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Authors: William Bernhardt

BOOK: Capitol Murder
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“Take it easy. You’re still weak. You need rest.”

Loving forced his eyes open again. Deep Throat? They were still in that musty basement room.
But he wasn’t hanging from the ceiling anymore. He was lying on the hard concrete floor. And he
was alive!

“You really did start to go into seizure. Too much electricity will do that.”

“The—the Sire—”

“He left when I told him you were dead. Fortunately, he didn’t have the training or experience
to detect your heartbeat, especially when it was so faint. As soon as he was gone, I shot you up
with epinephrine to stimulate your heart. Treated the knife wound, too. But you need to take it
easy. You’ve been through a lot, and too much activity after a dose of epinephrine could throw
you into seizure all over again.”

Loving had no problem following the command to stay put. He felt much too puny to move. “Why
did you do all this for me?”

“Look, I’m sorry I got you involved in the first place. It’s just—I didn’t know what else to
do. You may have noticed—he’s crazy.”

“And the rest of your little club?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. I may be intrigued by the vampire mythology. I even think the
bloodsucking ritual is a turn-on, but I draw the line at murder. And what he’s got going on in
the narthex—that’s inhuman. This whole operation—” He shook his head fiercely. “I never wanted to
go after those girls—I never wanted any part of it. The Sire lost control and now everyone in the
Inner Circle is paying the price.”

“But—”

“Shh. Just try to rest. The others have already left. As soon as the Sire leaves, I’ll smuggle
you out of here. Get you back to your people at the law firm. A big tough guy like you should
heal up in no time.”

“And you?”

“I think—I think I’m going to leave town. Start somewhere else. It’s obvious to me now—no one
can take down the Sire. Not me, not you. He really is immortal. Indestructible. The best I can
hope for is to go somewhere far away, somewhere safe, someplace he can never hurt me, and
then—”

He froze in midsentence. His entire body stiffened. At first, Loving thought he was going to
scream, but when the sound actually came out, it was quieter, more like a strange, hollow
rattle.

A death rattle.

His body tumbled forward, and there was nothing Loving could do to avoid it. It fell sideways
across his abdomen, knocking the air out of his chest, leaving him gasping for breath.

A scalpel was sticking out of the back of his neck.

In the distance, Loving saw a pair of piercing eyes hovering above him.

“So glad to see you’re still alive, Mr. Loving.” The Sire began to laugh, loud and horribly,
hysterically, his dark, deep laughter echoing through the tiny subterranean room. “Now I’ll have
the pleasure of killing you myself. After I’ve learned what I want to know. After I’ve sucked you
dry.”

“Well now, that was a sweet little story you told,” Padolino said, as he strode across the
courtroom toward Senator Glancy. “Touching, especially the part about your close relationship
with your wife. I felt my eyes getting itchy.”

Glancy remained phlegmatic. “Was that a question? If it was, I didn’t understand it.”

“So now you admit that you were planning to meet Veronica Cooper on the day she died, at about
the same time she died, and that you entered the rear stairway that led to your hideaway at just
that time. But we’re supposed to believe you didn’t kill her?”

“That’s right. I didn’t.”

“Must’ve been someone else. Someone who intercepted her on her way to the cafeteria.”

“I really have no idea. I can’t imagine who would want to kill her.”

“Then we agree on that point, Senator. No one had any reason to kill her. Except you.”

Christina started to rise, but Glancy was already answering. “I disagree with that statement.
I had no motive at all. As my wife said, she had the situation under control. Sure, I wanted to
meet with her, to see if we couldn’t come up with some better solution than blackmail payments. I
could see she had problems, possibly mental problems, and I knew that video was going to make it
impossible for her to work again in DC. I wanted to see if I could help her make a fresh start,
find her another job, maybe something in Oklahoma. I have a lot of friends back home. It wouldn’t
be hard.”

“How altruistic of you.”

“And even if that didn’t work—Marie had given her the money she wanted. Either way, I had no
motive to kill her.”

“Assuming we believe everything you’ve told us. Which I for one don’t.”

