“Nonsense, Molly. Albert considers this traffic a challenge.” His voice turned from the phone. “Luisa, could you please tell Albert he needs to fetch Molly from Virginia.”
No! No! No! The last thing I wanted was to be thrown into a room full of politicians tonight. It was too soon. Besides, I was trying to fly beneath the radar, and Russell was thwarting me at every turn. “Senator, no, please, I’m … I’m not dressed for a reception. I’m still in my funereal black suit.”
Russell chuckled. “And a lovely suit it is, Molly. You’ll be radiant, I’m sure.”
My God, this man had more blarney in him than my late uncle Jack. He had to be Irish. I started to sweat. Great for the lovely black suit. “Senator …” I wiggled again. “I appreciate your generosity and your flattery, but … but I promised my friends I’d join them for dinner.” Maybe obligation would get him.
Russell shot that down as well. “They’ll understand, Molly. I’m sure they will. Now, I’m putting Albert on the phone. We’ll see you soon.”
Damn. He’d out-talked me again. Russell was as good as I was at getting around people. He was going to be a challenge to work for. Sort of like working for myself. That was scary.
“Ms. Malone? Where are you now?” Albert’s voice came on the phone. “Where would be the closest and safest shopping area to park your car?”
“Uhhhhh, let me think,” I struggled, running the major shopping centers through my mind as I maneuvered into the left lane.
Tysons Corner was down the road, but that was a traffic nightmare in the best of times. Where else? Remembering a drug store at a busy intersection I’d passed earlier in the day, I nosed the Acura into the left turn lane and waited for a break in traffic, praying I could execute a U-turn without causing an accident.
“Okay, Albert, how about the intersection of Old Dominion and Glebe Road? There’s a drugstore there. I’ll park in the back.”
“I’m on my way,” Albert said, in the tone of a man on a mission. “I’ve got your cell number. See you soon, Ms. Malone.”
“Right,” I said before tossing the phone into the next seat. I needed both hands for this turn. I whipped the Acura around the tight corner and roared off in the opposite direction, ignoring the sound of honking horns.
_____
His cell phone vibrated. The familiar number flashed on the screen.
“We may need you this weekend,” a man’s scratchy voice said.
“Good thing you called. I was about to head for the Bay tomorrow.”
“If affirmative, we’ll text you a keycode for data files.”
“Location?”
“Georgetown.”
“Again? Who pissed off those guys this time?”
“No one you’d know. Just a congressional staffer who’s gotten way too curious for her own good. Looking into things she shouldn’t and asking questions. That makes those guys real nervous. Problem is, she’s connected. Her father was that congressman from Colorado, Eric Grayson. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“They’re worried her father might have told her something before he died. So, when Grayson’s daughter starts asking questions, they don’t like it.”
“Well, you know the old saying. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’” He laughed softly.
“We’ll be in touch.” Then the line went dead.
No sense of humor, that one, he thought as he pocketed his phone.
_____
Albert pulled off Wisconsin Avenue and headed down Q Street, deftly weaving around double-parked cars, before pulling into the gated driveway. At his touch to the visor, the black wrought iron gate swung open, and we drove into the garage area behind the house.
Outdoor lights and lanterns threw bright arcs over the tall brick walls. Light pierced the fast-approaching twilight and I felt my heart beat faster. Albert opened the car door, and the sound of muffled conversation rolled over me like a wave on the beach. My pulse began to race. Nerve cells snapped awake. Old habits were hard to break.
I caught myself. What the hell was I doing? I’d barely been in Washington thirty-six hours, and I was sucked in already. How’d that happen?
“We’ll slip in the side door, Ms. Malone,” Albert said, as he helped me from the car.
“Please call me Molly,” I said, as he guided me away from the enclosed rear garden and around the corner of the residence. Luisa was standing at a back door, smiling as she took my purse.
