Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

Joan thought about this, longer than King felt was really necessary.

“That would take a lot of planning and skill,” she finally said.

“And access to my house. They would have had to get the gun back in my box before the posse showed up to take it, you know, the morning that you were there.”

He finished his coffee and poured himself another cup while she stewed on this. He offered to freshen hers but she declined.

“So you came here to tell me that, what, you think I framed you?” said Joan stiffly.

“I’m just telling you that someone did, and I just told you how I think they did it.”

“You could have told me that over the phone.”

“Yes, I could, but you paid me a visit, and I wanted to return the honor. At least I called first.”

“I didn’t set you up, Sean.”

“Then all my troubles are over. I’ll call Parks and tell him the good news.”

“You know, you can be a real smart-ass.”

He put down his coffee cup and drew very close to her. “Let me just lay it out for you. I’ve got a dead man in my office, and my gun killed him. I’ve got no alibi and a pretty damn sharp marshal who, while maybe he buys my theory on a frame, is by no means convinced of my innocence. And this man would shed no tears if I’m locked up for the rest of my life or given some toxic bug juice to transport me to the hereafter. And then you come to visit me out of the blue and somehow forget to tell me that you’re no longer with the Secret Service. You make a big deal of apologizing, acting all nice, with the result that I let you stay overnight. You try your best to seduce me on my kitchen table for a reason I still can’t fathom, but I can’t believe only has to do with you wanting to scratch an eight-year-old itch. You’re alone in my house while I’m out on the lake, and my gun mysteriously turns out to be the murder weapon after it’s picked up on that very same morning. Now, Joan, maybe I am more suspicious than my neighbor, but I’d have to be on life support and breathing through a frigging tube not to be a little paranoid about that sequence of events.”

She eyed him with maddening calm. “I didn’t take your gun. I know nothing about anyone who might have. I have no proof of that. You just have my word.”

“Again, that’s such a relief.”

“I never told you that I was still with the Service. You just assumed.”

“You never said you weren’t!” he snapped.

“You never asked!” She added, “And that wasn’t my best.”

King looked confused. “What?”

“You said I did my best to seduce you. Just for the record, that wasn’t my best.”

Both sat back now, seemingly out of words or breath or both.

“Okay,” he said, “whatever game you’re playing with me, you just go ahead and play it. I’m not going down for Jennings’s murder, because I didn’t do it.”

“Neither did I, and I’m not trying to frame you. What motive would I have?”

King said, “Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” He rose. “Thanks for the coffee. Next time hold the cyanide, it gives me gas.”

“As I told you before, I came to see you for a very particular purpose.” He stared at her. “But I didn’t get around to it. I guess seeing you after all those years made more of an impact than I thought it would.”

“So what was the purpose?”

“To make you a proposition.” She quickly added, “A business proposition.”

“Like what?”

“Like John Bruno,” she replied.

His eyes narrowed. “What do you have to do with a missing presidential candidate?”

“Thanks to me, the firm was hired by Bruno’s party to find out what happened to him. In lieu of our standard rate I negotiated another arrangement. Our out-of-pocket expenses are covered, but we accepted a much lower daily rate. However, it comes with a potentially lucrative bonus.”