A Thin Veil Read online

  “You remember always those children, do you not?” Sylvia asked, her Polish accent coming out stronger as it did whenever she got worked up. “You think of the students when you were a teacher, the ones who were shot?”

  Adam nodded mutely. He didn’t want to talk about this again. Didn’t want to think about the coffins, the funeral, the memories that wouldn’t leave him in peace.

  “And that is good, Adam. That is because you are a good man. You are also a good detective. If you want to help people — help children like that — then you must succeed in your career. These are not opposite goals, Adam. It is all the same goal.”

  Adam shrugged and turned to look out over the playground, the calls of the children carrying over the sound of traffic passing by the green city square.

  “We have the same dreams, you and I.” Sylvia leaned in close to him, her voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “You dream that you will be able to help all the people, so that no children will suffer anymore. I dream that you will be successful in this job, so successful that you will rise in your career. That is all the same, is it not?”

  Adam turned his attention back to Sylvia. “Of course, I’m sure it’s the same.” He tried to sound conciliatory, but he grimaced as he realized his tone was dismissive, not accepting.

  Sylvia nodded and said nothing more.

  Adam knew she was simply looking for ways to push him up the PPD career ladder. He understood what she wanted, and why. And it wouldn’t hurt him to strive to achieve more in his career. He just kept wondering, if it was such a lofty goal, why did it bother him so much? Shouldn’t he be grateful that his girlfriend wanted him to succeed in his chosen career?

  They stood together, and Sylvia wrapped her arms around Adam’s broad shoulders. “You know I am right, don’t you?”

  “Of course, honey. I know.” Adam hugged her back. “And hopefully this will make me look good to the deputy commissioner.”

  “Good. Then when must you leave?”

  “Now… well, soon,” he responded. “I’m going to run home and pack a few things, then I’ll be on the one o’clock train to DC.”

  Sylvia kissed him lightly on the lips. “I wish you luck, then. Call me when you get a chance.” She paused. “Not if it will interrupt your work, of course.”

  Adam shook his head, but he smiled and kissed her back.

  6

  Adam knocked on the door as he pushed it open. A long, dim hallway stretched ahead of him, opening up after fifteen feet into a well-lit room. Adam followed the light and the sound of hushed voices into Jay Kapoor’s DC apartment, his shoes tapping on the hardwood parquet floor.

  The voices stopped as he walked, and when he entered the living room, four faces turned toward him. Two were silhouetted in the windows that covered the south wall, opening onto P Street below and another apartment block across the street. The younger of these two stayed where he was, seated in an armchair angled slightly away from the window. The older man stood and walked toward Adam, hand outstretched.

  “Adam Kaminski?” he asked.

  Adam accepted his hand and nodded. The other man continued, “I’m Agent Sam Burke, Diplomatic Security. Pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Sam’s face was grim, his deep brown eyes carrying a hint of sadness. A man who had seen death before but was still disturbed by it. As he should be.

  “Sam, good to see you. Thanks for inviting me over here.” Adam turned to look at the two people to his left.

  A man and a woman stood in a short, square passageway off the living room. Two closed doors, one on either side of them, kept the space dark. Behind them a third door stood open, offering a glimpse of a bedroom beyond.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor.” Sam moved toward them as he spoke. “May I introduce Detective Adam Kaminski, Philadelphia Police Department.”

  Only Mr. Kapoor shook his hand. His wife stood where she was, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her fingers toying randomly with a man’s button-down shirt that dangled from her hands.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Adam stuck with the standard line, having relied on it so often in his job. He knew how inadequate these words were, but had nothing better to offer the Kapoors.

  “Why don’t we all come into the living room?” Sam suggested, gesturing toward the open sofa with his left arm while resting his right hand lightly on Mrs. Kapoor’s shoulder. She followed his lead, walking stiffly, as if not in control of her legs and not seeing the room in front of her.

  Her husband stepped behind her, squeezing his arm around her shoulders as they reached the sofa and guiding her down, his arm still encircling her, offering some protection from the pain that surrounded them both.

