“Wouldn’t it have been smarter to tell your husband? Let him handle this?”
“Absolutely not. Todd is an intelligent man and an excellent politician, but that in itself can be very limiting. No telling how he might react. And quite frankly, there are some things a U.S. senator simply cannot do-but a wife can.”
Ben nodded, slowly scanning the eyes of the jurors. Even those he thought had been most hostile to her at the outset were beginning to melt. That was good. Very good.
“What was it Ms. Cooper wanted?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve already guessed. She needed money, of course. Lots of it. Apparently she had quite an active nightlife-I guess the previous witness gave you some idea of that-and she was using this designer drug that was very expensive. She’d gotten herself deeply into debt, with the kind of people who don’t take IOUs. She wanted to leave town, but her meager intern’s salary wouldn’t permit it. She basically had two options: prostitution, or blackmail.”
“And she chose blackmail.”
“Exactly, although I’m not sure she’d ruled the other out altogether, if the blackmail didn’t work. It’s pretty clear at this point that she was… not exactly inhibited when it came to having sex.”
“Nonresponsive,” Padolino said. “Move to strike.”
“As you wish,” Judge Herndon said. “The jury will disregard the witness’s last statement.”
“Did she make a specific request?”
“She did. She told me she wanted a quarter of a million dollars, in cash, by the end of the week. And if I didn’t comply, she would release the tape to the press and destroy my husband’s career.”
“What was your response?”
“Well, I wanted to tell her to go-” She stopped herself. “Jump in a lake.” More scattered laughter. “But I couldn’t. She had the goods, and if anything her request was fairly modest.”
“So you considered her offer?”
“I had no choice. I tried to read her the riot act and threaten and scare her, but she wasn’t budging. She said she’d already sent a copy of the tape in a sealed envelope to a reporter friend of hers, and if anything happened to her he was under instructions to open the envelope. Which, I assume, is how the damn thing got out. Anyway, bottom line, a quarter of a mil wasn’t that much to salvage the career of a man who was being touted as a potential vice presidential or even presidential candidate. I suspect the Democratic National Committee would’ve put that up in a heartbeat.”
Padolino rose again. “Your honor…”
“I’m sorry,” Marie said quickly. “I’ll take that one back myself. Anyway, money wasn’t the issue. Trust was the issue. I knew she’d made copies of the tape. How did I know she wouldn’t come back for more money later? Addicts always need money and are often willing to do anything to get it. For that matter, how did I know this little minx wouldn’t take the money and then leak the tape anyway? I’d learned enough about her to be cautious.”
“So what did you do?”
“I gave her my Evelyn look.”
“Excuse me?”
She smiled. “My Evelyn look. Evelyn was my mother. And when she got angry, or she had a point to make, she had a look that told you in no uncertain terms that she was not a woman with whom you wanted to be messing around. So I gave this tramp my Evelyn look.” She sampled the expression for the jury, who appeared to be suitably impressed. “I told her that she might have some damn tape, but I knew more about her than her own mother, and I could do a lot worse to her than she could ever dream about doing to me or Todd.” She took a deep breath, then smiled. “I thought she got the message, so we set a time for the exchange. My money in exchange for her tape and all the copies, and a promise to quit her job and have nothing further to do with my husband.”
“Did you tell your husband what you had done?”
“Of course. If I hadn’t, the woman might’ve tried to get money out of both of us. But it was important that he stay out of it. Private citizens can pay blackmail without breaking the law. But a politician can’t-that’s called hush money.” She smiled. “You’ll find that in the encyclopedia under Nixon, Richard M. You have to remember, I was doing a lot more here than saving my husband’s political career. I was saving our lives, our futures. Regardless of what Todd may or may not have done, I believe in the sanctity of marriage, of the importance of the family unit. And I was determined to see that this woman didn’t destroy mine.”
Ben nodded slowly, giving everyone time to absorb her answer. “And did you in fact consummate the deal with Ms. Cooper?”
“Yes. I’d rounded up the cash and was all ready to go. Todd asked me to wait until he could talk to her, but I knew that was inane-no amount of charisma was going to persuade this cheap bit of-you know. Anyway, I paid her, but apparently she decided to two-time me, because the next day the video broke. I wanted to confront her, but when I tried to contact her at her apartment, she had disappeared. And then I learned the truth. She was dead.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to Veronica Cooper? Who killed her?”
“No. Unfortunately, I’d called my detective off after she agreed not to see Todd anymore, so I didn’t have anyone trailing her. But here’s my point.” She tilted her head toward the prosecution table. “These people keep saying Todd had a motive to silence Veronica Cooper. It isn’t true. In the first place, Todd may have trouble keeping his zipper zipped, but he’s not a murderer. No way, no how-it just isn’t in him. He couldn’t kill someone if his life depended on it. But it doesn’t matter, because his life didn’t depend on it. The situation had been handled. Cooper’s silence had been bought. And after the reporter leaked the tape-something I personally don’t think Veronica Cooper meant to happen-she could do him no more harm. There was no reason to kill her.”
“Thank you,” Ben said. He turned to Padolino. “Your witness.”
