The Machiavelli Covenant by Allan Folsom Read Free Book Online

with Caroline, that it had been and still was, genuine.
    "And since Dr. Stephenson was her primary physician," Monroe came toward him, "you wanted to hear from her what had happened."
    "Yes."

    "So you called and called but you never got through to her. It made you mad. How mad?"
    "She finally did return my call."
    "And what did she tell you?"
    "That the things I wanted to talk about were privileged information between doctor and patient."
    "That was all?"
    "Yes."
    "And between eight and nine last evening you were just driving around the city?" Now it was Herbert again.
    "Yes."
    "Alone?"
    "Yes."
    "Where?"
    "I told you, I don't know."
    "Anybody see you?"
    "I don't know that either."
    "Did you kill her?" Monroe snapped suddenly.
    "No."
    Herbert kept the pressure on: "You're an American but you live and work in England."
    "I graduated from the University of Manchester with an advanced degree in landscape architecture. I liked it there and decided to stay. I work for a small firm, Fitzsimmons and Justice, where I design formal gardens and other landscape projects. I have a British passport and consider myself an expatriate."
    Herbert got up from the table. As he did, Marten saw him exchange the briefest glance with Monroe. What it told him was startling. They had not come after him because they thought Caroline had been murdered or because they thought he or Dr. Stephenson had been involved with it or because he had been seen chasing after Stephenson in the moments before she killed herself.No, they had picked him up simply because of the phone calls he'd made to her. It meant they were certain she had been murdered. But that was impossible because he had been right in front of her when she shot herself. So why did they believe what they did?
    The only possible explanation was that someone had gotten to her body very soon after he'd left and done something to it to make it appear she had been killed. Maybe taken her gun from the scene and then shot her in the face with a weapon of much larger caliber, destroying the evidence of the suicide and making it look like murder and giving the investigators and the coroner little reason to suspect anything else. But
why?
Unless the motive for the suicide of a woman of her prominence would have been far more carefully scrutinized than if she had simply been killed.
    Marten looked to the detectives. He wanted to press them for details about the state of Dr. Stephenson's body when they'd found it, but he didn't dare. Right now it seemed they were still pretty much in the dark about what had happened. Consequently they had nothing they could hold him on, so showing any curiosity at all would only pique their interest, make them wonder why he wanted to know and start in on him again. So best to get off it while he could.
    "I think I've answered your questions," he said respectfully. "If you don't mind, I would like to go."
    Herbert studied him for a long moment, as if he were looking for something he had missed. Marten held his breath, afraid that this might be when they would ask for his fingerprints just to make certain he wasn't wanted somewhere.
    "How long do you intend to stay in D.C., Mr. Marten?" he said, instead.

    "Caroline Parsons's memorial service is tomorrow. After that I don't know."
    Abruptly Herbert handed him his business card. "You check with me before you go anywhere outside the city. You understand?"
    "Yes, sir." Marten tried not to show his relief. For now, at least, they were letting him go.
    Monroe walked toward the door and pulled it open. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Marten. To your left and down the stairs."
    "Thanks," Marten said. "Sorry I couldn't help you more." He went out quickly. To his left and down the stairs.

WEDNESDAY
APRIL 5

11

    • BERLIN, GERMANY, 10:45 A.M.

    The heavy armored doors of the presidential limousine swung closed. The Secret Service agent at the wheel nudged the machine into gear and the car carrying President of the United States