After putting my purse away at my desk and signing onto my computer, I made a beeline to Meg. I wanted to ask her opinion about my encounter with Jessop. To my disappointment, her cubicle sat empty. A half-eaten ham and cheese breakfast burrito rested next to her workstation. She couldn’t be too far away. Once again, how did she remain so skinny? I returned to my cubicle and responded to emails until she showed up as “present” on our Instant Message system.
Next-door neighbor Trevor was sitting at his computer, pounding on his keyboard as usual. He had provided valuable information yesterday. It was time to lift the silent treatment.
Small talk wasn’t going to work with Trevor. If I tried to engage him in normal conversation, he’d clam up. As awkward as it might be, the direct approach seemed best.
Without a “hello” or “good morning,” I tilted my chair back, slid next to Trevor, and asked him point blank, “Who do you think is going to be appointed to Senator Langsford’s seat?”
Trevor didn’t miss a beat. Without a pause in his typing, he answered, “Jordan Jessop.”
Bingo! A direct question resulted in an honest answer. Why had I allowed Meg’s opinion to deter me from befriending Trevor? He was intelligent, and his bluntness was refreshing.
Pushing my luck, I asked another question. “Is there anyone else who might be considered besides Jessop?”
This inquiry required a more elaborate response and perhaps analytical thought. He stopped typing and turned his chair toward me.
“That question involves a good deal of speculation. Certainly, there are others who will be considered for the appointment. The governor may want to appoint someone who might do nothing more than hold the seat for two years until another election can be held. Or perhaps the governor will want to take the seat himself. You also can’t forget Mrs. Langsford.”
I almost spit out the coffee I had just sipped. The thought of Vivian Langsford as a United States Senator didn’t fit. It was almost like picturing a leather-clad grandma on a Harley or a dog drinking a martini. Vivian had enjoyed the benefits of being a senator’s wife, but she’d never seemed interested in the policy decisions and political horse-trading that transpired daily on Capitol Hill.
Trevor raised his eyebrows at my reaction. “You don’t agree with my observations?”
I chuckled. “No, I appreciate your honesty, Trevor. But let’s face it. I don’t think Vivian Langsford is U.S. Senate material.”
Trevor peered at me through the glasses that sat on the edge of his nose. “I would have to disagree with your assessment, Kit.”
Of course, Trevor didn’t offer anything else. It was just like him to leave me hanging. “You’ve got me interested. Why do you think Vivian Langsford would want to be a senator, when she’s never shown concern with the daily operations of this office?”
Trevor shook his head. “I thought perhaps you possessed astute observational skills, Ms. Marshall. I’ve watched you for several years now, and I concluded you had a leg up on most of the people employed here. I admit, all the time you spent with your best pal Meg made me doubt your competency. Yet, I concluded you were one of the more valuable members of the senator’s staff.” He paused briefly to sip a bottle of Perrier water, placed directly to the right of his keyboard on his immaculate desk. “However, you’re disappointing me lately with your apparent inability to connect the dots. Only yesterday, we spoke of Vivian Langsford’s knowledge about the Carter Power decision. Do you remember this conversation?”
“Yes.”
“We talked about this incident less than twenty-four hours ago, yet you just stated Vivian Langsford hasn’t shown any discernible interest in the everyday operations of this establishment. Do you see the contradiction in your conclusions?”
Trevor had a valid point. For some reason, Vivian had become involved in the decision concerning Carter Power. Perhaps Senator Langsford routinely discussed major decisions with her, if only in passing, or maybe Vivian had other reasons to sway her husband’s decision.
There was another problem with Trevor’s supposition. The governor was a Republican, and Senator Langsford had been a Democrat. Why would the governor consider appointing Vivian, the widow of a Democrat, to a seat that now belonged to the Grand Old Party? I asked Trevor this question.
“You’re right on the politics. It’s a long shot, but the governor could gain popularity points for appointing Vivian as a goodwill gesture. The addition of one more Republican won’t tip the balance in the Senate. Who knows? Vivian could even make a deal to caucus with the other party in exchange for the appointment.”
I shook my head. “No way. You’re wrong on that account. Senator Langsford would never have joined the other party. He might have played fast and loose lately with his votes, but he was no turncoat.”
“Kit, we’re talking about Vivian now, not Senator Langsford, remember?”
I crossed my arms. Trevor’s observations were helpful, but I still didn’t know why Vivian was fascinated with Carter Power. It was worth another stab … no pun intended. “Trevor, do you know why Vivian intervened on the Carter Power decision?”
Trevor narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “I have no idea, and I don’t wish to speculate. I would think someone investigating the murder of Senator Langsford,” he paused to look at me pointedly, “might want to find out the answer to that question.”
Trevor returned to his computer and started typing furiously. My audience with the king had ended. The Wizard of Oz had spoken and disappeared behind the curtain.
I logged back into my computer and returned to answering email. Most were condolences from other staffers on the Hill. No one even hinted at the possibility of another job. Being a “person of interest” in the murder of Lyndon Langsford had decreased my stock considerably.
