Poisoned Politics (6 page)

“Oh, God
…
how often did he take them?”

“He'd use Vicodin sometimes when he was really having problems sleeping. Certainly not all the time. At least not when he was with me. He kept the pills in his briefcase, so who knows?” She stared at the screen sadly. “He told me he tried to be careful.”

I watched as Samantha reversed the video once more. Checking my watch, I computed how long it would take me to get to the office. It was 7:30 now, but I'd be right in the midst of rush hour traffic on Chain Bridge Road. Even weaving around residential streets, I'd still be stuck. Might as well just get onto the G.W. Parkway and fight my way across Key Bridge with everyone else. It didn't matter where you started in Virginia, if you were headed to Washington, the Potomac River had to be crossed.

“You'd better go, Molly. I'm afraid you're gonna get stuck in that mess.” Samantha pushed away from her desk.

“Yeah, I'd better join the herd.” I drained the rest of the yucky coffee and followed Samantha out of the library.

“Thanks again for coming over so early. I appreciated getting your reaction to that video, especially the last part.” She grimaced.

“You know you can count on me, Samantha,” I said as I slipped my purse over my shoulder. “And let me know what your lawyer says. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Count on it, Molly,” she said with a smile. It was the first smile I'd seen from her that morning.

_____

I sipped the delicate Pinot Noir and savored its lush yet subtle flavors as I stood at the edge of Senator Russell's elegant living room, watching tonight's guests mingle. The wine merchants that my cousins Nan and Deb had personally recommended had not disappointed. The senator's wine list had been upgraded without making a huge dent in the entertaining budget. That made me very happy since I was in charge of all of the senator's household and entertaining expenses.

Tonight's reception was smaller than most of the Senator's earlier ones. This guest list focused solely on Senator Russell's colleagues on his other Senate committee, Energy and Natural Resources. Several members were from Western states. As was my usual game-day plan, I welcomed arriving guests and shepherded them toward the caterer's temptations, as well as the bartender's.

The serving staff from the private firm that the senator employed for entertaining were experienced with all manner of political functions and moved smoothly and efficiently throughout any group, large or small. Since the senator had been entertaining the entire Congress over the last four months I'd been working for him, I'd become well-acquainted with all of the staff of Preferred Professionals. We were battlefield comrades together. Nothing kept you on your toes like a room full of demanding politicians and their egos.

July's heat had kept all but a handful of guests inside the living room in the air-conditioned cool. Old pro Aggie and graduate student Ryan moved smoothly through the clusters of Senators, spouses, and chief staffers offering tempting appetizers and replenishing drinks. Talking made most people thirsty. Since politicians talked more than most people—a lot more—they were thirstier. Hence, Aggie worked a nonstop route between the bar and the guests. Each replenished tray was emptied quickly. Bartender Bud was an efficient machine, fast and smooth. Filling drink orders, pouring wines, and mild non-alcoholic choices for those who wanted to keep their wits about them and their tongues in check. The Senate chamber was filled with very powerful people. Some of them were in this room tonight, I observed. One careless remark could damage an up-and-coming staffer's career. I'd seen that happen more times than I cared to remember.

I spotted Aggie return from supplying the handful of sun-worshippers on the patio and then head to the bar yet again. Ryan walked my way with his empty tray. “Looks like the caterer's peppered beef was a success. You've been running back and forth to the kitchen faster than normal,” I said as Ryan approached.

“Ohhhh, yeah. They went through those peppered beef canapés fast. Good thing the caterer brought more of the brie and pastry and the curried chicken. Man, this is one hungry group,” Ryan said with a smile. His smile made him look even younger, much younger than his thirty-three years.

“Let's keep them happy. Feed them and water them well is my motto,” I joked as we walked down the side hallway toward the kitchen. Curiosity suddenly pushed forward and I couldn't help asking. “I imagine there's a lot of talk about Congressman Wilson's death going around.”

