“Do staffers ever go to the hideaway?”
“I throw a party for them there every Fourth of July. It’s the best place in the District to watch the fireworks.”
“Are there any other occasions when staffers go into your hideaway?”
“Certainly. I sometimes have meetings with senior staff there. Mostly Stanley and Brett. And I know the LAs and interns drink beer up there sometimes. On the sly.”
“Who else goes into your hideaway?”
“All kinds of people—other members, lobbyists, the occasional journalist. I have meetings there all the time.”
“Who have you had in your hideaway over the last six months?”
Lionel grumbled as he tried to recall his guests. Jack doubted any of these people would be relevant to the investigation. But Lionel was talking. Now that he was getting warmed up, Jack would start asking him more pointed questions.
Anna and McGee stepped into the reception area.
“Dammit,” McGee whispered to Anna. “That lawyer’s trying to stop Vale from talking to us.”
Anna agreed, but there was little they could do.
“At least he wants to talk to us,” Anna said. She wondered why.
“To you.” McGee chuckled. “When you get back in there, bat your eyelashes at him a little.”
Singleton opened the door and gestured for them to come back in. He looked nervous and unhappy. “Brett hadn’t shared this information with me before.”
Anna and McGee sat down across from Vale again.
“Anna,” Vale said, leaning forward as if they were talking over dinner. “Everyone knows that Lionel sees escorts. It’s an open secret.”
Anna nodded, trying to pretend she wasn’t floored. She glanced at McGee to make sure he was writing it down. He was staring at Vale. When Anna caught his eye, he started scribbling.
“Tell me about it,” she prompted.
“It’s been going on since I started. Sometimes the women would come to his office here in the Rayburn Building after hours. Usually, he’d meet them at some hotel outside the Beltway. Outside of D.C., nobody recognizes him.”
“How did you know he was doing it? Did he talk about it, or did you see him meet these women?”
Vale brushed an invisible speck of dust off his gray jacket. “He never spoke about it, but I saw them. We all did. When they came to the office, they didn’t look like constituents, frumpy and dumpy. They looked like swimsuit models in business suits, with their hair pulled back, maybe wearing a fake pair of glasses. If he had a ‘constituent meeting’ at the Ritz in Pentagon City, he wasn’t talking to concerned citizens about potholes.”
“Do you know any of the escorts’ names?”
“No.”
“Who else in the office knew?” Anna asked.
“Stanley. Jamiya. The LAs. We all talked about it.”
Anna asked for more details, but Vale said he had no knowledge of the escort agency itself. He was refreshingly forthcoming, which unnerved Anna. She kept trying to figure out his angle. Perhaps she was getting too jaded and couldn’t accept that someone would tell her the truth for truth’s sake. But something about him was just . . . off. In any event, it was time to ask about the homicide that had brought her there.
Jack was done with background questions. “Have you ever used the services of an escort agency, perhaps one called Discretion?”
Davenport held up his hand to his client. “Let me reiterate my understanding that these interviews are being treated as matters occurring before the grand jury. Any leak of Congressman Lionel’s answers to the press would be contempt of court, and I would expect it to be prosecuted.”
Jack understood that the Congressman was worried about the upcoming primary election. D.C. was famous for forgiving politicians for their flaws and foibles—Exhibit A was former mayor Marion Barry, who had been caught on video smoking crack with his mistress and now sat on the City Council. But there would be no time for Lionel to put his dirty laundry through the spin cycle if it were aired now, a few weeks before the primary.
“Yes,” Jack said. “This is a criminal investigation in the grand jury stage and thus secret. The U.S. Attorney’s Office won’t release details of it while the investigation is ongoing. Any information we gather would come out only in the course of some future criminal proceeding, if it came to that.” He didn’t take his eyes off the Congressman. “Do you remember my question?”
“You gonna prosecute me for using prostitutes? Maybe I need immunity.”
