Cold Comfort (32 page)

Riley caught her hand under the table, squeezed it gently. "Then we're definitely interested in any Bellante and Geminelli connections."

"Okay. Let's start with this one. A friend with the Bureau
—
the FBI
—
told me they think Carmine had his son-in-law Joey, or Guiseppe, Trapp killed because he planned to leave Diane for his mistress. And Carmine blames Nolan Jennings for the accident that caused Marianna to go into a coma and eventually die, even though it was the other driver's third DUI and he was charged. Apparently, Carmine keeps a close eye on Burley, too. He and Gina separated once—there were rumors of another woman—and Burley 'fell down the stairs' and had to be hospitalized. The old man is very protective of his family. Diane's son Tony is the last of his line, his hope for the future."

"Can you think of any reason Bellante would be after Claire?"

"Not unless it's Burley, and Carmine doesn't want Gina exposed to such proof of his infidelity, but he'd have to be a real nutcase, and I don't think he is. Having a mistress
—
excuse me, Claire
—
isn't the same as marrying one." He thought for a minute. "Maybe because Burley and Gina apparently couldn't have children
—
Carmine might not want him to enjoy someone else's child. Pretty thin though." Will held the coffee pot out to Claire, who shook her head, and poured himself another cup. "Keep in mind, all this is speculation. Legally, Carmine's clean. Nothing's ever been proven in court
—
he's had an army of top lawyers defending him for years."

She poked at the eggs on her plate, rearranging them. "What about Burley's presidential aspirations?"

Riley answered. "Jennings has been mentioned too. Certainly there are people who hope to gain from having their man in the White House, and a few are capable of anything. If they consider you a threat, it's a possibility. But this has been botched so many times, it's not likely. Those guys are major players, and they wouldn't fool around with the little stuff. You'd probably have a quiet accident and that would be it, no one the wiser."

Will nodded.

Claire supposed Riley meant to be reassuring. She turned to Will. "Did you find anything about Lendon Jeffers's staff when Caroline worked there?"

"I got a couple of names, but no 'Sandra.' Here they are." Will tore a sheet off a small notebook and handed it to Claire. "Ronald Darwin was Jeffers's chief of staff. He may know something. I'll try to arrange for you to meet him. I got his name too late last night to call."

"Thank you. Please. Try to set it up as soon as you can. I really want to get to the bottom of this." She picked up the envelope, anxious to dig into it, afraid of what it held. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go back to the room and read through these." A cold, familiar lump settled in her stomach. If this business didn't earn her an ulcer, nothing ever would.

"Go ahead. We'll be up soon." A faint smile touched Riley's face. He snagged a yellow highlighter from Will's shirt pocket and tossed it to her. "Mark anything that seems significant."

"Okay." She left them at the table, peeking into the envelope as she wound her way across the now-crowded restaurant to the lobby. She figured the two men wanted a chance to talk without her, and she wanted to see Will's material.
So we're all happy, right?
She entered the elevator rubbing her stomach with one hand. The corner of a black-and-white photograph, an 8 by 10 glossy, caught her attention. She slid it halfway out of the envelope, her heart thudding. An old studio head shot of Elton Burley, dated 1988. She studied it, searching for some resemblance, unaware that the elevator stopped until a man got on.

"Are you going down?"

"No, sorry. I'm just getting off." She shoved the photo back out of sight and walked quickly to her room. Once locked inside, she threw off the bedcovers and emptied the envelope onto the white sheet. Will had divided the information into several groups: one each for Burley, Jennings, the Bellantes, and the most interesting to Claire, speculation
—
what she would have called gossip. Yellow marker in hand, she began reading.

* * *

At a knock on the door and Riley's voice, she stood and stretched, her back stiff from leaning over the papers on the bed. Riley and Will pulled the room's two chairs up to the bed. Riley leaned toward the papers. "Find anything?"

