Capitol Murder (31 page)

“Jeez Louise.” Loving ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s how the creep got Daily’s
wallet.”

“It gets worse. He appears to have been tortured—extensively—before he was killed.”

“The killer must’ve been trying to get information about Amber’s whereabouts,” Loving
reasoned. “When he couldn’t get what he wanted from Daily, he killed him, stole his wallet, and
masqueraded as his victim.”

“Given what forensics is telling me, he must’ve run into you only an hour or so after he
finished killing Daily.”

Loving pounded his forehead. “I saw blood on his shirt. But he told me he’d scraped himself
when he clocked me in the alley.”

“And you believed him?”

“I had no reason not to!” Loving rose out of his chair, frustrated by his own stupidity. “He
was totally convincing. His eyes teared up every time he talked about Amber.” He paused, lowering
himself back into his seat. “And I led him straight to her. Even left him alone with the poor
girl.” Loving pounded his fist into his hand. “Damn! What an idiot I’ve been.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“He could not have known,” Dr. Aljuwani said. “I, too, was convinced that this man was a
despondent, loving father.”

“That doesn’t cut it with me,” Albertson shot back. “You’re an experienced private
investigator, Loving. You should know better. Give me one reason I shouldn’t yank your license or
charge you with aiding and abetting a homicide.”

Loving’s broad, square jaw was firmly set. “Because I’m going to find that man for you.”

“How are you going to do that? You know where he is?”

“No. But I know what he wants.” Loving’s focus seemed to turn inward, his forehead creased by
determination. “Now that Amber is gone, there’s only one thing he could want. The same thing I
want. The last surviving member of the Goth Girls Party of Four. Beatrice.” He paused. “If he
doesn’t have her already.”

A few minutes later, the temperature in the conference room had fallen, because most of the
players had left. Only Ben and Glancy remained, not counting the federal marshals outside.

Ben checked his watch. “You’re sure Marie understands I meant tonight?”

Glancy appeared calm and worry-free. “If Marie says she’ll be here, she’ll be here. She’s very
dependable.” He smiled a little. “But she’s not opposed to making people wait a little. Just to
remind them how much they need her. Women.” He shook his head. “Speaking of which.”

Ben looked up from the directed verdict motion he was revising. “What?”

“Why didn’t you stick up for Christina?”

Ben’s head tilted an inch to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“Just now. When Amanda lit into her.”

Ben waved a hand in the air. “Christina can take care of herself.”

“I’m sure she can. But she shouldn’t have to.”

“I . . . don’t get you.”

“You’re the senior partner in the firm, right? You should protect your associates.”

“From our clients?”

“Amanda is not your client, and the fact that she works for me hasn’t once stopped you from
telling her where she can get off.”

“I’m not the smothering kind of boss. I’m not even really the boss.”

“But there’s more to it than that, Ben. Everyone here knows that you and Christina are
involved.”

“You do?”

“We do. And moreover, I have to tell you there’s a general feeling that . . . well, that
you’re not doing right by her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Glancy kicked his legs up on the table. “Well, as I understand it, Ben, Christina has
faithfully put up with your other girlfriends, each of them chosen with immense stupidity, a
former fiancée who put you off romance for something like a decade, as well as a host of other
neuroses and commitment issues.”

Ben raised his hands. “Where are you getting all this?”

“I’m a senator, Ben. I have sources. And I’m telling you, just because we’re old friends, that
it’s time you took the next step. Have you asked her to move in with you?”

Ben fidgeted with his legal pad. “Are you crazy? Do you know how small my place is?”

“Not as small as Christina’s, I’ll wager.”

“My mother would never approve.”

“When did you ever do anything your mother wanted? Besides, Christina told me she gets on with
your mom very well. Better than you do, actually.”

“Plus I’m a lousy conversationalist, a poor cook, I work all the time, I’m messy, and . . .
and . . . my cats would be insanely jealous.”

“Uh-huh.” He gave Ben a long look. “You’re afraid she might say no, aren’t you?”

Ben fell quiet for a moment. “Not really. Actually, she’s suggested it several times. I mean,
not in so many words, but—”

“Then for God’s sake, man, what are you waiting for?”