“There’s not gonna be any immunity here, sir. You are presently a subject of my investigation, along with everyone else in your office. But I can tell you this. It’s not the policy of the U.S. Attorney’s Office to prosecute the johns in escort cases. And it’s not what I’m investigating. This is a homicide investigation. If you have information that would tend to clear you of homicide, I’d appreciate you sharing it now, before an indictment is issued.”
“Congressman, we’ve discussed this.” Davenport looked at his client. “You know my advice.”
“I know.” Lionel shifted his chair sideways, so he could face the window. He looked out at the Capitol dome as he spoke. “I belong to a gentlemen’s club. The concierge referred me to Discretion about five years ago. I have occasionally met with the agency’s employees over that period.”
This was the first time Lionel appeared vulnerable. Jack handed the Congressman a color copy of a DMV photo. “Do you know this woman?”
“Sasha.” The Congressman nodded. “Her real name was Caroline McBride.”
“How did you know her?”
“Through Discretion. I saw her five or six times over the past couple of years, mostly at hotels. Here at the office once or twice.” Lionel nodded toward the couch where Davenport’s associate was taking notes. The young man shifted uncomfortably on the leather cushions. “That’s how I know her name—a visitor has to be on the Capitol Police list and show ID to get in the building after hours. The agency allowed an exception to their usual policy so I could book appointments here in my office.”
“Tell me everything you know about Sasha.”
“I don’t know anything about her. It’s not a date. There’s no ‘getting to know you’ talk. Anything she told me would be a story, anyway. Like the name Sasha.”
“Was she engaged?”
“I said, I don’t know anything about her.”
“Did you arrange to meet Caroline on Sunday night?”
“No, I did not!”
“Tell me what happened that night.”
“I had an early dinner at the Monocle with a group of developers who I’m trying to interest in a riverside revitalization project. Stanley Potter was staffing me. We came straight back to the Capitol afterward. There was a stakeholders’ meeting for the energy bill in HC-5 starting at seven. Many members of my staff were there.”
“What’s HC-5?”
“A meeting room in the lower level of the Capitol.”
“Were you with Mr. Potter the whole time?” Jack asked skeptically. He knew from police reports that the Congressman had been intercepted coming down the stairwell from the hideaway at eight-fifteen P.M. that night.
“Of course not. We mingled. I don’t need to be staffed at a party. Around eight o’clock I saw my intern, Chester. He told me that Caroline McBride was waiting for me in the hideaway. I didn’t know what was going on. I had no idea why she was there.”
“Why would she come to your hideaway if you didn’t make an appointment with her?”
“How the hell would I know? You think I would bring a girl to the Capitol itself? That’s insane. It’s crawling with reporters, members, and their staff. I might as well hold a press conference.”
“Or tweet a picture of her to your constituents,” Jack said. “Men have been known to behave recklessly in these circumstances.”
“I haven’t been reelected fifteen times by being careless. When Chester said she was here, I went upstairs to find out
what was going on. The hideaway was unlocked, but no one was inside. I glanced around and didn’t see anything. I went back down the stairs, and that’s when the Capitol Police officer came running up. He said a woman had fallen from my balcony. That was the first I heard of it.”
Jack nodded. The Congressman’s story suggested that he was an innocent bystander. But the story was a gold mine for Jack—because he had an e-mail proving it false.
Potter tried to smooth his rumpled blue shirt over his big round belly as he contemplated the question. Although unfailingly loyal, he was also obviously uncomfortable with the position he was in. He shifted his portly body before answering.
“I was still at the reception when I got a call from a friend on the Capitol Police. He said that a woman had fallen from the Congressman’s balcony. I called Brett’s cell—he was back at the office. He came and met me at the hideaway. Lionel was there with a Capitol Police officer.” Potter winced. “I called Lionel’s lawyer, and he rushed over. And that’s when we met you.”
