After studying the woman for a few seconds, Jamison asked, “Did you notice a change in your husband recently?”
“In what way?” Ellie said absently.
“Mood? Concerns at work? Appetite changed? Maybe he drank more than normal? Any signs of depression?”
Ellie sat back in her chair, wadded the tissue up in her hand, and stared down at her lap.
Outside the door footsteps could be heard, along with occasional running feet, the sounds of a monitor alarm, voices over a PA, and equipment and patients being rolled up and down the corridor. The air smelled like hospitals always did: antiseptic. And the air was perpetually chilly. There was also an ominous tenseness present in the CCU, as though only a monitor’s sudden warning screech separated the living from the dead.
“Walt didn’t talk about business at home. He didn’t really drink at home either, although I know that he did at business dinners and industry events, that sort of thing. I attended some with him. But he only drank enough to socialize, to get deals done, build contacts, you know, that sort of thing.”
“I understand. Were there any financial worries?”
“Not that I knew of. But Walter handled all that. We never had any bill collectors show up at the house, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did his mood change?”
She dabbed at her eyes and shot a glance at her husband before quickly looking away, as though she was uncomfortable conveying information about him to a stranger. “He had a variety of moods. He worked very hard and when business was good he was happy, when it was down, he got depressed, just like anybody would.”
“So nothing out of the ordinary?”
Ellie balled up the tissue even more and then tossed it into the trash can.
With finality.
She turned to Jamison, who waited patiently. If being around Amos Decker had taught her anything, it was patience, for both positive and negative reasons.
“He went on a trip recently.”
“Where?”
“That was the unusual thing. He didn’t tell me where. He had never done that before.”
“How long was he gone?” Jamison asked.
“I think about four days. It could have been longer. He was on another trip in New York and left from there. He called me and said something unexpected had come up and that he had to attend to it and wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone.”
“Plane, train? Another country?”
“I don’t know. He did tell me it had to do with a potential client. He had to smooth over something. The way he described it the matter didn’t seem too significant. I suppose his office would have handled the travel arrangements.”
“Okay, and he mentioned nothing to you about it when he got home?”
“Nothing. I just assumed it was business. But from that day on, there was something, I don’t know, off.”
“And when was this?”
“About a month ago.”
“And your husband has his own government contracting firm?”
Ellie nodded. “Walter Dabney and Associates. It’s located in Reston. Everything they work on is pretty much classified. It started out with just my husband, but now about seventy people work there. He has partners at the firm, but Walter is president and owns a controlling interest.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, I guess I’ll own it now.” She looked in alarm at Jamison. “Does that mean I’ll have to run it? I don’t know anything about his business. I don’t even have a security clearance.”
Jamison gripped her hand. “I don’t think you need to worry about those details right now, Mrs. Dabney.”
Ellie relaxed and looked back at her husband. “What was the person’s name again? That Walter…? They told me, but I can’t remember. Everything is just a blur right now.”
“Anne Berkshire. She was a substitute teacher at a Catholic high school in Fairfax. Do you know her?”
Ellie shook her head. “I never heard of her. And I don’t know why Walt would know her either. High school teacher? Walt and I had our children fairly early. Jules, our oldest, is thirty-seven. And our oldest grandkid is only in first grade. And they don’t even live in Virginia anyway. And we’re not Catholic. We’re Presbyterian.”
“Does this place need much security?” asked Milligan.
Palmer looked at him sternly. “Our patients are weak and on heavy medications. They can hardly protect themselves. It falls to us to do that, and we take that matter very seriously. All visitors are checked in through the front entrance. The hand stamp is easily seen and we change the color every day. That way at a glance our staff knows if a visitor has been properly cleared through or not.”
Decker asked, “Did Berkshire have a family member who’s a patient here? Is that why she was here this morning?”
“Oh, no. Anne was a volunteer. She would come and spend time with certain patients. Oftentimes the patient’s family may not live in the immediate area, and visits aren’t so frequent. We have volunteers, carefully vetted of course, who come in and talk to the patients, read to them, or just sit with them. It’s not easy dying. And it’s even harder dying alone.”
“Did Berkshire talk to anyone in particular today?” asked Milligan.