“What was that group again?”
“It’s a high-level policy think tank called the Epsilon Group. Emphasis on international finance. They give a lot of speeches around the country.” An idea came to me as I stepped around a large sidewalk planter full of tulips. “I was going to attend one of their presentations next week. Would you like to come with me? It’s at Dumbarton Oaks on Tuesday. It’ll be a pretty setting at least, even if the speech is dry.”
Danny grinned. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Only if we can have dinner afterwards. If it’s like most of those affairs, it’ll be mediocre wines and dry appetizers. International finance or no, we can do better than that.”
He paused right below the busy intersection of M Street and 31st. Reaching into his small pack again, he withdrew two small water bottles, offering me one. I gratefully accepted and drained it while watching the crowds walk by.
It was Friday night and everyone was out, heading to restaurants and cafes. And they looked way better than Danny and I did in our sweaty workout clothes and our healthy sheens. Even the tourists were starting to stare at us.
“I’m sorry I messed up your plans for tonight. You probably had another great café already reserved, and then I called and asked you to go running instead.”
“That’s okay. The café will wait.” He drained his bottle. “Besides, it sounded like you needed to talk.”
“Well, you’re right about that. Running always helps me sort through things when I’m worrying. And it helped to bounce this stuff off you, too. You’re a good sounding board.”
“Anytime, Molly.” Then he motioned me through the tourists and locals and headed toward the curb, arm outstretched. He signaled a taxi. “C’mon, let’s go to dinner.”
I stared at him perplexed. “We can’t go to a restaurant looking like this.”
“Sure we can. We’re having dinner with the tourists along the Mall. Burgers and brats from a truck, cold drinks, ice cream on a stick. Gourmet fare.” He motioned an approaching taxi to a stop in front of us.
“Well, at least we’ll fit in,” I said with a laugh as he opened the door.
“When’s the last time you ate hot dogs on the Mall, Molly?” he asked, climbing in after me.
“It’s been years.”
“Okay. Let’s start where most of the tourists are. Lots of food trucks there. Washington Monument, please,” he said to the cabbie.
_____
“She’s persistent, I’ll say that,” Larry Fillmore said into his cell phone as he drove through early evening traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue. “And cleverer than most.”
“Too clever,” the man’s deep voice replied. “And she’s much too curious. We don’t want her stumbling across information she shouldn’t. Especially since we think she’s talking.”
“What’re you going to do?” Larry paused at a traffic signal. The gleaming white Capitol building lay straight ahead, the tip of the Pennsylvania Avenue arrow.
“First, we need to find out exactly how much she knows. And who she’s talking to. Then we’ll turn up the heat.”
Larry continued down the avenue. “Let me know what you want me to do.”
“Count on it,” the man said before he clicked off.
Fourteen
I let my gaze drift over the beauty of Dumbarton Oaks gardens while I sipped my wine. They were as lovely as I remembered. Towering oak trees shaded the manicured grounds. Dave and I had attended a reception here for one of the organizations he supported. It was a fundraiser for the nonprofit’s scholarship fund.
“That last mushroom canapé was about as dry as Ambassador Holmberg’s speech,” Danny observed beside me.
“I think I’ve heard as much as I can stand about global financial initiatives.” I sipped the mediocre Chardonnay.
“Holmberg did make some good points,” Danny added. “Developing nations’ populations and competition for global natural resources. That’s a ticking time bomb.”
“I agree. But I could have absorbed more if he wasn’t such a monotone.” I leaned against the stone balustrade that bordered the stairway where we stood overlooking the gardens.
Danny frowned at his wineglass. “We can definitely do better.”
“Well, at least we look better than we did the other night at the Mall.”
“You’re forgetting Sunday’s brunch. Thanks again for inviting me to your cousin’s. I take it I was brought over for family inspection.”
I grinned. “You might say that. And you impressed the locals, which is definitely a plus.”
“I aim to please.”
I was about to follow up on that comment, but my eye caught a familiar face among the crowds below. Jed Molinoff. I pushed away from the balustrade, the better to watch him.
“Okay, Molly. You’re tracking somebody. Who is it?”
“Jed Molinoff,” I said, stepping around another couple who were admiring the view. “I spotted him walking across the lawn. I bet he’s here because of Holmberg.”
I looked around the clusters of people mingling below until I spotted Jed again. He was talking to a shorter bald man, gesturing and smiling. Then, with a nod, Jed was on the move again. Weaving his way toward a larger cluster of people that had formed around the evening’s speaker, Ambassador Holmberg.
“There he is, moving in on Holmberg.” I pointed as I started down the steps. Seeing Jed Molinoff was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. The anger and resentment I still felt for Karen’s boss was never far below the surface.
Danny caught up with me as I hurried down the rest of the steps. “We’re on a surveillance mission, I take it. Target Molinoff ?”
“Yeah, I want to see who he talks to.” I began to weave around the clusters of attendees who were chowing down on the dry appetizers like it was their last meal. Some people will eat anything.
“Just one question. Why?”
