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“We can’t say right now,” King told him. “But I wouldn’t have come all the way down here if I didn’t think it was worth checking out.”
Jorst took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. “Well, I guess stranger things have happened. I mean, look at Kate Ramsey.”
“What about Kate?” Michelle asked quickly.
“She attended college here at Atticus. I was one of her professors. You’d think this would be the last place she’d have wanted to come. She was brilliant like her father; she could have gone anywhere. But here is where she came.”
“Where is she now?” asked King.
“She’s doing postgraduate work in Richmond at Virginia Commonwealth University’s Center for Public Policy. They have a first-rate political science department. I wrote her a reference myself.”
“Was it your feeling she hated her father for what he’d done?”
Jorst considered the question for a lengthy time before answering. “She loved her father. And yet she may have hated him in the sense that he’d gone away and left her, choosing his political beliefs, as it were, over his love for her. I’m not a psychiatrist but that’s a layman’s guess. Although she’s turned out to be a chip off the old block.”
“How do you mean?” asked Michelle.
“She marches in protests, writes letters, lobbies government and civic leaders and writes articles for alternative publications, all just like her father did.”
“So she may have hated him for leaving her, but she’s now emulating him?”
“Appears to be that way.”
“And her relationship with her mother?” asked King.
“Fairly good. Although she might have blamed her mother somewhat for what happened.”
“In that she wasn’t there for her husband? That if she had been, he might not have been driven to do what he did?” asked King.
“Yes.”
“So you didn’t see Regina Ramsey after her husband died?” asked Michelle.
“No, I did,” he said quickly, and then hesitated. “Certainly at the funeral; and while Kate was a student here and some other times.”
“What was the cause of death, do you remember?”
“An overdose of drugs.”
“She never remarried?” inquired King.
Jorst turned a little pale. “No. No, she didn’t.” He recovered and noticed their inquisitive looks. “I’m sorry, this is all rather painful for me. These were my friends.”
King studied the faces of the people in the photo some more. Kate Ramsey looked to be about ten in that picture. Her features were intelligent and loving. She stood between her parents, holding hands with both of them. A nice, loving family. On the surface anyway.
He handed the photo back. “Anything else you can think of that might help?”
“Not really.”
Michelle gave him a card with her numbers on it. “Just in case something occurs to you,” she explained.
Jorst looked at the card. “If what you say is true, that there was another assassin, what exactly was he supposed to do? Provide a backup in case Arnold missed his target?”
“Or,” said King, “was somebody else supposed to die that day too?”
CHAPTER
35
