Poisoned Politics (4 page)

She logged out of her computer. “I'm afraid I cannot do that, Molly. Some of my closest gentlemen friends and advisors are rather highly placed in sensitive government positions.”

I stared at her, shocked. “Samantha, you have to tell the police where you were! Otherwise they'll suspect you were here with Wilson when he killed himself. And that
…
that could turn ugly. After all, this is your house.”

She headed out of her library and down the hall toward the curving staircase leading to the upper floor. “They already asked me where I was last night, and I told them I was with a close personal friend.” She started up the stairs and I followed. “Then they asked me the friend's name, and I had to refuse them. I said I promised the gentleman that I would guard his privacy.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Good Lord, Samantha! You know how that
sounds
? It sounds like you're hiding something. That's bound to make them suspicious.”

Samantha was quiet until she reached the top of the stairs. Then she turned and looked at me solemnly. “I cannot help that, Molly. My friend's privacy is very important to me. Besides, it's obvious Quent took his own life. Why would they bother investigating me?”

I followed her down the hallway leading to her bedroom, but a cold feeling started to form in the pit of my stomach.

_____

“Are the police still there?” Spencer asked.

“No, no. They left a couple of hours ago. She must have called it in right after she came home and found him. My man picked up the cop call.”

“So far, so good. Now, we have to watch and wait. Make sure this gets handled properly. An accidental overdose. Your man made sure of that, right?”

Raymond sighed.
How many times did he have to go over this?
At these rates, as many times as needed. Billable hours, Washington rates.

“I've told you. He's a pro. He had plenty of time to slip inside and get it done while I distracted Wilson.”

“You took a chance, exposing yourself like that. Besides, it's been years since you've done field work.”

Raymond heard the laughter behind the words. “You never lose the knack. You just lose your speed,” he joked. “Don't worry. I used an old repairman's uniform in the back of the closet. Big square-brimmed hat. I looked like the Maytag man, I swear to God.” Raymond couldn't keep from laughing, despite his cough.

Spencer joined in for a minute. “We may need some media if the investigation drags on. We want this wrapped up and forgotten.”

“How about your guy in Congressman Jackson's office? Larry Fillmore. Didn't you say he had contacts with that local rag,
D.C. Dirt?
You might want to start there.”

“Yes, he does. Larry's got dirt on everyone.” Spencer chuckled. “He's the one who told us about the staffer who delivers. Gary Levitz. In fact, Levitz could turn out to be very useful, indeed. Larry's going to stay in touch with him, just in case we need him later.”

Raymond had heard the smug sound to Spencer's voice before. Spencer had found a fall guy.

four

Monday

“Did you read about
Congressman Wilson's death in the paper this morning?” Peter Brewster asked as he stepped into my office. “That's tragic. The article didn't say how he died. Of course, that immediately makes a person wonder if he ended his own life.”

I took a large drink of coffee before answering. “I read the article, and it does
…
uh, leave some doubts. Did you know him? I confess I don't remember meeting Wilson personally when we entertained the Midwestern congressmen and women a few months ago.”

“Yes, I'd met with him a couple of times on the Hill. And his chief-of-staff Natasha Jorgensen. Wilson was one of the sharpest
congressmen around.” Peter leaned against the doorjamb, his face showing his concern. “He was on the House Energy and Commerce
Committee and was working on trade issues. It's a shame to lose him.”

“I know. It's tragic to lose talented people in their prime.”

“I'm sorry if this dredges up painful memories for you, Molly,” he looked at me sympathetically.

“Time has a way of healing over even tragic losses.” I said, glancing toward the window, sunshine bathing the Russell garden.

“It's curious, though,” he mused. “All the paper said was that he was ‘found in a McLean, Virginia, residence.' He must have been visiting a friend, because he has a rowhouse near Capitol Hill.”

Peter had just given me the chance to deflect his concentration on Wilson's last hours. “How in the world can you remember where all those congressmen and women live? There're over four hundred of them.” I did my best to look amazed.

His familiar grin appeared, changing Peter's boyish face back to the savvy politico look. “I consider that basic intel. Besides, it's really not that hard. So many of them cluster in nearby neighborhoods with their colleagues. If they bring their families with them, then they often move farther out. If they're ‘batching' it, they'll get together and share a rowhouse. If they're really scraping by, they'll actually bunk in their offices. The wealthier ones like Wilson can afford classier digs.”

I saluted him with my mug. “You're amazing, Peter. Keeping track of the flocks like that. I love your image of shivering congressmen clustering together, like birds in the trees at night trying to stay warm.”

He pushed away from my door. “Washington can be a cold place for newcomers. I've learned that. You're established here and have connections, Molly, so you're a lot more comfortable.”

“That would be nice if it was true, but this City doesn't care whether you have connections or not. It'll cut you down fast if there's a hint of weakness. There're jackals behind every lamppost, and they can smell even a whiff of blood.”

