Stabbing in the Senate

by Colleen J. Shogan

  Trevor’s support shocked me. I was certain he would try to convince me that Meg and I were playing with fire and we should mind our own business. “I’m surprised at your reaction, Trevor.”

  “Believe me, I don’t often endorse breaking the law, especially given our position as employees of the United States Senate.” Leave it to Trevor to lay a guilt trip on me. “Nonetheless, sources tell me the police are making little progress solving this case. I agree that Representative Jessop has a clear motive for wanting to see our boss dead, and the connections you’ve uncovered may tie him to Carter Power. To search a member of Congress’s office would require a serious challenge to the speech or debate clause of the Constitution. However, you are not the FBI or the police.”

  Trevor was referring to a little known provision in the Constitution that shields legislative branch work from executive interference. Members of Congress had successfully invoked criminal immunity before, although the alleged charges in those cases were corruption or bribery, not murder. Law enforcement’s ability to search congressional offices was severely limited.

  “You’re saying Meg and I need to illegally do what federal investigators can’t accomplish legally?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes, in a sense. As I said before, this gives me great pause.” He stopped for a second, as if to enhance the dramatic effect of his constitutional concern with the situation.

  Perhaps I had underestimated Trevor’s capacity to push the envelope. “Even if our plan works perfectly, I’m not sure what I should be looking for in Jessop’s office.”

  Trevor nodded. “I think you need to look for an item that appears suspicious. Focus on calendars, date books, or anything else that might connect Jessop to a suspect who might have been involved.”

  “That’s a wide range of suspects. After all, Jessop and Langsford did represent the same constituents. They have a lot of common ties, simply by virtue of that fact.”

  “You are right, of course,” answered Trevor. “However, use your analytical skills. What else has been a common theme since you’ve started your inquiry?”

  I thought for a few seconds. Then I snapped my fingers. “Of course, it’s Carter Power. Even Mrs. Langsford may have some ties, if what you overheard is true.”

  Trevor actually smiled. I was starting to think he liked playing a muted “behind the scenes” role in this ragtag investigation I was conducting. “Everything you’ve uncovered thus far points in the direction of Carter Power. However, you may be completely wrong.” Leave it to Trevor to bring me down to earth, just when I thought he was starting to enjoy being a team player. He went on, “But Carter Power is a better motive than anything else I’ve heard so far.” Then he added, “By the way, don’t forget your memo.”

  I looked at him quizzically. “My memo?”

  He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I hope this hasn’t gotten too complex for you, Kit. Obviously I have some degree of confidence in you and your sidekick, or I wouldn’t invest time and energy trying to determine your next move.”

  I couldn’t count on Trevor to indulge me forever. He had his limits.

  His eyes widened. “The memo that disappeared on the day of Senator Langsford’s murder?”

  I hit my forehead with my hand. “Oh, that memo!”

  “Does any other memo actually matter these days?”

  “You’re right. I’d forgotten about that memo. It could have ended up in the recycling bin by accident, but that’s too much of a coincidence. Someone was deliberately trying to get rid of it.”

  “Correct. Which gives credence to your theory that Carter Power is at the center of this conundrum.” He raised his eyebrows at me.

  Trevor’s formal style of speaking, in which he frequently avoided contractions and used the most arcane, stilted language possible, gave him a certain cachet with the intellectual Cosmos Club crowd in Washington, D.C. In New York terms, he hearkened back to the Dorothy Parker gang who met at the Algonquin during the hotel’s heyday. I appreciated it, and I admit to sipping a martini or two in hope of channeling the Round Table and all the great wit of the era, but the Algonquin wasn’t my scene and never would be.

  I tilted my chair back and looked at Trevor. This had been a profitable conversation. “Thanks, Trevor. I think you’ve helped focus my efforts.”

  Trevor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, the memo could be quite significant.” He pushed his chair away from his desk and leaned back to put his hands behind his head. “As you said before, it might be nothing more than a coincidence. Yet somehow I doubt it. Too much else points to Carter Power, which as we’ve already discussed, is the tie that binds, I’m afraid.”

