Stabbing in the Senate
Page 17
He took his right hand off the wheel, placed it on my knee, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want to find Senator Langsford’s killer for a number of reasons, but the top reason is making sure nothing happens to you. The sooner the murderer is caught, the better for everyone involved. Am I right?”
A wave of happiness enveloped me. Doug felt an obligation to attend the wake, and his father might have encouraged it, but the real reason he’d decided to come was to keep me safe. It was times like this I knew I wouldn’t trade Doug for anything in the world, engagement ring or not.
Grabbing his hand, I said softly, “Thank you, Doug.” I felt a little guilty about hiding the threatening phone call from him, but I pushed those feelings away. This wasn’t the time or the place to tell him about it.
Meg watched all of this unfold without comment. After a few minutes, she broke the silence. “Now we’ve had a tender moment, can we get back to who we need to speak with at the wake? We’re getting close to Senator Langsford’s house.”
We had just turned into the posh housing plan where the Langsfords lived in suburban McLean.
“Let’s divide up the suspects, so no one draws attention by pumping too many people for information.”
Meg and Doug agreed. I proceeded with my assignments. “Meg, I need you to talk to Jeff Prentice. You have a better rapport with him than I do, and I think it’s more likely he’ll divulge information to you. We need to figure out how Carter Power is connected to Langsford, Regan, and Jessop. I still think we’re missing an important detail.”
“You got it. Prentice won’t be difficult to break!”
I grinned. “Remember, this isn’t an interrogation. We can’t look too obvious, and above all, it’s a wake. We’re supposed to be in mourning. Of course, we want to honor Senator Langsford’s memory, but we have an ulterior mission.”
I turned to Doug. “Can you track down Senator Regan and try to find out if he has an alibi? Mandy claims he was with his wife at the time of Senator Langsford’s murder, but I don’t think we should trust her. Regan had a prime motive for killing Langsford, and if his alibi is wishy-washy, we need to know about it.”
Doug gave me a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain. I don’t think that should be too hard.”
Meg asked, “Who are you going to hunt down, Kit?”
“I need to see what the deal is with Vivian. We’ve forgotten her lately, but she stands to gain from that insurance policy, and according to Trevor, she’s tied up in the Carter Power business as well.”
Doug said, “Good idea. But she might be hard to track down. Remember, this is her husband’s wake.”
“I know. I’m going to have to keep careful tabs and find an opportunity to speak with her. If I can do that, my next target is Lucinda. Matt led me to believe Senator Langsford’s position on Carter Power was a well-kept secret. But now I’m not so sure Matt’s intentions were carried out. It seems like many people knew about Carter Power and which way Senator Langsford was leaning at the time of his death. Now that he’s been gone a few days, Lucinda might be straight with me about who knew what.”
Doug looked at me in wonderment. “You two certainly have a knack for this business. When you told me you wanted to investigate Langsford’s murder, I figured it was the result of some form of post-traumatic stress. Especially since you, um …” he trailed off.
I finished the sentence for him. “You mean since I discovered the body.”
He shrugged. “Right. Since you were the first person to come across the senator after the murder, I thought you might have a strong psychological need to solve the murder.” He took his hand off the wheel to nervously straighten his glasses.
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t know you also had a doctorate in psychology, in addition to your history degree. I must have missed those graduate years.”
He sniffed. “I don’t profess to have a degree in psychology. But believe me, there are some helpful and informative websites out there that um, eh …” he trailed off again.
I finished his sentence once again. “Some websites that gave you enough information to diagnose me with having a neurosis.”
Doug bristled at my sarcasm. “Don’t get defensive, Kit. I merely thought your need to solve Langsford’s murder might have been driven by the unfortunate circumstances that started your week. Now I see that no matter what the motive, you and Meg have made real progress.”
Doug knew flattery would get him a long way. I relaxed and gave him a small smile. “I’m not sure we’ve made any earth-shattering discoveries. To tell the truth, we’re long on suspects and theories, and short on facts and substantiated alibis. Unless we can do better, we’re not going to solve the crime. This might be the last time we have the murderer in our sights. Let’s not waste the opportunity.”
Meg interjected herself into the conversation. “And don’t forget, we can’t look too obvious. Let’s remember first and foremost, we’re here to mourn Senator Langsford.”
Doug made the final turn onto Senator Langsford’s street. Having been there a handful of times in the years I had worked for him, I knew his house was only one short block away. As we approached, the valet motioned for us to stop. We exited the car, and Doug turned the key over to the valet, who gave him a claim ticket. He promptly handed the ticket over to me. Doug was good at many things, but holding onto important items such as valet tickets wasn’t one of them.
As we made our way across the manicured lawn toward the Langsford home, I was struck again by the grandeur of the place. McLean was a wealthy Virginia suburb of Washington. Its close proximity to downtown, beautiful homes, upscale shopping, and a stellar school system made McLean a magnet for prominent residents. As I understood it, Mrs. Langsford selected their house and had insisted upon living in McLean when Langsford first won election to the Senate. That was no surprise; McLean had long been the most upscale and socially exclusive bedroom community for elected officials, high-ranking military officers, intelligence leaders, and wealthy corporate players. Mrs. Langsford was a woman who didn’t necessarily want to be bothered with the boring details of government—at least in my experience—yet she liked living among those who occupied powerful positions and possessed the authority to make critical decisions facing our country. Vivian was still top on my list of suspects.
