CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"So, we're back to square one," Kate said, taking a seat behind her desk.
"Not necessarily," Burley said. "We still have the law suit angle. The investors still didn't know what was going down with the FBI. They all have motive."
"Right," Gibbs said, taking a seat behind his desk. "I want all of those investors run down and interviewed. Tonight."
"May not need to do all of them, Gibbs. Check this out," Tony said, ripping a sheet of paper from his printer and handing it to Gibbs. "That class action lawsuit lists thirty-seven plaintiffs in the Washington area. But only one drives a green pick-up."
- - - -
Burley knocked forcefully on the white slate door. "Arlen Smith? This is Special Agent Burley with NCIS. We need to ask you a few questions."
There was no answer. Burley took a step back and looked through the windows. No movement. It didn't look like Smith was home, but his pick up was parked tidily in the driveway. He took a step back toward the door and knocked again. Still no answer. He turned down the front porch steps when he heard a small crack to his right. He looked over and caught sight of a large man, over six foot, with his grey hair cut into a military style, not unlike Gibbs'.
"Arlen Smith?" Burley said, flipping out his ID, "NCIS."
The man stared at him wide eyed for a moment before dropping his bag and turning to run. However, he was abruptly stopped by something blocking the path.
"Whoa, whoa, there buddy," Tony said, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back toward Burley. "You want to tell us why you're trying to run?"
Arlen Smith cocked his head back toward Burley, his eyes petrified. "I, uh . . . "
"How about we take a seat first?" Tony said, pushing Smith down onto his front porch steps.
"Now, can you tell us why your green pick up was at the scene of Harrison Burke's murder on Saturday night?" Burley asked.
Smith looked up at them, almost with tears in his eyes. This guy was an ex-marine, Tony thought. He didn't think he'd ever seen a marine cry. And he was hoping he didn't have to.
"Look, buddy," Tony said. "Tell us what the hell you were doing there or we're going to have to take you in."
"It was an accident!" the man finally spluttered.
"What?" Burley asked.
"I lost everything! Those bastards at Osiris stole my whole life savings! How was I supposed to feed my wife and kid?" The man was almost in tears now.
"Hang on," Tony said. "Slow down. Start at the beginning. How did you know Burke?"
The exhaled slowly, probably in an attempt to calm himself. "I . . . I met Harrison at a shareholder meeting in New York. A bunch of us were trying to get a class action suit together."
"And you wanted to kill him?" Burley asked.
"No!" Smith said. "No, Harrison was different from the rest of the Osiris guys. He listened to us. He said he'd help."
"Why'd you follow him that night?" Tony asked.
"I hadn't heard from him in a few weeks. I was getting frustrated. I just wanted to talk to him."
"And you got into an argument?"
"It got pretty heated. He . . . he'd promised three weeks ago that a paper would've gone through and it hadn't. He'd promised to help and he hadn't done anything! He said that he was late for something and that he had to go . . . "
"And that was it? You watched him go?"
"No," Smith put his head in his hands. "I was pissed. I went after him and I . . . I hit him."
"Punched him?" Tony asked.
"A few times," Smith said. "I just kept yelling that he'd promised, and my wife and kid were going to starve because of him . . . And I just . . . I kept kicking and punching and I wanted him to know the pain . . . Sitting up in his big office making decisions to destroy people's lives. And it all just came out there and then and before I knew it he was on the ground. And then, then he turned his head up and . . . and he pulled a gun."
"He pulled his weapon on you?" Burley asked.
"He told me to back off. That he had nothing to lose anymore. But I was drunk, I kept kicking. And he fired."
"At you?"
"It missed me. Went over my shoulder. But I lunged at him again," Smith said, now in tears. "And grabbed his gun."
"And you shot him?"
"It was self-defence! I know a well-trained marine when I see one. He was going to fire again and he wasn't going to miss!"
- - - -
"We found the extra bullet at the crime scene, Stan," Gibbs said. "It was lodged in a wall three storeys up. Burke wasn't firing at him. He fired a warning shot to scare him off. The guy had a Expert Pistol Medal. If he'd fired at Smith at that close of a distance, he wouldn't have missed."