“Cynical already? You've only been back in D.C. a little over four months. Or have you always been that cynical?”

“It's not being cynical. I've simply got my antennae up and my instincts on high alert.” I gave him a disarming smile. “Instinct keeps you alive in this town, Peter.”

He chuckled. “You scare me sometimes. Listen, there's been a substitution for one of the Senator's dinners in a couple of weeks. Senator Gonzalez and his wife won't be coming. Apparently, there's been a family emergency, and they have to fly back to Arizona. So, I've substituted someone you know quite well. Eleanor MacKenzie.”

Eleanor's familiar face came forward in my mind. My elderly advisor and political confidante. Widow of a respected U.S. Senator and Secretary of State, no one was more experienced in the ways of Washington than Eleanor MacKenzie. She had also watched over Samantha and me when we were teenaged Senators' daughters to make sure we stayed out of any semblance of trouble.

“Excellent choice. Eleanor will be a great addition to the group. No one in Washington is more versed in political conversation. No matter what party affiliation, Eleanor is at home.”

“I figured you'd approve. After all, you and Eleanor have known each other for ages. If I'm not mistaken, she was something of a mentor.”

“Been digging into that notorious file of mine?” I teased. “I should have known.”

Peter gave me a wink as he headed into the hallway. “You've got history in this town, Molly. It's inescapable.”

Didn't I know it.
I sent him a dismissing wave. “Go back to the Hill with the flocks, Peter, while I bury myself in e-mails.”

I settled into my comfy desk chair and returned to my inbox, which bulged once again.
Damn
. I'd just cleared it out. I was only away for a few minutes. Draining my coffee, I debated getting another cup, then decided I had to earn it.
Clear the inbox. Clear the inbox.

Only five minutes had elapsed—and five e-mails down—when the Stones's driving beat cut through my thoughts. I reached for my personal phone. Samantha's name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, how're you doing?” I asked, anxious to gauge her mood.

“I've been handling phone calls all morning. Once the gossips read that
Washington Post
article saying Wilson was found in a McLean residence, everyone assumed it was my house. I've been fielding inquiries for over two hours.” I heard a tired sigh.

“Where are you now?”

“I'm actually still in your kitchen, if you can believe it. But I'm about to shut this phone down, right after I call the interior designer. I've already spoken to my housekeeper. She's arranged for a professional outfit to go through the entire living room. Disinfect it. Then I'm heading over to my lawyer's office again.”

“Good idea. And you're welcome to stay with me as long as you want. Redecorating could take awhile.”

“Thanks, sugar. But I'm going to check into one of those little specialty hotels on Massachusetts Avenue. You were darling to let me stay, but I want to protect both your privacy and mine. I'm usually out late at night, and that could be awkward. Besides, I don't want to cramp your style. In case that handsome ex-Marine makes a move one night, and you succumb to his charms.”

I snickered over the phone. I heard the smile in Samantha's voice, and that made me feel good. “I don't think I'm ‘succumbable' anymore. In fact, I doubt I ever was.”

“Nonsense, sugar, you've just never had anybody who could really reach you. But I have a feeling he's the one.”

Perceptive as ever. Samantha was definitely back and all her instincts were on alert. “Well, you may be right about that, Miss Thing. All the more reason to be on guard with Danny tonight. He's arriving today, and we're going out to dinner.”

This time an exaggerated sigh came over the phone. “Lord, Molly, I don't know what I'm gonna do with you.”

“Listen, you get that designer on the line, and I'll get back to e-mails. Let me know which hotel you decide you're checking into. Oh, and let me know what your lawyer has to say now that the gossip is starting.”

“I'll do that. Talk to you later, Molly. And thank you, again. For being there.”

“Anytime, Miss Thing.”

_____

I clicked out of my e-mail inbox. Five o'clock and I'd cleared all the e-mails. Now I would have time to walk home and change for dinner with Danny tonight. I couldn't believe I was finishing early.

As I straightened the files on my desk, I remembered that I hadn't heard from Samantha since morning. I quickly found her number on my personal phone's directory, curious to know if her lawyer had convinced her to come clean about her evening companion the night Wilson killed himself.

She picked up after the second ring. “I knew that was you. Sorry I hadn't called. I've been on the phone all day with the people working on my house. It's a nightmare.”

“Well, you can update me later. I'm more interested in what your lawyer told you. And please tell me you listened.”

“Sugar, you know I
always
listen. I just don't follow instructions very well,” she said in a light tone.

I let out an exasperated sigh and slapped some file folders down on my desk. “
Dammit
, Samantha! Stop being obstinate. You have to tell the police that man's name. If he's really a close friend, he'd want you to. None of us wants to see you hurt.”

