Poisoned Politics (18 page)

Natasha followed suit, upending her lemon-lime drink, then exhaled a long sigh. “Boy, I needed that.”

“Have you heard any more about your friend Gary?”

“Yeah, his mother sent me a card thanking me for the flowers I sent to their home in Minneapolis. He had a lot of family there, so I'm glad his parents weren't alone. They're still broken up about Gary dying from a drug overdose.” She exhaled a long sigh.

“I can't imagine how hard that is for them,” I commiserated. “How about you, Natasha? How's it going at Chertoff's office? Are you feeling more settled in?”

“Oh yeah. They treat me like I've always been with them. It's been an easy adjustment. Of course, I have to study up on Congresswoman Chertoff's committee and subcommittee work. But the August recess gives me time to catch up. The congresswoman is back in Iowa. So I have the time. Good thing, because I have a lot of late-night reading every night. That reminds me.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a small key-ring-sized computer storage drive and held it out. “I copied those files for you. I may be studying some of them myself, since Chertoff's subcommittee deals with International Monetary Policy.”

I took the little green storage drive and dropped it in my purse. “Thanks, Natasha. I appreciate your help. I'll take a look in a few days.” No way was I going to research dry financial legislation while Danny was in town. We had plans every evening this week. Data searches could wait until Danny was off consulting
…
or whatever he did while away. Remembering my earlier conversation with Loretta Wade, I said, “Congressman Jackson is on the same subcommittee as Chertoff. In fact, last spring Sally mentioned that she and Jackson were working on something together. Were they drafting a bill?”

“Well, they were, but it looks like it's stalled now. So, I'm not sure where it's going. Seems support has waned, if you know what I mean.” She eyed me before draining her lemon lime.

“I have a good idea. Someone with more seniority has shifted his support. But with both Chertoff and Jackson behind the bill, you might see some movement. I've heard Jackson is a rising star.”

Natasha smiled slyly. “Apparently. He's a good guy. And a damn good congressman.”

A woman walked past us, talking loudly on her cell phone. An older man squatted on the grass and threw breadcrumbs to the pigeons. Within a minute, he had an eager, cooing audience.

Flying rodents, my father used to call them. He hated the pigeons and insisted that one of them would wait for him to walk from the Capitol every evening, then swoop down and deposit something on his expensive felt fedora. In an era when every gentleman wore a hat outside, this was a grievous annoyance. I always made sure I didn't smile while I pictured my dignified U.S. Senator father shaking his fist at the feathered miscreant as it flew away.

Curious, I asked, “Have you ever worked with Larry Fillmore? Since he's Jackson's chief of staff now, I figured both your offices might have collaborated.”

This time, Natasha's smile turned contemptuous. “That slime? I met with him earlier this spring when Wilson and the Ohio delegation were going to Omaha for meetings. What a jerk! And for the record, there's
no
collaboration with Larry. It's his way or nothing.” Natasha glanced at her watch. “Darn it. It's over a half hour already. I'd better get back.”

“Me too,” I said, as we both rose from the bench.

“Thanks for thinking of me, Molly. I appreciate it,” Natasha said with a big smile. “You've been involved in this hothouse a lot longer than I have, and I forget how easy it is to burrow into work at the office and not come out until dark. It felt really good to be outside, even with the heat.”

“We'll do it again in the fall. Until then, we can always meet up while we're running by the Canal. It's a lot nicer in the mornings.”

“Great idea.” She gave me a smiling wave as she walked away.

“Take care,” I called as I started in the opposite direction. Tossing my empty soda can into a nearby metallic trash bin, I headed toward Pennsylvania Avenue to catch a taxi. I needed a cab to return to Russell's office. Too bad Georgetown wasn't on the metro line. Years ago, Georgetown's longtime residents, dubbed the cave dwellers, gave a thumbs-down on metro stations in their neighborhoods. Foggy Bottom was the closest, and it was several blocks from the Russell mansion. A nice walk most times of year, but not in the Dog Days of August.

_____

Trask leaned back in a metal chair beneath the café table's blue-and-white-striped umbrella and sipped his beer. Tucked away in a rear patio, Pennsylvania Avenue traffic noise was muffled and barely reached the sheltered bistro. Most of the D.C. lunchtime crowd had returned to their offices by now, and not many tourists ever discovered the small cafe. That was another reason Trask liked it. He flipped open his cell phone and pressed a familiar number.

“We didn't have to wait for long,” he said when Raymond's scratchy voice answered.

“Tell me.”

“Jorgensen met with Malone for lunch today near the Rayburn Building.”

“You gotta be kidding. The two of them
together
?” Raymond chortled. “
Christ!
Talk about dumb luck.”