I glimpsed the catering staff bustling about in a brightly lit kitchen as Albert ushered me down a back hallway. There was a delicious aroma floating in the air, and I made a mental note to ask Brewster who the senator used as caterers. I might as well provide counter-intelligence for Nan and Deb while there.
“Here, you go, Molly.” Albert ushered me through a door that led off another passageway. “Peter is keeping an eye out for you. Enjoy yourself.” He gave a friendly smile as he closed the door behind me.
I noticed the closed door disappear into the molding. Well, I’ll be damned. A secret door, I thought, as I stood in the senator’s elegant foyer. I walked slowly down the hallway until I reached the expansive living room. There, I hovered on the edge and watched. The room wasn’t crowded because almost everyone was enjoying the gorgeous spring weather outside.
Sometimes Washington would be blessed with a springtime for the Gods. Mild temperatures, low humidity, and flowers bursting into bloom everywhere you looked. It never stayed long, but it was glorious while it lasted.
I could see men and women outside in the garden, laughing and talking and drinking and talking and flirting and talking. Old instincts urged me to join them, but I stayed put. Sober-and-Righteous was still on the job. No mingling. Not yet. Too soon. I turned my attention to the staff that was serving the crowd, wondering if they were part of the caterer’s crew.
A short, gray-haired woman with an old-fashioned Dutch Boy haircut moved efficiently around the room, offering glasses of wine. A young man, college-aged, I guessed, wove through the crowd as well, offering appetizers. I searched for more staff and spotted the bartender in the corner of the room. I edged closer, and noticed he appeared to be middle-aged and worked with smooth efficiency as he prepared drinks.
Suddenly a low alto voice sounded at my elbow. “Would you care for some wine, ma’am?” Dutch asked.
I declined. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”
“You’ll look less conspicuous with some wine,” she said, her gray eyes smiling at me as she offered a glass.
This time, I took it. “Thank you,” I said as she backed away. There was something strangely familiar about Dutch. Maybe she’d worked my parents’ parties. Or Dave’s and mine.
Edging around the room again, I sipped the Chardonnay. It was surprisingly good, and I decided I needed to see Russell’s entertaining expenses. The sooner the better. Nan and Deb could tell me where to get the best prices on …
The accountant in me stopped analyzing as I spotted someone else in the crowd, edging around the room as I was. A tall middle-aged African-American man with a graying buzz cut, wearing a dark suit. Security. Had to be. Former military, no doubt. Retired military were thick as fleas in the Washington area. Thicker even than consultants, if that can be believed. In fact, most of the retired brass were consultants. Those salaries were too tempting to pass up.
The blond college boy paused at my elbow, offering an appetizer. I took one, the better to absorb the wine. I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. He gave me an engaging grin before weaving through the guests again. I inhaled the small quiche and washed it down with Chardonnay.
A voice sounded behind me then; a voice from the past. “As I live and breathe. Molly Malone,” the rich contralto flowed smooth as honey. “I’d given up hope of ever seeing you again.”
“Elea
nor MacKenzie,” I said as I turned to see my elderly mentor and political confidante smiling at me. Still as tall and imposing as I remembered, silver hair coiffed in an upswept French twist, and attired in her signature peach silk. Designer peach silk, if I remembered correctly. Eleanor always wore couture. “Thank God you’re still in town, Eleanor. Maybe I’ll survive this homecoming after all.”
“Molly, my girl, the sight of you truly makes my heart sing,” Eleanor said as she drew closer. Her step was as lively as I remembered, even though she must be over eighty by now. She reached out to take my free hand, capturing it between hers. “I never thought we’d see you on this side of the Potomac again. I’d heard you visited your family in Virginia and that’s all. Ignoring our cozy little nest of vipers in Foggy Bottom.”
I laughed softly. Eleanor’s wry sense of humor was still intact. “Well, I never thought I’d be here either, Eleanor, but my mother’s declining health forced me to return.”
“I’m so sorry, Molly,” Eleanor said, her face radiating concern. “How is Ginny doing? Has she taken a fall or something?”