“Are we really going into this place?” Shalimar asked, as they stared at the dark gabled Victorian-style brownstone on the other side of the dark, rainy Georgetown street. “We don’t have a warrant. Isn’t this kind of… breaking-and-enterish?”
“I don’t have enough to get a warrant. But if Beatrice is in there-”
“Right, right.” She shuddered. “Just looking at it gives me the wiggins.”
“Hey, I’m lookin’ forward to this. After all the places we’ve been so far, it’ll be a relief to be inside a church.”
“It’s a vampire church, Loving.”
“I don’t care if it’s the Church of the Zombie-Eaters-of-the-Dead. It’s still gotta be better than the other places I’ve been.”
Once again, Loving was very wrong.
The room at the front of the building was small, Loving thought, but it was without doubt a church. It had all the hallmarks: a high steepled ceiling, pews, an altar, an altar rail, and an organ. But there were significant distinctions, too. Instead of electrical lighting, ornate gold candelabra provided the principal illumination. The altar rail was lined with golden goblets, stained-glass pentagrams, and similar gimcracks Loving suspected were more for show than use. The woodwork as well as the stained-glass window behind the altar incorporated bones, skulls, cups spilling with blood, and the ankh-which Loving now recognized as the shape Lucille had drawn in the air for him. Shalimar explained that it was the Egyptian symbol for immortality and had become the vampire’s logo. Of course, Loving rationalized, the Catholic Church he’d grown up in had talked a lot about drinking blood and, for that matter, eating flesh. But somehow he sensed this was very different.
No one was in sight, but the fact that the candles were lit suggested that someone was not far away. Loving tiptoed forward. “Did you see this?” He pulled a black hardbound book out of the cradle on the back of the pew before him. The gold embossed lettering on the cover read: THE VAMPIRE BIBLE. The title page explained that it contained “the underlying pagan and mystical lore derived from our forebears, with selections from Sherpu Kishpu and sacred mystical
works.”
“What exactly do the parishioners here believe?” Shalimar whispered.
“Funny you should ask.” He pulled out a service bulletin he found underneath one of the pews. It was dated the previous Saturday-apparently that was their Sabbath day. “‘The Church is an exclusive society dating back to the time of the Annunaki-Those Who From the Dark Heavens Came. Our Brotherhood is composed of those genetically drawn by the ancient mysteries, those born to the Blood, or those who have heard and heeded the Call of the Night. Our mission is to find our Brethren, the Lost Children of the Blood, and to convert them to the ancient ways before the time of the Final Harvest is upon us. We, the descendants of the ancient priesthood of Ur, call upon the Undead Gods, the ancient Sumerian vampire dragon goddess, Tiamat, and the way of the Magick, to protect and defend us as we find the pathway into the Master Adepti-the Inner Circle.’”
“This is the place,” Shalimar murmured. “And the Final Harvest? You don’t suppose-”
“Let’s hope not.” Loving pulled out another document he’d found behind the altar. “Wanna hear the Vampiric Creed?”
“Actually, no. Federally registered or not, I don’t believe this place would keep membership rolls any more than the S-and-M palace did. And I don’t believe my sister has become a nun in the Temple of the Vampire.”
Certainly not a nun, Loving thought silently. But he wondered about some other disturbing possibilities. “Shalimar, I’m gonna take another look around and-”
He froze. Footsteps. Just outside the front door.
He and Shalimar ducked behind a pew.
A few moments later they heard the heavy front wooden doors open. Two people came inside, talking animatedly. Loving could make out one of their voices.
“Then tonight will be the night?”
Deep Throat. Back at the Reflecting Pool. The informant who got him started on this crazy quest.
“Yes,” his companion replied. “Are you certain you have no doubts, my brother?”
“Oh, yes, yes.” Deep Throat seemed nervous, just as he had when Loving talked to him at the Reflecting Pool. “That was only temporary. I know we’re doing the right thing. The Inner Circle must be protected at all costs.”
At least that’s what he’s telling you, Loving mused. Not what he told me.
“Are we the last to arrive?” Deep Throat asked.
“Yes. The preparations have been made. We cannot afford to delay any longer. We must deal with her immediately.”
“As you say, Sire.”
The two figures moved down the center nave of the sanctuary. Behind the altar, they unlocked and then passed through a door recessed in the back wall.
Loving and Shalimar looked at each other. It wasn’t necessary to speak the words; they both knew what the other was thinking. They were getting ready to deal with Beatrice.
“I’m goin’ in there,” Loving said.
Shalimar grabbed his arm. “You heard what he said. There are others.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m goin’ in.”
“That’s crazy. We’ll call the police.”
“And tell them what, exactly? Even if they take us seriously, which I doubt, they might not be in time.” To save your sister, he left unspoken.
Shalimar squared her jaw. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Don’t treat me like-”
“Listen to me. We need to make sure someone’s alive to go to the police. And if I go missin’, you’ll have somethin’ to tell them they’ll have to listen to.”
“But-”
“It’s for the best, Shalimar. You wait outside. If I’m not back in an hour, call the cops and tell them I’ve been abducted by a satanic cult. That should get their attention.”