“It wasn't luck,” Trask corrected. “I figured Spencer was going to cancel Jorgensen's surveillance because nothing showed up. But I still had a feeling about her, so I watched where she parked this morning while she went running. Then I got into her car and bugged her cell phone. That's how I learned she was meeting Malone. Jorgensen called her and said she'd be late for lunch.”

“Were you able to get there in time?”

“Yeah, with the cycle. They grabbed hot dogs off a cart on Penn then found a shady bench near the Rayburn Building. So I started feeding pigeons on the grass nearby.”

“Were you able to overhear anything?”

“Nah. Too much traffic noise. But I did see Jorgensen hand Malone a storage drive, a green one, exactly like the one I found on Jorgensen's desk with Wilson's files.”

“No shit?
Damn
.”

“Yep. That's what I say. Now that ought to be enough for even those weak sisters on Spencer's committee.”

“Don't bet on it. Spencer said the new members nearly peed their pants when they heard about the second termination. Too close to the first one.”

“But Jorgensen knows everything Wilson did. She can cause trouble.”

“Not quite everything. She wasn't in that library room like Wilson was, eavesdropping on Ryker and Holmberg. Spencer is betting Wilson didn't share that part with his staffer.”

Trask made a disgusted noise then took a deep drink of beer. Even out of the sun, no one could escape the heat. “You know, it sounds like old man Ryker is slipping. Starting to make mistakes. What in hell was he doing, talking about that stuff in a public place?”

“I hear you. Spencer said he damn near choked when Ryker told him about it. Ryker was just lucky he was still in the hallway when Wilson slipped out of the room, otherwise he'd never have known Wilson was eavesdropping.”

“And he's lucky they have us to clean up their messes.” He looked up at the young waitress and smiled. “I'll take the quesadillas.”

Raymond chuckled. “By the way, that was great work, Trask. I'm gonna put you in for a medal.”

“Screw the medal. They can add it to my fee. I've got my eye on a bigger boat. Maybe I'll check it out this weekend. If they're not gonna worry about the Jorgensen chick, then I sure as hell won't.”

“Let's wait and see what Spencer says. The fact that Ms. Malone may have a copy of Wilson's files won't set well. Last spring she was using the Allard girl to check some of the same information Wilson found out. But Malone stopped snooping after Molinoff took that dive off his balcony. Everything was all tied up, nice and neat. And now this.
Crap!
I'll call Spencer now. He's not going to be happy Malone is involved again.”

“What is it with this Malone woman? I understand about her niece last spring. That one needed to be messy, and Malone found her. But you once said that Malone has a past history with Spencer's group. I know Eric Grayson was her brother-in-law and all that, but she wasn't even here in Washington when I did that job. So, what's the rest of it?”

“It's
…
complicated.”

Trask recognized Raymond's tone when he was deliberately hedging. He snickered. “Okay. Let me know what Spencer says.”

“At minimum, I think he'll want us to find out what's on those files Jorgensen gave Malone. So you'll probably be checking her computer tomorrow.”

“Roger that.” Trask clicked off his phone, just as a platter of quesadillas was set before him.

eighteen

Tuesday morning

“Did you make it
to that meeting on time?” I asked as I grabbed a small yogurt from the fridge. “You had to leave so early, I was barely awake when you kissed me goodbye.”

Danny's voice came through the phone. “By the skin of my teeth. There was an accident on Wisconsin Avenue that slowed me down. Whoever scheduled a meeting at six thirty in the morning deserves to be shot.”

I hurriedly set my half-filled coffee cup in the kitchen sink. I was running late because of an early morning call from my daughter informing me of her promotion at a Denver law firm. “Where are we going for dinner tonight?”

“I haven't decided yet. Probably somewhere close so I can get you back fast and take your clothes off.”

I laughed as I dropped the yogurt into my purse and headed out the back door. “I like the way your mind works. Hey, I'll talk to you later. Gotta run to the office now.”

“Call me later.”

I clicked off my phone as I slammed the back door and gave it the usual final pull to lock it. Old wood was swelling with the humidity. I'd have to give Peter my “To Do” list for fall maintenance. Hurrying around the side yard, I skipped down the steps to the sidewalk as Bruce meowed his lazy “goodbye.”

_____

Peter leaned inside my office doorway. “Hey, Molly, I'm going to need you to print off some files for me. I'm still knee deep in studying financial legislation that's coming up in the Senate Subcommittee on Security and International Trade and Finance next month. Unfortunately, I'm running behind schedule.”

“Sure,” I said as I rose to follow him down the hallway. “Are you and the senator still leaving for Colorado this afternoon?”

“We've moved it up to late morning,” he said, rounding the corner into his library office. “That's why I'm hurrying now. This recess came at just the right time, believe me. The senator and I are buried. We'll be studying the whole time we're there.”

“You're the second staffer who's told me that this week,” I joked. “Natasha Jorgensen is buried in trying to catch up on some of that same legislation for Sally Chertoff's House Subcommittee on International Monetary Policy and Trade.”

