When he returned, he found Lucille sitting on a chair, rubbing her sore face, and Daily hunched over Amber, tears streaming from his eyes, blood gushing from her neck.
“My baby,” Daily whispered, breathing in broken heaves. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”
In the corner of his eye, Loving saw the creep-Randy, apparently-swivel around and make as if he thought he might split.
Loving raised the gun. “One more step and I’ll kill you dead. And enjoy it.”
Randy slunk back into his chair.
Loving got another towel and tried to stop the bleeding from Amber’s neck, but he couldn’t tie a tourniquet without strangling her. He couldn’t tell how serious it was. It looked horrible, but he knew neck, head, and shoulder wounds always bled profusely.
If Amber died, the only remaining hope…
Even as he was thinking it, he saw her eyelids flutter.
Loving bent down on one knee, nudging Daily to one side. “I don’t know how well you can hear me, Amber. I don’t know if you can talk. But if you can-if you can do anythin’-please help me. Where’s Beatrice?”
It could’ve been his imagination, but he thought he saw a tiny rise of an eyebrow.
“Beatrice?” Randy, the drug addict in the chair, began to chortle. “You mean that mousy cow with the fat ass?”
Loving felt his trigger finger tightening. God give him strength. “Do you know where she is?”
“Hell, no.” He fell back against the chair, still laughing. “She cut out days ago, after we’d all had a turn at her and she’d had so much she couldn’t see straight. You think we’re weird. Now, that slut was into some kinky shit.”
It was an accident, officer, Loving mentally rehearsed. The gun just went off…
So tempting. But he was in enough trouble already.
“Bee… Bee…”
Loving’s eyes went wide. Amber was trying to speak. Blood caked her teeth and dripped from the corner of her mouth, but she was trying to speak.
“Cir… cle…”
Loving leaned in closer. “Circle? Sir Cool? What do you mean?”
“Circle… Thirteen…”
Amber’s eyes closed, and Loving knew they weren’t going to get any more out of her tonight.
“Amber!” Daily shouted. “Amber!”
Downstairs, Loving heard medics rush into the club. He ran to the top of the stairs to show them the way. “Up here! Hurry!”
The prosecution’s next witness was Shawn MacReady, the Republican representative from Arkansas whom Ben had met briefly in the Senate Dining Room. Padolino spent a fair amount of time discussing the congressman’s long and distinguished career, his personal triumphs, bills he’d written or sponsored that had populist appeal and thus might endear him to the mostly lower-middle-class jury. Ben was disappointed, though not surprised, that Padolino was also smart enough to point out that MacReady was a political opponent of Glancy’s, a member of the opposition party and an antagonist on many high-profile pieces of legislation. Better to bring it out himself than to allow Ben to do it on cross.
“Sir,” Padolino asked, “are you familiar with the Committee on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions?”
“Yes, sir. In relation to my work on the Appropriations Committee, I’ve had numerous contacts with their work and attended many of their meetings.”
“And who is the current vice chair?”
“That would be the defendant. Todd Glancy. The senator from Oklahoma. He used to be the chair, until his party lost control of the Senate.”
“That would be when Senator Waddington of Arizona shifted his party affiliation from Democrat to Republican.”
“Yes. After twenty years in politics, the man finally saw the light.” There was a mild titter of laughter in the courtroom.
“On September 26, the day that Veronica Cooper was murdered, was this committee in session?”
“It was.”
“For how long?”
“We started at nine and worked straight through to lunchtime. Congressmen get very grumpy if we cut into their lunchtime.” Another round of laughter. MacReady was displaying the charisma that had undoubtedly gotten him reelected so many times. His slight Tex-Arky accent made his quips all the funnier.
“And did Senator Glancy attend the committee meeting?”
“He did. The committee record shows he was present.”
“Was he there the whole time?”
Ben felt his body tense. This was of critical importance.
“As far as I know.”
Ben blinked. The prosecution was helping Todd establish his alibi?
“Would you know if he left?”
“Not necessarily. We were in informal session. People were running all over the place. Aides moved in and out, shuttling drafts and revisions. We were working on some proposed legislation on the government pensions problem.”
“And you never saw Senator Glancy leave?”
“No. I don’t worry much about what the Democrats are doing. Long as there are more of us than there are of them.”
Another burst of laughter, enough to inspire Judge Herndon to rap his gavel and give everyone a stern look. This is as good as it could possibly get from this witness, Ben thought. If only Padolino would leave it alone and move on to something else. And to his great surprise, Padolino did.
Padolino held up a photograph of an attractive middle-aged woman with short-cropped brown hair and a long, angular face. “Sir, do you now or have you ever known a woman named Delia Collins?”
Ben shot to his feet. “Objection!”
Padolino was ready. “Your honor, this testimony is for the purpose of establishing a pattern on the part of the defendant.”
“A pattern of what?” Judge Herndon asked.
Padolino arched an eyebrow. “Three guesses.”
“Your honor,” Ben said, moving rapidly toward the bench, “we briefed this issue in our motion in limine. It’s in your file. You haven’t ruled on it.” Marshall had tipped Ben off about this possible problem in advance.
