Chapter 20
After profiling each rider anywhere near me on the Metro, I convinced myself the killer hadn’t decided to make good on the issued threat—at least not tonight. My mind meandered about the case. Thanks to the menacing phone call, I hadn’t fully considered the relevance of finding the “JR—CP” entry in Jessop’s appointment book. It was impossible to determine if the appointment had any connection to Senator Langsford’s murder.
On the significant side, it was suspicious that Jessop had met with Regan on a monumental issue only a short time before the homicide. If Carter Power was the reason behind Langsford’s demise, the timing of the meeting was another piece of circumstantial evidence implicating Jessop or indicating his involvement.
Had Regan told Jessop that Langsford was unwilling to “play ball” on Carter Power, thus leading Jessop to decide it was time to kill him before the critical committee vote? It was possible. Or maybe Jessop gave Regan the idea that Langsford should be eliminated. Even if Regan had an alibi, he might have enlisted Jeff Prentice to do his dirty work for him and Jessop.
On the other side of the coin, Carter Power was a huge defense contractor. Regan might have simply paid Jessop a courtesy visit about the status of the company. Jessop served on the Armed Services Committee in the House of Representatives, so he had a general interest in all large-scale defense contractors, including the biggest nationwide supplier of the military’s batteries. For all I knew, Jessop might have requested the meeting, not Regan.
How did our already identified suspects jive with the threat I received earlier this evening? I had no recall of the phone number, so that was a dead end. The voice on the phone had been mechanically altered beyond recognition. Anyone might have placed the call, likely with a so-called disposable “burner” cell phone that could be purchased at any large retail store. Jeff Prentice and Senator Regan might have reason to threaten me if either, or both, was the guilty party.
My mind drifted back to earlier today in Jessop’s office. Perhaps my clever excuse for snooping hadn’t fooled Kyle. Had he shared my exploits with Jessop, who had placed the call to scare me? Even worse, had wholesome Kyle somehow been coerced by Jessop to do his dirty work for him? Meg was on a date with Kyle right now. As soon as I got off the subway, I needed to text her to make sure she was safe.
In the meantime, I pulled out my notebook to jot down a few notes. Matt had given me sound advice when I began working for Langsford. If a problem was perplexing and the details overwhelming, get out of the weeds and look at the situation as an outsider. Could I apply that approach to Langsford’s murder?
The culprit knew Langsford would be in the office early that morning. It was a Tuesday, and he wasn’t always present in the office at such an early hour. That meant the perp, or an accomplice, had access to accurate information about Langsford’s schedule.
Another important clue was the murder weapon, the stainless steel model military helicopter that had been on display inside his office for as long as I worked there. It had proven a lethal weapon, yet only someone familiar with the senator’s inner sanctum would have known its location—tucked away in a corner alcove several feet away from his desk.
The more I thought about the crime, the more it seemed premeditated. The only fingerprints on the helicopter were mine, or the police would have followed that lead. The murderer had likely worn gloves to hide his or her fingerprints, which implied the person had come to the office that morning to commit the crime.
Furthermore, the killer didn’t bring a weapon. It was an important detail, and no doubt a critical piece of the puzzle I hoped the police had fully analyzed. It was difficult to carry any “weapon” into a congressional office building these days. Security was tight, and every person entering Hart passed through a scanner. Bags, purses, and coats needed to be removed and placed on the conveyor for X-ray screening. Anything that could be used as a weapon wasn’t allowed inside the building. Only someone who regularly visited or worked within the congressional complex would understand the extent of these restrictions. The would-be murderer would have to rely on obtaining the weapon inside the building. My intuition had told me all along this was an inside job. Someone close to Langsford had killed him, and likely for strong political or personal reasons.