  If Trevor was right and Carter Power was the linchpin, then there was no better suspect than Jeff Prentice, their chief lobbyist, or Senator Regan, their chief political benefactor. A sinking feeling came over me. Had Meg and I had the murderer in our crosshairs last night?

  If that was the case, there wasn’t much we could do about it now. “So my goal should be to find anything that connects Jessop to Carter Power or proves any knowledge of the decision that was coming before Senator Langsford’s committee.”

  Trevor gave a small smile. “Something about Carter Power is the most obvious clue. I would stay on the alert for anything that seems out of place or corroborates a motive for Jessop.”

  “Thanks, Trevor. I’ll keep you in the loop.” I stood and pushed in my chair.

  He shook his head. “No need to do that. The less I know, the better.”

  Yet another lesson from Washington, D.C., that Trevor had mastered. Being in a position to deny everything was the key to survival.

  Chapter 16

  The rest of the morning passed quietly. Lucinda and Matt were in a closed-door meeting for several hours. I confirmed with Matt when I saw him emerge that our days as Senate employees were indeed numbered. After Senator Langsford’s memorial service tomorrow and his subsequent internment, the governor would appoint a successor to the office. Since the governor hailed from the other political party, he was under pressure to waste no time filling the vacant Senate seat.

  Matt corroborated what everyone had been whispering: Representative Jessop was the hands-on favorite to get the nod. This news gave my quest with Meg this afternoon added urgency. Besides Senator Regan and Jeff Prentice, Representative Jessop had the strongest motive for wanting Senator Langsford dead. With Langsford out of the way, his path to becoming a senator was clear. If not for Langsford’s untimely death, Jessop would have been relegated to the House of Representatives for the foreseeable future.

  I ate a quick lunch at my desk while sifting through more emails and returning phone calls. Unfortunately, I didn’t have good answers for the eager constituents who were awaiting funding decisions by the Appropriations Committee. Senator Langsford’s successor would likely get a seat on Appropriations, but since I wouldn’t be working for the new senator, I was in no position to make promises. Several worthy projects for towns and cities in the state hung in the balance, and I felt bad about letting down the many hardworking people I had shepherded through the convoluted federal funding process.

  My phone rang, and I glanced at the number that popped up on my caller ID. Doug’s cellphone. Should I screen him or not? I felt instant guilt for even thinking about ignoring his call. We had left things ambiguous this morning, and he probably wanted to make sure I hadn’t gotten myself arrested.

  With a sigh, I picked up the phone. I might as well face the music. I wouldn’t be able to keep Doug in the dark for long about our planned escapade later today.

  After saying our hellos, Doug immediately asked, “How is the investigation going?” I knew him pretty darn well.

  I tried to play nonchalant. “Oh, we haven’t made too much progress today. We did run into Detective O’Halloran, and he told us the police found a hair from a blond wig at the scene of the murder. It might be an important clue.”

  Doug let out a low whistle. “That’s big news
. It should give the police a lot to go on, right?” I noticed his distinct emphasis on the word “police.”

  “I suppose so, although Detective O’Halloran didn’t seem too optimistic. They haven’t located the wig itself yet.”

  “At least it’s a break in the case. Does this mean you and Meg are going to suspend your efforts to solve the murder? It sounds as if the official investigators are making progress.”

  Doug definitely wanted me to back off. Even though he’d shown genuine interest in the clues we’d uncovered, he thought we were both out of our league, and I was pretty sure he’d fielded a phone call from his father earlier this morning, who undoubtedly wanted an update that confirmed I was in the process of separating myself from the whole messy business. Senator Langsford’s murder had continued to be front-page news and the lead story on every cable news network. Without another hot prospect, I was still the only person named publicly as a suspect. I imagined Doug’s father, dressed in his velvet smoking jacket with a crystal glass of vintage port in his one hand and his pipe in the other, clicking through various channels and praying not to stumble across my cheerful face in a televised news story about Langsford’s death. Doug’s father had good intentions. He wanted the best for me, but the fact I was attached to his son, and consequently, the sacred family name, was the real reason for his concern.

