Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [95]
“I know,” Marla said, accepting a tissue from Annabel, “but I can’t believe we’re sitting here talking about Jonell needing a defense lawyer. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Maybe if I’d gone to the police right away,” Marbury mused, “this wouldn’t be happening.” He glanced at Smith, who refrained from giving him an I-told-you-so look.
Throughout the questioning, Smith kept thinking about the lunch he’d had with Phil Rotondi, and what the former Baltimore prosecutor had told him. He decided to raise it with Marbury without being specific.
“Jonell, are you aware of any damaging material about the Marshalk Group that might be circulating?”
“I don’t think so. Well, that’s not exactly true. There have been rumors that the Justice Department is getting ready to charge the firm with something, but I don’t know anything more specific than that. Why do you ask?”
“Just something I’ve heard around town.”
“There is a lot of dissatisfaction at work, however. I know that Camelia was leaving because of what she felt was a pending problem. And I had a long talk with Neil Simmons the other day. To be honest, I’ve been thinking of bailing out, too, and I had the feeling that Neil might be contemplating the same thing.”
“I imagine that Mr. Marshalk wouldn’t be happy having his top people leave, knowing where the skeletons are hidden,” Smith said.
“No doubt about that, Mac. Camelia told me—” He glanced at Marla, whose expression was blank. “Camelia told me that Marshalk threatened her before she left.”
“Threatened?” Annabel said. “Physically?”
“According to her. He said something like he wouldn’t want to see anything bad happen to her. He also tried to buy her silence.”
“Silence about what?” Annabel followed up.
“About what she knew. She used to work for Justice, and she was going back there. He handed her an envelope with a check for fifty thousand dollars in it, a going-away bonus.”
Mac whistled. “That’s a hefty severance.”
“She wouldn’t take it, gave it back to him.”
“I don’t imagine he was pleased with that,” Mac said. “You told me that Marshalk tried to convince you to not go to the police about having been at the Simmons house that day.”
“Right.”
“But according to the police, he says just the opposite, that he told you to come forward.”
“That’s a lie, Mac, an out-and-out lie.”
“I believe you. Look, Jonell, right now all the police have is your fingerprint on a glass, and the possibility of one of your hairs in the house. I have no doubt that you’re being set up. What we have to do is come up with the person or people who are behind it. Absent that, the police are likely to decide that those two pieces of forensics are enough to charge you.”
“You can’t let that happen, Mac,” Marla said.
“I’ll do all I can to prevent it, Marla. Why don’t you two go on home and salvage what you can of the day.”
“I didn’t go into work today,” Marla said.
“Neither did I,” said Marbury. “I should have called, only I had other things on my mind.”
Smith half laughed. “I’d say that’s an understatement, Jonell.”
After they’d left, Annabel said to Mac, “I feel terrible for them.”
“Everybody’s worst fear, to be accused of a serious crime you had nothing to do with.”
“Have you talked with Phil again?”
“No. He’s in Chicago. He said he had a source there who might be able to fill him in on who sent that package to Mrs. Simmons.” He checked his watch. “I don’t know where he’s staying. I’ll call Emma.”
• • •
Lyle Simmons was somber on the flight back to D.C. the following morning. McBride and Markowicz read their boss’s mood and kept their distance, and Rotondi picked up on the atmosphere. Walter McTeague was waiting at the general aviation area of Reagan National when they landed and drove them into the city, dropping Rotondi off at Emma’s house before proceeding to the Dirksen Senate Office Building. Rotondi thought Emma might still be sleeping, but she was up, showered, and dressed when he came through the door. Homer leaped off the couch and slapped his paws on his master, who returned the enthusiastic