“No, no, not yet, thank God. She’s simply having trouble remembering things. Things like medicines, doctors’ appointments, how to balance her checkbook, and more or less anything I tell her on the phone. It simply goes in one ear and drops onto the floor. It doesn’t even get to the processing center.”
Eleanor released my hand, the concern deepening in her sapphire blue eyes. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry to hear that. Have you moved Ginny to an assisted living facility? I’d heard she’s been living at the Kensington ever since your father died.”
“She’s still there,” I said with an ill-concealed sigh. “It would break her heart to move, Eleanor. All her friends are there, and I just couldn’t do it. So I hired a companion for her. A wonderful Irish lass who’s supervising the situation.”
“Oh, dear, I’ve heard they’re frightfully expensive.”
“You heard correctly,” I said with a rueful smile. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’ve sold my soul to pay for it all. Senator Russell has offered me a position on his staff. As an accountant.”
Eleanor’s eyes lit up. “An accountant? Of course, dear, whatever you say.” She laughed deep in her chest. “That’s quite a coup for Russell then. Ah, Molly, I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed talking with you, my girl. You’ll have to fill me in on all the particulars in private. But right now, my friends and I are heading home for the evening.” With that, she turned to address the couple approaching. “Alan, Brenda, look who I found in that wily senator’s employ. Molly, you remember Alan and Brenda Baker, don’t you?”
I certainly did and turned to greet the senior senator from Indiana and his wife. They were one of the Senate couples who could be counted on to preserve a tone of civility and respect. I’d always felt relieved each election cycle to see that the voters of Indiana had the good sense to return this man to the fray. He’d sat on the opposite side of the aisle from my father, but then Robert Malone formed his friendships without regard to political party.
“Senator, Brenda, how wonderful to see you again,” I said with heartfelt enthusiasm as I shook their hands. They’d both aged visibly, but their friendly smiles were still the same and still sincere.
“Molly, dear, how wonderful to see you,” Brenda said, giving my hand a squeeze before her husband jumped in.
“My God, Molly, it’s been twenty years at least,” Alan Baker exclaimed, pumping my hand. “You are a sight for disillusioned eyes. Don’t tell me Russell has not only spirited you away from Colorado, but from the Democrats as well? The party must be wringing their hands back in Denver.” He cackled, like the good Republican he was.
I had to join the laughter. Since I was working for an Independent now, I didn’t care who was wringing their hands back in Denver. After last year’s ugly election, I’d declared a plague upon both their houses. “Well, I doubt anyone is that concerned. I left the political scene several years ago for managerial accounting. It pays a lot better.”
“Molly’s trying to convince me John Russell has hired her to manage his accounts.” Eleanor MacKenzie fixed me with a devilish grin.
Senator Baker guffawed. “That’s rich.”
I simply smiled and kept my mouth shut while old friends laughed at me. Why didn’t anyone believe me?
“Molly, you’ll have to come over for dinner with Eleanor and update us,” Brenda said as the senator escorted her away.
“Meanwhile, give our love to Ginny,” Baker said as they maneuvered through the couples in the living room.
Eleanor MacKenzie paused before following after. “Take care, Molly. I imagine we’ll all be seeing each other again soon for a very sad occasion. Senator Karpinsky died last night from a heart attack. It just now came on the news.”
The jovial mood evaporated. “Oh, no! He was the last one of my father’s closest colleagues still in the Senate.”
“The last Old Lion,” Eleanor nodded. “He’d had his second heart attack after the holidays, but he recuperated quite well. We all hoped he’d be with us for a few more years. But it wasn’t to be. His housekeeper found him this morning.”
“I hadn’t heard,” I said, shaking my head. “What a loss.”
I pictured the robust barrel-chested Karpinsky I remembered from years ago, holding forth in filibusters with his Vermont accent. The Senate’s watchdog. He had the sharpest eyes of any legislator when it came to appropriations. Karpinsky could spot pork and waste a mile away. “I can smell it,” he used to say.