Herndon shuffled the paper around on his desk. “Oh, yes. Now I recall. Delia Collins.”
“Then you must also know why this testimony is not relevant to any issue at bar, but could be extremely prejudicial to my client. I strongly urge the court to suppress any testimony regarding-”
“Nah.” Herndon waved a hand in the air. “Sounds to me like the prosecutor can get it in as legitimate evidence of a habit or pattern of behavior such as might have been displayed on the day of the murder. I’ll allow it, subject to subsequent reconsideration.”
“But, sir, if we hear it in open court, it will be too late-”
“And if I find ultimately that the evidence is not relevant to the case, I will instruct the jury to disregard it.”
A fat lot of good that will do, Ben thought bitterly as he returned to his table. Once this cat was out of the bag, it wasn’t ever going back.
“Let me repeat the question,” Padolino said. “Do you know a woman named Delia Collins?”
“Yes,” MacReady answered. “She was a witness who gave testimony before the committee something like seven years ago on the MacReady-Friedman bill. That was the one that, among other things, would have invalidated the ‘unproven or experimental techniques’ clause from American health insurance policies in certain cases regarding terminally ill patients. Would have required insurance companies to pay for medical treatments even if said treatments were not yet FDA- or AMA-approved.”
“Did you favor this bill?”
“I wrote it and co-sponsored it. Most of the men in my party supported it. But oddly enough, even though it seemed like something the liberals would embrace with both arms, Senator Glancy did not. And he was the chair of the committee at the time. And his people toed his line. The bill died in committee.”
“Why was Ms. Collins testifying?”
MacReady acquired a more serious expression. “Regretfully, Ms. Collins herself w
as suffering from a terminal illness. Ovarian cancer, if I recall correctly. She wanted a new treatment developed by a medical researcher in Mexico City, a new drug cocktail that had shown some promise in fighting the disease. But it was new and experimental and expensive, unapproved by the FDA, and her insurance company refused to pay for it. She was not a wealthy woman, so she had no other means of obtaining the treatment. Her very dramatic testimony illustrated how serious the need for the MacReady-Friedman bill was. As far as she was concerned, when her insurance company said no, they effectively signed her death certificate.” He stopped, sighed. “But as I said, the bill didn’t get out of committee. And I believe I heard the poor woman died a few months later.”
Ben could see the jury was mystified. This was all very interesting-but what did it have to do with the murder case? Unfortunately, he knew they would find out all too soon.
“Was that the last time you saw Delia Collins? The day she testified before the committee?”
MacReady cleared his throat. “Uh, no.”
“Really. When did you see her again?”
“A few days later. Before the final committee vote was taken.”
“And where did you see her?”
“In Senator Glancy’s private office.”
“Please describe the circumstances of this encounter to the jury.”
MacReady frowned, shifted his weight, began to look uncomfortable. Ben suspected he was probably actually looking forward to this, but he didn’t want it to show. That would be crass.
“I’d gone into Senator Glancy’s office late at night. It was well past usual working hours, but the congressional clerk told me he hadn’t left the premises. I wanted to take one last stab at persuading him to support the bill. I was even prepared to offer a little pork, let him slip in some appropriations money for another Oklahoma lake or whatever. Hazel-that’s his receptionist, has been for years-wasn’t at her desk. I suppose she’d gone home for the evening. So I just walked into the man’s office. Door was shut, but so what? I never expected-” He stopped, coughed into his hand. “Well, I never expected what I saw.”
“And what did you see?” Padolino prodded.
“The two of them were behind his desk. She was just visible on the right side. He was lying down and she was straddling him. His pants were pulled down and she wasn’t wearing much, just some lacy understuff kind of like-” He gestured toward the television set, still in the courtroom from the viewing of the video. “You know. Like the other girl.”
Ben glanced at the jury. Expressions ranged from small frowns to utter disgust.
“And were these two people engaged in… sexual relations?”
“Well,” he replied, “I suppose that depends on whether you subscribe to the Clintonian definition of sex or the one we use back home in Arkansas.”
“Can you… be a little more specific?”
“In my book, when a woman goes down on a man, that’s sex.”
Several members of the jury gasped-literally gasped. Marie Glancy covered her face with her hands.
“I… see,” Padolino said. He was also wearing his strained expression of disgust, as if he were fighting to mask his revulsion. “They were engaged in fellatio?”
“I think that’s the word for it, yeah. Like in that video. ’Cept he didn’t appear to have forced himself on her.”
“Objection,” Ben shouted. Beside him, Glancy was maintaining a cool, expressionless demeanor. In their pretrial discussions, he had denied the incident ever happened. Even so, Ben was pretty sure he wasn’t enjoying listening to this.
“Sustained,” Herndon said calmly. “The jury will disregard the witness’s last statement.”
“Did they see you?” Padolino asked.
“Oh yes. Or she did, anyway. She made a feeble attempt to cover herself with her hands. He didn’t move, didn’t even get up. I think he was pretty… you know. Wrapped up in what they were doing.”
