“Well, remember what the nuns told us. We each serve in our own way,” Samantha said, more than a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Oh, Lord. Hanging out with good Sister Bernice is rubbing off on you. You’ll be quoting scripture next.”
“By the way, would you remember to ask Danny the name of the veteran organization he’s working with? You told me he volunteers with a group that assists returning wounded vets.”
“As a matter of fact, he’s going there tonight. I’ll text him and find out the name. Meanwhile, I wanted to ask you a favor, Miss Thing.”
“Name it.”
“Could you ask your mice to check the gossip hounds to see what connections turn up on Congressman Ryker, Senator Dunston, and Ambassador Holmberg? I met with Sylvia Wilson at the Willard last night. She even showed me Quentin’s notebook.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, she was clearly interested in finding out what those notations meant. Quentin had also written Stuttgart Bank and another name in there—Spencer, which I assume is a last name. I didn’t recognize it.”
“Hmmmm. Spencer. I know a lot of Spencers, but let’s see what comes up in connection with Ryker and Dunston and Holmberg. I’ll start spreading the word.”
“Thanks, Samantha. I knew I could count on you.” I reached for my mug and took a deep drink of coffee. “Oh, and ask your mice to concentrate on financial information if they can. Apparently, Quentin Wilson discovered a connection between Ryker, Dunston, and Holmberg. Unfortunately, Wilson’s notes were kind of cryptic. But he did draw arrows between Ryker’s name and Holmberg’s. And he drew dollar signs lots of places. Particularly under Dunston’s name. So, I’m curious.”
“Now you’ve made me curious. Quentin was spot-on when it came to focusing on a subject, so if he found a connection, there’s got to be something there.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Frankly, I’m amazed Sylvia Wilson was so forthcoming with that notebook. You must have charmed the bejeezus out of her.”
I laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. I think it was more a case of each one of us helping the other. I had information and so did she. So we shared, I guess you’d say. She was curious about why Quentin was spending so much time researching something that wasn’t part of his congressional committee work.”
“That’s understandable.”
I could feel the unspoken concern coming from my friend. “Don’t worry, Samantha. Your name will never come out of my mouth in her presence.”
Samantha chuckled. “Thank gawd. Oh, did you get my email with the web link to the company that protects your financial information? I sent it this morning.”
“I haven’t had time to check my personal emails yet, but thank you. I’ll give them a call.” Another thought buzzed from the back of my brain and hovered right in front of me, claiming my attention. “And speaking of security, I want to make a suggestion for you. I’m going to email you the name and phone number of the contact person for the specialty security firm that took care of my home. And I want you to seriously consider having them totally redo your house and property.”
“I already have security, Molly. A very good firm too. Remember all those surveillance videos we watched last summer after Quentin died?”
“I remember. And I’m sure they are a very good firm for average people. But you’re a special case, Samantha. And I want you to have the very best protection out there.”
“Thank you, Sugar. I think you’re special too.”
I could hear the laughter behind Samantha’s voice, so I decided I had to get her attention. “Listen, Samantha. Most of Washington knew you and Quentin Wilson were seeing each other. That’s why I’m worried about you. You also knew about Quentin’s research, and I think you should protect yourself. Just in case.”
“My God, Molly … now you’re scaring me.”
I could hear the worry in Samantha’s voice. “I’m sorry to scare you, but I don’t think you should take chances with your safety. It won’t hurt for you to have a total security makeover. Lock your place down tight. And have them sweep for bugs in the process.”
“Good Lord, I don’t even want to think about that.”
“I know. But we have to protect ourselves. And if you’re wondering if I’m overreacting, I can tell you I gave Sylvia Wilson the same advice.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. She wanted to know exactly why I was so interested in following up on Karen’s research into this subject. So I told her exactly what I just told you. Three promising congressional staffers and a congressman are gone from Capitol Hill. And the only thing they had in common was that they were researching this same subject. I even told her about the bug found on Natasha’s phone and the one found in my wall.”
“What’d she say to that?”
“Not much, actually. She blanched and stared at me wide-eyed. So I guess I got her attention.”
“Well, that takes some doing, from what I hear.”
“Oh, and I told her I’d heard she was living in the same townhouse where Quentin lived. And I recommended the exact same security firm and offered to send her their name. And she accepted my offer.”
Samantha laughed softly. “Damn, Molly. You’re relentless, you know that?”
I could hear surrender in my friend’s voice and exulted inside. “It’s one of my few virtues, Miss Thing. You of all people know that.”
Tuesday afternoon
Raymond stood beside Spencer’s wide office window, gazing down at Pennsylvania Avenue. Late afternoon and the October sun was arcing downward, inching toward a sunset. Another week and a half and Daylight Saving Time would be over. The autumn hours would abruptly shift and sunset would rush upon them. Night hastening right behind.
He sipped from the ample glass filled with Spencer’s aged Scotch. Molten gold slid down Raymond’s ragged throat. Another case had arrived on his doorstep this very morning. Thank the angels. Or Spencer, rather. Relief in a glass.
