sent home in a box.”
“… Well,” Helena said, “of course there is no one who can stand in his place.
“Instead, let us recognize all that Walter has done, both for the Alliance, and, for each of us, individually as newspeople, over the years.…”
“Yeah,” said Robert McConnell.
“Yeah,” said Crystal Faoni.
“… and join in a moment of silence.”
“Hey, Fletch,” Bob said in a stage whisper, “got a deck of cards?”
There was a moment of quiet muttering.
Across the room, Tim Shields was waving at a waiter to bring him a drink.
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the tragic circumstances,” Helena said, “but the after-dinner speech scheduled for Wednesday evening by the President of the United States has been canceled.…”
“Oh, shucks.” Bob looked at Fletch. “And here I brought two pairs of scissors.”
“… However, the Vice-President has arranged to come.”
“The Administration has decided not to ignore us completely,” Crystal Faoni said, “just because we’ve taken to stabbing each other in the back more openly than usual.”
“Just one other announcement,” Helena said, “before I introduce Hy Litwack. Well, why don’t I just introduceVirginia State Police Captain Andrew Neale, who has been placed in charge of poor Walter’s.…”
Helena stepped away from the microphone.
A man with salt and pepper short hair, a proper military bearing in a tweed jacket, stood up from a table near the main door and walked to the dais. Clearly, he had not expected to be called upon.
Bob McConnell said, “I betcha he says, ‘Last, but not least.’”
With poise, but blushing slightly, Captain Neale addressed the microphone.
“Good evening,” he said, in a soft, deep drawl. “Accept my sympathy for the loss of the president of your association.”
“Accepted,” Bob muttered. “Easily accepted.”
“First,” Captain Neale said, “I’ve asked that your convention not be canceled. I’m sure that the death of Walter March casts a tragic pall over your meetings.…”
“An appalling pall,” said Bob.
“… but I trust you all will be able to go about your business with as little interference as possible from me and the people working with me.
“Second, of course we will have to take statements from those of you who were actually here at Hendricks Plantation this morning at the time of the tragic occurrence. Your cooperation in being available to us, and open with us, will be greatly appreciated.
“Third, I realize that I am surrounded here by some of the world’s greatest reporters. Frankly, I feel like Daniel in the den of lions. I understand that each of you feels the necessity of reporting the story of Walter March’s murder to your newspapers or networks, and I will try to be as fair with you as I can. But please understand that I, too, have to do my job. Many of you have already come to me with questions. If I do nothing but answer your questions, I won’t be doingmy job, which is to investigate this tragedy, and, there won’t be any answers. As solid facts are developed, I will see that you get them. It would help if there were no rumor or speculation.”
“Here it comes,” Bob said.
Captain Neale said, “Last, but not least, if any of you have genuine information which might help in this investigation, of course we will appreciate your reporting that information to me or one of the people working with me.
“Someone at Hendricks Plantation murdered Walter March this morning, with premeditation. No one has been allowed to leave the plantation since this morning. Someone here—most likely in this room—is guilty of first degree murder.
“I will appreciate your cooperation in every way.”
Captain Neale started from the microphone, bent back to it, and said, “Thank you.”
“Good old boy,” said Bob. “Good cop.”
“Bright and decent,” said Crystal.
Freddie Arbuthnot said, “Ineffectual.”
Helena said Hy Litwack needed no
“… Well,” Helena said, “of course there is no one who can stand in his place.
“Instead, let us recognize all that Walter has done, both for the Alliance, and, for each of us, individually as newspeople, over the years.…”
“Yeah,” said Robert McConnell.
“Yeah,” said Crystal Faoni.
“… and join in a moment of silence.”
“Hey, Fletch,” Bob said in a stage whisper, “got a deck of cards?”
There was a moment of quiet muttering.
Across the room, Tim Shields was waving at a waiter to bring him a drink.
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the tragic circumstances,” Helena said, “but the after-dinner speech scheduled for Wednesday evening by the President of the United States has been canceled.…”
“Oh, shucks.” Bob looked at Fletch. “And here I brought two pairs of scissors.”
“… However, the Vice-President has arranged to come.”
“The Administration has decided not to ignore us completely,” Crystal Faoni said, “just because we’ve taken to stabbing each other in the back more openly than usual.”
“Just one other announcement,” Helena said, “before I introduce Hy Litwack. Well, why don’t I just introduceVirginia State Police Captain Andrew Neale, who has been placed in charge of poor Walter’s.…”
Helena stepped away from the microphone.
A man with salt and pepper short hair, a proper military bearing in a tweed jacket, stood up from a table near the main door and walked to the dais. Clearly, he had not expected to be called upon.
Bob McConnell said, “I betcha he says, ‘Last, but not least.’”
With poise, but blushing slightly, Captain Neale addressed the microphone.
“Good evening,” he said, in a soft, deep drawl. “Accept my sympathy for the loss of the president of your association.”
“Accepted,” Bob muttered. “Easily accepted.”
“First,” Captain Neale said, “I’ve asked that your convention not be canceled. I’m sure that the death of Walter March casts a tragic pall over your meetings.…”
“An appalling pall,” said Bob.
“… but I trust you all will be able to go about your business with as little interference as possible from me and the people working with me.
“Second, of course we will have to take statements from those of you who were actually here at Hendricks Plantation this morning at the time of the tragic occurrence. Your cooperation in being available to us, and open with us, will be greatly appreciated.
“Third, I realize that I am surrounded here by some of the world’s greatest reporters. Frankly, I feel like Daniel in the den of lions. I understand that each of you feels the necessity of reporting the story of Walter March’s murder to your newspapers or networks, and I will try to be as fair with you as I can. But please understand that I, too, have to do my job. Many of you have already come to me with questions. If I do nothing but answer your questions, I won’t be doingmy job, which is to investigate this tragedy, and, there won’t be any answers. As solid facts are developed, I will see that you get them. It would help if there were no rumor or speculation.”
“Here it comes,” Bob said.
Captain Neale said, “Last, but not least, if any of you have genuine information which might help in this investigation, of course we will appreciate your reporting that information to me or one of the people working with me.
“Someone at Hendricks Plantation murdered Walter March this morning, with premeditation. No one has been allowed to leave the plantation since this morning. Someone here—most likely in this room—is guilty of first degree murder.
“I will appreciate your cooperation in every way.”
Captain Neale started from the microphone, bent back to it, and said, “Thank you.”
“Good old boy,” said Bob. “Good cop.”
“Bright and decent,” said Crystal.
Freddie Arbuthnot said, “Ineffectual.”
Helena said Hy Litwack needed no
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