We adopted Clarence from a shelter, and his lineage wasn’t known to us. When in doubt, rescue organizations usually labeled dogs of an unknown origin as “beagle mixes.” He exhibited several excitable, puppy-like behaviors he hadn’t shed in adult doghood, such as jumping up on our guests. Great care had to be exercised when opening the door, because Clarence was usually on the other side, having sprinted the length of the living room when he heard my key in the lock. Clarence seemed to know the hallway was off limits, since he consistently tried to escape. He wouldn’t get far down the long, carpeted corridor, so there was no danger in losing him. However, our next-door neighbor wasn’t a fan of Clarence or any pet, as far as I could tell, and she had publicly threatened at a condo board meeting to report any sightings of unleashed dogs to our “condo sanctions” committee, which would undoubtedly levy an absurd fine on our account. I imagined Mrs. Beauregard poised at the peephole every time I came home from work, ready to document the exact time and date of Clarence’s latest escape.
Just as I expected, Clarence was underfoot as soon as I entered the condo. I hastily closed the door so he had no time to dash into the hallway. He barked twice to say hello, then jumped up and down next to me as I fell heavily onto our plush sofa in the living room.
Doug emerged from the hallway. By the looks of his disheveled hair and rumpled clothes, it might well be his first venture outside his home office in hours. He usually divided his time equally between Georgetown and our condo. Although an increasing number of historical documents, books, and academic journals were now available online, Doug believed in a traditional approach to research. Colleagues who were jealous of his success referred to his methods as “antiquated” or “old-fashioned.” He preferred journeying to the library to collect what he needed for the day; then, after teaching his classes or meeting with students, he’d return to our condo in the afternoon and write as much as he could.
This regimen satisfied him deeply, both professionally and intellectually. For me, the predictability and repetitiveness of the routine would be too mundane. His obsession with sticking to a schedule had its benefits. He was terribly productive and churned out a new book every other year, making him the crown jewel of the history department.
Doug removed his glasses, which he had recently come to rely upon for reading and using the computer. Noticing it was dusk, he asked blankly, “What time is it?”
I chuckled, since he’d been staring at a computer screen for the past several hours, which clearly displayed the time. When Doug became immersed in work, almost nothing could distract him.
“I think it’s time you took a break and had a drink.”
He smiled wryly. “Not a bad idea.” He popped over to our wine refrigerator, conveniently located next to our monster espresso machine, and removed the bottle of Riesling we had sampled yesterday.
“Shall we finish this bottle?” He pulled the wine stopper.
“I’ll have just a small pour. I already went to a happy hour.” I lightly touched my belly. Alcoholic beverages accounted for the extra pounds I perpetually tried to shed. It was a losing battle. Every time a few inches came off, another round of obligatory evening events would present themselves, and the cycle repeated itself.
“Did you go out with Meg?” Doug poured me a half glass and emptied the remainder of the bottle into his own.
I reminded him, “Yes, and Jeff Prentice, as well.”
Doug raised his eyebrows. “I thought you couldn’t stand that guy.”
I might have escaped Doug’s scrutiny this morning and later on the phone, but now that I was face to face with him, honesty was the best policy. I couldn’t lie to Doug about my sleuthing. Besides, his super brain could be useful. I recounted my day to Doug in as much detail as possible, starting with my morning Jessop encounter and ending with the revelations at happy hour. He listened attentively as he sipped his wine.
After thinking for a moment, Doug leaned back and set his wine glass down. “From what you’ve told me, you have three possible motives for the murder of Senator Langsford.” He ticked them off with his fingers with a slight pause between each point. “First, you have a power motive. Carter Power, to be exact. If Langsford backed the company, several people would stand to benefit, not just financially but by proving their influence and their ability to get things done. Second, there’s the political motive. Several people would move up in the world, one to the Senate. Third, you have a personal or financial motive, such as the insurance money.”
“That’s what I’ve been able to uncover so far. Don’t forget that a few suspects had multiple motives. Vivian might have had all three. She didn’t want her husband to abandon Carter Power, she wanted him to retire from the Senate and get a more lucrative job, and she benefits from the increased insurance policy.”
Doug nodded. “That could be important. Jessop might have more than one motive, too. Given what Jeff said at your happy hour, he might have been in cahoots with Carter Power, and he certainly wanted to be a senator.”
Doug had a knack for making a complicated situation sound simple. That’s why he was such an accomplished history author. He eliminated the unnecessary information and told the story as crisply as possible.
“If I understand what you’re saying, then do you think we need to focus on Vivian and Congressman Jessop?”
He shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt. Right now, they’re the suspects who have the most to gain from your boss’s death. Even if neither of them did it, investigating those motives should get you closer to figuring out who did.”
I pondered Doug’s suggestion. “I don’t have regular access to Vivian, at least until the day after tomorrow when I go to the wake. So I guess we need to turn up the heat on Jessop in the meantime.”