“A loss for the Senate and the country,” Eleanor agreed as she moved away. “Take care of yourself, Molly. We’ll stay in touch.”
I gave her a wave and noticed that Peter Brewster was heading straight for me. “Well, it didn’t take you long to make contact with the movers and shakers. Excellent. Word of your return will be all over Washington by tomorrow afternoon. Eleanor MacKenzie will see to that.” He gave me a sly smile. “Good work, Molly.”
Good work, indeed. Brewster was right. Eleanor’s network was formidable twenty-plus years ago, by now it must rival the Internet. “All over Washington, huh? Great. So much for flying beneath the radar.” I released an exaggerated sigh before tossing down the rest of my Chardonnay.
“I noticed you were eying the staff before Mrs. MacKenzie found you. That’s good. What do you think?”
“Well, I’ve only been here a few minutes, but they seem to know what they’re doing. They move efficiently and unobtrusively. They seem friendly and pleasant. All good. I assume there are more servers outside. Are they employees of the caterer?”
He shook his head as he sipped what looked to be a glassful of Scotch. “No, we use a private staffing agency that provides experienced, discreet personnel.” He winked.
“The frat boy over there doesn’t look old enough to be experienced.”
“He’s in grad school. Going for his Ph.D. Believe it or not, he’s thirty-three.”
Changing the subject, I held up my glass. “Nice wine. Is it okay if I check your suppliers? You know, compare prices.”
Brewster grinned. “Worrying about the Senator’s expenses already. I love it. That’s positively sexy, Molly.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have got to get out of that office, Peter. If the senator’s financial accounts are turning you on, you’re in bad shape.” I gestured to the ex-military who was heading out to the garden. “Security, right?”
“Good eye, Molly.” His sly grin returned. “You want me to introduce you? He’s divorced, too.”
“I’m sure he’s lovely, but I’ve sworn off men. Divorce residue. I’m sure you understand.”
“You need to relax, Molly.”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t been in Washington thirty-six hours, and suddenly I’m standing in a room full of politicians. Something I
swore I’d never do again. Every nerve went on red alert the moment I stepped into this room. My only hope is the senator will be so absorbed in some policy wonk’s sales pitch, he’ll forget about me, and I can sneak out the door in a few minutes. Once Albert crosses Key Bridge, I’ll relax.”
“Don’t bet on it, Molly. The senator has a razor-sharp memory.”
Rats. “I have an idea, Peter. You’re young and single. Why don’t you go put the moves on some nice unsuspecting girl and leave me to skulk around the room in peace.”
“But I promised the senator I’d keep an eye on you,” he said with that boyish grin.
I made a shooing gesture. “Go. Find girls. Any girl. As long as it’s not my niece, Karen.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you two might get serious, and I wouldn’t want you as a relative.”
Brewster snickered over his Scotch. “You don’t have to worry about that. Karen’s already got one serious relationship. I doubt she has time for another.”
I stared at Brewster. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he knew a helluva lot more about Karen’s social life than I did. Well, damn. Every time I’d asked Karen if there was someone special on the horizon, she always smiled and said she preferred to play the field, swearing she had no time for a serious relationship. Somehow, it irritated me that Peter knew more than I did. Karen and I were close. At least, I thought we were.
“Really? I didn’t know Karen had met someone new.”
Brewster stared into his glass. “Why don’t you ask Karen?” Glancing up, his smile returned. “But you’ll have to do that later. Right now, the senator is headed our way, with the new congressman from New Mexico in tow. I told you the senator has a good memory.”
Sure enough, there was Senator Russell aiming straight for us with a middle-aged couple close behind. Congressman and wife both had the slightly shell-shocked look of those who were new to the Washington social circuit. My hopes for a stealthy escape evaporated like cheap perfume.
Deadly Politics (A Molly Malone Mystery) Page 5