“Oh, yeah, I've heard it mentioned several times. That's such a shame too. He seemed to be a really sharp guy. I heard him interviewed on a news show a few months ago.” Ryan paused outside the doorway to the kitchen. I could see the catering staff scurrying around in their seemingly frantic, but-always-in-control routines. “Today's news reports said he died from an accidental overdose of sleeping pills. That is so sad. And such a waste too.”

“I agree, Ryan. We've lost a lot of good and talented people this year. We really can't afford to lose any more.” My niece Karen's face flashed through my mind. Too young to die so young or so violently. Chasing away gruesome memories, I ventured into the caterers' domain. “Do we have any coffee set up yet?” I asked Ryan. “I'm about to switch poisons.”

“Sure, Molly. Want me to get you a cup?”

“That's okay, just point me in the right direction.” I scanned the command center where caterers were giving orders. I deliberately stayed out of their way. Artists at Work.

“Coffee's over there,” Caterer Rosemary called out, pointing to a side counter. “You can come in, Molly. We won't bite.”

“It's not you I'm worried about,” I said, heading for the tall urns. The coffee lobe of my brain was still lulled by the rich wine. Time to wake it up. “I don't want to step in someone's way as they're dashing about. A soufflé might fall, or worse, a whole tray of yummy things.” I noticed a tray with crab delicacies on another counter as I filled a coffee cup. “Actually I don't trust myself to be around all your great food. I'll lose control and start eating.”

“That's music to our ears, Molly,” Caterer Marian said with a wide smile. She was the older of the successful twosome.

“Go ahead, have one,” Ryan tempted me, his tray already filled with the spinach-and-cheese-filled phyllo pastries.

I can only resist so much, so I snatched one and popped it into my mouth, letting those delicious and fattening flavors delight. “Too delicious. I'm out of here before I lose control,” I sped for the doorway, following Ryan, as the catering staff's laughter drifted behind me.

A deep drink of coffee chased away the rich flavors and the wine's mellowing effects. Now I'd be sure to stay sharp. I didn't want to miss any comments about Quentin Wilson's death. Aggie was heading my way, a lone glass of red wine on her tray.

“I saved a Pinot Noir for you, Molly, but I see you've already switched to coffee,” she said with her familiar smile.

“Thanks anyway, Aggie. You can give it to one of those sunbathers outside.”

“Actually they've been ordering iced drinks, no surprise,” Aggie started toward the bar.

“I'll bet the gossip hounds are in full bay with the Quentin Wilson news,” I walked with her.

“Oh, yes.” Aggie's smile disappeared. “I've overheard a lot of people remarking about it. It's a real shame.”

“Have you heard anyone speculating about where Wilson died?” I probed. “The paper mentioned a Northern Virginia residence.”

Aggie stopped and looked at me, her gaze direct. “Why are you asking?”

I noticed she didn't answer my question, but I wasn't surprised. I was convinced she'd been a spook in her earlier years. Whether she was still reporting to someone, only Aggie knew. She'd been working these Washington parties for over thirty years, always hovering near the movers and shakers.

I met Aggie's direct gaze and decided on total honesty. “I figure it's simply a matter of time before the gossip turns nasty. Wilson was found at the home of my oldest and dearest friend. She was the one who walked in and found him dead Sunday morning. I'm the only one she called after the police left.”

Aggie's gray eyes widened quickly, and I could see the puzzle pieces being sorted as she digested the information. “Are we talking about the late Senator Calhoun's widow?”

“We are, indeed. She and Congressman Wilson were
…
close friends,” I hedged. “So I'm concerned that the gossip will turn vicious once word spreads. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me if you overhear any particularly ugly rumors. That way, I can give her a warning.”

Aggie's little smile returned. “I'd be glad to, Molly. I remember you and your friend attending some of your father's parties years ago. You two made quite a pair. I also used to work Senator Calhoun's parties whenever I could.”

Why was I not surprised? Samantha's husband had been one of the most powerful men in the Senate while he was alive. Naturally, Aggie would have been at his parties, listening and learning. Wherever there was liquor, lips as well as inhibitions were loosened. Information spilled out as easily as wine from a glass.

