Poisoned Politics (9 page)

Suddenly, memories of my recently murdered niece Karen Grayson rushed into my head. Still painful and raw. Karen's daytimer had written notations about Ambassador Holmberg speaking to various members of congress. And Danny and I had seen Ryker and Holmberg together with other political types at a Washington reception last spring. Karen had also been researching an organization, the Epsilon Group, that concentrated on global financial policy. Karen said that some of their policies had made it into the legislative process and had become laws. Maybe that's what the conversation Wilson overhead was all about. But what was so intriguing about a financial bill that would entice Wilson to spend his valuable time researching it?

No answers came. I took another deep drink of my Cosmo, feeling the vodka re-awaken in my veins and chase those old niggling thoughts from the edges of my mind.

I needed to stay in the present. Samantha had some very real problems staring her in the face. Serious problems. I smiled over at my old friend. “Okay, that's enough with the news, tawdry and otherwise. I say we raid your refrigerator for some of those gourmet leftovers, then find a good trashy movie and escape for a while. How about it?”

Samantha smiled and picked up the remote control once again. “Sounds good to me. If there're no trashy ones, why don't we watch one of those blow-em-up, shoot-em-up war movies? I learned to love those living with Beau.”

I laughed out loud as I followed Samantha from the library.

eight

Friday

The early morning sunshine
filtered through the leaves overhead, casting shadows and light along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal as I ran along the towpath. I depended on these early morning runs, the quiet time helped me sort through my thoughts, work out problems, and worry if necessary. Even when Danny joined me, we ran mostly in silence, saving our talking for post-run breakfasts at a French café along Georgetown's M Street.

Striding along the packed dirt path, I spied another runner farther ahead. I'd already passed two women a few minutes ago. Thanks to running with Danny, my pace had increased gradually. That sly fox had picked up his pace little by little until I was running faster. Of course, I'm sure Danny had to downshift just so that I could try and keep up with him. “Throttle back” as he called it.

Rush hour traffic clogged busy M Street above, as it paralleled the canal. It was far enough away so that I could still hear morning birdsong as I ran along. Not as peaceful as my Georgetown townhouse garden, but—

My office cell phone rang, shattering the morning quiet and birdsong. I quickly dug it from my running shorts' inner pocket and saw Peter Brewster's name and number flash on the screen. That was why I carried the phone wherever I went. No telling when Peter would call me.

“Good morning, Peter. The closer it gets to August recess, the earlier you get to the office.”

“Oh, yeah. It's only seven ten and I'm already behind. Are you outside running?”

“Yep. Gotta grab these early summer mornings before the heat builds. What do you need? I left that file you gave me on your desk before I left last night. I'll be in the office in a little while if you need anything else.”

“Actually what I need is some of your time tonight. I'd promised Eleanor MacKenzie that I'd stop by her charity fundraiser with the Senator's check and mine. Would you be able to go in my place? I know that's asking a lot. You probably have a date with Danny. I'll be leaving for the Hill in a minute. The Senator's already there. He and I will be buried in meetings with the Banking Committee staff all day and into the evening.”

“Actually I'm free as a bird tonight. Danny's still out of town, and I was going to do errands, that's all. But I'd much rather go to Eleanor's fundraiser and deliver your contributions.”

“Fantastic! Thanks, Molly. I'll put an envelope with the checks on your desk before I head for the Hill. The Senator and I are leaving for Colorado late tonight. So, we'll see you on Monday.”

“Enjoy Colorado. Temps will be hot, but there'll be low humidity. You'll love it.”

“Believe me, we always love escaping to Colorado,” he said with a laugh before clicking off.

I checked my watch. Time to head home. I would have to hurry to shower, dress, and walk to Senator Russell's home by eight o'clock. Spying stone stair steps leading to the main streets above, I angled toward them, leaving the peaceful sunshine and water behind as I picked up my pace.

_____

The string quartet finished with a vibrant chord that shimmered in the air, floating above Eleanor MacKenzie's glorious garden. Flower beds, shrubs, vining trellises, all meticulously pruned and tended, manicured in the manner of yesteryear. An authentic English garden. I always loved an excuse to attend one of Eleanor's musical evenings, but her charity fundraisers were a little rich for my blood, and more importantly, my bank account. Thanks to Peter Brewster, however, I was able to revel in the lavish spread Eleanor was famous for and be the bearer of gifts at the same time.

