"I haven't forgotten. I'm looking forward to talking to your former boss. But in the meantime—"
She let out a frustrated sigh. "You're incredibly stubborn."
"I can be. Sometimes that's how you get things done. You keep going after everyone quits."
She wished she didn't like his confidence so much or that she didn't find it so sexy and appealing. But she'd been around so many yes-men the past year that it was nice to meet someone who stood up for what he believed in. "My grandmother would have liked you," she said. "My mother's mother, not the one on the Mayan side." She stopped abruptly, realizing she'd just brought him back to her family.
"What was she like?"
"She was a no-nonsense woman, very strict, but also loving. She was around a lot after my dad died. I went a little off the rails, drank too much, stayed out too late, and dated some not-so-great men. My grades were falling. I was getting nowhere fast. I came home one night, and Grandma sat me down and said, 'Dani, here's the thing. If you don't stand up for something, you'll fall for anything. So stand up and be who you're supposed to be.'"
"Did it work?"
"It did," she admitted. "I think I needed someone to look me in the eye and tell me to suck it up and get on with my life. My mom couldn't do it. She was too conflicted, sad and angry, and as lost as I was." She let out a breath. "That's partly why I've been a little tough on my siblings. I feel like they need my grandmother's hard loving and she's not around anymore to give it, so maybe it's up to me."
"You can't force people to let go, Dani. They only let go when they're ready, when they want to."
"You can't force people to hang on, either."
"That's true. Basically, you can't force people to do anything they don't want to do."
"I don't know about that. I'm sitting in a car with you, and believe me, I didn't want to do that."
"Yes, but that's only because you didn't want me to come to your work, so you made a deal."
She had a feeling that the deal was a big mistake. She was supposed to be putting distance between herself and Patrick, but instead she was getting even closer to him.
"I think this is our exit," Patrick said suddenly.
She was glad he'd been paying attention, because she'd completely lost track of where they were and where they were going.
Joe Gelbman had retired to a town called Shady Side, located on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay and the West River in Maryland. It was a picturesque town with a small, charming downtown that offered art galleries, boutiques, and cafés. It was pretty but definitely too small for her taste. As they drove through the downtown, heading toward the water, the residential streets began to feel more rural with thick, green trees, and somewhat empty roads.
"Is Joe married?" Patrick asked.
"He was for about six or seven years when he was in his thirties. He never had any kids. He told me politics was his family. Actually, he told me his wife said politics was his family right before she asked for a divorce."
"Ouch."
"I'm sure she was right. Joe, like so many people in politics, worked very long hours and most weekends. I think he had other female relationships over the years, but he never walked down the aisle again. Now, he lives alone—as far as I know, anyway."
Patrick pulled up in front of a one-story, light-blue Cape Cod-style house with white shutters.
Dani got out of the car, happy to have arrived. The conversation had gotten a little too personal. She was ready to get back to Patrick's mystery. They walked up to the front door, and she put her finger on the bell.
Joe answered the door, wearing khakis and a white polo shirt. He was sixty-five years old with reddish-brown hair, a receding hairline and pale, freckled skin. His light-blue eyes sparkled as he gave her a friendly smile. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until this minute.
"Dani," he said opening up his arms.
"Hi, Joe." She gave him a hug. "Thanks for seeing us."
"As if I could ever say no to you."
"You've said no to me many times," she said with a laugh. "This is Patrick Kane, Joseph Gelbman."
"Come on in." Joe waved them inside. "As you can probably tell, my air conditioning is not working very well today, so I thought we'd sit out back. It's cool by the water. I get a nice breeze out there."
"That sounds good." They followed Joe down a narrow hallway, through a small tidy kitchen and finally out onto a brick patio. While there had been nothing special about the house, the view from the back deck of the West River flowing into the Chesapeake Bay was nothing short of magnificent.
"This is beautiful," she said, as they sat down under an umbrella at a round wooden table.
"Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade? Water? How about a cold beer? It is after five."
"I'll take a beer," Dani said.
"Make it two," Patrick added.
"Three beers coming up."
"This house and location seem like quite a change for a man who spent three decades roaming the halls of the Capitol building," Patrick mused.
"I guess he was ready for it. He definitely earned it."
Joe returned to the table with three bottles of beer and a bag of chips. "If anyone wants a glass, I can grab one," he offered.
"Bottles work for me," Patrick said.
"Yes, sit down," Dani encouraged. "We didn't come over so you could wait on us."
"Well, it's been awhile since I've had any visitors, so I don't mind the company. There's only so much bird watching and beach walking a man can do."
"Sounds like you're not as happy with retirement as you thought you would be," Dani said.
"It's been a big change, I must admit. How are things at the office? How's Raymond?"
Joe was one of the few people who called Senator Dillon by his first name. "It's busy as always. There are a lot of things to get done before the summer recess and the senator is in and out of the office with his big Fourth of July bash this weekend."
"Sure," he said with a nod. "Those were always fun. How's Erica?"
"She seems to be handling things well."