"Maybe. I'll start with Carmine. I still can't see why he'd be interested in me. Almost all his family is dead now, so Gina's his only living child. The next in line is Diane's son, Tony." Claire pointed to a sheaf of papers. "After all these years, it shouldn't be so important to Gina."

"I wouldn't think so either, but you're important to someone. If it became known that either Burley or Jennings is your father, it would end their political careers." Riley shrugged. "Wives have ambitions too—maybe Gina's the one. On the other hand, neither man seems committed to running. It's the political parties that want them."

"But they aren't the only possible candidates. It just doesn't seem like enough motive to risk killing anyone."

"If there's a close connection between either of them and Bellante, and one became vice president or president, Bellante would be in a powerful position, even at his age. He could have a lot of influence. But so far no one's suggested close ties to the old man." Riley wiped his hand over his face. "Let's go back to the number one reason
—
who benefits?"

Will picked up the picture of Burley and compared it to Claire but shook his head. "Nothing makes sense. We're back to the Geminelli connection, which doesn't make sense either."

Claire gave them a wry smile. "I would have thought a high-level member of the Geminelli organization like Carmine wouldn't hire a loser like Joey Fortunato, that he'd get someone better, more efficient. But maybe that's because Carmine's broke
—
at least I think he is." She picked up a newspaper article marked in yellow. "Look at this one. Over the last few years, since his wife died, he's been selling off property, possibly to pay his legal fees. They're supposed to be astronomical because he's been under investigation for so long and accused of a number of crimes
—
his lawyers have always gotten him off. He also financed a casino in New Jersey that was closed by the gaming commission, so he lost a large investment there."

"I doubt if he's that far gone. 'Broke' in his league doesn't mean what it does to us." Riley picked up a newspaper picture of young Nolan Jennings and held it beside Claire. "He was blond. Too bad it's not in color. I don't see any real resemblance, do you?"

"No," Will said. "But I did find out Burley and Gina separated shortly before Trapp was killed. If Carmine really ordered it because Trapp planned to divorce Diane, it would have been a powerful incentive for Burley to stay with Gina. It happened in May of 1974."

"And my mother was seeing my father then. It could have been the reason he couldn't leave his wife." Claire felt sick. Not Elton Burley, it couldn't be.

Will picked a small photo out of one of the stacks and held it up. "Here's another one of Burley. He had dark curly hair, much curlier than yours, Claire. It's just hard to tell from these pictures, and didn't you say you look like your mother?"

"Yes, a lot like Caroline."

Riley's hand closed over hers. "This is all guesswork. We need to talk to Burley and Jennings."

She showed them an article printed off the Internet. "This is a recent one on Jennings. He's out of the hospital now, at home in Washington. Can either of you find the address?"

"Yes, but let's start with Darwin, Jeffers's chief of staff," Riley said. "He lives in Bethesda. Will called
—
he's expecting us this morning. He won't tell us anything over the phone. He'll want to see identification." Riley turned to Will. "Stay in touch. We may need backup."

"I'll be ready."

"We should be all right for now," Riley said. "No one followed us last night, and I don't see how anyone could know we're here yet, but if Darwin makes any calls, word may get out. If it's Jennings or Burley, someone will let them know. We still don't know whom we're dealing with. If it's Carmine..."

* * *

When they reached Bethesda, Riley turned down a street lined with bare trees and narrow townhouses. "Darwin lives alone, never married. He retired
—
reluctantly, I'm told
—
a few years ago." He slowed, watching the numbers.

"There it is." He pointed out the house and drove by, peering intently into the few parked cars they passed. "Looks okay so far. I'll go to the door. Stay here until I'm sure it's clear."

At least she didn't have her head on her knees again. Claire noticed the blue sky when he made a U-turn in an intersection and returned to Darwin's house. The snow had stopped, leaving a glittering white world, deceptively peaceful. "I thought we were okay for a while."

"We should be, but Darwin's had a couple of hours' warning, and I want to be sure."

