Capitol Murder (26 page)

“Yes,” Morticia answered, her voice gurgling with excitement. She rubbed her tummy with one
hand. “’S yummy.”

“Like liquid energy,” Charles added, lisping slightly, no doubt due to the inch-long teeth
protruding from the front of his mouth.

Loving shook his head. “I’m assumin’, even if you’re an Inheritor, that you weren’t born with
those. Otherwise your mommy would’ve signed you up for some serious orthodontic work.”

“’Course not,” Morticia explained. “He had ’em filed.”

“And where do you find a dentist who would do somethin’ like that?”

“We’ve got connections. The Sire takes care of us.”

Loving’s chin rose. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him. Who’s this Sire?”

“He’s the leader of the Inner Circle.”

“Did he get you a nice set of fangs, too?”

Morticia opened her mouth wide, smiled, and sure enough she had a more petite but still
discernible pair of fangs. “The difference,” she said, mouth still open, “is that mine can be
removed.” She reached up and snapped off her front row of teeth like a pair of fake fingernails.
“Acrylic. Snap-ons. Cost me seventy-five bucks. But that’s a lot less than Charles paid. And I
have the option of not wearing them to work—unlike him.”

“I work at home,” Charles explained, still lisping.

Just as well, Loving thought. “And you really drink blood?”

“With gusto. The commingling of bloodlines is the ultimate gratification, the sharing of life
force. There is no greater stimulation than that derived from walking the narrow tightrope
between pleasure and pain. Just thinking about it gets me—”

“Thanks for sharin’,” Loving said, cutting him off. “But I notice all your pals are
gatherin’.” The rest of the Circle was congregating in the center of the room, hands joined,
facing one another.

“Time for the Ceremony,” Morticia explained.

“And that is . . . ?”

“You’ll see.”

“I can participate?”

“Sure. Open to all comers.”

And why was that? Did visitors become the human sacrifice? Loving was willing to do a great
deal for Ben, but becoming a walking, talking blood bag for a coven of vampires was pushing
it.

They finished their meals, which all three agreed were fabulous. Glancy assured Ben that the
dinner was going on his running tab, which was a considerable relief, and Glancy was in the
process of talking them into dessert (“The crème brûlée is like ambrosia in a baking dish, but I
prefer the cheese plate, being a devoted turophile”) when they were visited by Brad Tidwell, the
junior senator from Oklahoma.

Tidwell seemed genuinely surprised to see Glancy, even though Ben thought it was virtually
impossible that anyone could’ve spotted them in this alcove if he hadn’t already known they were
there. “Glad to see you were able to get out for a night, Todd. You know, we’re all rooting for
you.”

“Oh, I rather doubt everyone is,” Glancy said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “But thank
you.”

“I meant everyone from Oklahoma,” Tidwell corrected. “We Sooners stand by our own.”

“About that,” Glancy said. “I did notice that your name is on the prosecution’s witness
list.”

“Doesn’t that beat all? I don’t know what the deal is.”

“I don’t, either,” Ben added. “And I interviewed you as soon as I saw the list.”

“I guess it’s because I’m on that committee with you, Todd. Did you know I have the best
attendance record of anyone in the entire group?”

“Is that a fact,” Glancy said quietly.

Tidwell slapped his hand on Glancy’s shoulder. “I do wish you’d think about reconsidering your
position on that Alaska bill, though. I know Melanfield’s an ass, but I think he’s right about
this one.”

“It’s our last untouched wilderness area, Brad.”

“I know, but we’ve got to get ourselves out of the Middle East. It would be the best thing for
the country.” He hesitated just the slightest second. “I think it would be the best thing for
you, too.”

Glancy turned his head slowly. For a long, protracted moment, the two men stared into each
other’s eyes.

“I can’t do that, Brad. The price is too high.”

Tidwell nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Todd. I really am.”

Glancy did not reply.

“But no hard feelings, right?” Tidwell outstretched his hand. “You just remember that, no
matter what happens, I’m behind you all the way, okay? You can count on the delegation from
Oklahoma.” He shook Glancy’s hand vigorously, then strolled away.