Doug put his arm around me. “Just how do you think you’re going to make that happen? As I recall, you worked on the Senate campaign that defeated Jordan Jessop. I can’t imagine you have too many friends in common with him.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to get creative, won’t I?” I smiled mischievously at Doug, who clearly wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 14
There was no morning delight I cherished more than a real breakfast in the Senate cafeteria before work. In an effort to avoid the necessity of buying a new set of business suits due to an expanding waistline, I ate a calorie-conscious breakfast most mornings. This Spartan repast consisted of nothing but a protein breakfast bar, which typically kept me coherent until lunch. For my lymphatic body type, which seemed to gain weight at the mere sight of food, a meager breakfast seemed to be the best option.
However, there are days in which the best-laid plans must be cast aside. This was one of those days. I was tired, stressed out, and ravenous. A treat of eggs, carbs, and bacon was well deserved. After all, I had jogged almost four and a half miles instead of my usual four. I would head directly to the Senate cafeteria as soon as I’d checked in at the office.
I signed on to my computer and immediately heard Mandy’s whiny voice pop up as part of her insipid video blog. From what I could tell, there was actually important information in the video, because she was talking about Senator Langsford’s memorial service tomorrow. Listening was mandatory, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first thing I did this morning.
I minimized Mandy’s face and instead opened an Instant Message window and asked Meg if she wanted to join me for breakfast. Always a fan of comfort food, Meg never turned down an invitation for a satisfying meal. Before I knew it, she was standing next to my cubicle with her designer wallet in hand.
We took the elevator to ground level of Hart and walked from there to Dirksen. A long, dreary hallway with worn carpeting connected the two Senate office buildings. Thousands of staffers had made this trek before us, eager to seal a deal over breakfast or fight off a hangover lingering from the previous evening. We descended one more level to enter the bowels of the Dirksen cafeteria.
My plebian roots were reflec
ted in my general appreciation for cafeteria food. Sure, it wasn’t the best cuisine, but I loved picking and choosing my favorite victuals with reasonable predictability. It also reminded me of college and the fun times I had with my roommates in the cafeteria. Our craziest exploits, ranging from hilarious prank phone calls to complex plots exposing cheating boyfriends, had been hatched over Sunday brunch in the cafeteria. The Senate cafeteria was not much different. Countless political strategies and landmark pieces of legislation had been devised and negotiated at the tables in Dirksen. Lunchtime was best for witnessing these deals. It was also the busiest time and next to impossible to find a table. Therefore, I had come to appreciate Dirksen at a quieter time of the day, namely breakfast.
For less than five dollars, a hungry Senate staffer could get a great meal, which included scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, rye toast, a cup of coffee, and a small orange juice. For someone who normally ate a power bar the texture and taste of firm sawdust for breakfast, it was heaven. I rarely finished my whole plate, yet I always felt incredibly fortified for the rest of the day.
I went through the line and got my usual plate of assortments. Meg opted for a cheese omelet, wheat toast, and grits. What can I say? Some of us have all the luck. I noted for the record that Meg’s outfit consisted of a form-fitting linen sheath, a beautifully styled short, yellow blazer, and a pair of second-hand Jimmy Choo espadrilles. Linen was not a forgiving fabric for most, yet on her, it fit in all the right places.
Once we were settled in at an empty table, I told Meg about my conversation with Doug and the latest game plan. We needed to focus on Vivian and Jessop. Both had unquestionable motives to kill Senator Langsford.
Between bites, Meg listened intently. She finally stopped chomping and said, “We need a strategy, and we need to put it into action now if we want to figure out who killed the senator. We don’t have much time to spare. I heard the governor might announce Senator Langsford’s replacement next week. Once that happens, we’ll be out of a job, and without United States Senate ID badges, it’s going to be hard to poke around.”
She sighed before continuing, “Besides, I need to start looking for my next job. Once I’m unemployed, I won’t have much time for solving Langsford’s murder.”
The loss of our jobs put Meg in desperate financial straits. Doug’s generous trust fund supplemented both his and my incomes, so I could afford to take more time to find a new position. I had already decided to start a full-scale search once my job in Senator Langsford’s office ended. While my immediate situation wasn’t dire, if I didn’t clear my name as a suspect, no Hill office would hire me. The lingering effects of an unsolved murder and the persistent D.C. rumor mill could ruin my career.
“We can work on Vivian when we go to Senator Langsford’s memorial service tomorrow. I’d like to hear more about this appointment with a personal trainer she claimed as an alibi. As far as I know, Vivian isn’t an early riser. I find it hard to believe she was doing sit-ups at eight in the morning.”
Meg nodded. “Access to Vivian and the people she knows shouldn’t be too difficult tomorrow. The harder nut to crack is Representative Jessop, right?”
Meg had hit the nail on the head. I’d considered how to investigate Jessop earlier during the morning commute, and I didn’t have any great ideas. We weren’t exactly popular in that office.
Meg asked, “Is the House of Representatives in session this week?” Usually, the House and Senate stayed in session, when members of Congress debated and voted on legislation, during the same weeks of the year. But the schedule had been screwed up lately, with the House and Senate meeting during different weeks of the year.
I checked my BlackBerry and told her the House wasn’t in session.
She smiled and said slowly, “I might have an idea.”
