Born to Run (11 page)

"And this is important because . . . ?"

"The toxicology report from Vice President Grayson's autopsy hasn't been made public yet. But it will be released soon, which is why, I'm sure, Marilyn Grayson was so candid with me. The whole world will know this in a few weeks. It will disclose that the vice president had taken an unusually high dosage of ED medication a few hours before his death."

"But the man died on a hunting trip with your dad."

"So what does that tell you?"

"Your dad's gay?"

"No, numb nuts."

"Then Grayson probably had a honey on Miami Beach. Big deal. Doesn't everybody?"

"That's one interpretation," said Jack. "Marilyn Grayson has another."

"Two honies in Miami Beach? Maybe a mother-daughter combo." Theo belted back another shot. "Lucky bastard."

"Will you give that up already?" said Jack. "It comes down to two possibilities. One is that Grayson took a pill to have sex with a woman who was not his wife, knowing that the medicine could very well send him into cardiac arrest and kill him."

"He wouldn't be the first guy with a weak heart to take that risk."

"True. But what if he wasn't cheating on his wife?"

"Then why would he take the little blue pill?"

"What if someone gave it to him--without him knowing it?"

"You mean dissolved it in his food or slipped it into a drink?"

"Exactly."

The proverbial lightbulb glowed over Theo's head. "Dude, that's it."

"What's it?"

"I swear that must be what Trina's been doing to me. I'll be walking around on three legs all afternoon, wondering where the hell Mr. Happy came from, and then Trina shows up at the bar all rarin' to--"

"Stop. This isn't about you."

"Sorry."

"I'm saying, what if someone knew that the vice president had atherosclerosis and pumped him full of pills for reasons other than having sex?"

"What other reason?"

"To kill him, genius. That's why Marilyn Grayson has questions about her husband's death."

"Whoa," said Theo. "The Viagra Assassination. It's like Desperate Housewives meets 24."

"Except it's not a Kennedy
-
or Lincoln-like assassination. This assassin didn't want people to suspect foul play."

"So the question is, who wanted Phil Grayson dead, and who wanted it done in a way that didn't look like murder."

"I may know someone who can help me answer that--someone who hasn't been telling me everything so far."

"Does she have a hot mother?"

"No," said Jack, turning very serious. "A dead sister."

Chapter
17

Jack returned to his hotel room by 10:30 P
. M
. With the aid of Theo's tequila, he was well on his way to dreamland--until the telephone phone rang at 10:47 P
. M
.

"Go to bed, Theo," he answered, groaning.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Jack?"

It was a woman's voice.

"Andie?" he said, even though it didn't really sound like her.

"No, this is Elizabeth Grayson."

He sat up quickly. Head rush--tequilal
.

Sorry," she said, "I woke you, didn't I?"

"It's okay, I had to get up to answer the phone anyway."

She laughed, assuming that it was a joke, and only then did Jack appreciate that he'd had more than one shot too many. Theo, Ym going to kill you.

Elizabeth said, "Mother told me what the two of you talked about and--well, I wouldn't do this if it weren't important. I'm in the hotel lobby right now. Can you come down? We need to talk."

Jack was suddenly feeling wide awake; this was the second time in two days that a woman had dropped the "we-need-to-talk" bomb.

"Uh, sure. Give me five minutes."

He jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. A splash of cold water brought color back to his face, but he couldn't do much about the bloodshot eyes. He made it downstairs with thirty seconds to spare. Elizabeth was waiting on the couch near the grand piano. She apologized again for dragging him out of bed, which meant that he probably looked even worse than he felt. A waitress came from the coffee shop, and they ordered a couple of decafs. When they were alone again, Elizabeth said, "I suppose you're wondering what's so urgent that I raced over here at this hour."

"Not at all," said Jack.

She looked at him curiously, and he smiled.

"Okay," said Jack, "maybe just a little."

She smiled back, then noticed his distraction.

"Who are you looking for?" she said.

Jack had been not-so-discreet in scanning the lobby. "Are we alone, or is there Secret Service lurking about somewhere?"

"We're alone. I'm the child of a former vice president now, so I don't get Secret Service protection. Even children of former presidents only get it till age sixteen. You'll learn all about that."

"Got it," said Jack. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

Elizabeth drew a breath, then began. "My poor mother. She refuses to believe her husband could have cheated on her, and she simply can't comprehend that he would have risked his life with ED medication to pull it off."

"Are you saying that's what he did?"

"I have two words for you: Chloe Sparks."

"She was at least thirty years younger than him," he said, suddenly realizing that he was sounding more like forty with each passing day.

"Thirty-one. That's why the very idea of me dating older men strikes such a sour note with my mother, even if that isn't entirely logical."

Jack recalled the awkward moment when Elizabeth had invited him to lunch.

"Anyway," said Elizabeth, "Chloe Sparks was a tramp. From day one of her internship, she was determined to bed someone in the White House. She aimed high, and my father was stupid enough to bite."

"Was this a onetime thing or ongoing?"

"Ongoing."

"How do you know?"

"I'm Phil Grayson's daughter, for Pete's sake. It was disgusting the way he looked at Chloe. I could see it all over their faces."

"That's your proof? You could see it on their faces?"