  Fiddling with the phone cord, I wondered if I should tell Doug what he wanted to hear. Namely, that Meg and I had decided to end our informal investigation and chalk up the whole murder of Senator Langsford to bad luck. That would make Doug happy in the short term, and it would get his father off his back, for sure. Somehow, it didn’t seem the right choice.

  I took a deep breath. “Actually, we may have figured out a way to obtain some inside information in Jessop’s office, and we’re headed over there later today,” I hesitated as I searched for the right words, “to poke around.”

  “Poke around? How are you going to do that in a congressional office?” Doug sounded noticeably alarmed.

  “Well, Meg has a friend over there, and she may be able to keep him occupied while I take a …” I hesitated again as I racked my brain, then blurted out, “quick peek.”

  “ ‘Quick peek’? Kit, I never tell you what to do, but you’d better be careful.” Now I’d done it. He was exasperated.

  “I know, I know. Don’t worry about us. I doubt this plan will even work. We’ll probably walk over to Jessop’s office, Meg will flirt with the guy she knows, and that’ll be it. We owe it to Langsford to at least try, right?”

  Doug reluctantly agreed, and I got off the phone after promising to give him a blow-by-blow account later this evening when I returned home.

  I spent several hours on the phone catching up with Senate colleagues while casually mentioning I would have to find a new job soon. Once my current position ended, it would become more difficult to find another Hill job. I had to alert contacts now about my plight and would have to keep reminding them in the upcoming weeks. D.C. had a stunted memory. I hoped other Senate offices or committees might take pity upon Langsford staffers and find good jobs for us when his successor was appointed. Of course, if the murder wasn’t solved, it would be next to impossible for me to find a new job, given the suspicion that hung over me like a cloud. I detected hesitancy in the voices of the people I spoke with on the phone, compounding my worries about my employment prospects.

  I was about to Instant Message Meg to find out if she’d made contact with Kyle about paying him a visit later this afternoon when I thought of Senator Langsford’s memorial service at his house. All staffers were expected to attend, and I wanted to pay my respects. It might also be my only opportunity to speak with Mrs. Langsford to determine if her alibi was legit.

  As Mandy had so rudely reminded me, I needed to watch her video blog about the memorial service. I reluctantly found the link to her daily diatribe. At least I wouldn’t have to suffer through these missives much longer. I clicked on the link, and Mandy’s face appeared on my screen. I put on the headphones I kept attached to my computer. Just because I had to listen to Mandy’s shrill voice didn’t mean I had to subject the rest of the office to it. Any other press secretary would be satisfied with sending out an email about the senator’s daily activities, but not Mandy. She had convinced Lucinda and Matt a video blog was more “responsive to the digital age.” I doubted that was true. Mandy simply wanted to appear on everyone’s computer on a regular basis so we could all be reminded of how beautiful and important she was.

  Only Mandy could appear perky when talking about a memorial service. No, we didn’t have to wear black, but dress was “professional attire.” Screw Mandy and her contemporary fashion advice. I was going to a memorial service, my boss was dead, and I was sad about it. Black seemed altogether appropriate. We had to be there at ten sharp tomorrow morning.

  Senator Langsford had lived with his wife Vivian in a sprawling house in McLean, which wasn’t easily accessible by Metro. I’d have to make sure my car had gas in it. I almost never drove it during the week, and frequently when the weekends came, I discovered it was nearly on “empty.” Thankfully, environmentally concerned citizen that I was, I owned a hybrid vehicle. This meant I could usually drive at least thirty miles on fumes with no problem.

  Something seemed vaguely out of place, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. The fuzzy remnants of a thought was batting around in my brain. I couldn’t grasp what bugged me, so I shrugged it off and sent Meg an Instant Message, “Are we set for this afternoon?”

