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  “So, where do we go from here?” asked Hub.

  Hub and Jill looked at each other, and then at Liv.

  “We’ll have to do some investigating,” Liv said.

  “OK,” said Jill. “I’ve got time on my hands now that I’m an Instant Republican.”

  “OK,” said Hub. “That’s what we’re talking about here. What to do.”

  “I haven’t heard any specific ‘what to do’s’ from either you or Jill,” said Liv. “I’ve got an idea of what ought to be done going forward on this thing. I worked up some ideas on the flight in, but I’ve been thinking about it for two years, those unexplained reasons for Barnes’ death and then Charley’s. Just the lawyer in me, I guess. I propose we divide up the work and then regroup in a month to compare notes.”

  Jill and Hub looked surprised, but both nodded. “Okay,” said Hub, “maybe. Let’s hear it.”

  You know,” said Liv, “Charley was killed a week after I visited him in prison, when he asked me to put Darlene somewhere safe and then he’d tell me more. That death was pretty suspicious, wasn’t it, just because of the timing if nothing else? And I was on my way to see him to discuss a letter he’d sent me when he was killed.”

  “But that means,” said Jill, “that someone was spying on Charley in prison and communicating to the outside. Who could do that?”

  “Anyone,” said Liv. “Anyone in prison, unless he’s in solitary 24/7, can communicate with the outside. That’s always been true. With a guard’s help or not.”

  Jill persisted. “But what did he tell you that caused someone to arrange his death, and so elaborately that it didn’t look like he was targeted? Wouldn’t that have taken more planning and power than just a gang member’s telling his friends on the inside to do something? And wouldn’t the existence of a daughter not be enough to keep Charley from talking?”

  “Actually,” said Liv, “the implausibility of that means Charley’s telling me about Darlene wasn’t the reason he was killed.”

  Jill shrugged. “OK,” she said, “just a thought.”

  “Well,” said Hub, “we do need to follow up on the daughter angle. Maybe something we find out in the next month could shed some light on it.”

  The others nodded.

  After a moment, Liv spoke up. “Charley said George mentioned Roanoke, and that’s where his daughter Darlene Timmons was, as far as he knew.”

  “Do you think she’d know anything?” Hub asked.

  “Doubtful. But someone could have been keeping a watch on her, in case she needed to be kidnapped. I think that’s what Charley assumed.”

  “Kidnapped or killed.”

  “Actually,” said Liv, “they wouldn’t have killed her, or they’d have lost their bargaining chip. Charley never thought of that. And now that Charley’s dead, they would certainly have no further interest in her.”

  “But if Darlene – if that’s her real name,” Jill said, “was friends with someone who suddenly disappeared at the time of her father’s death…”

  Hub spoke up. “A kind of ‘Dr. Zempf’ from Lolita, always hanging around, keeping track of her?”

  “Something like that,” Liv said.

  Jill looked up suddenly. “Then that could be our hit-guy, or someone working for him.”

  “Yes,” Liv said, “but it’s a pretty slim trail.”

  “But worth following up,” Hub said.

  Jill began, “And I could…”

  “In Charley’ last letter to me,” Liv said, “the day before he was killed, he asked me to look after Darlene. Actually I never followed up on that, because Brent talked me out of it. He convinced me it would be a waste of time, and Darlene wouldn’t be in danger anyway. But maybe we could find her. She might know something.”

  Jill said, “OK, I’m closer to Roanoke than either of you. I’ll go there and see what I can find. Did Charley tell you exactly where she lived?”

  “No, I don’t think he knew that himself. But he wrote he sent her money when he could – from one robbery or another, I suppose – and she’d pick it up from a friend at a 7-11 on Ninth Street. Of course that contact could be long gone; it’s been two years since Charley sent that letter to me. I’ll email you a copy.”

  “Do you know the contact’s name?” asked Jill.