“Thanks, Aggie. I'm sure you've paid attention over the last few years to my friend's rather
…
ah, rebellious lifestyle. I'm afraid she's made a few enemies, and that's always dangerous in this town. So, I'm trying to look out for her however I can.”

“I understand. And I'll keep an ear out. For the record, I did hear part of a conversation that mentioned her name along with Congressman Wilson.”

I grimaced. “I knew it would start. Was that the only one?”

Aggie shook her head as she edged away. “No, there were two other couples talking about it, I'm sorry to say. Take care, Molly, and give my regards to your friend.” Aggie scurried off to the bar.

Damn
. It had started already. Needless to say, tonight's reception provided the perfect opportunity to exchange gossip. I glanced about the living room again. Political types, elected or otherwise, clustered together talking, laughing, drinking, finger waving, arguing, eating. Senator Russell was near the fireplace, with the senior senator from Utah. Senator Russell threw back his head and let out his trademark basso roar of laughter. It was all I could do to hear him over the gossip's rising buzz. Louder than the cicadas in the trees outside.

_____

“Did you talk to that staffer, Levitz, yet?”

Larry Fillmore sped past the Capitol Reflecting Pool, cell phone pressed to his ear. Six forty-five, and the sun was still blazing down.
Damn Washington summers
. Larry could tell Spencer wanted to talk, but he wasn't about to stand near the Capitol with all the tourists and sweat.

“Yeah, this afternoon. I showed up in his office at the Rayburn building, purportedly with some research questions from Congressman Jackson. Then I asked him to walk me out. Told him I had a message for him. He probably thought I was going to place an order.”

“How was this staffer pulling it off? He's working right in the middle of Capitol Hill, for God's sake.”

“His uncle's an internist in Bethesda and he fills the prescription orders that Levitz phones in. Levitz then picks them up from a dummy office every evening and makes deliveries. Everyone pays cash.”

“Pretty sweet little system they had going. Helping out the hyper politicians and staffers who want more drugs than their doctors give them. And no records.”

“You got it. Anyway, that's when I came on like the older and wiser Capitol Hill staffer. Big brother, like. Told him that I'd heard about his delivery business on the side, then added he might want to keep a low profile now that Wilson was dead from an overdose that
he
delivered.”

“You probably scared the crap out of him when you said that. What'd he do?”

“Turned white as a sheet,” Larry smirked as he glanced over both shoulders before crossing Jefferson Drive. Trees bordering the Mall up ahead beckoned. Shade was almost within reach. “Then I told him he might want to think about leaving town until the Wilson death was put to bed completely. I mean, if I could find out about his delivery business, the cops sure as hell could. Too many people knew. He started shaking like a leaf.”

Spencer's deep chuckle sounded over the phone despite the traffic noise. “I'll bet.”

“That's when I gave him that disposable cell phone's number. I told him to call me if he needed help because I knew people who could provide some cover. I then added that I liked his ambitious spirit and didn't want to see him get dragged down by Quentin Wilson's problems. Wilson had been screwing around on his wife for a long time. She probably found out and filed for divorce. His wife was bankrolling Wilson's career. So, he'd be Ohio roadkill from now on. No surprise the guy swallowed those pills.”

Spencer laughed low in his throat. “Damn, that's good. You've almost got me believing it.”

“Yeah, well it may sound like a worn-out cliché, but that's why it's believable
…
hey! Watch it!”
Larry jumped out of the way as several tourists on large-wheeled touring vehicles passed right in front of him. “
Son of a bitch!
” he muttered into the phone.

“What the hell happened?”

“Damn tourists nearly ran into me on those ridiculous rolling things! Tourists on wheels. They're a damn pedestrian hazard!” Larry scowled as he walked. Now that he was on the Mall's well-trod ground, he'd be plagued by even more tourists, kids dripping ice cream cones, screaming babies.

“Don't be so hard on them. They bring in a ton of cash,” Spencer joked.