Samantha released a tired sigh. “Oh, I'm gonna be hurt no matter what happens. There's no way to avoid it. My lawyer said the police told him those photos were safely secured. But even if I believed them, the details of what's on the photos will slip out. You and I know that. This is Washington. Secrets aren't safe here. Someone always finds out. And if you're unlucky, a lot of people find out.”

She was right, of course. Samantha and I had witnessed far too many scandals over the years, from the laughable to the lurid. Nothing was safe in Washington.
Nothing
. If it was worth something, then someone would find out. Nothing was sacred. And it sure wasn't safe.

That little worried feeling squeezed inside. “Samantha, please don't put yourself through this. Give the police his name.
Please
. I'm worried about you.”

“I know you are and I appreciate it, sugar. But I have to be true to my principles. Now, you have a wonderful dinner with Danny, and tell that good man hello for me. I'll talk with you later. Bye, bye.” Her phone clicked off one second before my office phone came to life. Peter calling.

_____

“Don't worry. I've already called both offices, Peter. Now go have some dinner before you and the Senator attack that pile of financial research.”

“Not enough time. I've already ordered pizza for the entire staff. The Senator is elbow deep in the research right now.”

“I understand. Should I order a vat of coffee delivered or have you taken care of it?” I leaned back in my desk chair and checked my watch. Only five fifteen.

He chuckled. “Already taken care of.”

My personal phone burst into life just then, “Brown Sugar” bouncing through the lazy summer late afternoon. Time to change the music.

“That's your private line, I can tell,” Peter laughed. “Listen, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You bet.” I clicked off and reached for the phone on the other side of my computer. Danny's name flashed on the screen, and my heart did its little skip.

“Hey, how're you doing? Have you landed yet? Or are you stuck waiting for a gate to open up?”

Danny's low voice chuckled and that made my pulse speed up to match Jagger's rhythm. “Nope. The only thing I'm waiting on right now is rush hour traffic. I'm on Interstate 66. Are you at home or still at the office?”

“Still at the office, but I'll be heading home as soon as I finish.” I maneuvered my tail-less mouse, ready to log off.

“Okay, we'll rendezvous at your place. With luck, I'll get there before six.”

“Sounds good. Oops, another call's coming in from Peter,” I reached for my other phone again. “See you soon, Squad Leader.”

“Roger that.”

_____

I rounded the corner from 29th onto P Street and hurried down the brick sidewalk. Peter's last phone call had necessitated four more follow-up calls, delaying my departure. Now, with any luck, D.C. traffic would slow Danny's progress as well, giving me time to change and
…
and
…

Too late. I spotted Danny's sleek black sports car parked in my driveway, Danny leaning against the door. I sped up, careful to avoid the hidden hazards of Historic Georgetown sidewalks. Tripping over uneven bricks would send me into a less-than-graceful sprawl at the foot of my driveway. Not a good way to say hello.

I'd already glanced at my watch and knew it was past six o'clock, so I started my apologia as I headed up the driveway. “Sorry I'm late. Peter's call led to four more. I got away as fast as I could.”

Danny pushed away from the car and approached. “No problem. I've only been here five minutes. Bruce and I've been getting reacquainted.” He smiled that lazy smile I'd grown really fond of these last four months.

How any guy could look that relaxed after dealing with D.C. traffic for over an hour was beyond me. Relaxed and sexy, very sexy, with his sports coat, open collar, no tie. Casual—just enough.

“It'll only take me a minute, I promise—”

I didn't get to say more because Danny reached out and pulled me close, bringing his mouth to mine. His kiss was long and deep and warmer than warm. Waaaaay more. He broke it off just before my knees were about to give way.

When I caught my breath, I settled in for what I hoped was more. “Hello to you,” I whispered. “I've missed that.”

“Good. So have I.” He grinned then kissed me lightly and pulled away. “Let's go to dinner. I'm starving.”

“But I was going to change.”

“You look great. C'mon,” he said, encircling me with his arm as he escorted me to his car.

You gotta love a man that eloquent.

_____

I licked the last drop of Gulab Jamun syrup from my spoon. Divine sugary delight. My glucose level was mounting by the minute, no doubt. Glancing about the sedate Indian restaurant in northwest Washington, I noticed several other diners had succumbed to the tempting desserts.

“Your friend Samantha is going to have to give up that guy's name,” Danny said as he poured more chai tea into my cup. “Otherwise, she's going to loom large on the cops' radar screen.”

“Don't I know it,” I said, pushing away my licked-clean dessert dish and reaching for the chai. “Believe me, Danny, I've begged her to. So has her lawyer. He called her again this afternoon trying to convince her to tell the police. But Samantha swears she won't compromise this guy's privacy.” I gave a disgusted, if unladylike, snort before enjoying the sweetened spicy beverage. The Indian waiter refilled Danny's coffee cup and smoothly whisked away the empty chai carafe in less than five seconds.