Joe gave her a knowing smile. "Very diplomatic. I know she's a little hard to warm up to, but she does know what she's doing."
"I keep telling myself that, but I miss you at the helm."
"Nice to be missed. So what can I help you with, Mr. Kane?"
"I have some questions about my mother, Jackie Kane. Dani said you knew her?"
"I actually consulted on your mother's first congressional campaign. She was a babe in the woods back then, but I could see she had a special something that voters would respond to. She was a working mom who understood her constituents, and they felt like she was one of them. It was a good match. She sailed to a surprisingly large victory. After that, I don't think she ever looked back." He paused, giving Patrick a thoughtful look. "What questions do you have about her that you can't ask your father or one of her friends?"
Patrick hesitated, then said, "It's recently been brought to my attention that there were some rumors about a possible love affair between my mother and Senator Stuart. Obviously, I don't want to ask my father about it, or any of my mother's friends. It's quite possible it's not at all true, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
"I heard that rumor," Joe said slowly. "Your mother and Owen were good friends. They worked together on legislation that they wanted to get passed, and there were some late nights. But were they having an affair?" He let the question hang in the air for a moment. "No, I don't think they were sleeping together, but I believe it's possible that there was something else going on between them."
"Like what?" Patrick asked.
"Owen called me into his office a couple of days before the plane crash. He was gearing up for his next campaign, and he wanted to hire me to run it. I was working for another senator at the time, and I told Owen I wasn't sure I wanted to leave. He said I should change my mind because he was working on something big. I asked him what he
meant, and he said he had some information that would make his career, establish him as a front-runner for president."
"What information?" Patrick asked.
"He wouldn't say. Frankly, it wasn't the first time Owen bragged about himself and his knowledge of something. I didn't think much of it. But after he died, I watched the investigation closely to see if anything would come out of it to give me a clue, but there was nothing."
"Do you think Patrick's mother was involved in whatever the senator was working on?" she interjected.
"They worked on a lot of joint projects," Joe replied. "If he had confided in anyone, it would have been her. Jackie was a good talker, but she was an even better listener. She made people feel like she cared about what they cared about. It was a good trait for someone in her position."
"She wasn't putting that on," Patrick said. "She did care about what people wanted. She had a big heart."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Patrick. I really am."
"Thanks. Did you know Owen's wife, Sandra?"
"Yes. She was a tightly wound, somewhat brittle, woman. She had a not-so-secret drinking problem, nothing necessitating rehab but enough of a habit for people to notice."
"Maybe she was drinking because her husband was cheating on her," she said.
Patrick shot her a dark look. "Let's not jump to conclusions."
"I didn't mean he was cheating with your mother. There could have been other women."
"Is Sandra the one who told you there was an affair?" Joe asked.
"No, it was her daughter Rebecca. My father built a park in my mother's honor, and I invited Rebecca to the opening. She was much more negative than I anticipated. In addition to the affair, she suggested that the plane crash wasn’t an accident."
"Based on what?"
"I wish I knew. I've called her a half dozen times since then to follow up, but she doesn't answer, and she doesn't call back. I haven't been able to reach her mother. I've also reached out to Senator Dillon, since he and Senator Stuart were college friends. I thought perhaps they were confidantes."
"And Raymond won't call you back, either," Joe said. "I can understand that. He got into office because Stuart died. He doesn't want there to be any hint of wrongdoing connected to that plane crash. It could put him in a bad position."
"Not if he has nothing to hide," Patrick said. "The man was his friend."
"Friends are sometimes dispensable. Voters are not," Joe said cynically.
Dani frowned. "I don't believe that. I don't think you do either, Joe."
Her mentor shrugged. "I've seen too many people turn on their friends to get what they want."
"But unless Senator Dillon put the plane down himself, I don’t understand what he's worried about," Patrick said. "I'm not trying to blame him for the crash. I just want to know if Stuart or my mother had enemies, if there was anyone motivated enough to take down their plane."
"If there was," Joe began, "then Senator Stuart was on to something big and probably your mother, too."
A shiver ran through Dani at Joe's words. She'd expected him to tell Patrick there was no way his mother's crash wasn't an accident, but he wasn't saying that at all.
"But Raymond won't talk to you," Joe continued. "Erica won't let him. He has nothing to gain and everything to lose. He's up for re-election next year. He has to watch every move now."
"Can you suggest someone else I should talk to?" Patrick asked. "I'm running into a lot of walls."
Joe thought for a moment. "You need someone lower on the food chain. Have you run through your mother's staff? I know Tory Coleman died in a car crash, but maybe there's someone else…"
"There's not," Patrick said. "No one who my mother would confide in."
"I loved Tory. She was a pistol. Sweet Southern gal but tough as nails," Joe said. "Let's see—Rico Montalvo was Stuart's press secretary. He got out of politics after Stuart died. He owns a taco bar in Alexandria now. You could try him. He was the front man for the senator. He might know where the skeletons were buried."
Patrick straightened in his chair, a new energy in his body. "Great. He's next. Anyone else?"