  Adam glanced at the young man silently occupying the armchair, then balanced on the arm of the sofa beyond the Kapoors. Sam resumed his position on the far wall, leaning back against the windows, his profile dark against the sunlight that caught around the edges of his thick, curly black hair, creating a halo effect.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor,” Adam began, but Mr. Kapoor cut him off.

  “Detective Kaminski, we are both very glad that you are here. Your commissioner is very kind for agreeing to provide your help.”

  “Well” — Adam glanced at Sam — “I’m really only here as an observer. Somewhat unofficial.” He saw the frown forming on Kapoor’s face, so he added, “I am here to do everything I can to find out who killed your son. I promise you, I’m here for him. To seek justice for him. To speak for him if I have to.”

  Kapoor turned to his wife. Her face had cleared slightly, and she set the shirt she had been holding on the sofa next to her. Turning to Adam, she asked, “Do you believe his death was an accident? A mindless, meaningless…” Her sob cut her words off, and she looked down again, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Adam shook his head. A dozen different responses flew through his mind, none that would provide this grieving mother the answers she wanted.

  A movement from the armchair caught Adam’s attention. The young man had shifted in his seat, sinking even lower into the cushions.

  “Adam, this is Todd Heavrin, Jay’s roommate.” Adam nodded at the young man in response to Sam’s introduction. Todd didn’t look up, instead continuing to stare at a spot in the middle of the floor.

  Adam glanced down to see if there was really something there that could fascinate this young man. He saw only a light stain against the dark wood, visible in the afternoon sun coming in through the windows.

  The group sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, Todd continuing to examine the stain on the floor, the Kapoors lost in a world of memory and tragedy. Adam glanced up at Sam, but his face was too dark to read, the afternoon light catching a few white hairs around the edges of his otherwise black figure.

  The muffled rattle of traffic four stories down on the street below carried up to the apartment, interrupted occasionally by a sniff or cry from Mrs. Kapoor.

  “How long had Jay been working for Senator Marshall?” Sam finally broke the silence. He asked the question to the room, without addressing it to anyone in particular.

  Mrs. Kapoor chose to answer. “He had been here for over a year.” She smiled. “He was so proud of himself. And we were, too. It was not an easy position to get.” Her face crumpled as she spoke, and she pressed her lips closed. White lines appeared around her mouth as she frowned, standing out against her olive skin.

  Mr. Kapoor nodded. “Over a year, yes.”

  Adam shot an inquisitive look at Sam, and when he nodded, asked, “And this was his first position out of college?”

  “Yes, that’s right. He had worked before, of course, you know.” Mr. Kapoor glanced first at Sam, then focused his gaze on Adam. “We insisted that he have experience working in our stores. He started when he was sixteen, as an assistant in one of the shops.”

  Kapoor took a deep breath and glanced at his wife before continuing. “He had a tremendous work ethic.”

  Todd shifted in his seat again. Kapoor
didn’t seem to notice, continuing, “When he was working, we saw a difference in our profits, in the number of sales. He was a very effective salesman.”

  Adam listened closely to Mr. Kapoor, but couldn’t ignore the shuffling sounds and occasional coughs coming from Todd. He glanced at Sam, who made a slight nod in return.

  Adam turned back to the Kapoors. “And did he move right to this apartment, when he took the job?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Mr. Kapoor answered. “He applied at home. Senator Marshall has an office in Philadelphia, you know? Diya arranged for the interview.” Kapoor indicated his wife as he spoke. “Jay was the one who made it work. Not an easy job to get, I assure you. He sold himself to that chief of staff, just as he had sold bracelets in my stores.”

  Todd’s gaze was once more on the floor, but Adam had seen his eyes shift briefly to Kapoor as he spoke, a small smile playing momentarily on his lips.

  Adam turned to Todd as he spoke this time. “And have you lived here, with Jay, since he moved here?”

