Fletch’s Fortune

Thirty-four

3:00 P.M.

ARRIVAL OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

(Cancelled)

ARRIVAL OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

Fletch heard the helicopter banging away overhead as he crossed the lobby to the French doors.

Most of the conventioneers were on the terrace behind Hendricks Plantation House to watch the helicopter land on the lawn. The sunlight brought out the bright colors of their clothes. Mostly they were still chattering about Leona Hatch’s insider’s report on her eight terms as a White House reporter.

When Fletch came onto the terrace, the helicopter had retreated to the sky over the far ridge of trees.

Leona Hatch pulled herself away from an admiring group of young people, and approached Fletch.

“I’ll swear I know you,” she said “With my dying breath, I’ll swear.”

He put her hand out to her.

“Fletcher,” he said. “Irwin Fletcher.”

She shook hands, limply, her eyes searching his face, sharply.

“I feel I know you very well,” she said.

Fletch was looking for Captain Neale.

Junior, sallow and slump-shouldered, was standing with Jake Williams, watching the helicopter.

“I can’t get over this feeling, this certainty, that I know you well,” Leona Hatch said “But I can’t remember.…”

Fletch saw Neale standing with some uniformed Virginia State policemen.

“Excuse me,” he said to Leona Hatch.

He touched Neale’s elbow.

Neale looked at him.

The slight expression of annoyance in Neale’s face was replaced by a gentle, respectful curiosity.

Obviously, Neale was remembering from lunch that Fletch seemed to know more about the murder of Walter March than the others did, and, in addition, could make some very good guesses.

Fletch said, quietly, “I think you should go talk with Lydia March.”

Neale looked at Fletch a moment, probably considering questions to ask, but deciding not to ask any.

Captain Neale nodded, and went through the crowd and into the lobby of the hotel.

The helicopter was approaching the lawn below the terrace very slowly.

Fletch had been aware that a group of five men, moving together, had come onto the terrace.

It was not until they were standing at the front of the terrace, next to Junior and Jake Williams, that Fletch looked directly at the men.

Hands in pockets, appearing totally relaxed, watching the helicopter land, was the Vice-President of the United States.

Helena Williams spotted him the same time Fletch did.

She began to rush toward him from the other side of the terrace.

What she was saying was drowned out by the noise of the helicopter.

Junior, remaining oblivious to the presence of the Vice-President of the United States beside him, suddenly rocked back on his heels.

He put his hand up to his face, as if he were about to sneeze.

Fletch saw blood on Junior’s neck.

Then a splotch of blood appeared on Junior’s white shirt, next to his necktie.

Fletch started toward Junior.

Junior lost his balance and fell against the Vice-President.

Someone screamed.

Jake Williams yelled, “Junior!”

Junior rolled as he fell.

Landing on his back on the flagstones, the two splotches of blood, on his neck and on his shirt, were clearly visible.

Helena was kneeling over him.

Even over the sound of the helicopter, Fletch could hear Jake Williams shout, “Someone is trying to kill the Vice-President!”

One of the four men with the Vice-President spun him around, toward the hotel.

The other three surrounded him closely.

One held his hand out behind the Vice-President’s head, as if to shield him from the sun.

They pushed him through the crowd into the hotel.

Crystal Faoni had joined Helena Williams in kneeling over Junior.

Crystal was trying to blow air into Junior’s mouth.

The helicopter had settled on the lawn, and its door was opening.

Fletch looked across the lawn, and ran his eyes as closely as he could along the line of trees.

Men in Marine Corps uniform were getting off the helicopter.

At first, Fletch moved very slowly, backing away from the crowd, turning, jumping off the terrace, ambling across the lawn.

He did not break into a full run for the stables until he was well-concealed by the trees.