“Tell me about it. It’s got to be better than anything I’ve come up with, which is nothing.”
“It’s risky, and I’m not even sure it’ll work. When we’re out of session and the boss isn’t around, the office is much more relaxed and not as crazy, right?”
“Of course. I think it’s like that in both the House and Senate. When the Senate’s not in session, I feel like it’s a completely different job.”
“Since the House isn’t in session, there might be a chance I could distract Jessop’s chief of staff so you could sneak into the congressman’s office and look around.”
Meg wasn’t exaggerating when she said it would be risky. Even though I had been accused of killing Senator Langsford, I hadn’t committed a crime. Rifling through a member of Congress’s personal papers had to be a felony of some sort. Orange jumpsuits flashed before my eyes again.
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you plan on keeping Jessop’s chief of staff busy while I’m in the office?”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to do. He’s always eager to buy me a drink when I see him at the Capitol Lounge.” The Capitol Lounge was a bar on Pennsylvania Avenue, close to the House office buildings. It was on the other side of the congressional complex, which wasn’t far away, but a place that Senate staffers rarely patronized.
“Do you go to the Capitol Lounge often?”
“Only when I get tired of the same old happy hours and events on the Senate side. You know, sometimes I like to see how the other half lives.” Meg cracked me up. If she had been in Marie Antoinette’s shoes, she wouldn’t have seen anything wrong with the “let them eat cake” line.
“When you decide to slum it and head over to the House side, you see Jessop’s chief of staff and convince him to buy you drinks? That’s your plan?”
Meg shrugged. “His name is Kyle. He always says we need to let bygones be bygones, and we should work together for the good of the state. He feeds me those kinds of lines. Since he wasn’t involved with the Jessop campaign for Senate, I don’t think he holds a grudge against me.” She paused to take a big bite of omelet and grits.
Her plan was so far-fetched, it might work. When I talked to Jessop yesterday morning, he said he was leaving town. That meant he would be out of the office. Also, it was critical that Kyle hadn’t worked for the Jessop for Senate campaign. All those people knew us and would bristle at our presence.
I thought for a second. “Maybe we can use the senator’s death as an excuse for making the trip to the office. We have a lot of constituents we are trying to assist, and since we aren’t going to work in Congress much longer, we want to let Representative Jessop know about those people in his congressional district.”
Meg snapped her fingers. “That’s a fantastic idea! I don’t even have to lie about it. I know exactly the constituent case I can pass off to them. I can say it’s too complicated to explain on the phone, so I’d like to walk over to Jessop’s office and meet with Kyle about it.”
Meg beamed at me. She had been more than a mere confidante when it came to figuring out who murdered Senator Langsford. So far, she’d been downright indispensable. She’d obtained valuable information and come up with several creative ideas about how we could pick up more clues along the way.
More importantly, her enthusiasm was infectious. I grinned widely, despite the fact we were strategizing to break into the office of a member of Congress. If I stopped too long to think about how ridiculous it sounded, I was afraid I’d lose my nerve.
I paused to sample my eggs and a piece of toast. “Okay, so that’s our plan for this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be able to keep Kyle occupied so I’ll have enough time to sneak into Jessop’s office?”
“It’s hard to say until I start talking to him. I know his shared office is next to the congressman’s. If I can catch his attention, you could slip away and investigate. I could get you maybe ten minutes in which Kyle wouldn’t realize you’d gone missing. Do you think that’s enough time?”
“Given the fact I have no idea what I’m looking for, it’s an eternity. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Jessop had a hand in Langsford’s murder. But it’s not like
I’m going to find a note on his desk that says, ‘I’m the murderer,’ right?”
“No, but you can snoop around for any incriminating evidence. Maybe a note or a business card will provide a link to Langsford. Who knows? You might see something that will point us in the right direction.”
“I guess you’re right. I won’t know what I’m looking for, but hopefully I’ll know when I see it.”
Meg took the last bite of her omelet. “That’s the spirit! Let’s face it. It’s not like anyone else is making significant progress on this case.”
Just as Meg finished her last sentence, Detective O’Halloran stood behind our table, materializing out of nowhere. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite Langsford staffers.” He had just bought a doughnut at the cafeteria, and powdered sugar was speckled on his tie and dress shirt. So much for moving beyond stereotypes.
I could tell Meg was worried about what he might have overheard. She hurriedly said, “Hello, Detective. How’s the investigation going?”
O’Halloran smirked, as if he knew she would ask this question. He pulled up his pants with his belt while chomping on his pastry. “I can report we’re getting closer. People need to have a little faith in their public servants.”
Meg took a big gulp and gushed, “Absolutely, Detective. I couldn’t agree with you more.”
O’Halloran gave her a knowing glance. “I’m glad I ran into both of you. Forensics took another look at the senator’s office, and we found a possible piece of evidence. I’m asking all the people who knew Senator Langsford about it, so I can figure out if what we found counts as a credible lead.”
This was welcome news. If the police were on the right track and could find Senator Langsford’s killer, my name could get removed from the suspect list and we could all move forward with the next chapter in our lives, whatever that might be.
Stabbing in the Senate Page 11