Mandy’s smiling face suddenly appeared on my screen, accompanied by her whiny voice. Why on earth had she issued a daily video update about the senator’s schedule? Sure enough, Mandy recapitulated the talking points she would provide today about the senator’s death. She recited a paltry line, which Matt surely forced her to include, about “supporting all staff employed in the office at this difficult time.” Her talking points were followed by instructions about handling inquiries concerning the wake, which apparently hadn’t been scheduled yet. Nonetheless, staffers from Senator Langsford’s office “were expected to attend” while “wearing proper attire.” Mandy was a real piece of work. A prominent U.S. Senator was dead, and she was focused on fashion etiquette.
I hit the “close” box on the video window, and she vanished immediately. What if closing a computer window immediately shut people up in real life? When I wanted to silence someone, I imagined clicking a virtual “close” box, situated to the right of a person’s head. I was daydreaming what it would be like to click “close” on my sadistic aerobics instructor when a familiar voice snapped me out of my reverie.
“Well, someone decided to take advantage of the situation and zone out.” Meg towered over me.
“Oh, sorry. I must have been preoccupied for a moment.” I didn’t want to try to explain my fascination with clicking people shut to Meg. She had a literal mind and wouldn’t appreciate my musings.
“Well, wake up, Kit! I need to tell you about my date last night.”
She looked amazing today. Her highlighted blond bob was smooth and lustrous, and she was attired in a stylish black pantsuit with a white-buttoned collared shirt, and professional, yet sexy, three-inch heels. Her makeup was flawless. She was one of those women who knew how to apply eyeliner. Mine always had a messy outline to it, like I’d put it on while riding the Metro. Okay, more often than not, I did apply my makeup on the subway. Duplicating her slick presentation was beyond my realm of the possible.
Meg couldn’t have had much sleep, but she still looked great. I was amazed she had ventured out on the town, given the murder and the fact we wouldn’t have jobs in a week.
“You went on a date last night?” I tried
to hide my incredulity. After all, who was I to judge? I lived with a Georgetown professor and an overweight beagle in a semi-luxury inner-urbs high-rise condo. Most of my Capitol Hill friends were unattached, and I liked to live vicariously through them. Still, the fact that Meg was partying less than twelve hours after our boss had been murdered seemed over the top.
“Don’t give me that look, Kit,” she said, and as if reading my mind, added, “Not all of us have a Prince Charming, remember?” Meg’s taunt was justified. Doug was close to a saint, and I took him for granted occasionally. When this whole mess was over, I’d make an extra effort to let him know how much I appreciated him. He always wanted to attend evening cultural events at the Smithsonian. Rather than ignoring his forwarded emails about the next lecture series, I’d surprise him with tickets.
The relationship between Meg and Doug was occasionally rocky. Both competed for my time outside the office, and since they were polar opposites, activities as a threesome were out of the question. It was best not to press the matter.
“I didn’t say a word. So tell me about your date.”
“Well, if you must know, I did consider canceling, given the circumstances.” She lowered her eyes and fiddled with her BlackBerry. “Really, I’m not heartless. I’m taking Senator Langsford’s death as hard as anyone here.”
I wasn’t convinced that was an accurate statement, but people did express grief in different ways. I nodded, so Meg kept talking.
“Since I knew we couldn’t start investigating until today, I figured I might as well keep my date. It was with Jerry, that guy who works on the third floor for Senator Martin. He covers banking and insurance for her. Do you know who he is?”
I shook my head. I knew a lot of people on the Hill, but mostly staffers in my issue area who worked for senators on the Appropriations Committee. I attended my share of happy hours and receptions because networking was an important part of the job. If I didn’t meet the people who worked on the same stuff I did, it would be impossible to know whom to call when my boss needed something. Nonetheless, I didn’t consider myself a D.C. socialite. Meg, however, was part of the Hill scene and consequently, her network was vast. Her electronic Rolodex extended well beyond her fellow compatriots who specialized in health care policy. Jerry was her latest victim.
Before I could ask how she had met him, Meg said, “You have to meet Jerry. He’s a mover on Capitol Hill.”
For Meg, any guy who was remotely cute was a “mover” on the Hill, giving her a professional reason to date every hot guy she could find in Congress.
She continued, “I met him in the cafeteria one day. We were both waiting for them to put out more sausage and pepperoni pizza. Isn’t that amazing?”
What was amazing was that Meg could eat sausage and pepperoni pizza for lunch and still wear a size four. Apparently Jerry shared her passion for food, which was important in a relationship.
“What a coincidence. So what’s so special about this Jerry?”
“First, he’s extremely good looking.”
This was no surprise. Meg wasn’t completely superficial; she would never date someone who was attractive if he was also a jerk. That said, she favored guys who were close to her equal in physical appearance. That was a high bar. Without being an egomaniac, Meg never sold herself short. Her healthy self-confidence rarely wavered.
“He’s tall, and he works out all the time, so he’s in great shape. I wish I had a picture of him on my phone, but it’s impossible to browse the web on this stupid BlackBerry. Oh, he’s on Facebook, though. I’ll show you his profile at my computer.”