“Were you surprised by what you saw?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Can you explain?”
“I knew she’d been in to see Glancy several times, presumably to persuade him to change his vote. I assume she went in that night for the same reason I did-to give it one last shot. Only he demanded a special quid pro quo from her.”
“Objection,” Ben said, even more forcefully than before. “Pure speculation. Slanderous and totally unjustified.”
“The objection will be sustained and the jury will disregard.” The judge turned and looked sternly into the witness box. “You know the rules, Congressman. As I recall, you were once a trial lawyer yourself. One more trick like that and I’ll find you in contempt and have your entire testimony stricken.”
“I’m sorry, your honor,” MacReady said with apparent contrition. “I didn’t mean to say anything improper.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Herndon motioned to Padolino. “If you have any more legitimate questions, ask them. Get this over with.”
“Yes, sir. Just one last question. Did Senator Glancy change his position on the insurance bill?”
“Nope. Didn’t budge an inch, and all his little toadies followed his lead. He single-handedly killed a piece of legislation that might’ve done a lot of people a world of good. But no one could make him change his mind. Not even Delia Collins.”
Which was worse? Ben wondered. If Glancy had changed his vote in exchange for a blow job, or if he took the blow job but still refused to change his vote?
“No more questions,” Padolino said quietly.
The judge turned toward Ben. “Anything from the defense?”
“Oh yeah,” Ben said, rising to his feet. “We’re gonna be here a while.”
Loving stood beside Daily, his hand on the other man’s shoulder, hoping some of his inner tranquility would travel by osmosis into his companion’s consciousness. So far it wasn’t working.
“Please!” Daily insisted. “You’ve got to let me see her!”
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” Dr. Aljuwani had a soft, sympathetic voice, not the voice-of-God demeanor Loving normally associated with surgeons. He was carrying a chart and wearing a white coat, all the accoutrements of the typical medical man, but he had also shown an enormous amount of patience. “We have to think of what’s best for Amber.”
“I am thinking about Amber!” Daily cried. “I always have been. I’ve been searching for her for months!”
“And now she is in our care. You have done your job. Please allow us to do ours.”
Loving could feel the tension oozing from every pore of Daily’s body. “Please. You have no idea how important it is that I see her.”
“No, I do not. But I do know that her health is extremely fragile and that it is best that she not be disturbed. She is not conscious, at any rate.”
“I don’t care about that! I just want to see her!”
“And you will, my friend. I promise you that. Her chances for a full recovery are excellent. But she is weak. She has lost much blood. In addition to the gunshot wound, her bloodstream has been infected with excess amounts of a chemical that is, for all practical purposes, the same as morphine. She will likely suffer withdrawal symptoms, as well as severe respiratory problems.”
“You said she would recover.”
“I said that her chances are excellent. But we must take things slowly. Allow her body to recover its strength. For now, for her own safety, she must remain in the ICU. But I promise I will call you as soon as the danger has passed and it is safe for her to receive visitors.”
Loving tried to be comforting. “He’s right, you know.”
Daily’s teeth were clenched. “You have my cell number?”
“Indeed I do,” the doctor assured him. “And I will call it just as soon as the time is right.”
“You won’t wait till it’s convenient?”
“Indeed I will not. As soon as her vital signs are stable, I will call you.”
&nb
sp; “And that will be when?”
Dr. Aljuwani hesitated. “Perhaps twenty-four hours, if all goes well. I can’t be certain.”
“All right.” His head hung low. “Thank you, Doctor. I’m sorry if I seemed-”
“Not at all. She is your own flesh and blood. I would feel the same if it were my daughter, I am sure.” Aljuwani excused himself, leaving Loving and Daily alone.
“Hell,” Daily muttered. “What am I going to do with myself between now and then? I’ll make myself crazy.”
“You’re gonna get some sleep,” Loving said firmly. “Then we continue the investigation.”
“What? I’ve already found Amber.”
“But don’t you wanna know what happened to her?”
“Surely that creep from the club-”
“Didn’t you hear what the police officer said?” Loving wasn’t really surprised. The police had grilled them and Lucille for almost three hours, but the entire time Loving sensed that Daily’s head was somewhere else. In that tiny room in ICU. “That creep Randy has already called in his lawyer. To represent him and his boys and girls. None of them is talking. Nor is anyone ever likely to. If we want to know what happened to your girl, we’re going to have to find out for ourselves.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
Loving hesitated a moment, watching the sun set through the wide panoramic hospital lobby window. It was almost sunset, the golden hour, his favorite time of day. Pity it had to be wasted on these tragic circumstances. “By findin’ Beatrice. That’s what your daughter wanted us to do.”
“She was out of her head.”
“Maybe. But did you see the way her eyes lit when I asked her? She may’ve been crazy with drugs, but I still think she was tryin’ to help us. She’s worried about her friend.” Besides, Loving thought, finding Beatrice will be critical to Ben’s case-in the event Amber never recovers.
Capitol Murder Page 16