"Don't minimize what I'm telling you. I don't need DNA on a cocktail dress to know what was going on."
,
Their coffee arrived, and Jack allowed the waitress to retreat before continuing.

"So what you're telling me is . . . what?"

Elizabeth stirred a pack of sweetener into her cup. "A couple of things," she said. "One, the fact that ED medication was found in my father's blood at the time of his death tells me one thing only: he was a cheater."

"You don't share your mother's suspicions that someone who knew about his health problems gave it to him surreptitiously to induce a heart attack?"

"Not in the least. He did it to himself."

"This latest one--the one that did him in--was that with Chloe or someone else?"

"I don't know. And frankly, I don't care. Or let me put it another way: it has nothing to do with what I came here to tell you tonight."

"You mean there's more?"

She nodded. "There's something I wanted to clear up immediately. I'm concerned about the impression my mother may have given you about the role of President Keyes in all this."

"His role in what, exactly?"

"I'm sure you can imagine that I wasn't the only one who knew about my father's indiscretion. Some very powerful people jumped for joy when Chloe got nailed for drug possession and had to be fired."

"On some level I can understand their being happy. But weren't they afraid she'd go public with the affair? 'Kiss and tell' can be a pretty profitable game in today's world."

"That was the beauty of it. Once Chloe was labeled a twenty
-
two-year-old druggy, she had zero credibility. Her claims of sex with the vice president would have been dismissed as total fiction, or maybe even turned against her as stalking."

"It all seems pretty convenient," said Jack, thinking like a criminal defense lawyer, "the way Chloe was stupid enough to show up for work with drugs in her purse."

"It does, indeed," she said. "And that's why I felt the need to speak with you tonight."

"I'm still not sure I understand the urgency."

"Mother told me about the anonymous e-mail you got from someone claiming that he can bring down President Keyes. Naturally, I immediately started to wonder what information this person might have. There was only one thing I could think of: finally, someone was going to accuse the Keyes administration of framing and firing Chloe Sparks to put the kibosh on a potential sex scandal."

Jack thought about it. Lesser cover-ups had ended political careers. "Honestly, I don't know what information my source has. Maybe it's what you think it is."

"And if it is, I would hate to see your father withdraw his name and give up the chance of a lifetime based on a vicious rumor like that."

"You're sure it's just a rumor?"

"I'm here to tell you one thing with certainty: the administration had nothing to do with any drugs being planted on Chloe."

Jack considered her choice of words. "You make it sound as if they were planted," said Jack. "By someone."

She looked at him very seriously. "All I'm telling you is that the administration had nothing to do with it."

Even on too little sleep and too many shots, Jack realized exactly what she was saying. "I guess that leaves just one question," he said.

"What?"

"Were the drugs planted by the vice president's wife or by his daughter?"

She flashed a semblance of a smile, but it was a serious one. "I can give you one very good reason why you'll never know the answer to that question."

"I'm all ears."

She leaned closer, moving to the edge of the couch as she looked him straight in the eye. "Because this conversation never happened."

She rose from the couch and gathered her overcoat.

"Good night, Mr. Swyteck."

Jack watched as she turned away, crossed the lobby, and disappeared through the revolving door.

Chapter
18

A sweet, floral aroma rose from the White House coffee mug.

"Jamaica Mountain Grown," said President Keyes in a tortured Caribbean accent. "Cool runnin', mon. Harry? Frank? Join me?"

The president's relaxed demeanor belied the fact that this was no routine update from Secret Service Agent Frank Madera, former head of protection for Vice President Grayson. The meeting was called--rather, demanded--by Harry Swyteck, and the three men were in the Treaty Room, the president's personal office adjacent to the Lincoln bedroom in the White House residence. President Keyes sat in a big leather chair with his feet up on the Treaty Table, a magnificent Victorian desk originally used as a cabinet meeting table.

"Love some," said Agent Madera.

The president poured another cup from the French press. "Harry?"

"It's midnight, sir. One more cup of joe and I'll be awake till dawn."

"Oh, come on. I can get you any bean you want."

Coffee beans were to the Keyes administration what jelly beans had been to the Reagan White House. Harry could scarcely say no. "Sure, why not."

The president rang the kitchen on the intercom. "James, the governor wants a cup of joe."

"What shall it be this time, sir?"

He flashed a boyish grin, as if matching up beans with guests made his presidential day. "What's the one from Indonesia that those little tree-climbing marsupials can't digest and the bean pickers gather up off the ground after the critters crap them out?"

"Kopi Luwak, sir?"

"That's it. Send up a whole pot."

"Right away, sir."

He switched off the intercom. "You're going to love this, Harry. Has sort of an earthy body with a hint of chocolate. Unusual aroma, however."

"Imagine that."

"Some people call it crappy Luwak because--"

"Enough with the coffee," said Harry.

The tone took the president by surprise. "Maybe you'd prefer decaf," he said.

"Sorry, sir. But frankly I've been on edge ever since my son got that e-mail from someone who claims he can bring down the president."

"And as I told you, those things happen about once a week."

"I don't doubt that," said Harry. "But today I heard disturbing things about a former White House intern who recently turned up dead. In my eyes, this is critical. As I told you on the phone, I need some answers about Chloe Sparks."

"That's why I have Frank here," said the president. "He can tell you everything you need to know about her."

Harry's gaze shifted to Agent Madera.