  Todd’s answer was so quiet it barely carried over the sounds of the traffic. “I was here first. I let other people on the Hill know I was looking for a roommate — my other roommate moved out, and I can’t afford to pay for this place on my own. Jay called me. He seemed like a nice guy, so he moved in.” Todd shrugged. “He was…” Glancing at the Kapoors, he finished his sentence. “A good roommate.”

  Adam looked one more time at Sam, and knew that Sam was seeing the same evasion he was. “Okay.” Adam stood. “I think it will help me to look around the apartment, to get a better sense of who Jay was.”

  Diya Kapoor whimpered, and put her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Todd,” Adam asked, “can I ask for your help?”

  “Oh… uh, sure.” Todd pushed himself up from the chair, straightening the legs of his khaki pants as he did so. “What do you want to see?”

  “Come on.” Adam turned and walked toward the rooms at the back of the apartment. As they entered the small hallway, he gestured to the room straight ahead. “Is this room Jay’s?”

  “Yeah, mine’s through there.” Todd tapped on one of the closed doors as they both walked past it into Jay’s room.

  The windows caught Adam’s attention first. Like the living room, one wall was entirely windows. Looking out, Adam saw that they provided a view, albeit at a slight angle, of Dupont Circle. The grassy, circular block created a traffic circle connecting Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts avenues, as well as providing a public space with benches surrounding a large fountain.

  The Dupont Circle neighborhood boasted artsy bookstores, five-star restaurants, and upscale nightclubs. It wasn’t a cheap place to live.

  Turning his attention back into the room, Adam cast his glance over the king-size bed, covered in a thick duvet, still wrinkled as if its owner had just rolled out of bed. On the wall opposite the windows, a line of folding doors suggested a large closet that ran the length of the room. A small oak desk held a MacBook and two small speakers, while two tablet computers leaned casually against one side of the bookshelf.

  A worn and folded print rested against the books, tucked into a corner of the shelf where it wouldn’t get knocked off. Adam picked it up to examine the group of young men and women in bathing suits and shorts, smiling at the camera from the boardwalk of a shore town. He saw Jay’s grinning face, his eyes bright. All the kids seemed happy, carefree. It couldn’t have been taken too long ago. Adam tucked the print back into the shelf, leaning it up against Jay’s high school yearbook, its spine bent from obvious use.

  Jay liked to remember his past. His friends.

  Pushing open the closet doors, Adam ran his fingers over the suits, shirts, and sweaters hanging there. Cashmere, silk, wool. This young man had good taste in clothes as well as electronics.

  “Tell me more about Jay, Todd,” he said as he closed the closet doors.

  “What’s there to say?” Todd asked. “He worked on the Hill, as an aide, like me.”

  “Was he good at his job?”

  Todd shrugged, as if to indicate there was nothing special about the way Jay did his work, but Adam saw that familiar smile playing on his lips once more.

  “How did Jay’s work compare to other aides’? Or to yours?” Adam pressed.

  Todd looked directly at Adam, a flash of defiance appearing, then disappearing once again. He turned his gaze out the window and shrugged once more. “He did his job. He was good at it, I guess. He always found a way to make things work out.”

  “What kind of things?” Adam picked up a plastic figurine from Jay’s desk as he questioned Todd, his fingers running along the surface of the tiny military figure. A boy’s toy. A young man’s memento of childhood.

  Todd glanced nervously at the door to the room. Adam could hear Sam consoling the Kapoors in the living room and knew they needed to have time alone. To mourn their son.

  “Look, I get that you don’t want to say anything bad about the guy. Especially with his parents in the next room.” Adam jerked his head toward the living room. “If there’s something you know about Jay that you’re not saying, you gotta tell me.”

  “Why?” The question was simple, but it hit directly on the complexity of this case. “Jay wasn’t the guy they were shooting at. Why do you need to know about him?”