“Dammit to hell,” Spencer cursed again from the corner of his office. “What is it with women? Why can’t they leave well enough alone? Why do they always have to go poking into things? Things that are none of their business.”
Raymond had to smile at the petulant sound in Spencer’s voice. “The best laid plans oft go astray,” he offered as he walked back to the corner sitting area. The leather sofa received him with a sigh as he sat down.
Spencer looked over his glass with a scowl. “Don’t get philosophical on me. I don’t need that right now.” He tossed back a deep drink. “You gonna put Trask on Malone, or what?”
“Yeah. I’ll have him watch her comings and going for a while. See who she meets, aside from that boyfriend of hers. He’s there most of the time.”
“Yeah, you ought to run a check on him too. We don’t know anything about him, except he was the one who brought in the security company, right?”
“That’s what I figure. Judging from watching him talk to those guys when they arrived and when they were outside later, I could tell he obviously knew them. So, I’m betting he’s former military, but we need to find out more. We can’t follow the congresswoman around, so I guess your boy Fillmore will have to keep an eye on her.” He took another sip and let it slide down slowly, numbing his throat.
“I’ve already got him on it. Larry and his contacts can find out if the congresswoman stays on task with her own committee work. If she starts poking into other things, he’ll find that out too.”
“Okay. That’s about all we can do for now. Keep an eye on them both. If they start getting too close to something, we’ll hear about it. Hopefully, neither of them will push this any further. Hell, they don’t have anywhere to push. Jorgensen is gone. Wilson is gone. Anyone who had access to information has been neutralized.” He gave a crooked smile.
/>
Spencer lifted his glass. “Let’s hope you’re right. I don’t want to have a conversation with Montclair about any more leaks. It would not go over well.”
Raymond noticed the slightly anxious tone that crept into Spencer’s voice. He rarely heard it. So he sought to reassure. “Let’s hope this was a case of an excess of female curiosity. And that will be the end of it.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Spencer said, lifting his glass. “Damn aggravating women,” he added, then tossed down the remainder of his Scotch.
nine
Wednesday
“Here, help me eat these fries, so I won’t feel so guilty.” I held out the paper cup to Loretta, who was seated beside me on a bench. We’d succeeded in finding a shady spot in a park between Louisiana and Constitution avenues near the Capitol.
“Oh, no. I’m not going there with you, Molly.” Loretta waved her hand at me as she shrank away from the crispy temptations. “They are SO not on my doctor’s list. His good list, that is.” She forked through the last of her salad and stuffed the plastic container in her bag.
Now I wished I’d chosen yogurt instead of the greasy New York–style hot dog from the vendor cart on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue. Too late now. “I shudder to think what’s on your doctor’s bad list. All my favorites, I’m sure.” I tossed down the last bite. Fattening but delicious.
“And all of mine,” Loretta said with a smile.
I drained half my water bottle, then withdrew an old hardcover notebook from my oversized purse. “I’m glad you texted me the other day, Loretta. Natasha Jorgensen’s murder completely wiped away my promise to check this out.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.” She looked at me with concern. “It’s always terrible to see younger people die way earlier than they should.”
“We’ve had a lot of that these last few months, haven’t we?” I caught her sympathetic gaze and watched it turn wary.
“Indeed, we have. Too many. Now, show me what you found. I need another distraction.”
I opened the notebook and began to page through it. My brother-in-law’s neat handwriting showed on every page. “It looks like he was taking notes on his research. A lot on European Union financial policy and regulations. I skimmed through, and most of it is pretty dry stuff. But he does have notes toward the end where he mentions some European banks. Also, Eric wrote down Montclair and Kasikov.” I turned toward the back pages and pointed to the words. “I don’t know if those are names of places or people. There’s no clue.”
Loretta leaned closer, focusing on the notebook in my lap. “What’s that in red ink? I can’t tell.”
“That’s Karen’s writing. Her notations are mostly question marks throughout the notebook, so clearly she was puzzled too. But Eric didn’t indicate what he was looking for. I was really hoping I’d find out something more. But most of his notes concern early EU financial policy, so that’s old news today.”
Loretta peered at the notebook. “Well, let me go over it and see if any of his entries jog my memory. I remember talking with him, but Congressman Grayson wasn’t particularly chatty.”
I grinned. “You’re right about that. Kind-hearted but a bit taciturn, especially when he was working on something.”
“Wait a minute,” Loretta said, pointing at a page. “He’s circled that word. Right there. What is it?”
“I saw that on several pages. It looks like geo, but there’s no indication of what he’s talking about.” I paged back and spotted another place where the word geo was circled. “See, there it is again. And here too. Does he mean ‘geography’?” I paged backwards over several pages, pointing out several instances.
“Hmmmmm. Now I’m intrigued. You know how I love puzzles. Let’s see what I can find out. I promise I’ll get this back to you in a few days. I’ll expressmail it to you to be safe.”
