Washington Masquerade Read Online Free PDF Page B

line of journalists and writers, all of whom lived to a ripe old age.”
    â€œIt’s a legitimate hereditary marker. It has to be asked,” Fiona said.
    â€œWell, it doesn’t apply in this case.” Then she nodded as if agreeing with her inner voice. “Clearly it has all the fingerprints of this terrible administration. They are capable of anything. They wanted to silence my husband, and they’ve succeeded.”
    â€œAt this point, Mrs. Burns, it’s a leap,” Fiona said gently. She had not yet provided Mrs. Burns with the more intricate and baffling details, like the absence of any identification and the matter of the fake moustache and eyeglasses. Forensics had confirmed that his glasses had been store-bought and with the lowest degree of magnification.
    â€œWho else would be responsible? This most self-righteous, venal, evil administration in history… my husband was its harshest critic. They eliminated the thorn in their side. They want to change our country, make it some socialist backwater. My husband saw it happening.” She let out a plaintive involuntary whine, and Fiona noted that she was now digging her nails into her palms. “My husband would not take his own life. No way. He was pushed in front of that train. I’d bet my own life on it.”
    Fiona let her vent in her restrained manner, her voice steady and firmly emphatic. She was convinced she was stating the facts.
    â€œYou know how they do things. They can make it look like suicide. So where is his note? He adored the girls and me. He would never leave any of us in the lurch like this. Not without….” She swallowed, and despite her herculean effort at self-control, she teared up. She stared at Fiona. “Not without saying good-bye.”
    â€œIt happens, Mrs. Burns. Not all suicides leave a note.”
    Fiona was instantly sorry she had put it that way. Then it occurred to her that he might have left a message on his wife’s computer.
    â€œHave you checked your computer, Mrs. Burns? He might have sent you a note by e-mail.”
    She shook her head vigorously.
    â€œI checked,” she said. Fiona assumed that meant she had taken the time during her absence to open her e-mail. “My daughter’s as well. Nothing.”
    â€œAre you certain? People often send suicide notes via email.”
    â€œWill you stop using that word,” Mrs. Burns snapped between pursed lips. “It was not a suicide. Next thing you know, that will be the prevailing doctrine.”
    â€œI apologize for the inference, Mrs. Burns. We haven’t declared it as such. It could have been a simple accident. We are in the initial phase of our investigation.”
    â€œInvestigation? Really? I doubt if you will find anything that ties it to them. They are very clever. They will go through the motions, of course, but I have very low expectations about ever getting to the truth of his assassination.”
    Fiona nodded, more for form’s sake. It would be futile to rebut her arguments. She chose, instead, to ignore the allegation.
    â€œDid your husband show any signs of depression? Had his conduct or attitude changed in any way in the last few months?”
    Mrs. Burns offered a dismissive smirk.
    â€œNot at all. My husband enjoyed his work and his home. He loved his family. He took out his anger in his columns. He was an idealist. He believed in honesty and transparency, hence his criticism of the President. My husband was a wonderful, talented, articulate man.” She paused and grew thoughtful. “A fulfilled man, doing good work. His column, as you must know, was widely read and distributed through the
Post
syndicate. He turned down thousands for lectures and shunned the role of a talking head on television because he insisted on staying close to home. He would have rather spent his spare time with us.”
    Fiona watched her signs of defensiveness or hesitation. She was, after