Whispers and Lies

by Diane Pershing

  DeWitt raised an eyebrow and managed to look surprised, as though he hadn’t thought it through. After a quick glance at his watch, he nodded. “Thanks. I think I will. Just for five minutes or so.”

  Will and Lou had been seated at a booth across from each other, so after Will slid over, the senator sat next to him, facing Lou.

  “I’ve always admired veterinarians,” he told her, signaling one of the waiters, who came rushing right over. “Dewar’s, straight up,” he told him, then turned his attention back to Lou. “We have a nice spread, my family and I. Got some horses, three old dogs, a couple of puppies and way too many cats to keep track of.”

  “A real animal family,” she said warmly. “I approve.”

  He nodded. “My wife and I think caring for animals is an important part of raising children. Teaches them a sense of responsibility, doing something even when you don’t want to or don’t feel like it.”

  “I agree. It’s an early lesson that the world doesn’t revolve solely around us, and that there are other living creatures who need to be cared for.”

  “Exactly.”

  His drink arrived—extra-fast service for a senator as powerful as the one at the table with them. He downed half of it, then set the glass down.

  Will sat back and watched as Lou and DeWitt chatted some more, observed DeWitt turning on all his charm for her. While he had no doubt that everything the senator was saying was the truth, like all politicians, the man probably had another—or more than one—agenda in being here and captivating Lou.

  He decided to find out what it was.

  “Tell me, Senator. Does Lou remind you of anyone?”

  DeWitt turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s funny,” Will said easily. “I met your niece Gretchen a while back, and the minute I saw Lou last week when I went back home, I thought the resemblance between the two of them was uncanny. Do you agree?”

  He could tell by the small muscle that twitched a couple of times in the senator’s jaw that he’d caught him off guard. Still, he did a fine job of seeming to be surprised by Will’s question and then turning to study Lou.

  Slowly he nodded his head. “You know, Will, now that you mention it she does look a bit like Gretchen.” He smiled at the object of his interest. “Tell me, did you always hate the red hair and freckles while you were growing up? I know Gretchen did.”

  Lou, who had obviously been taken aback by the sudden change of topic, recovered quickly and responded with a rueful grin. “Yes. People call you all kinds of awful names.”

  “That they do.” He patted his thick, beautiful silver hair. “My brother and I used to have similar color hair, you know. And the kids called us Red and Archie and Carrottop. We sure didn’t like it, neither of us, not one bit,” he said with a chuckle, then knocked back the rest of his drink and signaled to the waiter for another.

  Will wasn’t to be deterred. “Tell me something, Senator. Are you sure your brother never mentioned having an out-of-wedlock child over thirty years ago?”

  Now the older man slanted Will a look that said he was no longer amused. “Are we on the record now, Will? Are you using this little chance meeting of ours as an excuse to interview me?”

  “Was it a chance meeting, Senator? After all, you’re the one who joined us.”

  “Well then, on the record and off, the answer is, I did not know then and still do not know anything about Lincoln having an out-of-wedlock child. And, from your questions, I take it you think that child is the charming lady sitting across from us?”

  “That’s exactly what he does mean,” Lou said. “We’ve been looking into my background, and your brother’s name has come up too often to be a coincidence.”

  “I see.”

  As DeWitt frowned thoughtfully, Will pursued. “One more time—a woman named Rita Conlon was in your employ back then and you previously denied knowing the name. Are you still saying that?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not saying she wasn’t on the payroll, mind you, only that I’ve had a lot of people on my payroll over the years, and if I remembered all their names, I’d have to have a brain like a computer, which I do not. I don’t handle personnel.”

  “Who did, back then?”

  “I honestly can’t remember, Will, but if you insist, I’ll try to find out. Would that please you?”

  “It would help. Would the fact that Rita Conlon’s job was being a nurse/nanny shake up your memory at all? I mean, it’s not likely you would have had a lot of nannies on your payroll. When Lincoln saw her picture, he remembered her right away. We can only infer that it was Lincoln who had needed the services of a nurse/nanny back then. Are you sure your brother never mentioned a thing about it?”