  “No, but given the turnover in those places, I’d start with the manager; he’s more likely to have been there for a while than the others. Or he might know who’d been around back then. Go to Roanoke,” Liv concluded, “and see if you can find Darlene; and if you do, what she knows, if anything. If you please.”

  “Sure, OK,” said Jill, looking slightly annoyed at the brusque supervision. “I could do that,” she added. “I’m the closest one of us to Darlene and I’ve got time on my hands now.”

  “Remember,” said Liv. “Charley’s letter led me to believe Darlene didn’t know anything – not even the name of her father who was sending her that sometime-money.”

  “And next,” said Liv after a pause, “based on what Frank Dickstein told Hub, I think Hub should visit WizWhiz and find out if that woman changed the show, and if Stan Collins – is that his name? – knows anything more about her than Frankie did.”

  “OK,” said Hub. “I’ll visit them and see if that woman was behind the cut we’re calling The Clue. And maybe they know more about her than Frankie did.”

  “Fine,” said Liv. And now I think we should get the raw footage that JTJ’s class shot. From all three cameras.”

  The other two opened their mouths, but for a moment nothing came out.

  “Well fuck!” said Hub finally, “why didn’t we know about that before? That there were three cameras, I mean, not just one.”

  “You’re the Hollywood guy,” said Liv, “Don’t you always have more than one camera rolling?”

  Hub frowned. “We do; but I’ve looked at that footage hundreds of times. The point of view changes from trial-day to trial-day, but on each individual day it’s always the same POV – although with some pans and zooms – which means it’s always a single camera, just moved around from one day to the next.”

  “I know there were three,” said Liv, “I saw them every day for five days. JTJ wanted to use three cameras, and Brent and I didn’t object, and neither did Judge DuCasse, subject to a few conditions. It was for JTJ’s media class at the local JC. And she did use three.”

  “But the three cameras shot the same trial,” said Jill, “so why would we need to see all three?”

  “Probably we don’t,” said Liv, “I guess. But I think we should take a look anyway.”

  “OK,” said Jill, looking at Liv. “JTJ’s in Grantwood – still in Grantwood anyway, perhaps – so you should be the one to see her about this, and then we can look at the tapes together.”

  “All right,” said Liv. “I’ll do that. If she’s there - last I heard she was scheming to get to the big leagues somewhere. And I’ll also talk to her about what she saw. She was in the courtroom when that little glance from Charley happened. I don’t know where she was looking at that moment, but we should find out.”

  “And,” she continued, “I could see Brent. Before he goes to Congress he might have some time to see me. I can ask a few favors that a prosecutor could do but we couldn’t.”

  “Like what?” Hub asked.

  “Like get the FBI and a few other agencies to locate a woman fitting the description Frankie gave you, Hub, who uses the alias ‘Stephanie Bloomberg.’”

  “That’s assuming she’s used that name before.”

  “Yeah, it is. But worth a shot. The cost of getting a really convincing fake ID can be high enough that buyers are tempted to use it multiple times.

  “How do we know that ‘Bloomberg’ has ever come to the FBI’s attention? said Jill.”

  “Well, we don’t. But as I said, I think we should give it a shot.”

  “And there’s one more thing,” Liv added. “I visited Ezra Barnes’ staff after he died, about a week before they
dispersed. Most of them will probably have gone on to other jobs on the Hill, or at some agency. I spoke with them about the possibility Senator Conning was involved, since he was the only one who benefited from Barnes’ death – that we know.”

  Hub looked up sharply. “The new President?”

  “Yes,” said Liv, “but that doesn’t mean he was personally involved. Those hangers-on can do a lot of damage the candidate doesn’t know about. Now, I have two assignments here already, and I’ve got a job as well, and I’m not worth three million dollars, and I don’t live around Washington. So if Jill can take this task on, I think we’d all be grateful.”

  Jill nodded.

  “When I speak with Brent,” Liv said, “I’ll ask him to call the Hill and get the current addresses of Barnes’ people of two years ago, and I’ll send those over to you, Jill.”

  “Fine,” said Jill.

