Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(66)

“I may have to call you if I get frozen out of the interview.”

“You think there’s a chance in hell a suspect like Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg is going to say anything? Doesn’t she have a law degree from NYU or someplace like that?”

“Yeah, Columbia. She hasn’t practiced in a few years and isn’t a current member of the bar.”

Detective Swinson said, “I’m saying, despite the hippie artist demeanor, she’s probably pretty sharp.”

“Lawyers are generally good when they’re dealing with clients. You can never tell how someone under stress will react. That’s why I want to be in that first interview. I need to ask her about Emily Parker while she’s still in shock.”

Detective Swinson hadn’t calmed me down. All I could do was wait.

It was late morning when Detective Holly called me to say they were in DC and intended to make the arrest. I managed to convince them to talk to me first. I raced over to a city office where the Baltimore cops and the DC homicide unit were meeting. From the front of the conference room, Detective Holly gave me a quick wave as I slipped in behind assembled law enforcement.

Of course a lot of detectives were involved in a case that would be a national news event. Though there was agreement that the arrest needed to happen right away, the location was up for debate. Someone suggested going to her house. Someone else argued for alerting Justice Steinberg.

I was happy to see Detective Holly speak up. “We’ve got to conduct an interview as soon as we confront her. We have to rely on the element of surprise. We can’t let her surrender and have time to get her story straight with a lawyer.”

As the group discussed potential ideas, I slipped over to Detective Holly.

I said, “I have a pretty good idea where Rhea is right now.”

“Great. Where is she?”

I gave her my best evil smile. “All it will cost you is a seat at the interview table.”

I could tell Detective Holly was impressed with my negotiating skills.





Chapter 87



I let Detective Holly make the pitch for me to be in the interview. When a DC detective asked why, Detective Holly said, “I think he can help us find her quickly.”

Detectives generally aren’t stupid. They knew some kind of secret deal had passed between Stephanie Holly and me. None of them looked happy about the high price of the trade-off.

We sat in silence. This wasn’t a gangster movie. I didn’t know how far I should push this.

I risked it and told the entire room how Rhea tended to visit Rose’s Down-Home Diner after her morning work at her art studio. The DC cops knew the place immediately. A tall female detective said, “The food there sucks.”

We made a plan. That’s what cops should do every time they make an arrest. At least a planned arrest. After some haggling, the group agreed that Detective Holly would be the lead. A DC detective and I would go in with her.

I looked over at the DC detective. He hadn’t said a word during the entire meeting. He was in his late forties and dressed in a rumpled suit. This was not a cop looking to make a reputation. He was a token. He’d have no real role in the interview. By the looks of him, he had no real interest in it either.

It was clear someone in the DC police was getting nervous. They wanted to limit their exposure. After all, it sounded crazy on the face of it. The spouse of a sitting Supreme Court justice arrested on a homicide charge. Who’d believe it? But the DC police command staff couldn’t let the media think that cops from another agency had walked into DC and made an arrest by themselves. Politics—it follows us everywhere.

Stepping through the front door of Rose’s Down-Home Diner, I felt a strong sense of déjà vu. It was as if the tiny restaurant had been frozen in time since my last visit. One person sat at the counter. The tattooed, unfriendly waitress just stared at us as we walked casually toward Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg, sitting by herself in a corner booth.

I noticed she was eating the super kale soup as she read the Washington Post.

No one in the diner paid much attention to us. We walked casually, trying to avoid any commotion. Detective Holly slid into the booth right next to Rhea so calmly that it seemed natural. I’m sure the waitress thought we were meeting Rhea.

Rhea’s mild reaction didn’t raise any alarms either.

The DC detective and I slid into the booth directly across from Rhea.

Detective Holly and the DC cop had their badges and IDs out almost before Rhea’s eyes came off her Washington Post. No one wanted Rhea to think she was being kidnapped.

The other detectives may have identified themselves, but it was me Rhea looked up at. She said, “Now you have to bring friends when you annoy me?”

“I’m glad you remember me.”

“Barely.” She looked around the table, then focused on me again. “I thought I made it clear the last time you approached me that I didn’t want to talk to you.” She looked directly at the DC cop. “This man is stalking me. I’ll file a report with you. I don’t want him near me anymore.” When the DC cop didn’t move, Rhea added, “Do I need to make a phone call? You won’t have a very good day if that’s what I have to do.”

Rhea was definitely not making any friends at this table. I was impressed that the other two cops kept quiet. I always liked to let a suspect’s imagination run wild. Thoughts of what might happen were almost always worse than the reality.