“He must have a lot of faith in you.”
Bressler shrugged in a self-effacing way. “I’ve been with him since the get-go. Managed his first campaign for Oklahoma County DA, and every campaign since. Even after a traffic accident seven years ago did this to me.” He gestured toward his useless legs.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said quietly.
“Don’t be, son. Hasn’t slowed me down a bit. I still work as hard for Todd as I ever did-maybe more. I think it would be fair to say he has a lot of faith in me. And I have a lot of faith in him.” He pursed his thin lips. “Which makes these recent developments all the more distressing.”
“Senator Glancy called me yesterday,” Ben said. “He’s concerned about a possible legal action. Maybe a sexual harassment suit, since Ms. Cooper did work under him.”
“There’s also a possibility of censure from the floor of the Senate. Even possible expulsion. He’s going to need some astute legal advice.” Bressler rolled in even closer. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t want him to call you in. You or your partner.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing personal, son. But this is serious business. He needs the best there is, not some chum from law school. But then I started doing a little research on you. Even read one of your books last night. You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
Ben felt his face burning. He was never good at accepting compliments and always changed the subject as quickly as possible. “Well, thanks, but if you want to hire other counsel-”
“Let me finish, son. What Todd told me was that he thought it was important that we hire an Oklahoman-not some fancy-pants DC or New York City lawyer-and that he thought you had one of the best, if not the best, reputations of any lawyer in the state.”
Christina’s eyes brightened.
“And I’m not just talking about your win-loss record, although that’s pretty damn impressive. I’m talking about your personal reputation. I talked to folks, and what I got over and over was that Ben Kincaid was a man with integrity. A man who wouldn’t lie to or mislead the court, not even to defend a client. The world’s most square-shooting geek. A veritable saint.”
Ben shuffled his feet. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”
“I hope not, son. Because a saint is exactly what we need right now. The news media is going to forget all the good Todd has done for the poor, the homeless, battered women, since he came to Washington. They’re going to try to make him out like he’s a devil. And who better to convince them that he’s not-than a saint?”
Ben tugged at his collar. All this beatific talk was making him uncomfortable. He just tried to do his job as well as he could. He was no saint. Heck, once, when he was ten, he stole a comic book from Crest Groceries.
“So,” Christina interjected, “can we see the senator?”
“Of course. You folk need to have a good chin-wag about how he can best defend himself. He’s waiting for you now in one of the Senate cafeterias.”
“Really?” Ben arched an eyebrow. “That must be…”
“Awkward? Not for Todd. Ballsiest man who ever lived. I think he wanted to do it as a test. See who would sit with him, talk to him. And see who was distancing themselves, shunning him, acting as if he’s already been expunged. A senator needs to know who his friends are. Especially in times of crisis.” He pivoted his chair toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”
“Oh-let me.” Ben raced around behind the wheelchair to help-but found there were no handles. “Aren’t there usually…”
“Not on my chair, son.”
“I’m surprised they make them-”
“They don’t. This one was custom-built for me. The senator’s wife, Marie, had it designed and paid for it herself. Birthday present, not six months after my accident. Special executive edition. See? A sliding tray I can fold across to use as a desk. A compartment under the armrest for holding documents and files.”
Ben pointed to a recess at the end of the right arm. “Even a cup holder.”
Bressler shook his head. “Cell phone charger.”
“Okay, now I’m impressed. But still-no handles?”
“I don’t need anyone to push me. I push myself.”
“I didn’t mean any offense. Usually-”
“I know, son. But I’ve taken care of myself all my life. Not going to stop now just because of this little accident. Now let’s get to that cafeteria. I think I can smell the bean soup from here.”
3
H e wasn’t hiding, not at all. Ben had to give him credit for that. To the contrary, Senator Glancy was sitting alone at a table square in the center of the main Senate Dining Room, a linen napkin in his lap, slowly sipping a drink. It would be virtually impossible for anyone to pass through the room without seeing him, and, as Ben watched, several men he recognized as fellow senators did come by and pause briefly to smile, say a few words of encouragement, slap Glancy on the back. But none of the women, Ben noticed. None of the women in the room came within three tables of him.
“Let me introduce you,” Bressler said, as he wheeled his way through the maze of tables to the senator. “Todd,” he announced, “your legal eagles have arrived.”
Glancy immediately sprang to his feet, his hand outstretched. “Ben! Great to see you again. How long has it been?”
“Well… a long time.”
“Too damn long. Particularly given all the good work you’ve been doing.” He shifted his gaze. “You must be Christina McCall.”
She nodded and took his hand, wincing slightly at the grip. “Good to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Ben told me he was bringing his partner. He didn’t tell me she was a beauty.”
Christina’s lips parted, but she remained silent, nonplussed.
“I hope you don’t mind me being blunt. I know we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about such things these days. Don’t want to be accused of being sexist. Or worse, get slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit. Which is why I’ve asked you to come here.” He glanced down at his administrative assistant. “Marsh, will you join us for lunch?”
