Poisoned Politics

by Maggie Sefton

  The serving staff from the private firm that the senator employed for entertaining were experienced with all manner of political functions and moved smoothly and efficiently throughout any group, large or small. Since the senator had been entertaining the entire Congress over the last four months I’d been working for him, I’d become well-acquainted with all of the staff of Preferred Professionals. We were battlefield comrades together. Nothing kept you on your toes like a room full of demanding politicians and their egos.

  July’s heat had kept all but a handful of guests inside the living room in the air-conditioned cool. Old pro Aggie and graduate student Ryan moved smoothly through the clusters of Senators, spouses, and chief staffers offering tempting appetizers and replenishing drinks. Talking made most people thirsty. Since politicians talked more than most people—a lot more—they were thirstier. Hence, Aggie worked a nonstop route between the bar and the guests. Each replenished tray was emptied quickly. Bartender Bud was an efficient machine, fast and smooth. Filling drink orders, pouring wines, and mild non-alcoholic choices for those who wanted to keep their wits about them and their tongues in check. The Senate chamber was filled with very powerful people. Some of them were in this room tonight, I observed. One careless remark could damage an up-and-coming staffer’s career. I’d seen that happen more times than I cared to remember.

  I spotted Aggie return from supplying the handful of sun-worshippers on the patio and then head to the bar yet again. Ryan walked my way with his empty tray. “Looks like the caterer’s peppered beef was a success. You’ve been running back and forth to the kitchen faster than normal,” I said as Ryan approached.

  “Ohhhh, yeah. They went through those peppered beef canapés fast. Good thing the caterer brought more of the brie and pastry and the curried chicken. Man, this is one hungry group,” Ryan said with a smile. His smile made him look even younger, much younger than his thirty-three years.

  “Let’s keep them happy. Feed them and water them well is my motto,” I joked as we walked down the side hallway toward the kitchen. Curiosity suddenly pushed forward and I couldn’t help asking. “I imagine there’s a lot of talk about Congressman Wilson’s death going around.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard it mentioned several times. That’s such a shame too. He seemed to be a really sharp guy. I heard him interviewed on a news show a few months ago.” Ryan paused outside the doorway to the kitchen. I could see the catering staff scurrying around in their seemingly frantic, but-always-in-control routines. “Today’s news reports said he died from an accidental overdose of sleeping pills. That is so sad. And such a waste too.”

  “I agree, Ryan. We’ve lost a lot of good and talented people this year. We really can’t afford to lose any more.” My niece Karen’s face flashed through my mind. Too young to die so young or so violently. Chasing away gruesome memories, I ventured into the caterers’ domain. “Do we have any coffee set up yet?” I asked Ryan. “I’m about to switch poisons.”

  “Sure, Molly. Want me to get you a cup?”

  “That’s okay, just point me in the right direction.” I scanned the command center where caterers were giving orders. I deliberately stayed out of their way. Artists at Work.

  “Coffee’s over there,” Caterer Rosemary called out, pointing to a side counter. “You can come in, Molly. We won’t bite.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about,” I said, heading for the tall urns. The coffee lobe of my brain was still lulled by the rich wine. Time to wake it up. “I don’t want to step in someone’s way as they’re dashing about. A soufflé might fall, or worse, a whole tray of yummy things.” I noticed a tray with crab delicacies on another counter as I filled a coffee cup. “Actually I don’t trust myself to be around all your great food. I’ll lose control and start eating.”

  “That’s music to our ears, Molly,” Caterer Marian said with a wide smile. She was the older of the successful twosome.

  “Go ahead, have one,” Ryan tempted me, his tray already filled with the spinach-and-cheese-filled phyllo pastries.

  I can only resist so much, so I snatched one and popped it into my mouth, letting those delicious and fattening flavors delight. “Too delicious. I’m out of here before I lose control,” I sped for the doorway, following Ryan, as the catering staff’s laughter drifted behind me.