Christina stared at them both, lips parted. “Did what I think just happened just happen?”

Glancy turned to her. “Now I understand why you’re such a good partner for my friend Ben. You
get the subtext.”

“Subtext?” Ben said, turning from one to the other. “What are you two talking about?”

“Opportunity,” Glancy said. “I think I know now how that will be established.”

“And that handshake?” Ben asked. “That promise of support. That wasn’t a peace offering?”

Glancy shook his head gravely. “The Judas kiss.”

Not that Loving was looking for trouble. He really wasn’t. But when you’re hanging with
vampires, and someone announces that the Ceremony is about to begin, you form certain
expectations. Visions of kidnapped babies being drained. Vestal virgins thrown to the flames.
Lucifer the Goat conjured from the netherworld.

Anything but this. Because this was nothing but a glorified AA meeting where all the attendees
have the same bad fashion sense.

“I tried to talk to my parents,” a young man in a dark sweater said. “But they wouldn’t
listen. They didn’t understand. They said—get this—‘Have you ever tried
not
being a
vampire?’”

Several sympathetic hands were laid upon his shoulder.

“We feel your pain,” the others chanted together.

More likely they cause his pain, Loving thought. With their teeth.

Daily whispered into Loving’s ear. “How much more of this are we going to endure? I’ve talked
to everyone in the room. None of them knows a Beatrice.”

“Did you learn anythin’ about the girls that disappear? The ones the Sire’s minions select for
the Inner Circle?”

“No one seems to know much about that.”

Loving grunted. He was equally stymied. He hated to give up on a promising lead, but this was
getting them nowhere. “Amber’s last words before she fell unconscious—”

“She was out of her head. Probably didn’t know what she was saying.”

Another member of the Circle was speaking. “And then she threw the engagement ring back at me,
screaming, ‘You said you were going to be a lawyer!’ And I told her, ‘I can still be a lawyer,
honey. I’ll just have to stick to night court.’”

“Okay, let’s get outta here.” Loving headed out, but to his surprise Morticia left the group
and ran in front of him just as he passed through the outer door, blocking his way.

“You can’t just leave. I told you. We’re destined to be together.” She grabbed him by the
collar and pulled him close. “Just let me take a little nip. You won’t be disappointed. I promise
you.” Once again she was all over him, her heaving bosom pressed against his ample chest. “It
would be an experience you’d never forget.”

“That I don’t doubt. But—”

“Give it up, you gorgeous infidel.” All at once, she lurched forward, placed her acrylic teeth
against his neck, and bit down hard.

Loving pulled away. “Stop that!”

“Why? Afraid you might like it?” She wiped her mouth dry. “You shouldn’t withdraw prematurely.
Haven’t you heard? Women don’t like that.”

“Be seein’ you.” Loving started for the door, tugging Daily as he went.

“You know you want it. Deep down,” Morticia called after him. “You’ll come back. Wait and see.
I’ll still be here. When you’re ready.”

Loving ran down the front steps and breathed in the night air. Strong with carbon monoxide,
but refreshing, just the same. It was a relief to be outside, away from that pack of
nutcases.

Vampires. Jeez Louise. What next? It can’t possibly get any weirder than that . . .

A voice emerged from the darkness. “Freeze, or I’ll stake you where you stand, you unholy
beasts.”

Loving and Daily both pivoted at once. There was a woman standing behind them, emerging from
the shadows of a side alley. She was young, slender but sturdy. She had long blond hair and a
tanned complexion. Her eyes were fixed intently upon her targets.

She was holding a crossbow. Not a gun. A crossbow.

“Now you’re going to do exactly what I say,” she said, moving forward but never blinking,
never moving her finger from the trigger. “And if either of you so much as takes a baby step
toward me, you’ll get a bolt through your undead heart.”

Ben was not surprised when the prosecution called Brad Tidwell, the junior senator from
Oklahoma. Padolino made a great show of explaining in open court that Tidwell was a “hostile
witness,” and was appearing only because he had been subpoenaed—probably a condition of his
agreement to testify. Tidwell opened with several stories of how he had once admired Senator
Glancy and how helpful the man was during his early days in the Senate, despite the fact that
they were from opposite parties. Together, he and Padolino did everything imaginable to dispel
the idea that this testimony had partisan motivations.