“I feel her pain. Chertoff told me she and Randall Jackson were working on a bill involving regulation. She didn't go into detail.” He picked up a pile of papers from his inbox with one hand and started sorting through more papers spread out on the desk. “Where is that flash drive? Ah, there it is.” He snatched it up and handed it to me. “Please print out the files on international financial and development institutions, okay?”

“Sure thing.” I was about to head back to my office when an idea slid forward from the back of my mind. “You know, Karen was researching subjects similar to that before she died. And I have some files on a flash drive at home. If you'd like I could copy them for you. So you'll have them while you're burrowed in for the recess.”

Peter looked up quickly. “Hey, I'd love to see anything Karen was researching. She was the best.” He checked his watch. “But you'll have to hurry up. We've gotta leave for the airport in forty-five minutes. Luisa and Albert are out on errands, so Casey is driving us. Can you get back by then?”

“No problem.” I gave a dismissive wave. “Let me start these files printing while I run back home. See you in a few minutes.” I hurried from the library, telling myself that research was research, right?

_____

“Listen, Nan, I'll have to call you back,” I said into my cell phone as I ran up the steps to my front door. “I'm back at my house now. I have to get something for Peter then race back to the office before he leaves for the airport.” Digging my keys from my purse with my free hand, I shooed Bruce out of my way as he came racing toward me.

“Okay, call me later. Bye, bye. Shoo, Bruce, I don't have time to pet you,” I said, clicking off my phone as I slid my key into the front door.

Bruce meowed loudly in feline frustration as I pushed open the door and hurried inside the house. Dumping my purse on the foyer table, I hastened over to the small desk in the corner of the living room. Spying the green storage flash drive Natasha had given me yesterday, I snatched it up when I noticed something. A hum. A computer hum.

My desktop computer was on. That couldn't be. I always turned it off after using it; I didn't want to risk forgetting the old desktop and leave it running. I usually used my laptop and only used the desktop for personal files, family files, and such.

I stared at the darkened monitor screen and saw the telltale green light blink. It was on. I reached for the mouse and moved it on the mouse pad. The screen brightened immediately, revealing the “My Documents” file.

My pulse skipped a beat. I never left my files open when I shut down. The old system was on its last legs, so I didn't want to risk a hard close. I stood up from the desk, and that's when I noticed the bottom desk drawer was halfway open. Something else I wouldn't do. I always closed drawers so they were neatly flush. An anal accountant trait, no doubt, but one I always performed.

And I always pushed the desk chair back into place. Now the chair was sitting a foot from the desk. I wouldn't leave it sitting out like that.

My pulse sped up.

I pulled open the lower drawer and this time my breath caught. Instead of being filed neatly with her other papers, Karen's old daytimer was placed on top of the files in the drawer. I picked it up and saw the three blue flash drives that Celeste Allard had given me last spring—before she died in the gas explosion. They were in the bottom of the drawer where I'd left them.

My heart started pounding. Was I imagining things? Had I simply forgotten to shut down my computer? Left the chair sitting a foot from the desk? Forgotten to close the desk drawer?

Maybe you could have accidentally left the computer on and forgotten the chair—but you haven't opened that lower desk drawer with Karen's things in over a month.

My heart sank to my stomach. I frantically looked over my shoulder, halfway expecting to see an intruder standing behind me. Panicked suddenly, I ran for the front door, snatched my purse, and raced outside into the front yard. I stood beside the terraced gardens, my heart beating so fast I could barely breathe.

What do I do now? Call the police? What do I tell them? That I found my computer on and the drawer open? They'd think I was crazy.
Was
I crazy? Was I simply imagining things?

I tried to slow my breathing and order my thoughts. I needed to get back to Peter. But I couldn't just ignore what I'd seen.
Had
I seen anything?

No, you didn't,
my practical side spoke up, sounding remarkably like Sober-and-Righteous.
You're simply acting like a little kid, scared of the dark. What's the matter with you? Running out of your house like that. You're a grown woman, not a child. You're imagining things that aren't there.

The Hell she is
! shouted Crazy Ass.

Just then, Bruce's insistent meow broke into my tangled thoughts. The big tabby stood at the edge of the yard
meowing loudly. It was a strange meow, strident and hoarse. I'd never heard him make that sound before.

“Stop it, Bruce, not now,” I said, trying to dismiss him so I could think straight.

Instead of being silenced, however, Bruce meowed even louder, pacing back and forth. Annoyed at myself for acting like a scared child and aggravated at Bruce, I walked around the side of the house as Bruce raced ahead into the backyard.

“All right, all right, I'm coming. But you'd better not show me some bird you just killed.”

Bruce ran straight to the back door. He meowed once, then sat down and stared at me.

