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“No, I didn’t.”
“Jenks and who else?”
“I didn’t send anybody.”
“Ever at the ready, Deputy Jenks—”
“Be quiet, John!” Glenn banged his fist on the table hard enough to rattle the glassware, then took a deep breath. “For once, will you shut up and listen? I talked Wilcox out of doing anything. O
r I thought I had.” When Trapper would have interrupted again, Glenn held up a hand. “Let me talk.”
Trapper was seething, but he made a grand, sweeping go-ahead gesture.
Glenn turned to Kerra. “I told Wilcox that you’d shown me the questions you intended to ask. I gave him a run-down of what they entailed, told him they were chatty, innocent, nothing mysterious. They wouldn’t raise eyebrows or red flags or pose a threat to anybody. I urged him to let the interview proceed as scheduled.
“By contrast, if tragedy were to strike you and The Major within days of you going on TV together, it would be like ringing a fire bell, and the FBI would come running. A data analyst couldn’t ignore a coincidence like that, and the feds wouldn’t depend on a department as small as mine to investigate the double murder of two celebrities. They would take over, and that would create a media frenzy like none other.”
“Which is exactly what’s happened,” Trapper said. “Obviously Wilcox didn’t heed your caution.”
“Obviously. But he led me to believe that he agreed with my reasoning. He threatened me with dire consequences if I was wrong, but said he would trust my judgment. We hung up, and I took a huge breath of relief. Crisis averted and no one was the wiser.”
Still addressing her, he raised his right hand. “On my solemn oath, I had nothing to do with what happened to you. I knew nothing about it until after the fact.”
She looked up at Trapper, and he knew that she was remembering, as he was, that Wilcox had denied ordering the attempted assassination. Were both Glenn and Wilcox telling the truth about that? Or were both lying?
Trapper leaned down and placed both palms on the tabletop. “Why didn’t you warn The Major, Glenn? You could have told him you had a gut feeling. Or a nutcase had called the SO and issued a threat. Something.”
“I did caution him. Roundaboutly. I suggested he keep a pistol handy in case he had to ward off any paparazzi. Made a joke of it, but advised him to be vigilant till the interview was behind him.
“I kept several units out there patrolling for hours before the telecast and until the crew left in the van. I thought it was over and done. Nothing had happened. I called everybody in. That must’ve been what they were waiting for.”
“They,” Trapper said. “Who?”
“Whoever Wilcox sent,” Glenn said. “He pretended to go along with my recommendation, but he doubled down. Even if I had told him I would do it, he knew I wouldn’t.”
Trapper snickered. “You suddenly grew a conscience?”
“No. I gave up my conscience a long time ago. But kill my best friend? And a woman?” He looked at Trapper with imploring eyes. “How could you think I would do that?”
“I wouldn’t think you could make a pledge to Wilcox, either. Or wasn’t it as sacred as your solemn oath?” Mimicking him, Trapper raised his right hand.
“The pledge extended to spying, not killing.”
Trapper’s initial reaction was to verbally lash out at that, but arm-wrestling his temper into submission, he rounded the chair and sat back down. “Do you think Leslie Duncan was one of the three at the house?”
“We’re not firm on there being three.”
“There were three,” Kerra said.
“Answer the question, Glenn,” Trapper snapped. “What about Duncan?”
Glenn hesitated just long enough for Trapper to jump on it. “Did you set him up?”
“No.”
“He was caught with the pistol all but smoking.”
“Wasn’t me.”