Of course, politicians and politicos of all stripes were also mixed among the business elite and other movers and shakers of Washington. All of them bending elbows and gossiping or stabbing someone in the back—figuratively, of course. It hurt just the same. Tonight, I sensed my friend Samantha's recent notoriety was providing rich fodder for many. Consequently, I'd deliberately shied away from joining any clusters, choosing instead to speak with several new freshmen Congressional couples that I recognized. Still adjusting to the Washington social scene, their conversation would cover safer ground.

I passed by the table that held the constantly changing hors d'oeuvres and gave in to the temptation of a rich pate. As I sipped my Sauvignon Blanc, I noticed a friendly face smiling at me. Congresswoman Sally Chertoff headed my way. I angled away from the table so we could be far from the grazing herds.

“Congresswoman, how nice to see you,” I greeted as she approached. “It's a wonder you were able to escape all that committee work you've undertaken.”

“I feel like I'm playing hooky,” she said, her square face lit up with her wide, bright smile. “But my staff insisted I take a break. And I'm so glad I took their advice. That quartet is fabulous, and I've had the most amazing canapés. I must have gained two pounds at least.” She laughed lightly.

“You can always depend on Eleanor to have the best musicians and the best caterers. Her functions are always a joy. I'm here in place of Senator Russell and Peter, bearing charitable gifts for the worthy cause.” I grinned. “They're both leaving for Colorado tonight.”

“Well, I'll be leaving for Iowa in the wee hours tomorrow morning. I simply had to finish some projects that ran late into the afternoon.” She sipped her red wine and glanced about the garden. “This is absolutely gorgeous. Eleanor MacKenzie has impeccable taste. When I grow up I want to be her.” She laughed again.

“Hey, that's my line,” I teased. “Changing the subject, I heard that you hired a new staffer last week. Natasha Jorgensen, Quentin Wilson's former chief. I've heard good things about her.”

“Yes, indeed, I grabbed Natasha as soon as one of my staff hinted she was looking to jump ship. Natasha is whip smart, and I was impressed with her when Quentin and I worked together on a project.” Her expression saddened. “He will be greatly missed. What a loss.”

I pondered how to broach the subject and where I wanted to take it, deciding to nibble around the edges first. “I never really knew Congressman Wilson. I'd only seen him at the large reception Senator Russell gave for the Midwestern congressional delegation last spring. But it certainly was a shock to hear that he died so suddenly.”

Sally Chertoff frowned. “I still cannot understand why Quentin would take his own life. He was so committed to his work and the people in his district of Ohio. It must have been accidental. That's the only way I can fathom how this happened.”

“None of us can ever know the pressures others are under,” I ventured. “We all become expert at hiding those concerns from everyone. Particularly those close to us.”

Chertoff glanced at me. “You're right about that. The Virginia police detectives investigating Quentin's death actually came to the office yesterday and interviewed Natasha. Apparently, they had more questions about Quentin's prescription drug habits. Natasha was quite shaken by the entire episode. She told me afterwards that police asked if Quentin was using any other drugs, like prescription painkillers. Natasha had to tell them that he was. She'd seen the pill bottles on his desk.”

I pretended to look surprised. “Oh, my, that does change things, doesn't it? If Wilson was mixing powerful painkillers with sleeping pills, that's a lethal mixture.”

“Absolutely. That's why I suspect Quentin's death was accidental. If he was worrying about something, who knows?” Chertoff stared into her wineglass, not venturing any more.

I sensed the congresswoman had deliberately not said more, so I used that as an opportunity to venture into more controversial territory. “Well, considering what we all witnessed on the news channels Wednesday, I'd say Quentin Wilson had a lot to worry about. His widow certainly comes across as a powerful woman. If she'd gotten word of an affair, well
…
I imagine Wilson would hear from her. Loud and clear.”

Sally Chertoff glanced up with a wry smile. “Yes, she seems quite imposing.”

“There are rumors she plans to take over Wilson's seat for the remainder of his term. Assuming Ohio's governor agrees, that is,” I said in a deliberately sardonic tone.

Chertoff's eyes lit up. “Yes, Natasha confirmed that's true. That's why she jumped ship. Apparently, Mrs. Wilson let it be known when she visited the office that she would ask the Governor to appoint her to Quentin's seat. And she would bring some Ohio staff with her. I've also heard she's been meeting with other members of Congress from both sides of the aisle. Apparently she has a list of people to meet. Her father's been involved with Ohio politics for nearly thirty years. So, she has a great many connections.” Chertoff gave a wry smile.