  After a moment, the senator angled his body to face Will. “All right. I’ll answer that, but it’s going to have to be off the record. This is just for background, Will.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “You got it.”

  The drink came, and this time DeWitt downed the whole thing in one fell swoop. Then he spoke. “Yes, I know the name Rita Conlon. I’ve been trying to protect Linc.”

  “From what?”

  “His past.” He shifted his gaze back and forth between Will and Lou as he went on. “There were a few years back then, after ’Nam, where he was—” he sighed deeply “—I guess you could say out of his mind. He was drinking, doing drugs and God knows what else, and he did a lot of crazy things, things he could still get in trouble for. He was married to another woman, a wealthy woman from a prominent family. My political career was just beginning. All of it had to be hushed up.”

  “That was then, Senator. Nowadays, that kind of thing is common. It’s ancient history. The public knows you and your brother are separate people. They even have sympathy for you, having to put up with Lincoln and his escapades all these years. Why are you covering up now?”

  A look of pain crossed the older man’s face before he said quietly, “Because Linc asked me to. After he saw that woman’s picture in your hometown paper, he called me and said he was scared. The woman seemed familiar, but he couldn’t recall why.” He took in a breath and blew it out. “All his life, he’s asked me to clean up his messes, and he did it this time, too. And all our lives I’ve done it.” Spreading his broad hands, he asked, “Am I wrong? Maybe. But he’s my brother and I love him. So I initiated an investigation into just who the woman was and what connection she had to Lincoln.”

  Lou spoke up for the first time. “Did that investigation include breaking into my house?”

  “It did not,” DeWitt said emphatically, “although I take full responsibility for it. After Lincoln’s phone call, I referred the matter to my aide, Bert Schmidt, who decided direct contact with you might lead to unnecessary complications—paternity claims, publicity, selling your story to the tabloids, that kind of thing.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “Now that I’ve met you, I’m confident you wouldn’t. But that’s Bert’s job—prevention first, putting out fires next. He hired an investigator who did a thorough search on the woman known as Janice McAndrews. That investigator took it upon himself, without Bert’s knowledge, to search your house for any incriminating documents left behind by your mother.”

  “Incriminating documents?” Lou asked.

  “Love letters, birth certificates, a journal. Anything that might tie Linc to that one incident in his past. Again, it was only a fishing expedition.”

  “Well, I didn’t appreciate it,” she said coldly.

  The senator held up his hands. “And I don’t blame y—”

  At that moment, Lou’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the readout, punched a button and said, “Yes?” She listened for a moment, then said, “Hold on.” Sliding out from the table and rising, she explained, “Emergency at the clinic. I hate people who talk on cell phones in restaurants. I’ll take it outside.”

  With that, she headed toward the exit.

  “Whatever
you say, Senator, breaking and entering seems somewhat extreme,” Will began, but was stopped short by the expression on DeWitt’s face. The older man’s gaze was trained on Lou as she made her way through the crowded restaurant toward the door. He seemed troubled, but more than that, deeply and profoundly remorseful.

  Suddenly, his reporter’s intuition operating at warp speed, Will got it. “She’s your daughter, not Lincoln’s, isn’t she?” he asked softly.

  DeWitt didn’t have to reply and in that moment, it all fell into place. The reason why drastic measures had been taken to discourage any inquiry into the woman known as Janice McAndrews: A United States senator with an illegitimate daughter from his past, one conceived during his marriage but that his most-likely-infertile wife had no knowledge of. If there was any proof of this, anything official or in writing, would it be incriminating? You betcha.

  DeWitt closed his eyes for brief moment, and despite Will’s years of learning to be an objective seeker of the truth, hopefully without judgment or emotional involvement, a wave of sympathy swept over him. It was obvious that this thing was hitting the senator hard, had probably been a source of pain for these past thirty-odd years. A child of his own flesh—the only one, most likely—and he couldn’t recognize her, talk to her, claim her as his own.

