Free Murder on Embassy Row by Margaret Truman Page A

good-bye.”
    “I appreciate that, but what’s really going on? Why the sudden departure? The James thing? Do they know you’d been in touch with me?”
    “Best not discuss it on the phone, Sal, best we just drop this whole James business and get on with our lives.”
    “That doesn’t sound like you.”
    “We’re all different people at different times, Sal. I really must scoot. Thanks so much for all you did for me in the States, and for your continuing friendship. I’ve left a little token of my appreciation with the bartender at Piccadilly. Johnny, the skinny one. Just ask for the envelope with S.M. on it. Perhaps we’ll meet once again. If you ever get over this way please ring up. And my best to your Connie Lake.”
    “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate the call, Paul. Take care.”
    There was the hint of a laugh. “Oh, yes, Sal, I certainly intend to do that, and I urge you to do the same.”
    “Count on it. Best to the family.”
    Morizio tossed and turned until five, then drifted intoa light sleep. He sat bolt upright when the alarm went off at seven, immediately got out of bed and showered. He called Lake. “Don’t mention the meeting with Thorpe around MPD,” he told her.
    “I didn’t plan to. Shall I bring the tape?”
    “No. We’ll listen to it tonight. Where are we staying?”
    “Your choice.”
    “Here. Okay?”
    “Sure. If Kissinger could get used to shuttle diplomacy, I can handle shuttle romance.”

8
    Morizio and Lake had a chance to talk before his nine o’clock meeting with Chief Trottier. “Did you press Thorpe on why a so-called trade rep ends up representing England in a murder case?” he asked her.
    “I pursued it. Pressing’s not my style.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He said… well, you might as well hear it tonight. It’s all on tape.”
    “Give me a hint.”
    “He said that he sometimes is called upon to perform other duties for ‘Her Majesty’s government.’”
    “Like what?”
    “Like… like overseeing a murder investigation that involved his country’s ambassador to the United States.”
    “But why him? Why not somebody from Embassy Security, or Scotland Yard, or Interpol?”
    “He seemed to say, Sal, that it’s really not the murder that involves him. It’s more a case of being onthe scene to represent a government 3,500 miles away. I can buy that.”
    “But you think he’d blow up his own mother.”
    She laughed. “An overstatement. You can hear it all tonight. By the way, did you tape dinner at the chief’s house?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Just wondering. Thought we might swap tapes, like a club.”
    “I have to go.”
    “Kiss?”
    “Jesus.”
    Trottier made it known immediately that he had only fifteen minutes for the “briefing” on the James case. Joining Morizio around a conference table were five other officers representing public affairs, administration, tactical crime, forensics and communications. Trottier’s statement was short and direct. “From the standpoint of this organization, the case of British Ambassador James is closed, except to assist in the search for the accused assassin, Nuri Hafez. All matters relating to the forensic assistance we gave the British government are sealed, unless specifically ordered open by me. The press is to be told nothing aside from the prepared statements they’ve received. Are there any questions about this?”
    Only Morizio responded. “Chief Trottier,” he said, “there are areas that concern me relating to intracity security. If the British had immediately issued a report on Hafez and the limo, Officer Jones from State wouldn’t be in a hospital with a fractured skull and, most likely, Hafez would be in custody right now.”
    “And, Captain Morizio?”
    “And… and, there’s an assumption that Hafez is no longer in the D.C. area. That’s not been established.I’d like to know what guidelines we’re to follow in looking for him.”
    Trottier sighed and said, “The guidelines are