Ben fell silent.

“Are you afraid it might damage your working relationship?”

“There’s nothing I could do that’s worse than the stuff she’s already put up with.”

“Then what is it?”

Ben didn’t answer him. He couldn’t. He didn’t have an answer to give. “There’s no rush.”

“You don’t know that. Hell, look at me. One day I’m being touted as a potential presidential
candidate, the next I’m practically on death row. None of us knows what the future holds, or how
much future we’ll have. But I know this—you and Christina are a good match. And you’re both well
into your thirties. She’s been very patient with you, Ben. But if you mess around much longer,
you could lose her.”

Ben’s shoulders sagged. “I couldn’t work if Christina left. I couldn’t function without
her.”

“Have you told her that?”

“Told her what?”

“What you just said. Your somewhat neurotic way of admitting that you love her.”

“Have I—?” He stared at Glancy, wide-eyed. “Of course not. That would be . . . that would be .
. .”

“Honest?”

Ben wrung his hands. “No. It would be . . . it’s just too . . . I don’t know. I’m not
ready.”

Glancy looked at Ben for a long time, then sighed. “Well, I hope you get over that, Ben. I
truly do. And soon. Because Christina is a wonderful woman, and very devoted to you. But she’s
ready to move forward. And if you’re not—” He shook his head sadly. “She’s going to move on
without you.”

“Thank you for coming,” Ben said as he pulled out a chair at the conference table for Marie
Glancy. “I know how stressful this trial has been for you.”

“Do you? I wonder if that’s possible.” Ben thought he detected a grain of sadness in her eyes,
but as always she was perfectly coiffed and attired, her makeup unsmudged. “But I’m ready to do
whatever you ask. Where is Todd, anyway?”

“I asked him to step out. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed. “What could you possibly want to say to me that Todd can’t
hear?”

“I’m not saying he can’t hear it. He’ll learn soon enough. But it doesn’t have to be now.”

Ben saw her back stiffen, observed the hard lines creasing her face. “Marie, I know your
husband has been unfaithful to you.”

Her chin lowered. “Am I supposed to act shocked? I knew about the Cooper affair long before
that video broke.”

“But then why, in the courtroom—”

“Did I put on the big teary-eyed dog-and-pony show? Because that’s what people expect, Ben.
They want to be entertained. They want drama.”

“But racing out of the courtroom—”

“Do you think I overdid it?”

“I didn’t think you were ‘doing it’ at all. Christina told me how she had to fight to get you
back into the courtroom. Why would you want—”

“My people did extensive polling on the subject and everyone concurred that this was the best
way to go.”

“So it was all an act? A performance?”

“Ben, my husband may be the senator, but I’m not exactly a silent partner. I visit the Russell
Senate Building every day, even when Todd isn’t there. I know what’s going on. People talk to me.
I have access. I knew about the hideaway, the underground tunnel system. I’ve got keys to every
room in the building. I’m there so often the security guards sometimes don’t even bother to pat
me down. Probably afraid I’ll slap them with some sort of harassment suit.” She paused. “What I’m
trying to say is, my husband couldn’t have an affair without my knowing. My husband couldn’t
pluck a nose hair without my knowing. So this great revelation was not exactly news to me.”

“What might be news,” Ben said quietly, “is that I know you’ve hired a private detective to
follow your husband around. That you were having Todd tailed for something like six months before
the murder.”

Marie settled back into her seat, her hands folded. “I had my reasons.”

“Planning a divorce?”

She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Ben had noticed that she never wore
the specs in court or at social functions, but always wore them at press conferences, interviews,
or anywhere else she wanted to appear smart. A prop? he wondered. Or a distancing mechanism? “I
have no intention of divorcing Todd.”

“Forgive and forget?”

Her lips thinned. “Divorce is not an option. It would destroy both—” She checked herself. “It
wouldn’t be prudent.”

“Then why the detective?”

She peered at Ben with an expression he thought she must’ve practiced on
Meet the
Press
. “I would think that was perfectly obvious. I don’t like surprises.”