Riley backed into the driveway; it was barely long enough to get the car off the street. He left the motor running and the heat on. "Wait here and stay warm. If it's clear, I'll come back for you."

"Okay." When he opened the door, a surge of cold air filled the car. She checked the street and neighboring houses. All quiet. Riley crossed the walk and knocked on Darwin's red door. Snow covered each tiny patch of lawn, but the sidewalks were clear. Incongruously, to Claire's mind, Christmas decorations marked the doorways and windows. Christmas? The idea seemed completely foreign to her this year. Her world had shrunk to a thin trail of information. She followed it like a hungry bird after breadcrumbs, with single-minded focus.

The door opened, and Claire could see clouds form in front of Riley's mouth as he talked, but she couldn't see the person holding the door. Claire cut the engine, shoved open her door, and stepped out before he could come for her.

"Wait
—
" he began, but she was on her way. Ready.

Riley introduced them.

The tall, thin man in the doorway studied her. Below his silvery buzz cut, gold-rimmed glasses enlarged his sharp brown eyes. "Come in, Miss Spencer, Mr. Riley."

Claire nodded and followed him through a tiny foyer into a neat living room. Like a recurring disease, the lump returned to her stomach. Taking the chair Darwin indicated, she sat and clasped her hands tightly. "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Darwin. I believe Will Porter and Riley told you why I'm here. I'm trying to piece together my mother's life while she worked for Lendon Jeffers. I'm hoping you'll remember her and be able to help."

"Why is it so important to you? This is more than a simple trip down memory lane." He sat, carefully crossing his legs, lifting his trouser leg at the knee to preserve the crease. He remained upright in the chair, waiting for her to answer.

Claire considered him. A little stiff, probably very efficient, slightly suspicious, but not unkind, she thought. Ignoring Riley's warning look, she said, "I hope I can trust you, Mr. Darwin." Quickly and succinctly, she told him her story. She'd spent most of the drive to Bethesda mentally rehearsing so she wouldn't ramble. Darwin listened in silence. Watching him, she felt she'd made the right choice.

"I appreciate your trust." After a brief silence, he said, "Will Porter told me about your interest in the office staff during Mr. Jeffers's time on the Committee on Crime and any unusual events I might remember, so I've had time to research a couple of things to refresh my memory. Seeing you, I recall Caroline Lindsey well. You must know how much you resemble her."

"Do you know..." Claire caught her breath, unable to continue.

"No, I don't know who your father is. I might guess, but I could be leading you astray." He pressed his fingertips together under his chin, studying her through his thick lenses. "After many years of dealing with people, I consider myself a reasonable judge of character. I'll do what I can for you." He rose and crossed the room to a polished mahogany secretary, opened a drawer, and removed a file folder. "Besides, I liked your mother. She was a bright, enthusiastic girl but too naïve to be exposed to the people she met on that committee. Here are the names and addresses of many of the staff, including your mother."

Claire took the folder and opened it. "Thank you," she whispered, and began tracing the list of names with her forefinger.
Where to start?

Her confusion must have showed, because the erect figure in front of the secretary reached over and tapped a name. "I suggest you start with Sandra Garrone. They were friends, and I believe they shared an apartment. I found her current name
—
Krakowski
—
and address. She's living in Baltimore now." He turned to Riley. "I, too, have friends with access to information."

"It's the friends who concern me, sir. We don't know who's behind the attacks on Claire, and we'd like to keep her presence here quiet if possible."

Darwin stood. "I assure you, the friends I contacted are all in positions of trust on Capitol Hill."

"Baltimore?" Darwin's friends didn't concern Claire, but Sandra Garrone did. "Do I need to go there? Do you think she'd talk to me on the phone?"

"I'll tell her about you. I doubt if she'll tell you anything on the phone, but she might be willing to meet you." He shook his head and retrieved the file from her. "I'll call now."