Christina gave Ben the eye. Padolino was making a lot of nonquestion smart remarks. She could
object, but she had a hunch that Padolino’s sudden resort to arrogance and sarcasm would turn the
jury off, which could only work to Todd’s favor. Give the man enough rope . . .

“Even if I were going to kill her,” Glancy continued, “which I would never, ever do, I
certainly wouldn’t do it at the U.S. Senate. That’s just stupid. And leave the corpse in my own
hideaway? That’s beyond stupid. That’s idiotic.”

“So you want us to believe you would never, ever do that, right?”

“Right.” Glancy allowed himself a small smile. “Hell, if I really were stupid enough to kill
someone at the U.S. Senate, I wouldn’t leave the corpse in my hideaway.” He paused. “I’d take it
to some Republican’s hideaway.”

Grim as the subject was, that actually got a few chuckles. More important, Christina thought,
he’d made his point.

“This all assumes that the murder was carefully planned in advance. But I think it’s more
likely that you got angry when your attempt to charm her out of her blackmail money failed, lost
control, killed her, didn’t know what to do with the body, and left her there till you had time
to come up with something better.”

“Wrong. All of it. And just for the record, Mr. Padolino, I never lose control.”

Wrong thing to say. “Yes, we’ve heard all about how you like to stay in control. How you like
to dominate. Especially when you’re with your many, many women.”

Aw, swell, Christina thought, priming herself to object. Here we go.

“There were two,” Glancy said emphatically. “I told you that. No one has proven anything
different.”

“And what about the handcuffs? Ropes? Is that part of how you like to stay in control?”

Christina rose to object, but Glancy literally waved her down. “Let me say once and for all
that I am sick and tired of your use of this courtroom to engage in slanderous statements that
don’t relate to the murder in any way, shape, or form.” He was becoming a little heated, but
Christina thought—hoped—that he was okay. “I have admitted that I made mistakes, that I had
affairs with two women. What possible business of yours is it how we like to go about it? I know
it has been fashionable in the press to pry into politicians’ sex lives under the veil of a
‘character issue.’ Are we now going to start doing that in the courtroom? If you made these
statements anywhere else, I could sue you for slander, and I for one do not see why courtroom
immunity should extend to a prosecutor making gratuitous sexual innuendos that don’t relate to
the case at bar.”

“Lovely little speech,” Padolino said, clapping. “Very dramatic. Move to strike.”

To everyone’s surprise, Judge Herndon hesitated. “No,” he said finally, “I think I’m going to
let that stand. It was irrelevant, but then so was your question. I think I’d like to see that
remain in the record. Maybe, with luck, one of the reporters in the room will print it. Or
perhaps even give it some thought.”

Padolino was furious. Christina could see him scanning his outline, looking for another
dramatic topic. “Exactly how many times have you lied to the public now, Senator?”

“I’m not aware of any.”

“You lied about your affair.”

“At no time did I lie about any affair. I was silent on the matter. There’s a big
difference.”

“I believe that’s what, in my church, we call a sin of omission.”

“Call it what you like. It wasn’t a lie. I didn’t lie before and I’m not lying now.” He turned
to face the jury. “You have my word on that. I will not lie to you.”

“You expect us to trust you?” Padolino said indignantly. “Your own wife, the woman who knows
you best in all the world, doesn’t trust you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“She hired a private detective to follow your floozies around, Senator. Trusting wives don’t
do that.”

For the first time, Glancy was silent for several moments. “When the issue arose between us, I
admitted what I had done immediately. I did not lie to her about it.”

“Really. And did you tell her about the other girl as well?”

Christina’s ears pricked up. Not because of the accusation, but because savvy Mr. Padolino had
used the word
girl
. Not the more politically correct
woman
.

“What girl?”

“The other one. The Senate employee with whom you’ve admitted having an affair.”

Glancy thought a long time before answering. “No.”

Padolino smiled, triumphant at last. He returned to his table, picked up a small manila
folder, then returned to the podium.

“I’m worried,” Christina whispered to Ben.

“Why? What’s in the folder?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m worried.”

“Senator Glancy,” Padolino said, breaking the silence, “what was the name of the other woman
with whom you had a sexual liaison?”