“But-”
“You heard me,” Loving said firmly. “And you know I’m right. So please-wait outside. I’m countin’ on you. You’ve got my back.”
Shalimar’s eyes blazed. “You’re just saying this because you know it’s dangerous. You’re trying to keep me from being hurt. But you’re going to need help and-”
“I’m sayin’ this because I’m not as dumb as I look. It’s a good plan. So do it already.”
Her lips were pressed tightly together. Loving could see she didn’t like it.
She laid both hands on his shoulders. “Take care of yourself in there,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“That’s a promise.” He started toward the rear door. “See you outside, Buffy.”
Her eyes blazed. “Don’t call me Buffy!”
“First of all, Ms. Glancy,” Padolino began, “let’s set the record straight. All this business about your detective and allegedly offering to bribe the deceased-you didn’t tell the police any of this, did you?”
“Todd and I were advised by counsel that we had the right to remain silent and that it would be smart to do so.”
“The defendant has a right to remain silent, ma’am, but the defendant’s spouse-”
“Is protected by the husband-wife confidentiality rule, as you and I both know, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“That law does not-”
“That law exists to protect marriages-the same thing I was doing.”
Ben could see the wheels turning in Padolino’s head as he struggled to find an opening. If he’d ever imagined this was going to be an easy cross, he knew better now.
“Blackmail,” he said finally, “is a crime.”
“Yes, but being blackmailed isn’t. We were the victims, not the perpetrators.”
“Failure to report a crime-”
“Honestly, climb off your high horse and come back to earth.” She allowed herself to show some mild irritation-just enough, Ben thought. “People being blackmailed never go to the police. If the blackmailers thought there was any chance of it, they wouldn’t blackmail them in the first place.”
“So instead, according to your testimony, you aided and abetted a criminal act.”
“I gave money to a pathetic drug-addicted, brain-addled nymphomaniac who was threatening to bring down one of the best senators this country has ever had just so she could get her next fix. Was that such a horrible thing?”
Ben leaned in close to Christina. “I think she’s magnificent,” he whispered. “You agree?”
“Big-time,” she whispered back. “Just don’t fall in love. I’ve got a few Evelyn looks of my own.”
“According to your testimony,” Padolino continued, “you told the deceased you could ‘do a lot worse to her than she could do to you.’ That, I think, could be interpreted as a threat.”
“A threat designed to save my husband and marriage.”
“Making threats is also against the law.”
“Oh, fine.” She held out her wrists. “Cuff me. Take me away.”
Several of the jurors had to cover their mouths.
“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Ms. Glancy. This is a serious matter.”
“No, it isn’t. I mean, murder is a serious crime, but Todd didn’t do it, and you’d know that if you hadn’t done such a slipshod investigation and settled for arresting the most obvious and available suspect.”
“Your honor!” Padolino said angrily. “I ask the court to strike that remark and admonish the witness.”
Judge Herndon tilted his head to one side. “The court is inclined to think you pretty much asked for it.”
Now several of the jurors were laughing, not even bothering to cover their mouths. Ben could sense Padolino’s desperation. He needed to score a point-and fast.
“You mentioned that you had the money ready to pay off Ms. Cooper.”
“I did pay her off.”
“I assume that money came from a bank account.”
“You would be correct.”
“That’s the funny thing. You see, back when we were doing our slipshod investigation, I went to the trouble of subpoenaing your bank account records. Both yours and your husband’s.
We were obviously interested to know if you had made any large withdrawals-or deposits-on or about the time of the murder. As a matter of fact, I have those statements right here.”
Back at the prosecution table, some poor legal assistant was riffling through her files, trying to make good on her boss’s promise. After an admirably brief wait, she produced the statements in question.
“I don’t have to go over them now,” Padolino explained, “because I’ve been over them many many times before. And I know for a fact, Ms. Glancy, that there are no major withdrawals. Certainly nothing in the nature of a quarter of a million dollars.” He slid the statements defiantly under her nose.
“Wrong bank,” she said, without even looking.
“Excuse me?”
“Wrong bank, Mr. Prosecutor. These are our domestic personal accounts. The money I withdrew came from an offshore account held at a bank on Grand Cayman Island.”
“I find that difficult to-”
“The account number is 00945623819. If you call, they will confirm the existence of the account. They won’t give you any information about it without permission from Todd or me, but I will grant you that for the limited purpose of checking withdrawals at or around the time of Veronica Cooper’s death.” She paused. “I think you’ll find a rather large one.”
“But-but-” Padolino was sputtering now, never a good sign. “Why would a U.S. senator have an offshore bank account?”
“Objection,” Ben said dutifully. “Not relevant to the charge at bar.”
Judge Herndon considered for a moment. “Although the existence of the account is relevant, it is true that the reasons for having it in the first place may not be.” He inhaled deeply. “But I think I’ll allow it.”
You mean, you just want to hear the poor woman try to explain it to this jury of lower-middle-class taxpayers, Ben thought.
“I haven’t really been involved in the creation of the bank accounts for this family,” Marie said coolly. “But I believe these offshore accounts may have certain tax advantages.”
Capitol Murder Page 27