  A deep drink of coffee chased away the rich flavors and the wine’s mellowing effects. Now I’d be sure to stay sharp. I didn’t want to miss any comments about Quentin Wilson’s death. Aggie was heading my way, a lone glass of red wine on her tray.

  “I saved a Pinot Noir for you, Molly, but I see you’ve already switched to coffee,” she said with her familiar smile.

  “Thanks anyway, Aggie. You can give it to one of those sunbathers outside.”

  “Actually they’ve been ordering iced drinks, no surprise,” Aggie started toward the bar.

  “I’ll bet the gossip hounds are in full bay with the Quentin Wilson news,” I walked with her.

  “Oh, yes.” Aggie’s smile disappeared. “I’ve overheard a lot of people remarking about it. It’s a real shame.”

  “Have you heard anyone speculating about where Wilson died?” I probed. “The paper mentioned a Northern Virginia residence.”

  Aggie stopped and looked at me, her gaze direct. “Why are you asking?”

  I noticed she didn’t answer my question, but I wasn’t surprised. I was convinced she’d been a spook in her earlier years. Whether she was still reporting to someone, only Aggie knew. She’d been working these Washington parties for over thirty years, always hovering near the movers and shakers.

  I met Aggie’s direct gaze and decided on total honesty. “I figure it’s simply a matter of time before the gossip turns nasty. Wilson was found at the home of my oldest and dearest friend. She was the one who walked in and found him dead Sunday morning. I’m the only one she called after the police left.”

  Aggie’s gray eyes widened quickly, and I could see the puzzle pieces being sorted as she digested the information. “Are we talking about the late Senator Calhoun’s widow?”

  “We are, indeed. She and Congressman Wilson were … close friends,” I hedged. “So I’m concerned that the gossip will turn vicious once word spreads. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me if you overhear any particularly ugly rumors. That way, I can give her a warning.”

  Aggie’s little smile returned. “I’d be glad to, Molly. I remember you and your friend attending some of your father’s parties years ago. You two made quite a pair. I also used to work Senator Calhoun’s parties whenever I could.”

  Why was I not surprised? Samantha’s husband had been one of the most powerful men in the Senate while he was alive. Naturally, Aggie would have been at his parties, listening and learning. Wherever there was liquor, lips as well as inhibitions were loosened. Information spilled out as easily as wine from a glass.

  “Thanks, Aggie. I’m sure you’ve paid attention over the last few years to my friend’s rather … ah, rebellious lifestyle. I’m afraid she’s made a few enemies, and that’s always dangerous in this town. So, I’m trying to look out for her however I can.”

  “I understand. And I’ll keep an ear out. For the record, I did hear part of a conversation that mentioned her name along with Congressman Wilson.”

  I grimaced. “I knew it would start. Was that the only one?”

  Aggie shook her head as she edged away. “No, there were two other couples talking about it, I’m sorry to say. Take care, Molly, and give my regards to your friend.” Aggie scurried off to the bar.

  Damn. It had started already. Needless to say, tonight’s reception provided the perfect opportunity to exchange gossip. I glanced about the living room again. Political types, elected or otherwise, clustered together talking, laughing, drinking, finger waving, arguing, eating. Senator Russell was near the fireplace, with the senior senator from Utah. Senator Russe
ll threw back his head and let out his trademark basso roar of laughter. It was all I could do to hear him over the gossip’s rising buzz. Louder than the cicadas in the trees outside.

  _____

  “Did you talk to that staffer, Levitz, yet?”

  Larry Fillmore sped past the Capitol Reflecting Pool, cell phone pressed to his ear. Six forty-five, and the sun was still blazing down. Damn Washington summers. Larry could tell Spencer wanted to talk, but he wasn’t about to stand near the Capitol with all the tourists and sweat.

  “Yeah, this afternoon. I showed up in his office at the Rayburn building, purportedly with some research questions from Congressman Jackson. Then I asked him to walk me out. Told him I had a message for him. He probably thought I was going to place an order.”

  “How was this staffer pulling it off? He’s working right in the middle of Capitol Hill, for God’s sake.”