  She wrote back immediately, “Let’s leave in 15 minutes.”

  I responded: “Are u going to mem service?”

  She answered, “Y. Need ride.” I smiled. Meg took the “environmentally responsible” citizen label even more seriously than I. She didn’t own a car.

  I typed, “OK. Metro out to me and we’ll leave at 930. C U in 15.”

  I busied myself with tidying up my workspace for the remaining few minutes before our departure for the House of Representatives. I had accumulated a lot of crap in the past several years working for Senator Langsford. A good deal of the paperwork would need to be boxed up for his archives. The personal stuff would get thrown out or come home with me. I fingered several photographs from our staff costume Halloween party last year, a couple key chains that constituents had given me to remind me of their causes, and my souvenir coffee mug from the downstairs gift shop that displayed all the names of the senators. I vowed to restrict myself to one box to take home, hopefully by the end of the week.

  I had been daydreaming about my time in the office when Meg woke me out of my reverie. “Ready to go?” she asked cheerfully.

  I quickly bounced out of my stupor. “Oh! Sure. Let’s go.”

  She laughed at me. “Were you taking a nap?”

  “No, but I was daydreaming. I was thinking about the past four years working in the office. Meg, I can’t believe it’s over.” I put my BlackBerry into my purse and smoothed my hair.

  Meg put her arm around me. “I know. It’s surreal. I always knew we wouldn’t get to work together forever. I guess I just wasn’t ready for the end to come so soon.”

  “Well, I’m sure Senator Langsford would agree, especially since I’m positive he wasn’t ready to die. Let’s get going and see if we can figure out who did this to him.”

  Meg grinned. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Chapter 17

  Senate staffers rarely visit the House of Representatives. The same is true of our brethren on the other side of the Capitol. For most staff, having an appointment or meeting in the other house of Congress is like going on a field trip. In reality, the walk through the basement tunnels over to the House takes only fifteen minutes. Walking outside makes the trip even shorter.

  Since today was another scorcher, Meg and I agreed that if we wanted to arrive without sweat dripping off our faces and drenching our clothing, we should stay indoors. After taking the Senate subway to the Capit
ol, we weaved our way through the sea of humanity at the newly built Capitol Visitor Center, known as the CVC. We found the passageway leading to the Cannon House Office Building tunnel and reached Representative Jessop’s office none the worse for wear.

  As we walked into his office, I was reminded how small House offices are compared to Senate offices. It makes sense, since House members only represent one congressional district, and senators represent entire states. Three Senate office buildings accommodate the staff for one hundred senators and committees. Three House office buildings provide office space for 441 members and delegates, plus committees. House offices are considerably smaller in size and appear quite crammed, beyond the front desk area welcoming visitors.

  I let Meg take the lead since she was the one who had set up our meeting today. Meg cleared her throat and approached the young woman manning the receptionist’s desk, who stood as Meg approached. She was barely twenty years old—likely an intern and not a full-time House employee. Nevertheless, she had perfectly styled blond hair and an expensive-looking string of pearls around her neck. She wore a slightly tight sweater and a business-like, yet suggestive, straight skirt that barely reached the top of her knees. Three-inch designer heels polished off the look. Leave it to Jessop to put his best eye candy on the front desk. Blondie would probably replace our staff assistant as the front desk person when the governor appointed Jessop to the Langsford’s Senate seat.

  Meg announced, “Hello, we’re here to see Kyle Tarnoff.”

  Blondie assessed Meg, her expression slightly annoyed. I gathered she knew we weren’t constituents and so automatically judged us to be second tier visitors.

  She responded, “And you are …?”

  I remembered the Saturday Night Live skit with David Spade in which a bitchy gatekeeper assistant asked famous people the exact same thing. I suppressed a snicker. If I acted snotty, we might get shown the door, given we were Langsford staffers and not the most popular people from Jessop’s perspective. Furthermore, even if I could explain to Blondie why I was laughing, she wouldn’t understand the reference. She wasn’t old enough.