“Are you kidding? With all the pandemonium upstairs? I’ll grab a Snickers bar on my way back to the office.” He swiveled his wheelchair around and headed out.
“Great guy,” Glancy said, as soon as Bressler was out of earshot.
“Certainly seems like an asset,” Ben commented.
“You don’t know the half of it. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. Brilliant strategist. Like one of those chess players who can anticipate what’s going to happen six moves ahead. And so loyal. He’s always stuck by me-even after his accident. His legs are paralyzed.”
“Permanently?”
“I’m afraid so. He tried physical therapy-I went to the sessions with him myself. Didn’t take. He’ll never walk again. And yet, he’s never let it get to him. Never complained, never indulged in self-pity. He works out regularly-he’s very fit from the waist up. You might wonder why he bothers. Well, I’ll tell you why-because this is a man determined to take care of himself. The epitome of self-reliance. Never married, never even dated, as far as I know. And given his current physical condition, probably never will. But he’s still the most productive person I’ve ever met.”
“What a profile in courage,” Christina said. “No wonder you’ve kept him all these years.”
“I’d do anything for the man. Anything at all. But enough about Marsh. How the hell are you, Ben?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Your mom still in that huge mansion in Nichols Hills?”
“Oh yeah. She’ll never move.”
“My folks are the same way. Jesus-how long has it been-ten, twelve years?”
“Something like that. Since law school.”
“Right. How come we didn’t hang out together more?”
Ben shrugged uncomfortably. “Oh… I suppose we just travele
d in different circles.”
“Yeah, like you were in the ‘make-good-grades’ circle and I was in the ‘party-down-pretty-mama’ circle.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“You were on law review, weren’t you? And you won the big Moot Court competition?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“You did all that while I was schmoozing profs and local politicians. My dad wanted me to take over his oil empire, of course, and I did for a while. But I always had my sights on the political arena.” He snapped his fingers. “Didn’t we intern at the DA’s office at the same time? You worked with Jack Bullock.”
“Yes. But I… left early.”
“Right, I remember. Your father passed on. That must’ve been tough.”
Glancy obviously didn’t know or didn’t remember the half of what had really happened, and that was fine with Ben. “It was. But I moved on. And you launched that crusade to stiffen the sentences for domestic abuse. Launched your political career while you were still an intern. Not even out of law school.”
“I was very fortunate. Everything just fell into place. I’ve been lucky-I know that. Until now, anyway.”
The assistant restaurant manager appeared with a pen and order pad. “Three for lunch, Senator?”
“Exactly, Jonathan. What delectable viands have you got for us?”
“It’s Hawaii Day, sir.”
Glancy turned to Ben and explained. “Here in the Senate Dining Room, the menu is based on the food of a chosen state. Different state each day. They rotate through all fifty of them, then start over again. Equal time for every senator.” He turned back toward the manager. “Good God, I hope this doesn’t mean we have to eat poi.”
The manager smiled slightly. “No, sir. I would recommend the grilled mahimahi, mango and coconut on the side.”
“Sounds good. Ben?”
“I’m… not much of a fish eater. And coconut makes me break out in hives.”
“Sounds like you should have the bean soup.”
“I’ve heard the Senate is famous for it. Must be quite good.”
Glancy and the manager exchanged a look. “Not really. And there are potentially embarrassing aftereffects, if you plan to be around people later in the day. But it’s like jumping out of an airplane. Once you’ve done it, you can spend the rest of your life telling people you’ve done it. Christina?”
“I’m not afraid of fish. Mahimahi for me.”
“Done,” the manager said, making sparse notes on his pad. “I’ll have that out right away.”
“Thank you, Jonathan.” Glancy smiled as he departed. “Wonderful man. Keenly mediocre dining room, but great service. Did you see what a straight face he kept? As if he hadn’t seen the video. But we know better, don’t we? And that’s what we need to talk about. Ben-”
Glancy was interrupted by another man whom Ben recognized. A congressman from Arkansas, he thought.
“Hanging in there, buddy?”
Glancy turned, beamed, and put out his hand. He had the gift, Ben thought. When he was talking to you, his attention was entirely focused on you, as if nothing else in the world existed. “Best I can. What are you doing on this side of the dome, Shawn?” That was the name, Ben recalled. Shawn MacReady, R-AR.
“Just schmoozing. Given any more thought to what we talked about day before yesterday?”
“Believe it or not, Shawn, I’ve had a few other things on my mind.”
“I can imagine. Anything I can do for you?”
Glancy chuckled. “Yeah. Vote no.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. Remember the wisdom of the ancients: Illegitimis non carborundum.”
“Sorry, Shawn. My Latin is a little rusty. Any chance of a translation?”
MacReady smiled. “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”
“That must be gratifying,” Ben remarked, after MacReady departed. “When people stand by you. Even after… something like this.”
“That perfidious cockalorum?” Glancy snorted. “Don’t be fooled. Politicians can be civil without actually being friendly. He’s just consolidating support for his latest Arkansas boondoggle. He’s got no business being here in the first place-he’s a congressman, not a senator. But he thinks because he heads the Appropriations Committee, that puts him on par with us.” He smiled at Christina. “Don’t mean to sound snobby. But it’s kind of like a legal assistant who acts like a lawyer.”