“Is that what all that noise was about?” I asked him as I approached. “You want me to go inside and open a can of tuna? Good Lord, Bruce. You are more than spoiled. I never should have started feeding—”

I broke off admonishing Bruce as I reached for the door handle with my keys. I stopped and stared. The door wasn't completely closed. Not the way I had closed it this morning, giving it an extra yank to hear it click. Of that, I was absolutely sure. No doubt in my mind.

TOLD YOU!
Crazy Ass screamed.
Now, do something!

I did. I ran back to the front yard as fast as I could, frantically digging my cell phone from my purse. I forced myself to calm down as I flipped open the phone and pressed Danny's number.

“Hey, there,” his warm voice sounded.

I took a deep breath. “Danny
…
could you come over to my house? Right now, I mean?”

“Molly, what's the matter? Where are you?”

“I'm at my house
…
I came back a few minutes ago to get something for Peter
…
and
…
and I think someone came in while I was gone. The back door wasn't closed properly like I always do. I yank it until it's shut and
…
and it was open. And my computer was on and—”

“I'll be right over. Where are you now, Molly? Are you inside the house?”

“No, no, I'm outside in the yard. I panicked
…
and I ran outside.”

“Good. Stay there. I'm coming over now. Have you called the police?”

“No
…
not yet.”

“Okay, I'm on Connecticut Avenue right now. I'll cut across and be there in a few minutes. And Molly, don't go inside. Promise me.”

“I promise.” But my slowly relaxing gut started to twist again.

As soon as Danny clicked off, I found Peter's number and took a deep breath. His brisk voice came on the line. “Hey, Molly, I hope you're around the corner because Casey just pulled up front.”

“Peter, go ahead to the airport. I'll e-mail those files to you. I came home, and I think someone got into the house while I was gone this morning.”

“Holy crap! Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Whoever it was messed around in my desk, and the back door was partially open. I always yank it shut when I leave in the morning.”

“Damn, Molly. Have you called police?”

“Not yet. I called Danny and he's coming over. I'm thinking maybe I scared whoever it was when I came back this morning. I must have surprised him
…
or her. I didn't see anything missing in the living room. But I haven't checked anywhere else.”

“Listen, I'll tell Casey. He'll probably want to come over when he returns from the airport. I'm so sorry, Molly. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, Danny is spending the night with me. No way would I stay here alone after this.” I surprised myself with my blatant honesty.

Peter chuckled. “Well, that's the best news I've heard all day. Keep me posted. I want to know what's happening. You want me to tell the senator?”

“No, don't. I don't want him to worry. Maybe later.”

“Okay. Talk to you later. I hear Casey beeping outside.”

“Fly safe, Peter.” I clicked off the phone just as I spotted Danny's car turning into my narrow driveway.

Danny was out of the car the moment it rolled to a stop. “You stay out here, Molly,” he said, taking me by the arm. “I'm going to have a look around. Then you can show me what you found, okay?”

“Do
…
do you think he's still there?” That thought froze my insides.

“I don't think so. Sounds like your sudden arrival surprised him and he ran off. I just want to make sure.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Don't worry. I'll take care of it.”

Danny started toward the front door, and I followed after him despite his admonition to stay put. All sorts of scary images danced before my eyes now. Scruffy criminals, burglars climbing out of windows, running out my front door.

“What do I do if he runs out the door? Scream? Call the cops?”

Danny glanced back at me. I didn't even try to hide how spooked I was. “Come on,” he said, beckoning. “Stay behind me.”

I obeyed without a word, one of the few times ever.

Danny stepped into the foyer as I followed after. He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a large pistol. Any calming thought that might have hovered on the edge of my mind fled the scene at the sight of the pistol. If Danny brought a gun, it really was something to worry about. I swallowed down whatever scary thought kept
popping into my head as we walked throughout the entire down
stairs level and then the upstairs. Danny opened closets, pushed back clothes, peered behind furniture, checked windows, looked under the beds. I stood silently watching.

We walked down the stairs and into the foyer once more. “There's nobody here, Molly,” Danny said as he holstered the gun. “Like I said, whoever it was took off the moment he saw you return. Now, why don't you show me exactly what you found.”

“Okay
…
I came home and walked straight to the desk,” I said, retracing my path. “I picked up the flash drive I was looking for and was about to leave when I noticed a humming noise, like my computer was running. But I always shut it down whenever I use it, which isn't often. So I moved the mouse to shut it off, and I saw this.”

I demonstrated and watched the screen brighten with the “My Documents” file staring back. I watched Danny's expression change, ever so slightly as he stared at my computer.

“I would never leave any files open. I'm kind of anal that way. Just like I wouldn't leave the chair sitting a foot away from the desk or the drawer half open.” I pointed to the lower desk drawer. “That got my attention right away, and when I looked in the drawer, I found Karen's daytimer pulled out from the other stuff and sitting on top.” I pointed below.