Blow Out
Page 83
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She seemed completely unaware of him for a moment. Then she slowly turned and straightened. “Is something wrong? What’s happened now?”
“Nothing. We wanted to speak to you.” He nodded to the Wall. Even though he knew, he asked, “Who is here for you?”
“My uncle, Bobby LaFleurette, my dad’s younger brother. He’d be in his fifties now, not young anymore.” She turned back, traced her fingers over his name. “He died in 1975, just months before the troop withdrawal. He was only twenty-one years old. I’m twenty-six. Isn’t that the strangest thing? He was so very young, and in many ways he’ll be young forever.”
Her finger traced again over the name, Robert R. LaFleurette. “His name comes right before Robert Petit and right after Douglas Mahoney. I’ve always wondered how they knew exactly who died in what order—that’s how they’re all listed, you know, in order of their death.”
Callie said, “Why do you come here, Fleurette?”
“Because Bobby was so young, because my father never stopped talking about him, how fun and wild he was, how he would have been such a hotshot in the business world, if only he’d survived the war. My father brought me here when the Wall first opened, back in 1984. I was six years old, and I remember it so very clearly.”
Callie said, “Fleurette, remember when we talked on Sunday? You said that Danny O’Malley had looked smug last Friday morning.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Smug how, exactly?”
“Like he knew something that neither I nor Eliza knew, and it tickled him. He looked—pleased with himself. I remember he was nodding, like he was having this sort of internal conversation with himself, and he liked what he was hearing.”
Ben said, “Think back, Fleurette. Do you remember if Danny looked at Justice Califano when he left his chambers to go to the meeting?”
She closed her eyes a moment, then they popped open. “Yes, Danny did do that. Yes, he did look at Justice Califano. It was a bit of a smirk, really. It all happened so fast it really didn’t settle in when it happened. But when I close my eyes now, I can see Danny sitting there, tapping his pen against his desk pad, and a smirk passing over his face.”
“Did Justice Califano notice? Did he look over at Danny?”
“I don’t—”
“Close your eyes again, Fleurette. Think back.”
Fleurette closed her eyes. She swayed a moment, leaned against the Wall for support. “Justice Califano’s back was to me when he passed by Danny’s desk, but he glanced at me before he left—and he looked suddenly tired.”
“Tired?”
“Yes, he looked tired, like something was too much for him. There was something on his mind, something he knew he had to deal with, but he looked tired. Maybe I’m reading too much into it now. You want me to see something and so I’m trying too hard to cooperate with you.”
“But you don’t think so?” Ben asked.
Slowly, she shook her head. She looked up at the gray sky. “It’s going to rain soon. I wonder if it will turn to snow again. I hope not. Everything becomes such a mess.”
Callie said, “Fleurette, why are you scared?”
“Scared? Me? I’m not scared.”
“Yes,” Callie said slowly, “you are. On Sunday, I could see it very plainly. You are scared. Why?”
Fleurette looked off toward the Lincoln Memorial, then back again at Callie. “Look, two people close to me have been murdered. If you saw any fear in me, it’s because of that.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, nothing else. I’d sure tell you if there were.”
Ben said, “Bobby Fisher—one of Justice Alto-Thorpe’s law clerks—”
“Yeah, I know the little creep.”
“He said you and Danny went out to lunch on Friday. You didn’t mention that to us.”
“That’s because we only walked to the corner together. Danny was in a mood, preoccupied, snarly—I suppose it makes sense now—but then I thought, Danny, you’re such a pain sometimes. I’d heard about a shoe sale at Maximillan’s, not two blocks away. I dumped him and went shoe shopping.”
“Bobby said you two had your heads together, a real chummy conversation,” Ben said.
“No, that’s Bobby being a creep again. He probably wanted you to focus your attention on someone else. He disliked Justice Califano, probably because he and Alto-Thorpe weren’t on good terms.”
“Nothing. We wanted to speak to you.” He nodded to the Wall. Even though he knew, he asked, “Who is here for you?”
“My uncle, Bobby LaFleurette, my dad’s younger brother. He’d be in his fifties now, not young anymore.” She turned back, traced her fingers over his name. “He died in 1975, just months before the troop withdrawal. He was only twenty-one years old. I’m twenty-six. Isn’t that the strangest thing? He was so very young, and in many ways he’ll be young forever.”
Her finger traced again over the name, Robert R. LaFleurette. “His name comes right before Robert Petit and right after Douglas Mahoney. I’ve always wondered how they knew exactly who died in what order—that’s how they’re all listed, you know, in order of their death.”
Callie said, “Why do you come here, Fleurette?”
“Because Bobby was so young, because my father never stopped talking about him, how fun and wild he was, how he would have been such a hotshot in the business world, if only he’d survived the war. My father brought me here when the Wall first opened, back in 1984. I was six years old, and I remember it so very clearly.”
Callie said, “Fleurette, remember when we talked on Sunday? You said that Danny O’Malley had looked smug last Friday morning.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Smug how, exactly?”
“Like he knew something that neither I nor Eliza knew, and it tickled him. He looked—pleased with himself. I remember he was nodding, like he was having this sort of internal conversation with himself, and he liked what he was hearing.”
Ben said, “Think back, Fleurette. Do you remember if Danny looked at Justice Califano when he left his chambers to go to the meeting?”
She closed her eyes a moment, then they popped open. “Yes, Danny did do that. Yes, he did look at Justice Califano. It was a bit of a smirk, really. It all happened so fast it really didn’t settle in when it happened. But when I close my eyes now, I can see Danny sitting there, tapping his pen against his desk pad, and a smirk passing over his face.”
“Did Justice Califano notice? Did he look over at Danny?”
“I don’t—”
“Close your eyes again, Fleurette. Think back.”
Fleurette closed her eyes. She swayed a moment, leaned against the Wall for support. “Justice Califano’s back was to me when he passed by Danny’s desk, but he glanced at me before he left—and he looked suddenly tired.”
“Tired?”
“Yes, he looked tired, like something was too much for him. There was something on his mind, something he knew he had to deal with, but he looked tired. Maybe I’m reading too much into it now. You want me to see something and so I’m trying too hard to cooperate with you.”
“But you don’t think so?” Ben asked.
Slowly, she shook her head. She looked up at the gray sky. “It’s going to rain soon. I wonder if it will turn to snow again. I hope not. Everything becomes such a mess.”
Callie said, “Fleurette, why are you scared?”
“Scared? Me? I’m not scared.”
“Yes,” Callie said slowly, “you are. On Sunday, I could see it very plainly. You are scared. Why?”
Fleurette looked off toward the Lincoln Memorial, then back again at Callie. “Look, two people close to me have been murdered. If you saw any fear in me, it’s because of that.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, nothing else. I’d sure tell you if there were.”
Ben said, “Bobby Fisher—one of Justice Alto-Thorpe’s law clerks—”
“Yeah, I know the little creep.”
“He said you and Danny went out to lunch on Friday. You didn’t mention that to us.”
“That’s because we only walked to the corner together. Danny was in a mood, preoccupied, snarly—I suppose it makes sense now—but then I thought, Danny, you’re such a pain sometimes. I’d heard about a shoe sale at Maximillan’s, not two blocks away. I dumped him and went shoe shopping.”
“Bobby said you two had your heads together, a real chummy conversation,” Ben said.
“No, that’s Bobby being a creep again. He probably wanted you to focus your attention on someone else. He disliked Justice Califano, probably because he and Alto-Thorpe weren’t on good terms.”