Unfortunately, everyone who had a motive for killing Senator Langsford appeared to have an airtight alibi. I crossed Jessop off the list after confirming that he had, in fact, visited a senior citizens center the morning of the murder. There were photos and a press release on his official website to prove it. Several theories and motives were plausible, but few people had the opportunity to kill Langsford. Except me, of course, which made it even more imperative that the real killer was discovered. If the police were similarly stymied, how long would it take Detective O’Halloran to circle back to me as the prime suspect, despite my lack of motive and late arrival on the scene? He had already tried to connect the one piece of physical evidence, the blond synthetic hair, to Meg. That deduction made perfect sense to him because he could then link the murder to yours truly.
After texting Meg, who assured me she was perfectly safe with Kyle and a delicious glass of bubbly, I put my key into the lock for the door to the condo and braced myself. Sure enough, as soon as the door cracked open, Clarence appeared out of nowhere, poised to bolt down the hallway to freedom. After I blocked his escape route, he issued several loud protest barks and ran toward the kitchen. If he couldn’t make a mad dash out the door, then Clarence was always amenable to the next best thing, namely doggie treats or more food in his dish. I called for Doug, but there was no response.
After placing my purse on our countertop, I scrutinized a hopeful Clarence, who was seated politely at my feet with his ears and tail at attention. Clarence firmly believed good manners would get him anything he wanted in this world. For him, good manners meant sitting on command and putting on the saddest face he could possibly muster up. Clarence’s belief system wasn’t flawed; he got exactly what he wanted ninety-nine percent of the time when he looked at me with his wide eyes and expectant gaze. In fact, Clarence’s behavior might be the most predictable part of my day. If I woke up one morning and Clarence didn’t try to use his wiles to cajole me, I would wonder if there was something drastically wrong with him or if I had woken up in someone else’s apartment. His unsurprising behavior was endearing. Throughout the vast majority of my day, I interacted with unpredictable, fickle, and often untrustworthy people. Clarence’s routine provided comfort in a world that was anything but.
After rewarding Clarence’s patience with a biscuit, I wandered into the bedroom and office area and found Doug. With iPod earphones in place and books strewn all over the room, the mad professor at work was oblivious to my arrival. Since he clearly couldn’t hear anything besides the music, he seemed startled when I walked in front of him. His face brightened, however, and he stood to give me a welcome home kiss. I returned the favor with even more enthusiasm. Shocked, he pulled his headphones off quickly.
I laughed at his eager reaction. “Don’t get too excited. I’m famished and I need to eat.”
He looked behind me. Clarence had ambled into the room, quietly sitting behind us. He looked at us optimistically. Clarence understood several English words, and his favorite was “eat.”
“You’re not the only one who’s hungry. Let’s get Clarence his dinner and you some wine.”
I gave him my broadest smile and said, “That’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day!”
Chapter 21
Neither Doug nor I like to cook much. From time to time, we’ve invited friends to our condo for wine and cheese. Home cooked dinners typically involve the pizza stone, frozen dough, and toppings hastily found in the fridge’s remote vestiges. For routine sustenance, we patronize the numerous restaurants that populate our suburban corridor. Many are within walking distance, and several deliver their full menus to nearby condo dwellers. A Thai place recently opened a block away, and it promis
ed speedy delivery. Living in the Washington, D.C., region has a lot of positives, yet amazing cuisine isn’t one of them. It’s hit or miss, and restaurants have a short shelf life, mimicking the attenuated attention spans of the young urban professional clientele.
A few moments later, Clarence had been fed, at least his first course before the human food arrived. He hunched over his bowl, wolfing down doggie food as hurriedly as he could. I sat in our comfortable armchair sipping a local Chardonnay, taking a moment to savor the crisp tartness of the vintage. I had changed from my work clothes into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt with the slogan “Don’t Assume That I Cook” next to a picture of a pizza box. After locating my cellphone in my purse, I searched for the Thai place’s delivery number. In sixty seconds, we had a delicious meal of sesame noodles, green curry, spring rolls, and mango sticky rice coming our way. With its light touch and slightly fruity taste, the wine would complement our dinner perfectly.