"Not off the top of my head. I'll think on it. While I'm doing that, you should also consider whether you really want to go down this path," Joe said. "What you find out may not make you sleep better at night. I liked your mother, and I don't want to think she ventured onto the wrong side of the street, but I've seen it happen too many times not to consider it a possibility. Money and power are addictive and corruptive. You never know what will make someone break. Trust me, I've been around that block many, many times."
"I respect your opinion," Patrick said. "But I don't believe my mother crossed any lines. She was a patriot. And she believed in the good in people."
"But not everyone is good—even when you want them to be."
"I have to take that risk. If there's something to know, I need to know it."
Joe nodded. "Then I'll wish you good luck."
"Thank you."
Joe turned back to her. "Now that I've asked Patrick to do some thinking, I'm going to suggest you do the same. This doesn't sound like your fight, Dani, and forgive me for meddling, but I can tell you right now that getting tangled up in Patrick's problems will not endear you to the senator or to Erica. If your career is as important to you as you've always told me it is, then you should drop this right now."
She sucked in a breath at his blunt words. "I understand what you're saying. I just wanted to help Patrick because…" Her voice drifted away. Why had she wanted to help Patrick? She glanced over at him, and his handsome face, sharp brown eyes, and beautiful mouth made her heart skip a beat. She couldn't tell Joe she wanted to help Patrick because she liked him, because she wanted to kiss him…
"Dani knows what I'm going through," Patrick cut in. "Because she lost a parent in a plane crash."
"Oh, that's right," Joe said. "I hadn't put that together until now."
She was grateful to Patrick for giving her a reason, but while Joe might accept and respect her motivation, she knew neither the senator nor Erica would feel the same way.
"Well then," Joe said. "I'll wish you both luck."
"I am getting out of this," she told Joe, as she got to her feet. "I just wanted to give Patrick a chance to talk to someone who might be able to help."
"I get it. I'll walk you out." He led them back through the house. At the front door, he said, "I would offer to barbecue for you, but I'm pretty sure you're going for tacos."
"Good guess," Patrick said. "Thanks again for the help."
"No problem. You two watch your backs. In DC, you never know who's watching or who's listening."
Seven
Rico's Tacos was a trendy restaurant in downtown Alexandria, Virginia, just across the Potomac from Washington DC. When they arrived a little before eight, the small restaurant was crowded, but they were able to snag a table.
"Montalvo does a good business," Patrick said, as they settled into their seats.
She nodded in agreement. "I looked up the reviews on the way over here. They have a solid four-and-a-half star rating with over two thousand reviews." She glanced at the menu. "A lot of those reviews raved about the shrimp tacos. But look at all the other choices: pork, chicken, beef, vegetarian…"
"You're sounding hungry," Patrick teased.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm sure you heard my stomach rumbling in the car."
"I must admit I'm happy Rico owns a restaurant and not a gym or a dry-cleaner."
"A dry cleaner?" she echoed with a laugh.
"You know what I mean—any place that doesn't sell food."
"Yes, I get it, and I'm happy, too. I think we should order the assorted platter to share."
"That works for me. And maybe a margarita to wash them down."
She nodded, thinking a cool, icy margarita would taste pretty good. "You were quiet on the drive over here."
"Just thinking about what Joe told us."
> "I'm surprised that would take an hour. He didn't say that much."
"You weren't talking, either," he pointed out.
She shrugged. "I guess I had a few things to think about as well."
"Like why you're still helping me?"
"It is a concern. I don't want to lose my job, Patrick."
"I can't see why you would, but we made a deal, so I won't ask you for any more favors."
His words should have made her happy, but for some reason they didn't.
A waiter came over to take their order. "What can I get you?" he asked.
"We'd like to get the assorted taco platter to share," Dani said. "And I'll take a strawberry margarita."
"Make mine a regular margarita," Patrick put in. "No salt. Also, we were wondering if Rico Montalvo is here."
"He's in the back," the waiter said.
"Would you ask him if he has a moment to speak to us? It's important."
"Sure, I'll tell him," the waiter said, as he took their menus.
"He didn't even ask us who we were or what we wanted," Dani said.
Patrick smiled. "He doesn't care. I learned a long time ago that it's easy to lose perspective when you're deep in investigating something. You think everyone and everything around you is part of it, and you forget there's a normal world going on."
That was probably true. Since she'd rescued Patrick, she hadn't been able to think about anything or anyone else.
The waiter set down their drinks and told them that Mr. Montalvo would be with them shortly. She sipped her strawberry margarita with eager delight, happy at the fruity slide of icy liquid down her throat. "This hits the spot."
"Can you even taste the alcohol?"
"No, but that's fine. These days I need to be very aware of who I'm talking to and what I'm talking about at all times."
"Sounds a bit dull."
"But necessary. And it's not all dull. I get to go to some cool parties. There's one tomorrow night, in fact—a gala at the Dunsmuir Hotel."
"Really? Who gets to go to that?"
"All the power players."
"Senator Dillon?"
She saw the gleam in his eyes. "You're not going, Patrick."
Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3) Page 8