“She looks like you.” Brett Vale looked up from the DMV photograph. He slid it back across his desk to Anna. “No, I don’t recognize her.”
“Do you recognize this?”
Anna handed Vale an evidence bag. His eyebrows went up when he saw the diamond ring inside it. “Where’d you get this?”
“Sorry, we can’t answer questions. We just ask them. Do you recognize it?”
“No. Nice, though. Somebody spent a lot of money.”
Anna took the ring back. “What were you doing the night the woman fell from your boss’s balcony?”
“I was at the energy reception with him for a little bit. But I couldn’t stay—so close to the vote on the energy bill, there was a lot of work to do. I came back here. That’s where I was when Stanley called me. He told me to come to the hideaway.”
“Was the Congressman at the party while you were there?”
“Yes.”
“The whole time, or did he leave?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t my turn to watch him.”
Once Jack had wrung every detail out of Lionel’s false story, he signaled to Samantha. She handed Congressman Lionel the printout.
“Sir,” Jack said. “Let me show you something we pulled off your computer.”
Lionel and Davenport leaned over the desk to read the e-mail.
To:
Zachs, Chester
From:
Lionel, Emmett
Time:
August 29, 2012, 16:17
Subject:
Visitor
Chester, please escort my guest, Caroline McBride, from the North carriage entrance to my hideaway at eight P.M. tonight.
Thanks.
EDL
There was a second e-mail from Lionel to the Capitol Police, asking them to put Caroline McBride on the list to be admitted to the Senate carriage entrance that night.
“What kind of bullshit is this!” Lionel exploded, rising from his chair.
“Our forensics team found it,” Samantha said with clear pride.
“This is a setup!” Lionel shouted. “Youngblood!”
“Sir, this e-mail was sent from your account,” Jack said. “Did you send it?”
“Why don’t we take a break,” Davenport said.
“He has a mole in my office.” Lionel looked around, his eyes wide with fear, as if someone might be hiding under his desk. “Daniel, I’m going to—”
“Wait!” Davenport put up a hand and stood. “Lionel, be quiet.” The attorney turned to Jack. “If you’ll please step outside for a moment, I need to confer with my client.”
As they stepped into the reception area, Jack turned to Samantha with a grin.
“We got him.”
“Have you discussed the case with Congressman Lionel?” Anna asked Vale.
“Only once, at his house. He talked about the fact that we would all be interviewed.”
“What did the Congressman say?”
Vale scrunched up his narrow face into a fierce grimace. “ ‘Tell ’em the damn truth!’” he roared. It was a perfect imitation of his boss.
“Is there anything I didn’t ask that you expected me to ask, or anything you haven’t told me that I should know?” It was one of her standard closing questions.
Vale paused, then smiled. “One thing. The Congressman said he’d be unavailable that evening; he was meeting with a ‘constituent.’ He didn’t say who it was, and there wasn’t anyone on his schedule.”
Chester the intern nodded. “Yes, I got this e-mail from the Congressman. I did what he asked. I brought the lady up to the hideaway. A minute or two later, I saw the Congressman at the cocktail party in HC-5 and told him she was upstairs. He went up to see her.”
“Have you spoken to Congressman Lionel about it since?” the detective asked.
“No.” Chester shrugged. “I’m just an intern. I don’t get a lot of face time with the Congressman. I just do what I’m told.”
“Did the Congressman talk to you about what you should say or how you should act in this interview?”
“He just said that I shouldn’t offer you any coffee,” Chester replied sheepishly. “And there was certainly no need to order a tray of Danishes.”
Anna stood up, thanked Vale, and shook his hand. It was cool and dry. He held the handshake too long. She pulled her hand back and returned to the reception area. The rest of the team was already assembled there. Jack and Samantha were huddled in quiet conversation. Davenport came out of his client’s office just as Anna emerged from Vale’s. The defense lawyer held a large envelope.
“Jack, this interview is over.”
“I have some more questions.”