Prodding her, I tried to move this conversation along. “Great, I’ll take a look sometime soon. Anything else notable?”
Her face became animated. “Wait, don’t rush me. I’m getting to it. We went out for drinks, and he agreed to split a bottle of Prosecco with me.”
This was pay dirt for Meg. She loved the Italian bubbly, which most guys considered a “girly” drink. Either Jerry shared her love for it, didn’t care, or he wanted to see how far he could get by treating her to a few glasses.
“This certainly sounds like true love.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm. Meg didn’t pick up on it, or if she did, she ignored it.
“Well, he had a few drinks, which will help you understand what I’m going to tell you next.”
Meg paused for effect. She had told me once that she’d acted in high school plays, and I believed it. She had a flair for drama. Although it could be annoying, it served her well in Congress. Constituents, in particular, liked the enthusiasm she displayed, and she often explained the lawmaking process with embellishment and intrigue to make it sound more exciting than it really was.
“Jerry shared an interesting piece of information. Once you hear this, you won’t question my decision to keep my date with him.” Meg’s logic was a bit skewed, since I doubted she knew Jerry had any valuable information when she decided to keep their date, but I let it pass.
“Naturally, we talked about Senator Langsford’s death. He had heard you were a suspect, and he thought you’d been taken into custody, but I set the record straight on that. Don’t worry, Kit. I’ve been telling everyone I know you didn’t do it.” The strength of Meg’s social network on Capitol Hill was formidable. Since she knew so many people, she qualified as a rumor mill in her own right. However, it did worry me that Joe Average Staffer thought I had been arrested for the murder.
“I appreciate your help, Meg. What did Jerry say that was so compelling?” At this point, I just wanted Meg to finish the story.
“You’re going to love this. His brother works for an insurance company in the D.C. area. They sell policies to the elite Beltway crowd.”
Maybe this was worth waiting for. “Go on.”
Meg was practically bursting at the seams now. “Well, let’s put it this way. Jerry wasn’t surprised to find out you weren’t the murderer.”
“Okay, you got me. Why did Jerry assume I’m innocent?”
“I was just getting to that. Langsford’s death was the biggest story yesterday on the news. Jerry talks to his brother all the time on live chat. Once his brother saw that Langsford had been killed, he messaged Jerry and told him the senator had recently taken out a big life insurance policy!”
Meg beamed at me. There was one piece of information missing. “Meg, do you know who was the beneficiary to that insurance policy?”
She smiled slowly. “Of course I do. It wouldn’t be that helpful if I didn’t, right? Vivian Langsford is the sole beneficiary.”
That sounded plausible, yet it was also a little too obvious. The motive was as mundane as it comes: the husband takes out a new insurance policy that increases the payout and the wife stands to benefit. If the husband suddenly ends up dead, the wife would be scrutinized for the murder, right? Regardless, it was a great lead, and given my latest conversation with Trevor, Vivian Langsford was a prime suspect.
I congratulated Meg on her impressive sleuthing and listened to a few more juicy tidbits about her night on the town with Jerry, which didn’t end after his great revelation about Vivian’s inheritance.
I spent the next several hours hunched over my computer, answering emails from staffers on the Hill, lobbyists, other contacts, and constituents. All the correspondence expressed deep sympathy and disbelief concerning Senator Langsford’s death. He might have made enemies here or there, but he had earned the respect of many.
I got up to stretch my legs and take a walk around the office. Usually, a hefty number of meetings kept me moving throughout the day. I rarely sat at my desk for more than a twenty-minute stretch, but today I hadn’t taken a break in hours.
As I turned the corner, I almost ran into Detective O’Halloran. The beefy cop looked like he’d seen better days. His eyes were droopy, and his clothes and hair were disheveled. He wasn’t going to get a decent night’s sleep until this case was solved. Besides a terrorist attack, the murder of a senator was the most serious c
rime for a Capitol Hill police officer. He would be burning the midnight oil until this got wrapped up.
“Ms. Marshall, just the person I wanted to see.”
I gave a nervous laugh. “Detective, how is the investigation going?”
His tired face answered my question. He hadn’t progressed very far. He stared at me for a second and then said, “We’re narrowing down the people of interest.”
I decided to fight fire with fire. “Very good. Can you tell me who is on that list?” As my conversation with Trevor had shown, the direct approach was often best.
Detective O’Halloran was taken aback. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And why would you want to know who’s on that list?” He looked at me pointedly.
I had a good answer to his question. “Since I was your lead suspect yesterday and subjected to a high degree of media scrutiny, I deserve to know.” I folded my arms across my chest. Two could play at this game, for sure.
O’Halloran met my gaze. “Our suspect list is police information, and I have nothing to do with the press.” I wondered if the police actually had any suspects other than me.
Managing a smile, I decided to try another approach. “I’m sure it’s difficult to wade through Senator Langsford’s contacts. If you need any help with specific people, I’d be happy to assist.”
Stabbing in the Senate Page 7