Page 78 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 74

Columbia University

A s I walk with Dr. Graham through Morningside Park, I realize that during my three years as his student, I never once saw him outside a lecture hall or his office.

He points to a bench facing a wide sidewalk lined with trees.

“Right here is good.” He sits down heavily and turns to me.

“I’m so sorry about Garrett. I only met him once, that afternoon when he picked you up after class. Nice young man. Talented too. I’ve read his books.”

I remember that day.

We’d just found an apartment in Washington Heights and were so happy to be moving in together and starting our professional careers.

I also remember how tough Dr. Graham’s classes were.

He pushed us hard but always stayed after the lectures to answer questions.

I’m bursting with questions now.

“Dr. Graham, why the cloak-and-dagger? Why call yourself Brother? And why were you watching us in the first place?”

“You’ve been gifted with a piercing mind and a knack for challenging authority—even mine, from time to time.”

Dr. Graham never made a secret of the fact that he had worked at the FBI before he became a federal judge and long before he retired from the bench to become a law professor.

“How did you find me? How did you know what Garrett and I were working on?”

“I may be old, Brea, but I still hear things. When I found out about the book you were writing, I knew how important it was and how dangerous the investigation could be.”

“So you were deliberately trying to scare me.”

“I was.”

“What do you know about the old accusations against Cole Wright?” I ask.

“The rape of a freshman girl at Dartmouth? The disappearance of Suzanne Bonanno? Did you know that on the day Garrett was murdered, he was coming from a private meeting with Wright?”

Dr. Graham sits up a little straighter.

“A private meeting with the First Gentleman? Where?”

“I never found out. Garrett mentioned an airport near Hanover.”

I can see that Dr. Graham is wrestling with a decision.

Eventually, he says, “Brea, there are two groups who’ve been following your investigations. One group wants very much to stop you. The other wants very much to help you.”

“And it was the first group that had Garrett killed?”

Dr. Graham nods.

“I’m sorry. Looks that way. I have information that might help you track down his killer—and keep you alive.”

“Information from where?”

“From Seymour Washington.”

I shake my head.

Him again. “You know Seymour Washington?”

Dr. Graham smiles.

“Brea, everybody in the FBI knows Seymour Washington.”

“So what does he have for me now?”

“He has the name of a Mafia button man who’s dying.”

“Did he kill Garrett?”

Dr. Graham shakes his head.

“No, no. This man is my age. He’s been out of the game for a long time. But he knows things. And apparently, he’s feeling some remorse about his life choices.”

“So give me his name. I’ll call the police. Let’s have him picked up and questioned.”

“Brea, think. This man has been dodging the law his whole life. Now he’s dying, and he’s not about to talk to the police on his way out. But he might talk to you.”

Dr. Graham pulls out a folded piece of paper and puts it in my hands.

I open it.

The page has a single handwritten name: Leo Amalfi.

Underneath that is Cranston, RI.

I look up at Dr. Graham.

“Never heard of him.”

“That means he was good at his job.”