  “His uncle’s an internist in Bethesda and he fills the prescription orders that Levitz phones in. Levitz then picks them up from a dummy office every evening and makes deliveries. Everyone pays cash.”

  “Pretty sweet little system they had going. Helping out the hyper politicians and staffers who want more drugs than their doctors give them. And no records.”

  “You got it. Anyway, that’s when I came on like the older and wiser Capitol Hill staffer. Big brother, like. Told him that I’d heard about his delivery business on the side, then added he might want to keep a low profile now that Wilson was dead from an overdose that he delivered.”

  “You probably scared the crap out of him when you said that. What’d he do?”

  “Turned white as a sheet,” Larry smirked as he glanced over both shoulders before crossing Jefferson Drive. Trees bordering the Mall up ahead beckoned. Shade was almost within reach. “Then I told him he might want to think about leaving town until the Wilson death was put to bed completely. I mean, if I could find out about his delivery business, the cops sure as hell could. Too many people knew. He started shaking like a leaf.”

  Spencer’s deep chuckle sounded over the phone despite the traffic noise. “I’ll bet.”

  “That’s when I gave him that disposable cell phone’s number. I told him to call me if he needed help because I knew people who could provide some cover. I then added that I liked his ambitious spirit and didn’t want to see him get dragged down by Quentin Wilson’s problems. Wilson had been screwing around on his wife for a long time. She probably found out and filed for divorce. His wife was bankrolling Wilson’s career. So, he’d be Ohio roadkill from now on. No surprise the guy swallowed those pills.”

  Spencer laughed low in his throat. “Damn, that’s good. You’ve almost got me believing it.”

  “Yeah, well it may sound like a worn-out cliché, but that’s why it’s believable … hey! Watch it!” Larry jumped out of the way as several tourists on large-wheeled touring vehicles passed right in front of him. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered into the phone.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Damn tourists nearly ran into me on those ridiculous rolling things! Tourists on wheels. They’re a damn pedestrian hazard!” Larry scowled as he walked. Now that he was on the Mall’s well-trod ground, he’d be plagued by even more tourists, kids dripping ice cream cones, screaming babies.

  “Don’t be so hard on them. They bring in a ton of cash,” Spencer joked.

  “Pain in the ass, if you ask me,” Larry said as he reached the tall trees’ shade at last. He could feel a sunburn starting already on his rarely seen-the-sun skin. He spied an empty bench and sat before a group of sticky-fingered kids claimed it.

  “Hey, it’s July. High Season. They’ll start heading home third week in August. Get the kids into school, back into jobs and routines. You know, family life. Oh…that’s right. You didn’t have any kids so you don’t know about all that.”

  Larry could hear the jibe in Spencer’s voice. “You’re right. Snotty-nosed little urchins crawling on my lap never appealed to me.”

  Spencer laughed softly. “You’re all brain and no heart, Larry. Just what we need. That reminds me, we may need some gossip-media help keeping the Wilson story on script. So get your contacts ready.”

  “They’re always ready,” Larry said, deliberately sending a big smile to the family group walking the Mall path in front of him.

  six

  Wednesday

  “Hey, Casey!” I called as I spotted the security guard leaving the Russell kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure Molly. What’s up?” he said as we met in the middle of the hallway.

  I glanced toward the open doorway leading to the garden. “I wanted to run something by you. Why don’t we step outside for a second. It’s such a glorious morning.”

  Casey’s weathered face crinkled into a smile. “In other words, you need privacy to ask your question. Sure. Let’s take some fresh air before the humidity rises.”

  “Boy, I must need to work on my signals because you’re starting to see right through me,” I joked as we headed through the French doors leading outside.