  Still… “This whole story you’ve been telling us, it hasn’t been about Lincoln, but about yourself. Right?”

  After opening his eyes again, DeWitt slanted Will a back-to-business look. “We’re still off the record here?”

  Will nodded his head. “For now. Yes.”

  “You mention this to anyone,” the senator said, his expression now steely resolution, “to the lady who just walked outside, you do that, and what I do back won’t be pretty.”

  “You threatening me, Senator?”

  “Just letting you know how it is. I will not have my wife, my children, exposed to this kind of scandal. In fact, I’d take it as a personal favor to me, Will, if you’d let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Will didn’t bother answering. Asking a reporter to back off was like asking that very same sleeping dog to ignore a bitch in heat. Totally unnatural, not to mention counterproductive.

  DeWitt studied him and his nonanswer. “No go, huh?”

  “I can only say that whatever you tell me will never see the light of day as coming from you, unless you so choose to release the information yourself, through me. Which, by the way, might be better all around.”

  “But it will have to come out.”

  “Most likely.”

  “I see.” DeWitt’s jaw muscles clenched and unclenched a few times before he said, “Okay, man-to-man this time. Yes, Dr. McAndrews is my daughter. She is the only child of my flesh, the result of the one and only time I was unfaithful to my wife, during a difficult period in our marriage. And that is not to go outside this conversation. Not yet.”

  “I’d like to tell Lou who her father is.”

  “That’s my job, don’t you think? But I have to prepare my wife first. She hasn’t been well, you know, and this will…” He paused, shook his head. “Dammit. Can’t we just ignore this whole thing?”

  At the look of distress on the senator’s face, Will realized once again that this was not his favorite part of the job. Sure, the American people deserved the truth—and he truly believed it was the sacred duty of sincere journalists to act as a check on the excesses of government—but sometimes he had to wonder just where the line was drawn. Did this cross it? Had he and Lou indeed opened a Pandora’s box that would have been best left closed?

  “I wish I could,” Will said. “If I judge what can and cannot be told to the American public, then that’s playing God, and I’m not real comfortable in the role.”

  DeWitt’s smile was cynical. “And putting aside all that lofty sentiment, you’re on the verge of a big story now, aren’t you, Will? Not something you mind in the least.”

  He nodded. “Agreed. And by the way,” he tossed off casually, “let me get this straight. All those years back, your mistress was Rita Conlon, right?”

  “Yes,” the senator told him. “Rita was the mother. She took the child and went off. Frankly, at the time I was grateful she did, even though I know that doesn’t sound very responsible. I’ve thought about that baby over the years, even tried—unsuccessfully—to find her a couple of times. But that was a long time ago.”

  All of Will’s doubts about bringing grief to the senator and his family vanished in a puff of smoke. The man was lying. Again.

  If their information about Janice/Rita’s hysterectomy was correct, he might have had an affair with Rita Conlon, but he sure hadn’t fathered a child with her.

  So, Senator Jackson DeWitt, for all his charm and sincerity, his many good deeds, was just like most politicians. He had no trouble fabricating stories, even at others’ expense. Before confronting him again, Will would now be focusing on just how deep the senator’s lies went.

  Adrenaline rushed through him and his insides were buzzing. He was on the cusp of a big story, a possible front-pager, and he couldn’t wait to dig into it.

  DeWitt stood, rotated his head for a moment, as though trying to expel tension. “I need to go. I’ll be contacting your…Lou in a couple of days. Please tell her it was a pleasure to meet her.”

  As he walked away, Will stood and grabbed his arm. “One last thing.”

  Annoyed, DeWitt turned around and snapped, “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Do you know where Lincoln is right now? His friends are beginning to get concerned.”

  One eyebrow raised in skepticism. “And you’re one of his friends?”

  “I like him—you can’t help it.”