“Thanks, Loretta. I appreciate it.” I handed her the notebook, then reached inside my bag and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “And here’s something else I think you’ll find interesting. But you need to keep this information strictly to yourself. I obtained it confidentially, and it concerns Quentin Wilson’s research this past summer.” I unfolded the paper and handed it to Loretta. “He also mentions a European bank and a possible connection between some rather prominent politicians. And he clearly indicates that money is involved because he drew several dollar signs beneath their names in his notes.”
Loretta looked at me, her dark gaze intense. “Those are pretty prominent names. Does anyone else know about Wilson’s research?”
“Only a few people. One of them was Natasha.” I watched Loretta’s gaze widen, then turn wary.
“Good Lord. Did Congressman Wilson suggest to anyone that he found evidence of wrongdoing?”
“It looks like he was getting close, but he died before he could put all the pieces together. At least, that’s my guess. I could be dead wrong too. Maybe Wilson was on a wild goose chase, but I figured you’d be able to find out if he was. I made this copy for you.”
Loretta scanned the page, then gave me a small smile. “Now I see why you want me to keep this private. I promise, I will. The notebook and these notes will be delivered back to you by special delivery, I promise.”
“Well, no need to go to that expense. Expressmail will do.”
Loretta glanced toward the others relaxing and enjoying lunch in the park this late October afternoon. “I think it’s time we both returned to our offices, Molly. We must look like we’re plotting world domination or something. This is the second time I’ve caught that dark-haired guy with the mustache looking at us. He’s on the opposite bench with a newspaper.”
I glanced over and spotted a dark-haired guy reading a newspaper, remnants of lunch spread on the bench beside him. Cola can in hand. “Yeah, if we’re attracting the attention of worker bees, it’s best to head back to our own hives.”
“Amen to that. I’ll be in touch, Molly,” Loretta said as we both rose from the bench.
“Thanks so much, Loretta. And next time, let’s meet at that new Irish pub in your neighborhood. We’ll attract less attention there.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Loretta said with a smile as she turned and walked down the concrete path toward Capitol Hill and the Library of Congress.
I tossed my lunch trash into a trash can as I headed toward Pennsylvania Avenue and what I hoped would be a quick cab ride back to Georgetown.
Late Wednesday afternoon
“Where are you now?” Raymond asked as he leaned back into the chaise lounge, phone to his ear.
“I’m sitting in a café on New York Avenue. I finally threw in the towel after she changed trains in the Metro station. She got on the orange line and the doors closed before I could get inside. The middle of rush hour, and every car was packed. People were getting caught in the door. You know how it is.”
“Not really. I avoid the Metro like the plague. Too many people to suit me. Give me rush hour on I-66 any day.” Raymond picked up the glass of Scotch on the patio table beside him. The sun was just starting to set, casting a reddish glow through the oak trees bordering his Virginia backyard.
Trask’s laughter sounded. “My bet is she was heading somewhere in the District, maybe Maryland. We’ll know more once we find out who she is.”
“All you’ve got is she’s a middle-aged African-American woman. Tall, slender, you said. Cropped hair. Good-looking, right?”
“Yeah. Taller than Malone. Basketball tall. She walked that way too. Athletic. I followed her all the way into the Library of Congress but lost her when I had to go through the security checkpoint. So I couldn’t see which office she went to. I left the building and sat on a bench not too far away where I could see the entrance. That way I’d spot her when she came out. I figured she might walk to the Metro station.”
Raymond took a deep drink
of the molten gold. “You said you got a photo of her with Malone?”
“Yeah. Damn near got caught too. She looked up just as I was putting the phone to my ear. I saw her looking at me again, just before they got up to leave. Next time I’ll bring out the priest’s collar.”
Raymond snickered. “You’ll have to show me that one. I can’t picture it.”
“With the glasses, it looks pretty convincing. One time, I actually had a cop ask me if I was looking for the Catholic church nearby. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.”
Raymond laughed out loud at that, despite risking the cough’s return. He took another big sip to stave it off. “Did you recognize the notebook Malone handed over?”
“Nope. It had a different cover than the ones I found in Malone’s desk drawer at her house. But it must have had a lot of things in it, because both of them were fixated. Pointing out stuff to each other. Man, I’d like to get my hands on that.”
“Fat chance. Not until we find out who she is.”
“Oh, yeah. Malone gave her a separate sheet of paper. There was stuff written there, too, because they were pointing at different things.”
Raymond let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, let’s not get excited about this. That woman could be someone she’s working with for Russell’s office. Who knows? Let’s wait and see what that Fillmore guy in Jackson’s office can find out. If this gal works on the Hill, they’ll have ID photos. Let’s see what turns up. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Somehow Raymond didn’t feel luck was coming their way. Once Trask mentioned the Library of Congress, he’d gotten a bad feeling in his gut. Stirring up some old memories.
“If this gal works in the Library of Congress, then it sounds like Malone is following in Quentin Wilson’s research footsteps. That’s where he spent so much time. Once he overheard Ryker’s conversation, that is.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” Raymond scowled into his glass, then took another deep drink. “Dammit. I was hoping she’d reach a dead end and let it drop. It looked like she did for a while.”
Bloody Politics Page 8