"Can't prove that in court, Gibbs. Harry was intoxicated when he fired. Smith's still going to get off on self-defence. It doesn't make a difference."
"Yeah, I know," Gibbs said softly.
Burley was seated at DiNozzo's desk, swinging himself back and forth on the swivel chair, his eyes staring blankly down at the floor. Gibbs walked over to him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Burley's eyes didn't move from the carpet.
"Stan, I know you hate that he died the way he did, but there's nothing more we can do. The least we can say is that we found his killer."
"Who won't be punished for it."
Gibbs sighed and took a step back. There wasn't much more he could do to calm Burley's grief.
"I just still can't believe it," Burley continued. "That his own father . . . that David . . . would rig it so that he took the fall. David would've known he was getting pressure from the investors about the law-suit and he sat and did nothing. He chose his company over his son, Gibbs. He let Smith kill Harry. I just can't believe Harry died for nothing. And he was so close to getting out of all of this."
He heard someone else enter the vicinity of the desks and looked up to see Fornell.
"I just came to let you know, Gibbs," Fornell said, "that I received a package from the SEC this morning containing all the remaining documents needed to proceed with the trial against Osiris. Harry posted them the afternoon before he died." Fornell gave Burley a glance as he turned on his heel and receded back to the elevator.
- - - -
At the funeral, everyone looked resigned. Some of them - - mostly people that she didn't know - - looked sincerely grief-stricken. But where it counted, Kate checked faces and saw a kind of bewildered acceptance. She stayed on the fringes for as long as possible, circulating among friends and acquaintances of Burley's and the service.
No one seemed to try and comfort Burley, because no one was sure whether he deserved to be comforted or not. She didn't know herself. Everyone concentrated on the family; loving and compassionate looks toward the parents. Friends of Dean and Emma wrapped close arms around them, most dressed in attire entirely too casual for a funeral.
She toward him. He was holding a card in his hand and looking very composed in his black suit and tie, but he was staring directly at the silver ceremonial container as if he couldn't make himself see anything else. His hand rubbed absently at his cheek before he dropped it down to his side to clench tightly around the piece of white card. He uncurled his fingers from it with some obvious difficulty - - she could see his chest rising and falling in his effort to calm himself - - and made a fist, each finger drifting down towards his palm and locking there. She took a step towards him, but she didn't know what she was going to say to him, so she edged back again slightly.
However, Burley suddenly turned and caught her eye. He smiled softly and began walking slowly over to her.
"He would've liked your eulogy," Kate said, trying to begin the conversation.
Burley looked at her. "No, he would've hated it, the same way he would have hated having a funeral, and the same way he would have hated being dead. Being dead probably just makes him mad. And I don't blame him."
Kate smiled softly as they watched Harry's family slowly uncap the silver jar of ashes and let them gently float out of the container with the wind and across the sea. She looked to her side and saw the faint glimmer of a tear in the corner of Burley's eye as he watched his friend, flesh and bone now turned to dust, drift freely off across the ocean. He must've noticed her gaze, because he quickly scrubbed frantically away at it, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her by finally losing control of the situation. Besides, the rubbing created expanding black spots that ate up his vision and vanished the sight of the last bits of Harry being swallowed by the air and sea. Kate put her hand on his elbow, and not saying a word, passed him a tissue. It had been folded into a tiny square so tightly that, as he unfolded it, the softest pieces crumbled under his fingers. He wiped his eyes, and crushed the tissue in his hand.
"Can I ask, why here?" Kate said.
Burley didn't turn to her, just continued to watch as the light grey particles floated down and away from the cliff and came to rest on the soft, blue, lapping water below. He paused for a moment before he spoke. "He wasn't a businessman. He wasn't a lawyer. He didn't belong in an office and he didn't belong in a coffin. Harry Burke was a marine. He belonged on the ocean. He lived it, worked it, and breathed it. He loved it. Death wasn't the kind of thing that would stop Harry from being where he wanted to be."
- THE END -
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