Pausing near the outer ring of people surrounding Jed and the Ambassador, I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not really sure, Danny. Maybe because seeing Jed reminds me he’s the reason Karen was outside in her car that night when a vicious thug came trolling for prey. He’s partially responsible in my book, and I’m angry.” I looked over the heads blocking my view of Jed and companions. “I’m also mad because he sent his office creep to spy on Celeste. Maybe I just want to turn the tables and spy on him. See how he likes being watched.”
“That sounds more like surveil and harass. Sure you want to do that, Molly?”
Surveil and harass. That had a nice ring to it. “Yeah. I do. Let’s see how spineless Jed handles being ‘surveiled.’ Is that the right word?”
“Close. Sounds like you don’t care if you make him mad.”
I gave a derisive snort. “Jed Molinoff’s a coward. I scowled at him once at the senator’s reception, and he hightailed it from the room. You should have seen him when Casey told him to back off with Karen. Jed took one look at Casey and went white as a sheet. In the words of my old friend, the Washington sage, he’s a ‘little prick.’”
Danny laughed softly. “Okay. I got the picture. Mission, surveil and harass. Target, spineless coward. May I make a tactical suggestion?” He pointed to the mezzanine behind us that jutted out right above where Ambassador Holmberg was holding forth with Jed and others. “We need to reclaim the high ground for this mission. Just a suggestion.”
I glanced at the balcony. We’d have a great view of Jed and company and—more importantly—he’d have a great view of us watching him. Perfect.
“Excellent suggestion. I’ll bet you’ve done this before.”
“Once or twice.”
“Okaaaay, lead the way, squad leader. Or whatever I call you.”
“That’ll work.
” He guided me by the elbow to the stairs where we stationed ourselves on the balcony.
Glancing over the crowd below, I saw that Jed had indeed sidled up beside Ambassador Holmberg, face showing rapt attention. Hanging on to every monotone word Holmberg uttered. Standing beside Jed in the packed circle was a shorter dark-haired man with a high forehead that was fast receding into his hairline. He’d be bald within a few years. He looked familiar. I searched through my memory for the pictures of congressional staff I’d perused online. That had to be Larry Fillmore. Dark hair, pale skin, intense expression.
“You’ve spotted someone else,” Danny said as he stood beside me with his back to the crowd below. He leaned against the stone wall, watching me as I watched the crowd.
“How could you tell?” I said, still watching.
“Your line of sight shifted ever so slightly. Who is it?”
“Gotta be Larry Fillmore, the creep who’s bothering Celeste. He matches the photo I saw in the congressional staff directory.”
Danny glanced over his shoulder, checking the crowd. “Good job, corporal.”
“Did I just get a promotion? I thought the starting point was as a private.”
He gave a mocking scowl. “You’re in the Marines, not Army. Stick with me, and you’ll move through the ranks. Field promotions.”
Danny’s joking manner made me laugh, which felt good. I noticed that the cluster of people around Holmberg started laughing too, so the ambassador must have made a joke. Jed threw back his head as he laughed, and in so doing, he looked up. Jed froze the moment his gaze landed on me. His smile crumbled.
“Target acquired,” I said, as I glared down, watching with great pleasure as Jed’s face drained of color.
I lifted my glass toward Jed, then flipped the remaining wine into the planter below in a contemptuous gesture. Jed blinked and backed away from the ambassador.
“That’s right. Run away, you coward.”
I noticed Larry Fillmore ease away from the ambassador as well, following after Jed. Watching Jed confer with Larry Fillmore, I crossed my arms and kept staring at him with a scornful expression. I must have looked for all the world like a scolding wife spotting her errant husband with another woman.
Danny glanced over his shoulder and chuckled deep in his throat. “You can let up on him now, Molly. He’s in retreat.”
“No way. I got him on the run. He’s calling for backup.”
Larry Fillmore glanced my way. I glared back, noticing Fillmore didn’t even blink. He simply smirked up at me. His expression did change, however, when Danny looked their way. Fillmore and Jed both scuttled away like sewer rats.
“Mission accomplished,” Danny announced. “Spineless coward fled the field, tail between his legs. That’s one helluva scowl you’ve got there, corporal. Weapons grade. I think I’d better promote you before you turn it on me.”
Once again, Danny’s humor caused the tension of the last few moments to evaporate. I felt myself relax as I laughed and leaned against the stone balustrade. “Boy, I never knew it was this easy to advance in rank. I should have joined the Marines rather than wasting my weapons-grade scowl on politicians all these years.”
“Feel better?”
I released a huge sigh and glanced at Ambassador Holmberg mingling with the crowd below, still holding forth. “Yeah, I do. I know that sounds petty, but I can’t help it. I wanted Jed to know what I think of him.”
Danny was looking at me with a smile as he leaned against the balustrade. “I think he got your message loud and clear.”
“Thanks for going along with me on this mission. Weird as it was.”
“I’ll ride shotgun for you anytime, Molly. I’ve had some moments or two of vengeance myself. Now that the mission is accomplished, what do you say we ditch this place and head to a real restaurant? There’s a place in Adams-Morgan I want to show you. I think you’ll …”
I didn’t hear Danny’s restaurant description. In fact, I missed everything after “shotgun.” I’d caught sight of Larry Fillmore leading a tall broad-shouldered man up to Ambassador Holmberg. No need for the congressional online directory. This face I remembered. I’d never been able to forget it no matter how hard I’d tried. Long-buried memories seared through me, burning as hot as yesteryear. I sank into the flames until Danny’s voice called me back.
