Overkill(68)

When Zach and Kate arrived at the police station, cursory introductions were made to the two detectives, one male, one female, who were investigating Upton Franklin’s suicide. After a round of handshakes, they whisked Kate away.

Zach had been left to wait on an uncomfortable bench in a hallway. Word must have gotten around that he was there, because a continual stream of officers and civilians paraded past. Someone would walk by, then turn their head to take another gander at him. He felt like a zoo animal confined to a small space, stared at and remarked upon.

He kept his feet tucked beneath the bench and his arms folded over his chest. The body language, along with his intimidating game face, must have worked, because no one had dared to speak to him.

He’d been there for forty-two minutes and counting when Kate emerged from a room midway down the hall. She was followed out by the two detectives. Both they and Kate were unsmiling as they came toward him.

He stood up, and when Kate reached him, she said, “Thank you for waiting.”

“Like I would leave.” He turned to the two detectives and asked if she was free to go.

The man bobbed his chin. “We know how to reach her if the need arises.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Lennon,” said the female.

“Of course.” Kate shook hands with them. Each nodded a goodbye to Zach, then, after the man said, “I miss watching you play ball,” they turned and walked back down the hallway.

Zach cupped Kate’s elbow. “Ready?”

“More than.”

On their way downstairs to the ground floor neither said anything, but he sensed her dejection. Once outside the building, she took a deep, cleansing breath. When they reached her car, he said, “I’ll drive.”

“I’ll let you.”

They got in, but he didn’t start the motor. “You want to talk about it, or not?” He wanted to know the contents of the suicide note, but he wouldn’t prod her if she was still trying to assimilate it herself.

She rested her head on the seat back. “The detectives gave me a basic description of the scene. The pistol was lying on the terrace inches from the chaise lounge where the lawn man discovered him. The clip was empty, so apparently Mr. Franklin had loaded only one bullet. It was sufficient.”

She swallowed, then waited a few seconds before continuing. “After laying that groundwork, the detectives got both of Franklin’s daughters on speakerphone. They’d been notified of his death already, and had been sent a copy of the note, but since it was addressed to me, they wanted to know if I could provide a clearer explanation. Both confirmed that the note was in their father’s handwriting and didn’t believe it could have been forged.” She looked over at Zach. “What it says is evidence enough of a suicide.

“He informed his daughters that he’d been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. He chose this easier way out. But beyond the illness, he said, he could no longer live with himself. With his dishonor and dishonesty.”

“He wanted to come clean before dying.”

“In effect. He implored his family to absolve themselves of any guilt or responsibility for what he was about to do. He apologized for his many failings as a husband and father.” She paused and took a breath. “He also apologized to me. He saved me for last.”

“Out of importance?”

“I don’t know. I suppose. He expressed remorse for tipping off Eban Clarke about me and the case I had hoped to build against him. He admitted that he was violating professional privilege by discussing the Clarkes, but said that it was a minor infraction compared to his countless others.”

“What, specifically, about you?”

“When he saw you and me under the glare of public scrutiny last night, he realized that Eban had exploited information he’d given him yesterday morning. In the note, he confessed to having had a staff member at the special care facility reporting to him on an as-needed basis, such as your trip down there earlier this week, and then our visit yesterday. That’s how Eban knew we were in New Orleans.”

“Did he name the informer?”

“Yes, I put her name in my phone.”

“Dr. Gilbreath will want to know.”

She gave an absent nod. Zach sensed that she was withholding something, saving it for last as Upton Franklin had done with his apology to her. If it was that important, he decided that a little prodding might be excusable. Softly, he said, “That’s not all, is it?”

“No.” Hesitantly, she said, “The last part of the note was a warning.”

“Meant for you?”

“Yes. He wrote that Eban perceives people in absolutes. One is either his subservient friend, or a bitter foe. There’s no in between. So in Eban’s mind, I wasn’t regarded merely as a threat, but as an enemy. Mr. Franklin emphasized that Eban seeks vengeance on anyone who gets the better of him, even if it’s a minor, unintentional slight. And he’s relentless. Creating that smear campaign about us last night was only the beginning of what I should expect, he said.”

“Did he say what you should expect?”

“What he feared, what he most regretted being responsible for, was Eban’s inevitable reprisal against me. ‘Inevitable’ was underlined.”

“In other words, you’re in danger from Eban Clarke.”