As we sipped our libations, I recounted the day’s events to Doug, with a few select omissions. I conveniently left out the detail in which I was almost uncovered as a snoop and had to seek refuge in Representative Jessop’s bathroom. I also “forgot” to mention the sinister phone call at the end of the day. Was withholding information the moral equivalent of lying? In this instance, the ends justified the means. We had to keep up the hunt for Langsford’s killer, and if Doug knew about the threatening phone call, he would make sure my gumshoe days were history, no pun intended.
Doug agreed the evidence of Jessop’s association with Carter Power was suspicious, while still falling short of the smoking gun needed to pin Langsford’s murder on the guilty party. After our food arrived, we sat at our sleek black dining room table and discussed tomorrow’s wake. To my surprise, Doug said he would accompany me.
Don’t get me wrong. Doug was a supportive significant other. He enthusiastically endorsed my off-the-wall idea four years ago to join Senator Langsford’s tough reelection campaign. At the time, he had recently accepted an appointment as an assistant professor at Georgetown and was completely absorbed in writing his first book. Because of his fixation on tenure, I didn’t know if it even registered I was gone from Washington for six months straight during the campaign. He flew to Boston for a visit whenever he took a rare day off from working on his manuscript.
After Senator Langsford won the race, I lobbied the senior campaign staff about a policy job in Washington, D.C. Langsford’s reelection meant I would have a job and hopefully a career in the same city as Doug. It didn’t take long for the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. The same day Senator Langsford was sworn into office for another term as senator, I took the federal employee oath and joined his staff.
Academics have a love/hate relationship with politics. Some prominent professors apply their intellectual knowledge to public affairs, and the highest level of policymakers seek out their expertise. Most of these professors are economists, political scientists, or international affairs experts. It’s the rare historian who deigns to derive scholarly relevance from current events.
Doug’s research was steeped in academic debates concerning the historical periods, people, and institutions he studied. His primary audience was other academics. While his colleagues weren’t oblivious about what transpired in the world around them, academic careers did not typically soar due to the latest buzz from Capitol Hill.
Given this divide, Doug supported my career as a Senate staffer simply because I needed a job in D.C. Besides, working for the Senate was a prestigious position that served routinely as adequate cocktail conversation fodder at the various events we attended around town. Those two reasons surely contributed to his approval, but Doug went beyond such perfunctory encouragement. He routinely asked about the trials and tribulations of my work and kept abreast of the various lively characters I encountered daily. All the while, he refrained from injecting himself into my Capitol Hill life, always one step comfortably removed.
The arrangement was almost perfect. There was one wrinkle, which I avoided discussing like the plague, even with Meg. All that was missing was an engagement ring on my finger. Good things come to those who wait, and I had waited patiently. Doug’s reluctance to take the plunge was a sore point. Since he was otherwise devoted, I tolerated his commitment phobia … for now.
So naturally I was taken aback when Doug mentioned he would accompany me to Senator Langsford’s wake. Doug usually came with me to “official” events, such as a holiday party or an office picnic. Somehow, Senator Langsford’s funeral seemed more intimate than those other occasions, and I hadn’t expected him to come. Nonetheless, he was intent on attending, which led me to wonder whether his father had urged him to go, perhaps to represent the family and keep an eye on me. My recent brush with the law still didn’t sit well with the family. That couldn’t bode well for future wedding bells, either.
We made our plans for tomorrow, which included picking up Meg before heading out to McLean for the wake. After confirming that the car did indeed have gas, we decided to watch a made-for-TV mystery movie. The rest of the night passed peacefully, with Clarence happily snoozing between us on the sofa, snoring softly as we gave him all the attention he felt he deserved. As I watched the movie, that nagging feeling colored my thoughts once again. The plots for these cable movies weren’t terribly sophisticated. This particular mystery featured a sleuth who figured out whodunit after realizing one of the suspect’s stories contained a key detail that was woefully out of place.