“You must’ve suspected something was going on or you wouldn’t have hired the man in the first
place.”

“Suspecting is one thing. Knowing is quite another. Having details is useful. Having
photographs is even better.”

“But why go to the trouble of gathering information if you don’t intend to use it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She snapped the glasses back on with the heel of her hand. “I didn’t want
to be perceived as some pathetic Hillary Clinton clone. ‘I was misinformed.’ Give me a break. If
my husband decides to adopt a new cuddle-bunny, I want to know everything about it. I want to be
ready when the news breaks. I want to be positioned.”

“Positioned?”

“Ready to deal. Ready to spin. Ready with my well-calculated coping strategy. These things
can’t be concocted overnight, you know. It requires thought, planning. Polling. Brainstorming
with consultants.”

Ben stared at her, uncomprehending. Or to be more accurate, he comprehended every word. He
just couldn’t believe it. It was too strange, too foreign to his usual reasons for dealing with a
client’s spouse. The woman wasn’t concerned that her husband was having an affair. She wasn’t
even concerned about what it might do to his career. She was concerned about the possible
ramifications on her public image.

“You have your own political ambitions.”

“People always say that because I won’t act like the typical token congressional Stepford
spouse who lives only to serve her master’s political career. They want me to be Malibu Marie.
Why should I? Why shouldn’t I think about myself? Women are allowed to be more than just a
subservient spouse in almost every other field. When are politics going to catch up to the rest
of the world?”

“Here’s the thing,” Ben said. “I want access to your detective’s records. Files, photos,
movies. Whatever he’s got.”

“Are you kidding? I can assure you there’s nothing there that will make Todd look better to a
jury.”

“Right now, there’s nothing short of bestiality photos that could make him look worse to the
jury. I want to know what your man dug up on Veronica Cooper.”

“What makes you think he has anything?”

“He was on Todd for months. I’m betting he spent some time digging into Veronica’s background,
her lifestyle, her recreational activities.”

“So that’s your defense strategy. You’re going to put the victim on trial.”

Ben squirmed. “It’s a possibility.”

“Do you think that could work? I mean—good or evil, the woman was still murdered.”

“In the eyes of the law, you’re correct. But in the eyes of a jury, who the victim was can
make a huge difference. Up till now, the press has played her as a poor innocent, a naïve waif
who went to Washington to serve her country and ended up being abused and debased by a depraved
senator—despite a video that to me shows her to be anything but naïve and innocent. We need to
turn that around. Loving tells me she was into some really weird stuff, and I’ve got at least one
witness at an escort service who can give the jury some insight on Ms. Cooper’s secret life. But
I need more. I’m hoping your detective can give that to me. If he does, it will do a lot more
than tarnish the victim’s image. If we can prove she was all wrapped up with some bizarre vampire
cult—”

“Reasonable doubt,” Marie whispered.

“Exactly. Parade in a coven of vampires, and suddenly the list of possible suspects gets a lot
longer. Everyone has been assuming Todd was guilty because of the video, where the body was
found, and because there were no other likely suspects. But if we can show she was involved with
all sorts of dangerous characters—”

“That’s brilliant,” she said, slowly nodding her head. “I mean, it’s evil. Bogus. Lies and
calumny.” She smiled. “But brilliant. I’m finally beginning to see why Todd hired you.”

“We aim to please.”

She laid her hand on Ben’s wrist. “You’re an experienced trial attorney, Ben. Tell me the
truth. Are you going to get my husband off?”

“It’s impossible to say,” he replied, trying to resist his instinctive impulse to brush her
hand away. “We haven’t put on our case. Juries are unpredictable. The evidence is massively
stacked against Todd.” He paused. “But I think we have a shot. A small shot, perhaps. But a
shot.”

She removed her hand. “That’s good to know.”

“Now, I don’t mean to give you false hope.”

“It’s not about hope,” she said, pushing herself out of the chair. “It’s about intel. I like
to know what the contingencies are. So I can lay my plans accordingly.”

Loving and Shalimar stayed hidden in the shadows of an alley off one of the seediest streets
in Georgetown, staring at a tall brownstone building across the darkened street.