  Now it was Adam’s turn to shrug. “You’re right.” He shook his head. “It may have nothing to do with this case. That’s the way it is with murder investigations. Everyone involved — even the innocent bystanders — suffer for it. We need to examine every possible link, every bit of evidence that could shed light on what happened.” He paused, looking at Todd. “Even if it seems like it has nothing to do with this shooting, anything you can tell me about Jay may help.”

  When Todd’s expression didn’t change, Adam pushed harder. “What if something you know about Jay relates to his work with the senator? And what if that something ends up being the motive behind why someone would want to kill the senator?” He paused, eyebrows raised.

  Todd nodded this time, then stepped toward the windows, away from the open door. “Okay, I could see that. Thing is…” His voice lingered on the air for a moment before fading away.

  This wasn’t going anywhere fast, but Adam wasn’t about to give up. “Maybe we could meet another time — somewhere else?” Adam suggested. “Somewhere we can talk?”

  “All right. In Capitol Hill. There’s a bar there, I go most days after work. The Capitol Inn. A lot of the aides hang out there. I’ll be there tomorrow after seven. Meet me there.”

  Todd left the room and Adam heard the door to his bedroom open and close. Hopefully, whatever it was Todd wasn’t saying could wait until tomorrow.

  Adam walked back out to the living room. The Kapoors still sat on the sofa. Sam had moved around behind them and was walking to meet him.

  “I’ll get more from him tomorrow,” he said under his breath while nodding toward Todd’s room.

  “Got it.” Sam voice was equally low. “I gotta get back to my office and check in there. You should head over to the scene.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’d like to see it.”

  “A DC police officer — Davis — has been assigned to work with you as your liaison.”

  Adam smiled. “My liaison. I already feel enough of an outsider, that’s the last thing I need.”

  Sam smiled back. “Officer Davis is a good cop, you’ll be in good hands.”

  “Where should I meet him?”

  Sam raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Davis is already at the scene. Why don’t you head straight over, you can get a taxi right out front of this building.”

  “Right.” Adam shook Sam’s hand. “Thanks for all your help, Sam. I don’t know how much I can add to this investigation. I appreciate you being so good about my just showing up like this.”

  “Hey, no sweat. I’ve been on the job long enough to know that we need all the help we can get. Even if all you do is keep the Kapoor
s calm, that’s a help right there. Listen.” He paused, as if considering his words carefully. “Some people don’t feel the same way. Be nice to Davis, you’ll need a friend in the MPDC.”

  7

  Waves of water splashed onto the boardwalk. Actual goddamn waves. Caused by the ducks fighting. The well-dressed man wandering aimlessly along the Old Town Alexandria waterfront shivered.

  That couldn’t be normal. In all the years he’d been coming here, this was a first. He glanced around to see if other visitors had noticed. A crowd was gathering, as surprised as he was, so he looked back at the ducks. At least he wasn’t crazy.

  The ducks were. Not him.

  Behind him, the historic brick town houses of Alexandria, Virginia stood square and tall as they had for hundreds of years. Tourists lined the parklike waterfront, enjoying the history, the scenery, the restaurants. In front of him, a battle of nature waged.

  The piece of bread the ducks fought over grew larger, then started to disintegrate as it soaked up more and more water and the two ducks got more and more violent.

  He loved coming down to Old Town when he was tired. Or confused. Or scared. Watching the tourists stroll along the waterfront, stopping for a beer in a local bar, even watching the ducks dive for crumbs tossed to them along the boardwalk helped him relax. Focus.

  This was no ordinary day. Scared didn’t begin to describe it. Maybe it made sense the ducks chose today to go crazy. He kept one eye on the crowd around him as he watched the ducks, making sure there was no one else around he recognized. No one who would recognize him.

  At first it seemed clear the black one would win. It dove in and attacked its competitor with a ferocity rarely seen in these calm, touristy waters. This had to be about more than that soggy piece of bread. Didn’t it?

  The black duck struck again, its angry squawks drowning out the cries of the brown duck. That would be it, then. He turned to continue his way along the waterfront.

  He shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.