I, too, had an annoying and persistent feeling a key piece of information resided in my brain, just beyond the grasp of consciousness. Maybe I should have ignored those thoughts, turned off the television, taken an Ambien, and gone to bed. Instead, I kept trying to unearth the fuzzy detail eluding me.
Chapter 22
I slept fitfully again. I had not yet solved Langsford’s murder and my remaining time as a Senate employee was rapidly disappearing.
After chugging a big cup of coffee and feeding Clarence, I searched my closet for appropriate attire. I briefly considered wearing a black dress instead of a suit. It was the middle of summer, and at least part of the wake included a reception outdoors on the beautiful grounds of the Langsford estate. I decided to go with my instincts and wear my most stylish black suit. Since it was July, no pantyhose were required and my dressiest pair of silver and black sandals would work with the outfit. In case someone thought my bare legs pushed the envelope, I donned my pearl necklace and matching earrings. Nothing said “traditional Washington” more than cultured pearls. Doug had taken less than half the time to get ready and was waiting in the living room.
His face lit up when he saw me. “You look terrific. Good enough, in fact, to attend a senator’s wake.” Doug meant it as both a compliment and an attempt to bring levity to a sad event.
I smiled back. “Would you mind getting the car out of the garage and picking me up in front of the building? I’d like to minimize my walking in these sandals.” I pointed down at my heels.
He agreed, and after saying goodbye to Clarence, I headed downstairs to the drive-up carport at the entrance of our building. I texted Meg to let her know we’d pick her up shortly at the nearby subway station. Doug pulled up and we made our way through the busy streets of Arlington to arrive at the Metro. When I saw Meg emerge from the escalator, I got out of the car to wave. Otherwise she might not be able to spot us from among the many other hybrid vehicles in trendy Arlington.
I saw Meg’s reaction when she realized Doug was driving and would be joining us. It wasn’t full-scale disappointment, yet it was definitely gloomy. Depending on the situation, it could be exhausting to mediate between Meg and Doug when we spent time together. Today’s event would be stressful enough. I said a prayer asking for a blessing of short-term serenity.
Meg got into the car and said to Doug, “Imagine my surprise seeing you. You decided to slum it with the political hacks for the day?”
I sighed. So much for peace
among the troops.
Much to his credit, Doug didn’t take the bait, as he often did. “I liked Senator Langsford, and so did my family. I thought it would be appropriate to pay my respects, and of course, support you and Kit as you mourn the loss of your boss.”
Meg couldn’t come up with a witty retort. “That’s nice of you.”
Time to intervene. I asked Meg about her “date” last night with Kyle. Once again I was surprised at her lack of a clever response. I expected her to blow it off or provide us with a long-winded story about why she found him supremely annoying. After all, she only went on the date because she couldn’t figure a way out of it. Instead, she simply answered that she’d had “a good time” and Kyle was a “pleasant guy.” This was an interesting development, since Meg rarely missed an opportunity to dish about her evening social outings.
Meg abruptly changed the topic. “Don’t you think we need a plan for today?”
I turned around from the front seat to look at her. “A ‘plan’ for attending the wake?”
“Of course, Kit. All the suspects will be there. There’s a chance that Senator Langsford’s murderer will be one of the attendees.”
If our working hypothesis was true and someone Senator Langsford had known well had killed him, it was altogether likely, or even certain, that his killer would attend the wake. Meg had snapped me back into “investigator” mode. I thought about what we needed to accomplish today.
“Meg, you’re absolutely right. We need to chase down several leads at the wake. We’ll never again have all our suspects in the same place at once.”
Doug had been listening carefully as he drove. “What do we need to do?”
I turned away from Meg and faced him. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I thought you weren’t exactly thrilled with our investigation. You’ve been telling me since the first day to leave it to the police.”
Stabbing in the Senate Page 16