“On September 26 of last year, did you attend the morning meeting of the Committee on Health,
Education, Labor and Pensions?” Padolino asked.

“I did, sir. I’m proud to say I have the best attendance record of any member currently
serving. I’ve never missed an entire day. I even attended when I had strep and a temperature of
one hundred and four.”

Well, I bet the other committee members appreciated that, Ben mused.

“And was the defendant present on September 26?”

“He was, sir. He’s still vice chair, and I believe he handled some of the parliamentary
rigmarole at the opening.”

“And did he remain in the committee chambers for the entire morning?”

Ben wondered if he had been coached to pause at this dramatic juncture, or if his political
experience had given him sufficient instinct to work these things out for himself. “No, sir. He
did not.”

A small stir from the gallery. Not quite enough to get Herndon’s gavel rattling, but
close.

“At what time did Senator Glancy leave the room?”

“I can’t be certain. I was very busy, and I didn’t know then that it would be important. But
it was in the first hour or so of the session.”

“Say around nine thirty?”

“Objection!” Ben rushed in. “Leading.”

“Sustained.”

“I really didn’t notice the time,” Tidwell continued. “But it was early. Before ten,
certainly.”

The earliest time the coroner said the killing could have occurred, Ben noted. How terribly
convenient.

“Thank you. I have no more questions.”

But Ben did. More than a few.

“Could we possibly get some specifics on this previously unmentioned absence?” Ben thought it
was an appropriate time to allow some indignation to show.

“What would you like to know? I told you as much as I can about when he left.”

“How long was Senator Glancy gone? According to you.”

“I really couldn’t say. I had other things to do than monitor his comings and goings.”

“Give me a ballpark figure.”

“I can’t.”

“Was it a bathroom break? Or was he gone a good long time?”

“It was more than a bathroom break. I was trying to float a redraft by him, but he wasn’t
anywhere in the chamber. I searched the whole place, waited, finally had to move on to something
else. It was at least ten minutes before I saw him in the chamber again. Maybe as much as
twenty.”

More than enough time, Ben realized. He played the best card he had. “Senator Tidwell, I
interviewed you two days after the murder occurred, along with every other member of that
committee. You told me you were working on a new formulation of a bill and couldn’t remember
whether Senator Glancy was present the whole time or not.”

“And that was true. At the time. But I’ve had a long while to think about it since then. Time
to reflect and to review my notes. Now I distinctly remember looking around for Todd, and not
finding him.”

The man was so smooth he could make anything sound reasonable. Ben had one last impeachment
card, a pretty feeble one. But he had to play it.

“Despite being from the same state, you’re not a member of the same political party as Senator
Glancy, are you?”

“I think I made that clear.”

“The current Senate has only a bare Republican majority. You’d probably like to see a few
Democrats replaced by Republicans, right?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Answer the question.”

“Well . . .” He grinned a little. “I wouldn’t object.”

“And you’d probably enjoy being the senior senator from your state, wouldn’t you?”

That got a rise out of him. “If you’re trying to suggest that I’m making this up just to get
Senator Glancy out of the Senate, you’re wasting your time. I wouldn’t do that. We may be
political opponents, but we’re still brother senators. Politics is one thing, but loyalty is
another. I put loyalty first.”

“So you say,” Ben rejoined. “But that didn’t stop you from testifying today, did it? No more
questions.”

Padolino would try to patch that up on redirect, Ben well knew. But at least it gave him an
exit line.

As Glancy had predicted last night, Opportunity had arrived. Coupled with Motive, the
prosecution had made their case. They’d given the jury everything they needed to convict. For all
intents and purposes, the burden of proof was now on Ben—and if he failed, Todd Glancy was a dead
man.

It was overkill, Ben thought, and the flaw with overkill was not just that the jury would get
bored but also that eventually some witness might make a mistake that would undermine everything.
Padolino had made his case; the only sensible thing to do was rest. But instead, he opted for the
anticlimactic introduction of character assassination. For what purpose? Ben wondered. What
character was there left to assassinate?