Prime Impact

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2At 4:00 p.m., Bannister and Barnes arrived at the Russell Federal Building, a twenty-six-story monolith on the edge of downtown Atlanta. As they rode the elevator to the fourth floor, Barnes asked, “How come you smell so good and I still smell like gunpowder?”

“’Cause I took a Harlem shower before getting in the car.”

“What’s that?”

“Washed my face at the range and threw on a heavy splash of aftershave.” Bannister grinned.

Inspector Glenn Yates had beat them there and was talking with Sherrill Newsome, the US Attorney’s secretary. As Bannister approached, he overheard Newsome say “—just shocking; we’re all stunned.” Newsome was an attractive, thin brunette. With the sling back heels she was wearing, she was the same height as Yates. Her eyes were puffy, and it was obvious she’d been crying. Newsome glanced at the two agents and said, “I have to get back to the reception desk.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Bannister asked Yates, “Do you think someone followed him from the dinner or had staked out his condo?”

“Don’t know. My guess is he drove directly home and something happened soon after he arrived back at Marietta Street,” Yates said.

“And because his briefcase was inside his condo, we’re assuming he made it through the door before the trip to the quarry,” Bannister said.

“Right.”

Just then, Mercedes Ramirez, escorted by Newsome, came down the hallway to the outside of Briggs’s office where Yates, Barnes, and Bannister were talking. Ramirez had been a Special Agent for three years. She and Bannister’s girlfriend Robin were both thirty-three. Physically, although Ramirez was only five foot three and 115 pounds, she was exceptionally strong. The guys in the weight room joked that pound for pound she was probably the strongest agent in the office.

Ramirez set her evidence kit on the floor. “I was helping on another case but got here as fast as I could.”

Newsome said, “I pulled Mr. Briggs’s schedule of appointments for the past thirty days. Mr. Prescott instructed me to give that to you as well as access to Mr. Briggs’s office and computer. If you’re here after the press conference, Mr. Prescott would like to meet with all of you.”

“Thanks, Sherrill,” Yates said.

“Mr. Prescott also asked me to print out summaries of Mr. Briggs’s pending cases and all the people he prosecuted over the last two years. You’ll have to talk with the US Attorney himself for access to the actual files.” Newsome admitted the four investigators to Briggs’s office.

As soon as they stepped inside, Yates asked, “Do you want to call the shots here?”

Bannister replied, “I’m sure you know Washington will instruct us to take over the investigation, and Prescott might want to cut the GBI out of looking at pending cases. Why don’t you start reviewing all the printouts while you have the chance? Mercedes will keep the evidence log and process the computer. Derek, how about checking out the bookcase and its contents? I’ll examine Briggs’s desk.”

Inspector Yates had asked Newsome to make an extra copy of the memoranda. It listed a dozen men, all of whom, through the prosecutorial efforts of Kendall Briggs, now received their mail at the same post office box—the Atlanta Penitentiary.

“We’ll have to check out everybody. In eighty percent of the cases, the killer is either a family member or someone with whom the victim had a personal relationship,” Yates said.

Barnes nodded. “We also need to keep our eyes open for any dirty laundry.”

Yates added, “By the way, Briggs had his wallet with $350 in cash and cell phone on him. We’ll get you an inventory of his credit cards and wallet stuffers. One of our techs is doing a printout of his phone numbers, contacts, and recent activity. He was also wearing a nice Omega watch. You wonder why they didn’t take the stuff of value. If they had, we would have considered robbery a motive.”

“That’s something else we’ll have to figure out,” Bannister said, picking up a small gold-framed photograph from the right side of Briggs’s desk. “What do you make of this?” he asked, turning to show the team a picture of a smiling, scantily clad female.

“Looks like one of those glamour shot photos women give to their boyfriends or lovers,” Barnes said. He paused before leaning in for a closer look. “She looks hot.”

Bannister handed the photo to Mercedes to tag.

“This office is unusually neat. There’s no dust anywhere and everything seems to have been put away. Do you know anything about Briggs’s personal life?” Bannister asked Yates who had sat down in Briggs’s office chair to read the file summaries.

Yates shrugged. “Only the basics. Win Prescott gave me the official bio when I got here. Newsome filled in some blanks. He was thirty-eight. Got his law degree from Stanford where he was on law review. Been a prosecutor in Atlanta for seven years. Three years ago, he divorced his wife. No kids. The ex still lives here in Atlanta, and his mother lives somewhere in Maine. Scuttlebutt is he hasn’t spoken with his wife or relatives since the divorce. Don’t know why. He lives, correction, lived alone in a swank loft condominium on Marietta Street. We need to get over there, by the way. No significant other according to Newsome but we’ll have to check that out.”

“Any chance Newsome had something going on with Briggs?” Bannister asked.

“Possibly. She mentioned Briggs was the only man in the office who was sensitive and understanding when she went through her own divorce last year,” Yates said.

“We’ll have to ask her if she knows who the bimbette in the picture is and see if she can tell us anything about Briggs’s former wife. We’ll definitely have to interview the ex,” Bannister said.

“I’ll volunteer to interview the blonde in the photo,” Barnes said, smiling, catching a finger waggle from Mercedes.

Yates said, “You guys should have a complete file on Briggs since the FBI did his background investigation. That’d be a good starter.”

“We’ll check it out when we get back to our office.”

They finished their search and decided not to stick around to hear Winston Prescott express outrage at the death of one of the finest of his seventy-five lawyers, or how every effort would be made to bring his killer or killers to justice as soon as possible. As the group left to go search Briggs’s apartment, they were all hoping they didn’t run into Gary Witt.