  The well-manicured Russell garden was green and lush, thanks to the gardening crew’s copious watering and Washington’s occasional summer thunderstorm. The rose bushes were laden with blossoms and all sizes of blooms—crimson reds, snowflake whites, buttery yellows, and soft hues of lavender and pink. Other flowering shrubs abounded as did low-level border plants. I paused beside a gardenia bush with pearl white blooms, wide open. A delicate scent floated upward on the morning’s humid air, teasing my nostrils. Edging the entire squared garden were tall, thick boxwood hedges. Green screens of privacy. Their distinctive scent bringing back memories of leisurely strolls through so many of Virginia’s historic gardens.

  “Reading people is part of my job, Molly,” Casey said, following me down the flagstone path. “What’s on your mind?”

  I paused for a second, deciding how best to broach the subject. “I’m sure you’ve heard me speak of my old friend, Samantha Calhoun. Senator Beauregard Calhoun’s widow.”

  “Yes, I recall your mentioning her. The two of you grew up together in Washington, I believe.”

  “Yes, we did, and we tried to stay out of trouble in those days. The advice given to us was ‘Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want printed on the front page of the Washington Post.’” I gave in to the enticing scent below and leaned over to sniff a deep crimson rose’s perfume.

  Casey chuckled. “Words to live by, I’d say. Was that your father’s advice?”

  “Actually it was Eleanor MacKenzie’s advice. She sort of watched over Samantha and me years ago, helping us stay out of trouble. We used to call her the Queen Mother.”

  This time Casey laughed out loud. “I can see Mrs. MacKenzie in that role. She’s a special lady even now. But why are we out here in the garden reminiscing, Molly?”

  I turned and looked into Casey’s intent dark gaze. “Because I’m afraid my friend Samantha is involved in something that could become fodder for lesser papers than the Post. Congressman Wilson chose to end his life at Samantha’s home while she was out for the evening. She told me she returned early Sunday morning and found him dead on her sofa.”

  Surprise flashed briefly through his eyes. “Hmmm. That’s not good.”

  “Tell me about it. Samantha and Wilson had been having an affair since the beginning of this year. And you know how Washington is. You can never keep those things secret for long. That’s why I’m telling you, Casey. I know I can trust your discretion, but I wanted to ask if you’d overheard any gossip the other evening. About Samantha and Wilson, that is. I’ve already asked Aggie and Ryan. They heard bits and pieces.”

  Casey examined his coffee mug. “As a matter of fact, I did. Of course, the comments were more innuendo and speculation, though. But one woman did mention she was convinced the Northern Virginia ho
me mentioned in the newspaper was Samantha Calhoun’s. So, I’m afraid the gossip is spreading.”

  “Damn. Samantha and Wilson were ending their affair that very day. That’s why Wilson was at Samantha’s house that evening. He’d returned to gather some personal belongings. Why he chose to end his life there, we don’t know. But Samantha called the police as soon as she found him.”

  “Where was she when it happened? Did she tell you?”

  “All she’s said was that she was with an old friend and confidant in Washington.” I let my annoyed expression finish the sentence.

  Casey looked over the rose bushes. “That’s not good, either. She needs to establish her whereabouts for that evening. If she was still in the house while Wilson was there, well … it raises questions and invites speculation. You know that.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said, exhaling an exasperated breath. “Believe me, I’ve been trying to convince her and so has her lawyer. Police are bound to become suspicious of her refusal to answer. That’s where I’d like to ask you a favor, Casey.”

  He arched one of his bushy brows. “If you’re asking me to find out what the Fairfax County Police will do, I’m afraid I can’t help you much. Most of my connections are here in D.C. But I do have an old friend from the Marines in the Fairfax Department, so I could ask him to update me if he learns anything. Sounds like this death is being handled as a suicide, so there shouldn’t be anything unusual. Of course, Ms. Calhoun still needs to inform the police where she was that night so there won’t be any problems.”

  “Believe me, I’m working on her.” I paused for a second, debating what I was about to say next. “There is one more thing.”

  Casey leveled his gaze on me. “And what would that be?”

  “Yesterday morning, Samantha called me to her place early to see a video her surveillance camera recorded. The camera is directly over her front door, so it shows everyone who comes and leaves.”

  “Did you know she had a surveillance system?”