“Molly? Are you there?”
I snapped awake and the past slithered back into the bushes. “Uh, sorry …” My gaze darted from Danny back to the scene below.
Danny studied me for a long minute before speaking. “The last time someone looked at me like that, he had a knife in his hand.”
I kept staring below, unable to stop.
“Who the hell is that, Molly? I figure it’s gotta be the older silver-haired guy talking with Fillmore and the ambassador.”
I took a deep breath before answering. “Congressman Edward Ryker of Montana.”
Danny stared below. “So that’s Ryker? He’s been here forever. Over thirty years, I think.”
“Thirty-two.”
“Isn’t he chairman of the House Financial Services Committee?”
I watched Ryker smile his oily smile and grab Holmberg’s elbow as they all laughed. Fillmore laughed, too.
“Yes, the Ranking Majority Member.” I paused, wondering how to phrase what I had to say next, then decided to just spit it out. “And the man responsible for my husband’s death. He may not have fired the bullet into Dave’s brain, but he might as well have.”
This time, Danny studied me for only a second. “You’re going to have to explain that to me on the way to dinner. Let’s get out of here.” He extended his arm and I took it, then turned my back on the reminders of my past and walked away.
_____
Danny poured the remaining Pinot Noir into my glass, then his own. “So there was never any way to prove Ryker was taking bribes.”
“Never.” I ran my finger around the rim of my wineglass. “Ryker was careful not to leave any traceable connection to the mining companies. No phone messages. No letters. There was never proof, only allegations. Rumors. Some former employees were brave enough to talk to Dave, but they were afraid to go public.” I took another big sip. “Dave confronted Ryker in the House corridor once, and that really pissed him off. Dave said there was steam coming out of Ryker’s ears. Of course, that was the final straw for Ryker. After that confrontation, the newspaper attacks picked up. The Colorado papers ran articles practically every week. All of it smears and innuendoes and lies against Dave.”
Some of those memory fragments floated past my eyes, and I brushed them away. “They insinuated Dave took bribes and payoffs for his votes. Lies, all of it. David Grayson never sold his vote for anything or anyone. Ryker paid that Grand Junction developer to lie. Gossip had it he retired from real estate two years after Dave’s death.” I ran my fingernail down the linen tablecloth seam. “Of course, after Dave’s death there was this orgy of apologies and soul-searching in the newspapers, hand-wringing over whether their accusations had led to his despair and suicide. Bastards.” I flicked a crumb of French bread from the tablecloth. “Of course, the opposition kept spewing out their lies, emboldened by Dave’s suicide. They said it ‘proved’ his guilt.”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my feelings from showing on my face. I deliberately hadn’t let these thoughts and memories course though me for years. They had a power of their own and had kept me in their thrall years ago. Too long. It had taken concentrated effort to break their hold. I didn’t want to go under again.
“That must have been hard. Listening to all that.”
I didn’t look up. I knew what Danny was doing. He was watching me intently, listening and barely saying a word. “Ohhhhhh, yeah.”
“You wanted to fight back, didn’t you?”
> That question surprised me, and I glanced up. Disarmed by his perceptiveness, I answered honestly. “It still shows, huh?” I shook my head. “Damn.”
“I’ve been there, Molly, so I recognize it.”
“I wanted Dave to fight back in the press. Name names. Hit Ryker where it would hurt.”
“That’s because you’re a fighter, Molly, like your father.”
“Damn right.” I allowed some of the forgotten passion of yesteryear to fill my voice. “Ryker was the one covering up his corruption. Dave had refused to go along with Ryker’s lead on the House committee on mineral resources once he discovered Ryker was being paid off by the mining industry execs. They wanted to insert language into the bills that gave them preferential drilling rights. Unfortunately, Dave couldn’t go to the press without any proof. I understood that. What I couldn’t understand was why he didn’t try to counter those malicious lies Ryker spread in the Colorado newspapers. He kept saying his record would speak for itself. But that just played into Ryker’s hands. He saw Dave’s actions as weakness, and he went in for the kill.”
Danny was quiet for a moment. “Some people aren’t fighters, Molly. They don’t have the killer instinct.”
I sipped my wine, letting the velvety-smooth finish roll on my tongue. I stared out the window onto Connecticut Avenue, watching traffic pass by. “Dave was smart and passionate about helping others. There wasn’t a dishonest or deceptive bone in his body. Bringing him to Washington was like leading a lamb to the slaughter. I’ve come to see that now. I guess my old friend is right. She says the good die young and leave the rest of us to clean up the mess.”
Danny gave a crooked smile and watched me sip my wine for a minute. Then he asked softly, “Have you forgiven him yet?”
Whoa. Danny’s perceptiveness was downright spooky. But since I’d had a fair amount of Pinot Noir with only soup and salad to soak it up, I looked at him, completely open.
Deadly Politics (A Molly Malone Mystery) Page 17
