Savalza arrived at 9:15 and seeing the body of Lyle Ramsey he dialed the Convent of St. Helena where he knew Andrew Kincaid would be.
Andrew was preparing to say ‘goodnight’ after a festive dinner celebrating the removal of the bandages from Charlene Thayer’s eyes and the doctor’s report that there was no permanent damage. Charlene had given Father Ben a long embrace saying, “You never doubted, Father Ben,” and turning to Andrew, she smiled, “And neither did you.”
When Andrew took the call he wasn’t prepared for Jim’s message, “Andy, get yourself down here to Ramsey and Carr’s offices, Lyle Ramsey is dead!”
Surprised Andrew turned to Ben and Charlene, “I’m sorry to run out on you so fast. That was Jim Savalza and I have to see him right away, I’ll explain later.” He kissed Charlene on the cheek and hugged Sister Ruth before dashing out the door.
Andrew appeared at Ramsey’s office in less than twenty minutes. “What happened… who killed him?”
“Looks like a suicide, Andy,” Jim said pointing to the body lying across the desk. “And what looks like a suicide note was there, underneath. I’ve put in a call to Harrison Carr. The note was addressed to him, I expect him any minute now.”
“What does the note say?” curiosity urging Andrew.
As Jim read the brief note aloud Andrew looked around and saw the two bar glasses, “Looks like he had company…”
“He did, it was I,” the deep monotone voice of Harrison Carr answered Andrew’s comment.
Harrison Carr looked at the body of Lyle Ramsey and said shakily, “I—I must sit down—this is a terrible shock to me. I was just with Lyle a short time ago. We had our usual Friday afternoon drink together.”
“What time was that?” Jim asked.
“Around 4:30 or 5:00,” Harrison replied.
“Did he seem upset, Mr. Carr?” Jim spoke the questions in a detached manner, writing as the answers were given.
“Well yes, somewhat, but…” Carr shrugged, “As a matter of fact we did talk about…”
“About?” Jim pressed.
“I didn’t think it was this serious,” Carr murmured.
Savalza was writing, “What was ‘this serious’?”
“I’m sorry, Detective; I can’t divulge any more information, it involves some of our clients. I want to help you, however I am in such a state of confusion and shock. I never thought Lyle Ramsey would ever consider this as a way out of anything. May I see the note?”
Jim handed the note that had been carefully placed in plastic, to Carr watching his face as he read.
Andrew pressed, “What did he mean about GCI… what serious errors, Mr. Carr?”
“I’m sorry… I simply cannot answer any more questions. I’m not thinking clearly; I really must go home… may I go detective?” Carr pleaded.
Jim looked at the obviously shaken elderly Carr, “Yes, Mr. Carr; I don’t see any reason for you to stay. I’ll have questions for you later, but right now—go ahead, go home.”
“Thank you, detective,” Carr paused, his voice breaking, “I’ve known Lyle Ramsey all of his life; his father and I,” pointing to the portrait looking down at them, “Started this firm over forty years ago. I cannot imagine life without Lyle.” Jim watched Carr, shoulders bent, walk wearily down the corridor to the elevator.
“Jim, I want to talk with him about GCI and I mean soon! He knows a lot more about this mess than he’s saying,” Andrew was adamant.
“Give it a rest, Andy; he’s an old guy and he’s got a lot on his shoulders right now.”
“Listen, Jim, that man is a formidable old alligator, save your pity…”
Jim cut him off irritably, “Andrew, for crying out loud, have a little compassion! I’ll admit Carr is considered tough, but he’s still an old guy and he’s had a bad shock tonight.”
“And I thought the police were always suspicious of everyone,” Andrew shot back, “So you think it was a suicide?”
“For the moment—the note is pretty self explanatory, Andy. He knew we were after him for the murders of Monte and Kelshaw for starters. I think the note is a clear admission, not to mention the GCI thing. By all means, Andrew, talk to Carr about GCI, but,” he paused, “Not until the Seattle PD are done with our questions. Right now I want to focus on the suicide of Lyle Ramsey and put that to bed. Is that okay with you, Andrew?” Jim asked with light sarcasm.
“Sure, Jim, I’ll give you the weekend and then I want him on Monday. Right now I’d better call the story in to the Times. Ramsey’s suicide will be headlines tomorrow.”
Chapter 20
Saturday October 4, 1980
Neil heard Andrew Kincaid’s voice on the early morning call he had initiated. “Good morning, Andrew, I apologize for not getting back to you yesterday. First of all I want to thank you for your persistence regarding Aunt Martha’s luggage—there was a great deal more information George wanted us to have.”
“Did it nail Coleman?”
“In a way, Andrew, but not in the way that I had anticipated,” Neil said guardedly. “We had an unexpected discovery; one of our contacts was able to conclude the final chapter in the Thayer Chernakov story. I will fill you in when I return to Seattle in a few days. What was the purpose of your call yesterday?”
“Things have changed radically since I placed the call to you yesterday. The wire services probably already have the news, Neil; Lyle Ramsey was found dead in his office last night. The police think it was suicide—he left a note that talked about his ‘serious errors in judgment’ in relation to GCI.
“Its funny, Neil, Jim Savalza and I went to see Ramsey midday yesterday. Jim openly accused Ramsey of the murders of Maxwell and Kelshaw. Then I hit Ramsey with the suggestion of an interview with him and Harrison Carr regarding GCI. Neil, did you know that Harrison Carr is on GCI’s International Board of Directors?”
Yes, Andrew, after we examined the film in Aunt Martha’s luggage there was the description of the entire GCI family. How did you learn about it?”
“Never underestimate the resources of the news industry, Neil.”
“All right Andrew, I’ll take your word for it. So Ramsey committed suicide, hmnn, I’ll have to digest this in light of what we’ve already learned. On another subject, how is Charlene Thayer?”
“She’s great! The bandages are gone and she can see just fine. Thanks for asking, I’ll tell her. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you here,” Andrew offered.
“It’s good news about Charlene. Yes, I will; I’ll be in touch,” he said ending the call abruptly.
10:30 AM
Olivia Coleman had said goodbye to her parents at the airport in Philadelphia where she had gone after George Kelshaw’s funeral. Her heart was heavy—she had not shared with them the difficulties in hers and Brad’s marriage. She found it almost unbearable to pretend that all was well.
Her mother sensed the unrest in their daughter and told Clyde as they drove away from the terminal that she thought Brad’s military obligations were taking their toll on the marriage. Her husband nodded in agreement for he too sensed the change in Olivia.
It was 10:30 Saturday morning when Olivia rang the doorbell at the Convent of St. Helena. She had arrived in Seattle late on Friday and had taken a room for the night in preparation for her reunion with Charlene Thayer. She knew it would be bittersweet.
The door opened and a round bodied, blue and white garbed nun greeted her.
“You must be Sister Ruth,” Olivia guessed. “I am Olivia Coleman and I spoke with you the other day.”