  “Anything else on your list,” Hub asked.

  “OK, for the record,” said Liv, “not as important as what we’ve agreed to look into. What about this completely irrational presence of the car key that didn’t fit anything? There must have been some reason for it.”

  Heads were shaken all around.

  “I guess we’ll just drop it,” Liv said.

  “Well” said Hub, “we’ve got some assignments – Team!”

  Liv looked up. “Team?”

  “Sure,” Jill said, “we’re the – ah – Agonauts! How about that?”

  There were frowns but no audible disagreement.

  After a moment of silence, “Well,” said Hub, “I guess we’ve got ourselves a mystery to solve. Let’s stay in touch, and get back together in – a month?”

  The women nodded.

  “At my place,” said Hub, “in the tub.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Liv, “Jill and I live in the east. It’s your turn to wait wait wait in the boarding lounge and not get any peanuts. Meet us in – oh, the D.C. area?”

  Hub shrugged. “I guess I could do that.”

  “Are you all right with that, Jill?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I hate to fly.”

  “Well then,” said Liv, “it’s settled. Exactly one month from today, nine p.m., we’ll meet at the Stirrup Bar and Grill in Washington.”

  Jill and Hub sat with open mouths as Liv ate her last tortilla, and theirs.

  Back in the hotel, Jill couldn’t wait to tell Ellie about the Great Sleuthing that was about to begin, but Ellie was still out. She’d left a message that she’d found some great people and they were going out to celebrate. Jill worried a little, wonder what they were celebrating other than having found fellow-souls who also liked to celebrate.

  But the next morning Ellie turned up, happy and hung over. As they headed for LAX courtesy of another car from Hub, she told Jill what a great bunch of people she’d met in the hotel bar and they just loved it that she knew Hub Landon for real, and even had dinner with him (with two other people, but she didn’t quite say that) that very night.

  Chapter 24: Two Years and Two Months After the Assassination

  On the flight from LAX back to Grantwood (by way of BWI, Grantwood’s airport having no commercial flights other than once a week to Johnstown), Liv phoned JTJ. She said “This is Olivia Saunders” slowly and clearly, figuring she might as well use her renewed fame for something. Immediately, JTJ was on the line.

  “Liv!” Wonderful! I was just wondering how I could get an interview with you.”

  “Are you recording this?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “Well, turn it off.”

  “My memory. I could misquote you, and then you’d…”

  “Off the record.”

  A hesitant “Well, OK.” A click.

  Look, Ms. Jackson –“

  “That’s ‘JTJ’ among friends, honey, especially famous ones!”

  “’JTJ’ then. I’ll be happy to give you an interview tomorrow or the next day, tell you how thrilled I was and how sweet and kind all those suits in Hollywood were this year except they don’t wear suits anymore and they’re all egotistical shits. But not now. I need you to remember something.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise what?”

  “Interview.”

  “Oh. OK. Promise.”

  “OK, here’s what I’m wondering. When you covered the Charley Dukes trial, were you actually in the courtroom?”

  “Sure. Most of the time, anyway. I ducked out to give a quickie report ‘on the hour’ as we say in the trade. The Duchess, you know, she wouldn’t…”

  “I know.”

  “… wouldn’t let me broadcast from the courtroom, y’know? Even during a recess. But most of the time I was inside taking notes, especially watching faces, body language, all that human stuff that makes me a great reporter.”

  Liv thought A great reporter? In Grantwood, Pennsylvania? Give me a break! But said nothing.

  JTJ continued on. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I have some questions for you, too,” Liv said, “about the trial, and I need your answers. Soon. About what you saw at the trial. OK? So how about eight o’clock this evening instead? My plane lands at six and I’ll be home by eight.”

  “Sure. I’ll be at your place.”

  “Not the studio?”

  “Honey, I like to get a little atmosphere behind the people I’m interviewing, y’know. Dirty dishes, yapping dogs, and all that.”

