The reporter then tried to interview a plainclothes police lieutenant who was standing in front of the Zielinski home. He shook his head and said, “Out of respect for the congressman, there is very little we will discuss at this time.”
“Was it a homicide, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant gave a nod.
“So,” the reporter said, “I take it that the fire was set to cover up a crime?”
“As I said, out of respect for Congressman and Mrs. Zielinski, we will wait for the conclusion of our investigation before releasing any more information to the press. That’s all I have to say at this time.”
* * *
Mimi and Nathan spent the day trying to process the terrible news. Best friends, practically family, gone in the blink of an eye—it was inconceivable. What kind of monster would do such a thing? How deranged and wicked would a person have to be to commit so evil a crime against such a lovely young couple?
A number of photographs lay on Mimi’s coffee table, and she gently arranged them with her index finger. “Chrissie was such a powerful force in my life, and I really don’t know how things will ever be the same. There’s an empty hole in my heart,” Mimi said. “She and I have shared our innermost secrets since we were eight years old. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Nathan stared at a picture of the four of them taken at the Indiana Dunes State Park. “He was like a brother to me,” he said softly. “He always had my back. I remember the time we played Sullivan and some smartass linebacker took a cheap shot at me. Preston came out of nowhere and flattened the guy. He was ready to take on the whole Sullivan team. I know I’ll never have another friend like him.”
The afternoon news compounded their sadness with the revelation that Preston and Christine had been murdered before the fire was set. The coroner reported that Preston had been shot three times: two superficial wounds and a fatal shot to the temple, execution style. Christine died from a single shot, an oblique wound that severed her carotid artery. Officials speculated that the fire was set to cover up the crime. Theories abounded. Police theorized it was a botched robbery. The house had been torn apart. Drawers lay open. Closets had been rifled through. According to Christine’s parents, items of jewelry were missing.
Mimi gripped Nathan’s hand tightly. “That was no robbery. You and I both know that the shootings were intended to silence Preston and Chrissie. If Chrissie hadn’t quit, if she had returned to work as her father demanded, she’d be alive today.”
“Vittie wouldn’t kill his daughter, Meems. He loved her.”
“I’m not saying that Vittie was the murderer. He would never harm Chrissie. I don’t think he cared for Preston, especially after last Sunday’s phone call, but he would never have done anything to hurt his daughter.”
“Then who? Was it Nicky?”
Mimi shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s an asshole, he’s violent, he’s a drunk, but according to Chrissie, he was madly in love with her.”
“Remember, he’s going through a divorce, and Chrissie knew all about his hidden money. Maybe Nicky’s more madly in love with his money than he was with Chrissie. He could have gone over there to threaten Chrissie and make sure she kept quiet. We know he has a hair-trigger temper.”
“I suppose that’s possible, but why would Preston ever let Nicky into the house in the middle of the night? I don’t think we should overlook the corporate executives—Vittie’s military contractors, his campaign contributors, his bribers—whatever you want to call them. They’re making billions, and they’re not about to let two kids get in their way.”
Nathan nodded. “Or send them to federal prison for illegal kickbacks. We both heard what Preston said to Vittie last Sunday night. We heard him threaten to go to the Tribune and blow the whistle on the ‘whole goddamn operation.’ And you heard what Chrissie said. ‘Everybody knows too much.’ Meems, there’s no doubt in my mind that they were killed to silence them, and it could have been arranged by any one of those billionaires.”
Mimi bit her lip. “Should we go to the police? Tell them what we know?”
“Accuse Congressman Witold Zielinski and the country’s most powerful businessmen of illegal kickbacks? We have no evidence. No proof of anything. Who’s going to believe two twenty-five-year-olds against those people?”
Mimi pointed at the first floor. “I know one person who might.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHICAGO
ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD
DECEMBER 1965
The top half of Chicago’s skyline was swallowed up in a blanket of low, dark clouds, reminding Chicagoans that winter had once again taken up residence. Patches of ice and snow dotted the sidewalk in front of the Ostrowicz Funeral Home, and despite the chilly north winds, the line to pay respects stretched out the door and down Wilson Avenue. The wait time was over an hour.
The mortician had expressed his concern to the Zielinski and Roberts families that he could not do justice to Preston. The head wound had caused too much damage. He recommended a closed casket wake for the married couple, but the congressman rejected the suggestion outright. “Christine’s will be opened. You will prepare her properly and I will have my goodbyes,” he said.
Nathan, Mimi and Ruth approached Christine’s casket together. Mimi stood for a moment, shivered and then slumped into Nathan’s arms as though she were a marionette and someone had cut her strings. With his arm around her, Nathan led her to a seat. A few minutes later, Congressman Zielinski came over and sat next to her. The dark circles under his eyes and the slump in his shoulders bore witness to his profound sadness. Mimi had never seen him look so old. A man who carried himself with the bearing of a Roman general had been vanquished by his grief.
“I am so very sorry for you, Uncle Vittie,” Mimi said through her tears.
“And I for you,” Vittie said. “I have memories, such happy memories of the two of you playing in the yard. Always like sisters. Always two peas in a pod.” He took Mimi’s hand. “You have been and will always be a second daughter to us, Mimi.” They hugged and cried together until the congressman nodded and left to talk to other people.
Mimi and Nathan were talking to Christine’s mother when a gaunt man in rimless glasses came over and clasped Nathan’s shoulder. He gestured for Nathan to follow him to the hallway.
“My name is Michael Stanley,” he said, with curled lips in an unfriendly manner. He did not offer a handshake. “I work for the congressman. I’m his chief of staff. I was Preston’s boss.”
“I know who you are.”
“What do you know about the murders?”
“I don’t know anything. What kind of question is that at a wake?”
Stanley lifted his chin and peered down over his nose. “You were his best friend. He confided in you, didn’t he? What has he been telling you recently?”
“About what?”
“Don’t play cute with me, Mr. Stone. What did Preston Roberts tell you about the reasons Christine was considering leaving her job?”
“Considering? She quit her horseshit job, and what either one of them told me is none of your business.”