Dead Watch

Johnson Black arrived thirty minutes later. The guns had been put away, they’d taken showers, the clothes from the cabin were running through the wash cycle. Black was beaming when he came through the door, kissed Madison on the cheek, shook Jake’s hand, said, “Now it’s getting interesting. Jake, if I could talk to Madison alone for a minute?”

“He can stay here,” Madison said. “What do you want to know?”

Black peered at Madison for a moment, then said to her, “I have to warn you that your interests might not be identical. Maybe it’d be better if I talked to you alone.”

“Forget that,” Madison said. “I want him here.”

Black shrugged. “All right. The FBI will ask if you know anything about Howard Barber killing Linc.”

“I guessed. Howard came over, I accused him of it. He more or less confessed, and I threw him out.”

“You didn’t tell the FBI or anyone else?”

“It was two days ago, Johnnie. I was going through a nightmare.”

“All right. When the FBI asks, I’ll advise you to stand silent. If they really want to know, they’ll take you before a grand jury, but they’ll have to give you immunity.”

“If I won’t talk to them, then they’ll know . . . I mean, they’ll really know.”

“Having them know, without going to prison, is better than going to prison. Period. End of story.”

“All right.”

“Besides, if you and Barber had a private conversation, well, Barber’s dead—so who’s there to contradict you?” Madison glanced at Jake, and Black caught it. “What? Who else was there?”

“Nobody. But Jake thinks my house might have been bugged.”

“Uh-oh.” Black looked at the ceiling. “How about this place? Who would have given them a warrant. You think Homeland Security . . . ?”

“We think it’s Goodman,” Jake said. “No warrants, just the Watchmen. Every time Madison has a conversation in her living room, it seems to wind up in the papers the next day.”

“Huh. Well, I know the people who can find it, if it’s there,” Black said. He looked at his watch. “Let’s go. First to the FBI, then home. You’ll have to make a statement to the press.”

He looked at Jake, then back to Madison: “Did you tell Jake? About Barber and Linc?”

“No. Not then. Not until we heard on the car radio that the FBI was looking into it.”

“What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Winter?”

Madison shrugged, then said, “Intimate.”

Black said, “That may not have been wise. To have become . . . intimate . . . under the circumstances.”

“I would have said ‘athletic,’ ” Madison told Black, hands on her hips. “And screw the circumstances.”

Black said, “Okay. Now, let me phrase this next question as carefully and fully as I can. Was Howard Barber suicidal because of his relationship with Linc? If he was, and if you were willing to say that, we might be able to smooth over some embarrassment that everybody’s feeling about his death. We might be able to . . . apply some political salve. Can you say that Howard was suicidal?”

Madison didn’t hesitate: “I pleaded with him not to do anything rash. He seemed absolutely despondent. He had a history of clinical depression. He told me that he’d thought about going along with Linc—when Linc died.”

Black showed a smile, then said, “Let’s call the feds. Jake, you’ve got the connection . . .”

Novatny picked up the phone and asked, “Have you seen Madison Bowe?”

“She’s here, hiding out,” Jake said. “She’s afraid a Watchman will find her and throw her out a window.”

“That’s about eighty percent bullshit,” Novatny said. “I think Barber jumped.”

“That’s not what they’re saying on TV—and the FBI’s not talking to us, if you remember. Ol’ buddy.”

“Yeah, well . . . Is she going to talk to us?”

“She’ll talk to you or a DOJ lawyer. Her attorney’s with her now,” Jake said. Across the living room, Johnson Black wiggled his thick eyebrows. “I don’t know what they’re talking about, but they’ve been in the study for a while.”

“We’re talking about Johnson Black?” Novatny asked.

“Yup. They told me to call you. Do you want to come here, or do you want them to come there?”

“Really?” Novatny was skeptical.

“Really.”

“It’d be more convenient if she came here.”

“Give her half an hour,” Jake said. “Where do you want her exactly?”

“My office. Call ahead—I’d like to take a walk around the block with you, before we go upstairs.”

“With me?”