  “Fine, although I don’t have any dogs and very few dishes. And I need something from you. I need the unedited tapes from those three cameras your people used at the trial, all five days. I’ll give them back in a month, so don’t bother copying them.”

  “Ah – I hope those tapes haven’t been tossed. Some of the work was really student-class, focus and all that, people bumping into tripods, but I’ll look this afternoon at the JC and see if I can come up with them.”

  “It’s really important, ‘JTJ,’ especially if you want that interview.”

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call.

  “OK. I’ll try.”

  Liv resolved to have all her dishes washed by eight o’clock, and not buy a dog in the meantime.

  The meeting with JTJ had been productive, Liv considered as she was on her way to meet with Brent Nielsen: the original trial tapes were still in existence and could be made available. She was still annoyed at Brent for his surprise attempt to get the death penalty for Charley Dukes. Her level of pissedness was somewhat reduced by the thought she’d had won that battle, or perhaps Brent had just lost it and her maneuvers hadn’t made any difference. Some consolation! But bygones, etc., and she had to tell Brent about “Stephanie Bloomberg.” Had to get him interested in finding out who that woman was.

  Liv went to Brent’s office and had to wait no more than five minutes before she was ushered in. He looked about as unstressed as Liv remembered ever seeing him. “Hi, Liv!” he said, “Well, I’ll be off to Washington pretty soon, and I’ve already handed off my cases here to my deputy, so I do have time to see you, if you’ll make it brief of course.”

  “Of course,” said Liv, thinking she’d be glad when he was gone.

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “Remember when Charley Dukes implicated a man going by first name of ‘Art’ or last name of ‘George’?”

  “Sure,” said Brent. “And you had me looking in every database this side of Russia’s FSB, and not much came of it, just a cold trail. So are we going back to that dry hole again?”

  “Almost,” said Liv. She gave him a rundown of the mysterious Stephanie Bloomberg’s two appearances: In Frankie Dickstein the producer’s office, and at WizWhiz. “And she’s real,” Liv continued, “by whatever name. She met with Dickstein under false pretenses.”

  “Did she try to defraud him or otherwise harm him or that Wooz-What company?”

  “Well, no, not that I know of.”

  “Then there’s no prosecutorial interest in her.
Anyway, that’s not in my territory, anymore, by about three thousand miles.”

  “Just another database search, Brent. This is the last time…”

  “Until next time.”

  “No, this is it. Obviously an assumed name: ‘Stephanie Bloomberg.’ Can you please have your aides take a look? They could probably use some practice in searching databases, anyway.”

  Brent gave Liv an annoyed glance. “OK,” he said. “We’ll run that name against the FBI and some State police files, and in California too. Do you have a photograph and a description?”

  “Description, yes. But no photo.”

  “That’s OK; computer photo matching is chancy, although sometimes it works. DHS has spent hundreds of millions… Anyway, do you know what part of the country she might have a record of some kind in?”

  For the first time, it occurred to Liv she had no clue as to Bloomberg’s location: west, east, south, or middle, much less state or city. She took a leap of faith and prayed Bloomberg was behind George or associated with him, so “D.C. area” would be her best guess as to location.

  “Yes,” she said, “I do: Washington D.C. or somewhere close: Maryland or Virginia. She must have flown cross-country to pull that impersonation on Dickstein. So it must have been really important.”

  Brent leaned back in his chair. “That at least limits the scope. I’ll put this out tonight and you should have something in, oh, two or three days. Maybe a little more.”

  “Thank you!” said Liv a little too loudly.

  “Think nothing of it,” said Brent. “Next election cycle I may be calling on you for a favor.”

  In the next month, the Agonauts performed their investigations, met people, made calls, took trips – and asked questions. This activity came to the attention of several automated systems and thence to Sybille Haskin.

  Haskin felt her exposure keenly. She’d been at the trial to check that no accusations of a conspiracy had been mooted. Risky, but her face hadn’t appeared in seasons one or two and by now everyone who’d been there would have forgotten her presence.