I gazed at the house, a striking three-story colonial. Most of it was white stone, but the right corner, which comprised an entirely different wing, was a natural beige stone. The two-toned approach to the exterior made the house look older than it really was. Achieving both the contemporary and antiquated effect wasn’t easily accomplished, and it explained the high resale value of the house.
Leading to the entrance was a beautiful limestone walk, lined with perfectly trimmed small shrubs. There were flowers between the shrubs that supplied a perfectly accented dose of contrasting color to the deep green lawn. As we walked toward the front of the house, I felt another intense wave of grief. Senator Langsford hadn’t grown up in a wealthy family. Much like myself, he’d been the product of a middle-class upbringing. Hard work and a bit of luck had led him to his position as a United States Senator, and his marriage to Vivian had provided him with considerable resources and money. He’d had it all.
The image of him sitting in his chair with that stupid model helicopter sticking out of his chest was forever seared in my memory. Langsford had gotten up Tuesday morning in his stunning house in McLean, driven himself to work, and been murdered a short time later. How did someone who lived a privileged and prestigious existence die such a violent death?
Doug must have noticed I was in a daze. He touched my arm. “Are you okay?” he asked delicately.
With newfound resolve, I said, “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go inside.”
The main door was open, and we walked into the large entrance foyer. I’ve always admired the welcoming openness of this room. Immediately opposite was the grand staircase, which led to the bedrooms and living quarters. According to Zi
llow, it was a five-bedroom, five-bathroom, two million dollar home, but I had never been upstairs. However, the grounds and first floor were more than enough to telegraph the extent of the Langsfords’ wealth and advantaged station in life. To the left of the foyer was the spacious living room, which had several pristinely elegant sofas, picture windows that ran from ceiling to floor, and Oriental rugs. I had never seen anyone actually sit on the sofas. The room was used for entertaining, and whenever I had been here for formal events, I was too preoccupied with not spilling my drink on the rugs to appreciate the décor of the room.
To the right of the foyer was the dining room, which was accented by a fireplace and a round dining room table. Kara, the senator’s executive assistant, had once told me the round table was the one piece of furniture Senator Langsford had insisted Vivian purchase for the house. Apparently, when they had dinner guests, the senator preferred sitting at a round table, facing his guests to facilitate a lively conversation. I smiled when I recalled how he’d loved robust, spirited policy debates. Over the past year, he had found himself embroiled in many contentious political ones. Staring at the round table, I wondered if his passion for asking the hard questions had ultimately led to his death.
Behind the foyer and to the right of the staircase was the senator’s library and study. When Langsford had summoned me here for Senate business—usually because work needed to be done over the weekend in preparation for an imminent hearing or vote—I had met with him in the study. This was certainly “his” room in the house. He had decorated it with keepsakes gathered during his service as a senator. Photographs from trips he’d taken abroad and mementos of successful campaigns covered the walls. Since he had enjoyed reading, he also owned a large collection of books. The last time I had been in his study, the senator had taken a moment to show me he had recently purchased Doug’s latest book and was excited to read it.
Next to the study was the “family room.” The term could be applied loosely, since to me, a “family room” connotes relaxation and fun with a family. However, Vivian had decorated the room with white sofas and settees—not exactly the color I’d have picked for a functional “family room.” A huge flat-screen television had been built into the far end of the wall. The TV was never actually turned on, although Vivian would have surely chosen top of the line. Had Senator Langsford ever felt comfortable watching football in the family room? I doubted it. Chuckling to myself, I imagined the challenges of hosting a Super Bowl party in a room full of white furniture. Only the foolhardy or unusually dexterous would ask, “Please pass the salsa.”
An exquisite stone patio stood in back of the house. On the other side of patio, an in-ground pool was situated next to a small gazebo. The Langsfords had hosted an annual summer party for staff each August, and the pool was open for attendees who wanted to take a dip. Since I had a firm rule that no one I worked with should ever see me in a bathing suit, I never had the pleasure of swimming in the pool. Others, like Meg, didn’t suffer from such hang-ups and had enjoyed the pool several times. I would miss those parties. To foster a collaborative workplace, Senator Langsford had always encouraged those in his employ to socialize and celebrate important occasions. It was tragic our last staff gathering was his wake.
Kara, likewise dressed in black, hurried over to us. I silently congratulated myself for staying with tradition and not taking Mandy’s advice that colorful business attire was perfectly acceptable. Kara greeted us, and the strain on her face showed how stressful it must have been for her to help with the planning. As the executive assistant, she was also friends with Senator Langsford and Mrs. Langsford. Kara was always perfectly poised, so only someone who knew her well would see the extent to which the past several days had worn her down.
I asked how she was feeling, and she managed a small smile. “Thank you for asking. I can’t wait for this day to be over. Between this event and the vigil this evening, I can hardly keep up.”