He exhaled heavily. “I said before, I see no purpose in dragging someone else through—”

“I’m afraid you have no choice, sir. You must answer my question.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re under oath.”

“To tell the truth. And I have. But that doesn’t extend to the unnecessary tarnishing of the
reputation of an innocent person.”

Padolino pressed his hand against his heart. “Once again, Senator, I am moved by your
breathtaking nobility. But in fact, you have another reason for wanting to keep her identity
unknown, don’t you?”

“This is despicable,” Glancy said, increasingly angry. “You’re using my silence to imply
things that aren’t there.”

“Who’s your other lover, Senator Glancy?”

“I’ve told you, I refuse to answer the question.”

“Are you pleading the Fifth?”

“No. This isn’t about self-incrimination. This is about protecting others.”

“Let’s all remember that he said that.”

Judge Herndon cut in. “Mr. Prosecutor, if you so request, the court can order the witness to
answer or be held in contempt of court.”

“Thank you, your honor, but that won’t be necessary.” He reached inside his folder and
withdrew one sheet of paper. “Senator Glancy, would your lover’s name by any chance be Tiffany
Dell?”

Glancy didn’t answer, but even he couldn’t prevent his eyes from widening, his lips from
parting.

Where have I heard that name before? Christina asked herself. Somewhere around here . . .

And then she remembered. And realized how bad this really was.

“Thank you for that visual confirmation, sir. Not that I had any doubt. You see, I’ve spoken
to Miss Dell. And she told me all about it.”

“Objection!” Christina said, rising to her feet. She didn’t care what Glancy thought; it was
time to intervene. “We’ve had no notice of this witness. She is not on the prosecution’s
list.”

“We do not plan to call her,” Padolino replied. “She only came to us late last night, after
she read an account in the
Post
of Mr. Capshaw’s testimony about the senator’s other
lovers.”

“Whether she’s taking the stand or not, he’s using her testimony. We should’ve been told.”

“Certainly, if she had anything exculpatory to say, we would’ve notified the defense
immediately. But that wasn’t the case. Far from it.”

“Your honor,” Christina insisted, “this is inexcusable. It’s trial by ambush!”

Judge Herndon leaned across the bench, gavel pointed, a somber expression on his face. “Mr.
Padolino, do you give me your word as an officer of the court that you knew nothing of this
informant before last night?”

“Absolutely, your honor.”

“And will you make her and any of her records or documents available to the defense should
they wish it?”

“We will. She’s in the building now, sir.”

He fell back into his chair. “Very well. I’ll allow it. But you’re on a short leash, Mr.
Prosecutor.”

“Understood, sir.”

Christina cut in. “Your honor, I must—”

“I said I’d allow it, counsel!” He slammed his gavel. “The cross-examination will
continue.”

Padolino turned his gaze back to Glancy, the expression on his face so smug Christina wanted
to scrape it off with a pizza knife. “Senator, knowing your strong feelings about truth telling,
you’re not going to deny that you know Miss Dell, are you?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“And you won’t deny that you had an affair with her, either, will you?”

“If she’s already admitted it publicly, I suppose there’s no point.”

“Glad you’re being so reasonable. Let me ask you, Senator—how old is she?”

Glancy hesitated. “I . . . don’t know. She’s young, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Well, of course, she’s young. You only interview, hire, and sleep with women who are
young.”

“Objection!” Christina shouted.

“Short leash, Mr. Padolino,” Judge Herndon said, a fierce tone in his voice. “Very short
leash.”

“Right, right,” Padolino said, holding up his hands. “My apologies. What I want to know,
Senator, is her age.”

“I don’t know her age.”

“Don’t you? You sponsored her. Because she’s not exactly a congressional staffer, as you led
the jury to believe. She’s a congressional page. A high school student.” He paused. “She’s
seventeen.”

Christina’s eyes closed. Just as she feared. It was the same Tiffany whom Glancy had sent to
meet Ben and Christina when they first came to the Senate.

The stir in the courtroom was almost deafening. Judge Herndon slammed his gavel, but it still
took several moments to restore any semblance of order.

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