Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(29)

Dr. Zeta said, “Emily was a little withdrawn. I will say she really respected you. She spoke about you several times. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to meet with you.”

“I’m not questioning your assessment of Emily, but I knew her, and I never would’ve considered her ‘withdrawn.’”

“I’m using that term in the clinical sense. She did find some solace in certain social interactions. But on a day-to-day basis she could feel overwhelmed with the number of people she had to meet and talk to.”

I thought about that and said, “Doesn’t that run counter to her social life? She seemed to go to a lot of parties and meet a lot of people.”

The psychiatrist thought about it for a moment. “Those were the kinds of social interactions she appreciated.”

“Dr. Zeta, all I really want to do is find her killer. I think her death might have had some connection with her romantic relationships. Is there anything you could tell me that might be useful? Was she having a rough time in a relationship? Did she feel threatened?”

“Emily was relatively private. She liked strong, ambitious, and motivated people. She enjoyed their company.”

“Did she talk about any of her relationships specifically?”

“Now I have to use a little more caution. I don’t want to drag anyone into your investigation who might be mourning her death. She never gave me any indication she was in danger from a relationship. She didn’t care about rumors, so she didn’t care that people gossiped that she slept around. I can tell you she didn’t. She had romantic relationships, but they were private. I really can’t name names.”

“So you couldn’t talk about Supreme Court justice Robert Steinberg?”

The psychiatrist’s startled pause told me she knew about the relationship between the justice and Emily.

I realized, talking to the doctor, that every interview I did wasn’t attacking the primary problem. I needed to go to the source. I knew exactly what my next move would be. If I was going to insult powerful people, then I’d do it to the people who might know something about Emily’s death. That did not include Senator Wellmy, no matter how much I wished he was involved.





Chapter 36



Dr. Zeta had inspired me. At least that was the excuse I was using the next day for doing something potentially stupid. I was on my way to the Supreme Court’s administrative offices. I counted on the same ploy I’d used at the Capitol when I’d gotten in to see Congressman Bryant from Delaware.

At the entrance, I waited until there was no one at the magnetometer. I used the southwest door to the administrative offices. I strolled in casually and quickly.

I waved to the General Services security guard manning the metal detector. I smiled and badged him.

The tubby guard looked at my badge and volunteered that he was a retired Virginia state trooper. “What’s a New York City detective doing here?” he asked.

“I don’t know if you know Beth Banks, the chief of staff for Justice Steinberg.”

“Oh, sure, I know her. See her every day. She just went upstairs about ten minutes ago.”

“She has some DVDs on her workout routine she said she’d give me if I came by.” I didn’t like to mislead a retired cop. But this was about the only way I figured I could get up to the office.

The security guard couldn’t have been more accommodating. He said, “She loves her workouts. Won’t even use the gym in the building. Every lunch hour, 12:30 on the dot, she heads over to Gold’s Gym on D Street. It’s a little more hard-core. I can escort you to her office.”

“I don’t want to waste your time.”

He shook his head. “It’s nice to get away from the magnetometer once in a while. Overall this is a pretty good gig. Low stress and a good retirement supplement. But it can get a little dull at this post.”

The simple comment made me wonder. This guy wasn’t much older than me. Would I end up on a metal detector at some federal building in New York? The fact that I had ten kids made it obvious I wouldn’t be retiring anytime soon. After speaking to this security guard, I realized that might not be such a bad thing.

I let him tell me about a couple of his big cases. Then he asked a younger man to stand his post as he personally walked me up to the office. He even asked for Justice Steinberg’s sister by name at the door.

A moment later, a woman in her early thirties with short dark hair and wearing a professional skirt and blouse stepped out. Even behind a pair of glasses, the confused, annoyed expression on her face told me she didn’t want to talk to anyone. My guess was she was going to reprimand the security guard.

I felt bad about my deception as I looked and watched him realize he’d screwed up by bringing me to the office. I blurted out, “It’s my fault he brought me up here, Ms. Banks. I insisted and I misled him. Please don’t punish him for my ruse.”

Now her face turned red. She looked toward a receptionist who was clearly worried about what was going to happen next.

She took a couple of deep breaths. She dismissed the security guard with a nod of her head. When she turned to face me, I realized her broad-shouldered swimmer’s build had to stand at least five foot nine. My abrupt arrival had disrupted her day. She looked frustrated, frazzled.

Exactly how I wanted her to feel.