“Imposing
and
organized. A good combination.” I decided a lighter note offered me the chance to steer the conversation where I wanted it. Those nagging little questions from my visit to Samantha's Wednesday evening hadn't gone away. “I've had a chance to observe the Widow Wilson from another perspective, so I'm more than a little intrigued by her plans. Samantha Calhoun is one of my oldest and dearest friends. She and I grew up together in Washington's crucible as Senators' daughters years ago. We're very close, so I'm sure you can understand I was rather concerned when I heard Mrs. Wilson's pointed comments about Congressman Wilson and his ‘evening companion,' as she put it.” I held Sally Chertoff's direct gaze. “Samantha and Wilson had a very close relationship, and apparently Mrs. Wilson learned about it the day Wilson overdosed on pills.”

Sally Chertoff watched me intently. “I confess, I had heard rumors as to the identity of Quentin's companion that night. So it
was
Samantha Calhoun's house where he died?”

“Yes, and it was Samantha who found him early the next morning. You can imagine her shock and horror.”

Chertoff's surprised blue eyes stared back. “So she
wasn't
there when Wilson took the pills? Then Mrs. Wilson is deliberately slandering Mrs. Calhoun. She will have to respond.”

I gave her a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, Samantha has chosen not to respond. That's not her style, which makes her a perfect target for someone who's anxious to establish a presence in Washington. Gossip and innuendo are practically spectator sports here. Perception is reality in Washington.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the congresswoman said, her expression conveying her sincerity. “I've never met Mrs. Calhoun, but I know several of her friends speak highly of her. She's been quite generous in contributing to their charities. I also hate to see bullies succeed. We really don't need more of them in the arena.”

I decided to gamble on Chertoff's sympathetic comment. “Samantha had high praise for Natasha. She called her ‘Quentin's right arm.' Even saying you were lucky to have her.” I paused. “In fact, she told me she called Natasha after Wilson's death and asked if she had noticed any signs of depression or comments that last day he was alive. Apparently Wilson was working at his office before going to Samantha's to retrieve his things.”

“Yes, Natasha told me she blamed herself for not picking up any signals that Quentin might end his life. I told her I doubted there were any signals to see. Quentin Wilson accidentally took too many pills. And judging from what we've seen on the news channels, we can all understand the stress he must have been under.” Chertoff smiled just a bit. “That was kind of Mrs. Calhoun to reassure Natasha.”

“As I said, Samantha thinks highly of her.” I chose my next words carefully, sensing this would be a good time to pose my request. “Do you think it's possible for me to meet Natasha? I promise I won't disturb your office routine. I simply had a couple of questions involving some research that Wilson was doing before he died. It involved financial legislation currently before the House. My niece Karen Grayson was researching some similar legislation before
…
before she died.” I deliberately looked away. “She spoke to me about it the very day she was killed. I decided to follow up on her research. I suppose it's sort of my own little tribute to her.”

“Of course, Molly. I wouldn't mind at all, and I'm sure Natasha would be happy to help you, especially because of Karen. Sonia, my chief of staff, was also a friend of Karen's. She and Karen went on some weekend shopping excursions with Natasha and other staffers.” Her expression turned sorrowful again. “It was dreadful what happened to Karen. I can't tell you how heartsick many of us were at her death. I'd had a chance to work with Randall Jackson's office on legislation that benefitted both our states several times. We were neighbors. It was tragic, simply tragic.”

“Thank you, Congresswoman, for your kind words. Karen was a shining light, and I still miss her.” Feeling those old thoughts of loss creep around the edges of my mind, I deliberately returned to the present. The Ugly Past scuttled back to the bushes. “Should I call your office and make an appointment with Natasha?”

“You won't have to, Molly. Natasha and Sonia are here at the fundraiser,” she said with a smile. “I figured it was the best way to help Natasha shake off the unpleasant police questions. And Sonia jumps at any of Eleanor MacKenzie's invitations.” She looked over her shoulder toward the people crowding Eleanor's gardens and shady walkways. “I told them to go off and wander on their own. No need to follow me around
…
there they are — beside that fountain. Come along, I'll introduce you. You and Natasha can have a few minutes to yourselves in one of Eleanor's precious corners or garden enclosures.”

“Perfect. Now I won't have to disturb your office routine,” I said, following in Sally Chertoff's wake as she wove a path around Eleanor's guests. I drained the last of my wine and deposited the empty glass on a passing server's tray.