“I’m sorry, but the Congressman has a very busy day. I hope this has been useful.”
“Very.”
“One more thing.” Davenport handed Jack the envelope. “While we were talking, my firm filed this motion. Your friend Dylan Young-blood is the Congressman’s primary challenger. I’m not accusing you of anything, but this entire interview was improper. I’m moving to have all of today’s statements suppressed. And to have you and the rest of your office recused from this case.”
25
Brett Vale stood in the bullpen office, watching out the window. His lawyer had gone to tell on him to Daniel Davenport. “His” lawyer. What a joke. The guy was obviously Lionel’s pawn. That lawyer would throw him under the bus in a second if it would help Lionel. Potter didn’t see it—he was blindly devoted to Lionel. But Vale knew he could trust only himself.
A moment later, he saw what he had been waiting for. The prosecution team walked down the marble steps of the Rayburn Building toward Independence Avenue. The two lawyers led the way like a pair of ducks leading their ducklings.
There she was, talking to the bald black prosecutor, their heads in tight together. Vale didn’t like how close they stood. He’d felt a connection with Anna Curtis from the moment she’d walked in today. She looked just like Sasha—it couldn’t be a coincidence that she was investigating the whore’s death.
He was sure she felt the connection, too. He could tell by the way she listened to him. More than that; she understood him. She was probably talking about him right now, telling that bald guy what a great witness he’d be.
He was going to be a star witness. He would tell her everything she wanted to know about Lionel. He would make the case for her.
And when it was over, she would be grateful.
He lifted his Nikon D90 and pointed it out the window, using the telephoto lens to bring the prosecutor’s pretty face into sharp focus. He snapped a picture of her profile. Taking her picture excited him. He kept his index finger on the button, clicking away until she walked out of his sight.
26
The team crammed into a couple of unmarked Crown Vics that the MPD detectives had parked near the Starbucks. Anna hopped in back with Samantha, and Jack rode shotgun next to McGee. They spent the ride to the USAO excitedly
sharing stories of their interviews. Anna could see that Jack was exuberant.
“We caught him in a lie,” Jack said. “That’s almost as good as a confession.”
“I dunno,” Anna said. “The more I talk to Vale, the more I like him as a suspect.”
Jack turned to look back at Anna. “Vale didn’t send any e-mails setting up an appointment with our victim that night.”
“True.” She nodded. Computers didn’t lie. “What about Davenport’s motion to recuse you?”
“Typical defense garbage.”
“A judge might see merit in it.”
“I’m not concerned about it, Anna.” He glanced back at her. “Enough.”
Jack’s tone held a pointedness that verged on biting. Sam and McGee both glanced at him, and Anna knew they’d heard it, too. She suppressed her own sharp retort. If she engaged him now, her own tone might edge closer to a lovers’ quarrel than a legal debate.
McGee dropped the three of them off at the back entrance to U.S. District Court, then drove away on C Street. He and his team would continue interviewing Caroline’s acquaintances.
Anna and Jack went through courthouse security and waited as Samantha checked her gun in the locker room. When all three of them were through, they headed to the new wing of the courthouse. They went to Judge Redwood’s chambers and asked the law clerk whether the judge had signed the immunity order. She had. Jack nodded with relief as the law clerk handed the paper to Anna.
Then they all went to the third floor, where the federal grand juries sat. Inside the grand jury suite, a Court Security officer told them that Madeleine Connor was waiting for them in Witness Room #2. By the time they knocked on the door, it was a little after eleven A.M. They walked into the witness room and found two women. Anna knew that the one in the white linen skirt suit, sitting with perfect posture, had to be Madeleine. She was beautiful in the way of a woman fighting Mother Nature with every possible weapon: hair that must be going gray, colored a rich caramel; Botoxed forehead; big breasts defying gravity; StairMaster-toned, tanned legs. Next to her sat a plainer woman, with silver hair and a brown suit.
Discretion Page 17