  The cynical expression left DeWitt’s face. “Yes, I know. My brother is the most likable SOB I’ve ever known. And the answer is no, I do not. And although my brother often takes off for long periods of time, I’m beginning to worry, too.”

  Will wondered if he should believe this last statement. The man was a consummate liar. Had something happened to Linc? Had the senator arranged for something to happen to him?

  DeWitt said, “Tell Dr. McAndrews that I will pay for any damages to her home and to please send me a bill.” And with that, he strode off, waving and smiling at someone at the other end of the restaurant.

  When Lou returned to the table, the senator was gone and Will was scribbling notes in his ever-present reporter’s pad. “Crisis averted,” she said with a smile. “Did you know that the most effective bandage for an injured snake is a condom?”

  Will looked up from his writing. “Excuse me?”

  “They adhere beautifully to all things cylindrical and can be guaranteed not to slip off.”

  As Will chuckled, Lou looked around. “Will the senator be back?”

  He shook his head and went back to writing furiously. “He had to take off.”

  “Oh.” She felt deeply disappointed. “But I wanted to ask him some questions. Like if he knew where and who my mother was? And maybe get some family history, stuff about Lincoln. Weird as this is, he’s the first actual person I’ve met that’s related to me by blood.”

  Will looked up again; his face was solemn as he nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Look, why don’t you sit down? Our dinners will be here soon.”

  As she resumed her seat, she sensed something in his mood, something off. “What is it, Will?”

  “Nothing, really. And everything. I mean, this whole thing is puzzling. There’re still a hell of a lot of loose ends, and I hate that. I need to get to the source.”

  “Lincoln, huh.”

  He hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. “Lincoln for sure. But I’m starting to get that there are more layers, others involved. I need to expand this investigation.”

  Her spirits plummeted. “And I’m keeping you from your work.”

  “What?”

  “My presence, it’s an interference. Maybe I ought to go home tomorrow instead of Wednesday.”

  “No. I didn�
�t mean that.”

  “But shouldn’t you be on some kind of schedule?”

  He took her hand, smiled into her eyes. “You are my schedule.”

  “Oh, Will,” she said happily, spirits restored. “That’s just about the sweetest thing you’ve said yet.”

  “Honeyed words, for sure,” he said wryly. “Look, yes, I have work to do, but I want you here. We’ll work around it.”

  She rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. “I’ll just bet the senator knows more than he’s telling.”

  “Hey, he’s a senator, isn’t he?”

  “But a pretty charming one.”

  “That he is.”

  “And he seems sincere.” A quick look of discomfort crossed his face, then it was gone. “What, Will?”

  He shrugged. “They all seem sincere, Lou, that’s the thing. But it’s hard to get to a position of power like a United States senator without compromising, telling some falsehoods, manipulating people, doing backroom deals. I mean, insofar as the breed goes, DeWitt may be one of the more honest ones. It’s all relative.”

  “Well, I know that. In person, though, it’s easy to forget that. He has a very strong, charismatic personality.”

  “That he does,” Will said, at which point their dinners were served. Lou realized she was famished, so she dug in with enthusiasm.

  Tuesday morning, when Will checked in with Harry, the investigator said he was working on a few leads and hoped to have something by the end of the day. After that, Will proposed another round of sightseeing, which Lou felt was a way to distract her. She told him she could get around by herself and he was to work, but he declined, saying he still needed the information from Harry before going on.

  There truly was so very much to see in the nation’s capital. After standing in awe at the Lincoln Memorial, they hit some of the many museums on the Mall—the Hirschhorn, the Corcoran—and took in a couple of the buildings in the massive Smithsonian complex. Outside the National was a beautiful sculpture garden with a fountain in the middle. They sat there at a café, sipped coffee, talked.

  Lou was becoming spoiled. Even with all the emotional upheaval of the past few days, she was enjoying herself way too much. Being with Will felt so right. There was that ease of conversation between them, brains that worked at a similar speed, mutual appreciation of each other’s sense of humor.