Page 93 of Holmes, Margaret and Poe

“So come clean,” Martin said. “Tell us about Agent Charles Stimson.”

Jackson looked from Martin to Bree and back. “Um, I believe Agent Stimson was looking at some of the early investors in the company. But that happened at Leigh Anne’s request after she kind of figured out who they were.”

“Oh, c’mon. Leigh Anne signed off on those investors along with Craig Warren.”

Asher’s personal assistant blanched, hurried past them, and shut the door. She turned, palms up. “That’s because Warren told her that he’d done the due diligence on them. And things were happening so fast for Amalgam, she didn’t have time to double-check his work. I swear that’s true.”

“A signature’s a signature,” Bree said.

“She knew she was in potential legal trouble, and she wanteda safe way out. That’s why she called Agent Stimson. To lay it all out.”

“Wait — she didn’t call the FBI? She called Stimson specifically?”

Jackson licked her lips. “I don’t know exactly how, but they knew each other. The FBI offices aren’t far from here.”

Bree and Martin continued to press Jackson and learned that Agent Stimson had looked at the evidence and immediately opened up an investigation focused on CFO Craig Warren and several Bulgarian and Israeli investors, who appeared to have ties to organized crime. Asher, Jackson said, cooperated fully.

“They spend a lot of time together?” Bree asked.

Jackson swallowed. “I guess. I didn’t keep track of that. I’m sure, because of the investigation, they had to meet a lot.”

Martin said, “Outside the office?”

“That’s how you would do it. Right?”

Bree reached into the pocket of her jacket and came out with copies of the two driver’s licenses. She showed the Virginia one to Jackson. “Recognize him?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Charles.”

“How about this one?” she said, showing Jackson the copy of the Oklahoma license.

“Carson Daniels?” Asher’s PA said, reading the name.

“Look closer,” Martin said.

Jackson blinked and moved closer. “That looks like Charles Stimson too.”

“Because itisCharles Stimson,” Bree said. “Know how we found this driver’s license?”

Jackson shook her head but looked as if she feared the answer.

Martin said, “Agent Stimson used it to get on the AmericanAirlines jet that went down. He was sitting next to Leigh Anne in seat two B.”

Bree said, “They were coming back from Florida, where they’d been shacked up, all lovey-dovey. He even gave Leigh Anne an engagement ring. Did you know that?”

Jackson had held her own until then. But now she burst into tears and collapsed to the ground, moaning and blubbering. “No, no, no. It wasn’t … it wasn’t …”

Martin crouched by her. “It wasn’t what?”

Jackson didn’t reply until Bree handed her a box of tissues. Then she stammered, “It w-wasn’t a fairy-tale story Leigh Anne told herself. It was real. They loved each other.”

In fits and starts as she calmed down, the PA described how Stimson had come to Asher’s apartment about fifteen months before. With Jackson’s help, the Amalgam CEO had started showing the FBI agent documents surrounding the early investors.

“Like I said, they’d met before somehow, and he was trying to concentrate on the crime. But there were sparks flying between them.” They tried to hide it, but Jackson was so involved in her boss’s life, she knew an affair had begun within weeks of Stimson’s arrival and subsequent investigation.

Bree said, “Did Leigh Anne know that Stimson was married and that his wife had ALS?”

Jackson’s face fell, but she nodded. “She felt guilty, but Charles kept saying that he and his wife hadn’t been together, really, in several years. He cared for her and all and would until she died. He told Leigh Anne that up-front and she admired him for it.”

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