“Heaven forbid,” Christina deadpanned.
“Why is leading the Appropriations Committee such a big deal?” Ben asked.
“Because they decide what gets paid for and what doesn’t. We can pass a bill and the president can sign it, but unless the appropriators earmark money for it, it isn’t going to happen. So MacReady gets to play Big Man on Campus, for a little while, anyway, and we’re all forced to engage in a gigantic horse trading session, endless pieces of pork in exchange for the munificent gift of funding our own legislation.”
“It’s a miracle you can pass anything.”
“Truth is, most of our legislation passes by huge majorities. Small wonder, given how long and hard the process is just to get a bill on the floor.”
“Mind if I ask a question? Why isn’t he sitting with you?” Ben tilted his head toward a tall young man, early thirties, with close-cropped brown hair and a blue suit, sitting alone in the corner. “I would think the junior senator from Oklahoma would’ve been the first to offer a few consoling words.”
“Brad Tidwell?” Glancy shrugged. “He’s a Republican. He’s waiting for instructions from his masters. He won’t speak to me until he has permission. He won’t do anything inimical to his own career agenda.”
“Must make it hard to work together.”
“We don’t. Never have. He’s arrogant, contumacious, and jingoistic-exactly what we don’t need in these troubled times. And a major-league whiner. Says he can’t get any good assignments because I’m in the way. Wants to be the senior senator so bad he can taste it. The man is worthless, and I don’t say that just because he’s in the opposing party. He’s set some kind of Senate record for fatuous remarks designed to please special interests. I don’t think he can remember what his personal beliefs were, if he ever had any.”
After the food was served, the three of them finally got down to business. “My chief concern,” Glancy explained, “is that the Republicans will use this as a tool to engineer a putsch.”
“Excuse me?”
“A coup d’état. To put me out of office, maybe even influence the upcoming presidential election.”
“You’re not planning to run, are you?”
“My prospects don’t look quite as good as they once did, huh? But that won’t stop them from slinging charges of ‘typical Democratic immorality’ at whoever does run, and using me as Exhibit A.” He inhaled deeply. “So, can I assume you’ve both seen the video?”
Ben nodded. “Any idea where it came from? Or who leaked it to the press?”
“None. Looks like a setup to me. Someone wants to bring me down. Like Watergate, or Monica Lewinsky. Start with a molehill, then try to make a mountain out of it. Send in your lackeys to bloviate.”
Ben’s face reddened. “To… um… um…”
“Relax, Ben, it’s nothing dirty. It’s a word President Harding used. Means ‘to speak verbosely or windily.’”
“Oh… right. Why didn’t I know that?”
“Because you’ve spent the last decade in the courtroom, not the Senate.”
Christina cut in. “Sir,” she said slowly, carefully measuring her tone. “I… don’t think what I saw in that video can be characterized as a molehill.”
Glancy shrugged. “It was sex between two consenting adults.”
“Was it? What happened… toward the end. Didn’t look to me as if she wanted that at all.”
“Did you see what she was wearing? How she looked at me? Did you hear what she said? She was hot and heavy and raring to go.”
“But-”
“She wanted sex,” Glancy continued. “She consented to sex. And the fact that it may not have been the precise sex act she anticipated does not turn it into a rape case. Consent is consent.”
Christina fell silent.
“ Marshall has already spoken to the DA. They have no intention of pressing any criminal charges.”
Ben jumped in. “So you’re only worried about civil actions.”
“And the political ramifications, yes.”
“Do you think it’s likely that this… Ms. Cooper would bring a charge of sexual harassment against you?”
“She disappeared from the office as soon as the story broke and didn’t show up for work today. We haven’t been able to contact her. Who knows what anyone will do if you wave enough money in their face? Remember Paula Jones? She waited years before she brought her case against Clinton. Why sue all of a sudden? Because a Clinton-hating right-wing organization adventitiously provided funds to cover her legal expenses, that’s why. And the Republicans then used that little indiscretion to try to bring down the president. They appointed an obviously biased ‘independent prosecutor’ who blew over fifty million in taxpayer dollars prying into Clinton’s sex life, and Clinton ended up getting impeached over it. They’ll try the same thing with me-try to turn me into the scandal du jour. Some of the more vulpine members of the current administration are already calling for me to resign, but that isn’t going to happen. I worked too damn hard to get where I am. I’m not going to give it up over this pip-squeak.”
“There’s nothing I can do to prevent someone from filing a suit,” Ben said.
“Yes, but if she does, you can crush it dead before it gets out of hand. I’ve followed your career, Ben. You’re smart, you’re hardworking, and you’ve got credibility. People believe you. That work you did up in Chicago on the Tony Barovick case-absolutely brilliant. And very well covered by the media. You came out smelling like a rose, even though you had a supremely unsympathetic client. How many defense attorneys could’ve pulled that off? I think that case made you the best-known attorney from the state of Oklahoma.”
Capitol Murder Page 4
