Conspiracy

58

“Bottom line, forester was a burnout. He was never going anywhere in the Ser vice. His wife was giving him the boot.

And he had this personality — he’d just basically given up on things. The only exception to that was his girlfriend, and frankly, that seems like it was pretty one-sided.” Special

Agent John Mandarin leaned back on the park bench in front of the Danbury town hall, where Lia had arranged to meet him. “That’s why he killed himself.”

“So you think I’m wasting my time checking into Forester’s death,” said Lia, recapping in a sentence what Mandarin had taken five minutes to explain.

“Look, it’s not my time, so I can’t tell you what to do,” said Mandarin. “But off the record, I think the director—” Mandarin stopped mid-sentence. Lia followed his glance toward two young women walking across the street.

“They’re underage,” snapped Lia.

“Just looking,” said Mandarin lamely. “The thing is, it was pretty obviously a suicide. Staging that — it’s real easy in the movies, OK? But in real life, those things happen a certain way. When I was a policeman for a while I saw two of them. Which is a lot. And I’m not the only one who thinks that. The FBI came over as soon as the state police figured out the guy was a federal agent. There was no jurisdictional backbiting here, no finger-pointing. We were called and we came. Believe me, if there had been any sign of anything other than suicide, somebody would have seen it.”

“So if it’s all so obvious, why isn’t the case officially closed?”

“You mean why is the director still asking questions?” Mandarin smiled. “I think the director was kind of shook by it. Frey was Forester’s first boss, showing him the ropes. Or supposed to. I think he felt guilty about it.” Mandarin shook his head. He had a slightly older woman in his sights now, good-looking, with tight, expensive jeans.

Lia resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

“Frey had a reputation as a real hard-ass,” said the Secret Service agent finally. “That’s how he got to where he is now.

He came down hard on people. Too hard, probably. He stuck a couple of things in Forester’s file early on. Little things, but, you know, anyone looking at them sees whose initials are at the top there, and they’re going to figure that this guy is not on the chosen list, if you know what I mean.”

“Frey held him back?”

“No. Not on purpose. He probably thought he was doing him a favor.” Mandarin laughed. “I worked with Frey when he was one of us. Yeah, I’m that old.” He laughed again, even harder. “Very, very, very competent guy. The guy you want watching your back, believe me. The President can trust him. But tough on the help. Kicked me in the butt more than once.”

“The state police report noted the chain wasn’t locked on the door.”

“Ehhh. Not a biggie.”

“There were no prints on the doorknob, which seems strange,” Lia pointed out. “Not even Forester’s.” Mandarin held his hand out in front of him. “Door was a handle type. I go to open it, I push down, odds are I don’t leave a print. Spring brings it back behind me. Everybody obsessed with forensics, but a lot of times in the real world things don’t follow a script.”

Mandarin leaned back on the bench, stretching.

“I’m only holding the case open because not all the reports have come back yet. I’m not pushing for them to come back,” he added, giving her a sideways glance. “Because I have better things to do, if you get my drift.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m in a no-win position. The big boss wants me to find that it wasn’t suicide. Everybody else in the world tells me it was.” Mandarin shook his head. “I’m sorry. He killed himself.

I don’t like to think of it myself, but that’s the bottom line.”

“Even if it was a suicide,” said Lia, “he’s our only connection to Vietnam.”

“I guess. I don’t buy the whole overseas-conspiracy thing.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, the shooter missed. A government goes to the kind of lengths you’re talking about here, they’re going to pick someone who doesn’t miss.”

“Everybody misses once in a while.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Really pissed-off constituent decides to do the senator in. Hired a crazy to help. Or maybe he’s a crazy himself.”

“So why can’t you find him?”

“It’s not as easy as you think.” Mandarin got up. “Listen, I gotta get going. I have to find something for my son’s birthday. Then I have to get up to Albany because McSweeney’s due there. You’re welcome to join us if you want, OK? Or if you want more help here, let us know. But I think you’re spinning your wheels here.”

“How old is he?”

“Who, my kid? Thirteen. Good kid, but a tough age.”

“Forester had a son around that old,” said Lia.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Would you commit suicide knowing how it would affect your son?”

“I’m not Forester.”