I looked at Kara with a puzzled expression. “Am I missing something? I didn’t know there was a vigil this evening.”
Kara tapped her BlackBerry, which she held in her hand. “Did you check your email this morning?” In the course of getting ready for the wake, I had never looked at my device.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even glance at my messages this morning.”
“Totally understandable, given the circumstances. There will be a vigil for Senator Langsford this evening, right off the Senate floor in the Capitol. All senators are expected to stay in town to attend, and of course, staffers in our office are encouraged to go, too. It should start at seven, since last votes will take place around six thirty today.”
Meg and I told Kara we’d plan to attend. She motioned for us to move into the dining room, where a short service would begin in a few minutes. After the formal program, Mrs. Langsford would host a reception with refreshments, taking place both inside and outside on the patio.
We walked into the dining room, and I quickly surveyed the attendees. Just as I had surmised, the so-called “usual suspects” were present. In addition to speaking with Vivian, I needed to observe if anyone’s demeanor implied he or she had threatened me last night. How might a person act if he had recently made a menacing phone call? I had no clue, but I’d look for out of the ordinary behavior.
Since a Senate vigil was scheduled for this evening, I worried briefly that Senator Regan might have chosen not to attend this event. Fortunately I had no problem spotting him, along with Jeff Prentice. Of course Mandy glued herself to both Prentice and Regan. She wanted to keep close tabs on both of them, although for different reasons. Detective O’Halloran was also in the crowd with a purpose similar to my own.
The Langsfords’ minister called the service to order and said several kind words about the senator and his spiritual beliefs. I had never known Senator Langsford as a deeply religious man, yet the minister attested to his church participation and devoutness. After he was finished, he hugged Mrs. Langsford, whom I watched closely. She was a hard woman to read. Certainly, she displayed more sorrow than she had immediately after the senator’s death. Dressed in a slim black dress, black designer sandals, and an immaculate string of pearls, she certainly looked the part of a grieving widow. She clasped a small white handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes every minute or so. I wasn’t close enough to determine whether she was faking the tears, although her heavy eye makeup looked none the worse for wear.
After the minister’s words, there was no formal eulogy. Instead, a steady stream of people close to the senator offered brief vignettes about his numerous contributions. I listened carefully to the comments, both to appreciate their meaning and analyze them for clues. If there was a veiled message about Langsford’s killer hidden in one of the speeches, I couldn’t detect it.
A handful of mourners wept during the service, including my bosses Matt and Lucinda, who together told a heartwarming story about Senator Langsford. There were several poignant moments during the service, and at its conclusion, I stole a glance around the room and noticed there was nary a dry eye. It had been a worthy tribute, leaving me wondering whether I had the emotional energy to endure another heart-wrenching set of speeches this evening from his Senate colleagues. Mrs. Langsford didn’t say anything, except to thank everyone and urge all in attendance to stay for an early luncheon.
After the formal program ended, as if on cue, a small army of servers emerged from the rear of the dining room that led to the kitchen. They carefully balanced loaded trays of appetizers while others carried flutes of what looked like orange juice. I took one and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was a champagne mimosa. At least we wouldn’t have to struggle through this difficult day without the appropriate liquid refreshments.
Apparently Meg agreed with me. She smacked her lips. “I think it’s Dom Perignon!”
Doug looked at Meg with suspicion. “How could you possibly tell, since the taste of the champagne has been absolutely eviscerated by orange juice?”
&
nbsp; Undeterred by Doug’s quasi-snotty tone, Meg shrugged. “I have a discerning palate when it comes to champagne. Identifying the good stuff has always been a talent of mine.”
Doug appeared unconvinced, but the lull in the conversation allowed me to say, “We should enjoy the champagne, no matter what it is. But more important, we need to split up and try to complete our assignments. Are we ready?” I gave Doug and Meg my biggest smile in an effort to motivate the troops.
Their eager expressions indicated no pep talk was necessary. Meg said quickly, “I’ve been tracking Jeff Prentice since the service ended. He already went outside, probably to get food.”
“Was Senator Regan with him? He was standing with Jeff earlier.”
Meg stared over my shoulder to report our suspects’ whereabouts. “No, Regan was with him during the service, but now he’s waiting to talk to Mrs. Langsford, probably to offer his condolences in person.”
I turned around casually to confirm Meg’s report. She was right. Talking to Mrs. Langsford might prove more challenging than I thought. An informal line had already twisted around her. I’d have to stay vigilant and wait for the right opportunity.
Doug said, “I’ll keep an eye on Regan. He doesn’t have anyone with him right now, so after he talks to Mrs. Langsford, it might be the perfect time to approach him.”
Leaving Doug and Meg to their assignments, I decided to kill some time before trying to speak with Mrs. Langsford. Lucinda was on my list, too, and she might be an easier target. I spotted her chatting with a small city mayor from the state. Lucinda always found the meetings with local officials tedious, so it would be a great chance for me to interrupt, save Lucinda from Mayor Whomever, and pump her for critical information. As I sauntered toward her, I snagged a few cucumber sandwiches, which were delicious. Sleuthing was hard work, and you shouldn’t do it on an empty stomach.