tossed it away, down by where I was sleeping. In that stream, only I made sure I got far away so nobody could find it and get me in trouble for stealing it.”
“And you didn’t use it?”
A slow shaking of the head.
“Sure the lady at that house where you took it from didn’t come out and catch you in the act?”
“No, she did not.”
Crimley sensed that he was telling the truth. The stone dust on his shoes was picked up when he approached the front of the house to swipe the hammer.
“Why did you bother stealing it, Mr. Lemón, if you didn’t intend to use it?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I do dumb things.”
You’ll get no argument from me, Crimley thought.
“Do I have to go now?” Lemón asked.
“You don’t want to go?”
“I don’t mind being here, only there’s things I’ve got to do, meetings to go to.”
“Yeah, I’m sure there are. You willing to take us to where you ditched the hammer?”
“I’ll do that.”
Crimley left the room and told other detectives who’d observed the exchange through the one-way glass, “We’ll keep him for a while. He’s not making a stink about being held, so let’s hang on to him. I don’t think he killed her, but maybe the hammer will say otherwise.”
• • •
Neil Simmons spent part of the day planning his mother’s memorial service, then he and his sister, Polly, got together that afternoon and met for an hour with people from St. John’s. Earlier, he’d consulted with the police about crowd control at the service, and had finalized a press release announcing the plans. Those necessary chores completed, he and Polly stopped at the Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown for coffee in the expansive lobby, where an elegantly dressed woman sat behind a gleaming black grand piano and wove familiar melodies. It was the sort of serene scene Neil had been longing for all day.
He was dressed in suit and tie, Polly in jeans and a white T-shirt with STOP THE INSANITY emblazoned across its front. Neil had wished she’d dressed more conservatively, but knew it would be futile to suggest it, and would probably invite a rant on “empty suits” and a lecture on why people act like sheep and all dress the same.
“I think we accomplished everything we had to today,” Neil said pleasantly as his coffee, and her Diet Coke, were served.
“It would be nice if Daddy gave a damn and got involved,” she said. He started to respond, but she said, “What a sham having her service at Saint John’s. She never went near that church. The only reason Daddy wants it there is because of his image. What bull!”
“Oh, come on, Polly, let’s not get into that. You know how busy he is.”
“Busy doing the people’s business. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best thing Congress can do for the country is to stay home.”
Neil laughed.
“I’m serious,” she said. “All Congress does is take money from lobbyists and pass laws the lobbyists want passed. What kind of democracy is that?”
Neil started to respond but she cut him off. “I know, you’re a lobbyist, Neil, but just because you’re my brother doesn’t make it right. You ever think of leaving?”
“Sure.”
“No, I mean really think of leaving.”
“It’s not that easy, Polly. I have responsibilities, a family.”
“That’s no excuse. You were supporting your family just fine when you worked at the bank.”
“It was hand-to-mouth. Marshalk pays a lot better.”
She turned from him, recrossed her legs, and looked at the pianist. Neil drank his coffee and observed the formidable, sharply dressed men and women occupying other tables. They represented what he’d aspired to be, a smooth, confident player moving easily through the corridors of the nation’s most complex capital city. What he was feeling at that moment was hardly that. He was confused and deflated, unsure of who he was—who he’d ever been.
The conversation he’d had with his mother two weeks before she died had stayed with him day and night, making sleep virtually impossible. He’d tried to lose himself at work, but there wasn’t enough for him to do there to occupy his mind. Marshalk and his lieutenants had been busy