“Imposing and organized. A good combination.” I decided a lighter note offered me the chance to steer the conversation where I wanted it. Those nagging little questions from my visit to Samantha’s Wednesday evening hadn’t gone away. “I’ve had a chance to observe the Widow Wilson from another perspective, so I’m more than a little intrigued by her plans. Samantha Calhoun is one of my oldest and dearest friends. She and I grew up together in Washington’s crucible as Senators’ daughters years ago. We’re very close, so I’m sure you can understand I was rather concerned when I heard Mrs. Wilson’s pointed comments about Congressman Wilson and his ‘evening companion,’ as she put it.” I held Sally Chertoff’s direct gaze. “Samantha and Wilson had a very close relationship, and apparently Mrs. Wilson learned about it the day Wilson overdosed on pills.”
Sally Chertoff watched me intently. “I confess, I had heard rumors as to the identity of Quentin’s companion that night. So it was Samantha Calhoun’s house where he died?”
“Yes, and it was Samantha who found him early the next morning. You can imagine her shock and horror.”
Chertoff’s surprised blue eyes stared back. “So she wasn’t there when Wilson took the pills? Then Mrs. Wilson is deliberately slandering Mrs. Calhoun. She will have to respond.”
I gave her a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, Samantha has chosen not to respond. That’s not her style, which makes her a perfect target for someone who’s anxious to establish a presence in Washington. Gossip and innuendo are practically spectator sports here. Perception is reality in Washington.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the congresswoman said, her expression conveying her sincerity. “I’ve never met Mrs. Calhoun, but I know several of her friends speak highly of her. She’s been quite generous in contributing to their charities. I also hate to see bullies succeed. We really don’t need more of them in the arena.”
I decided to gamble on Chertoff’s sympathetic comment. “Samantha had high praise for Natasha. She called her ‘Quentin’s right arm.’ Even saying you were lucky to have her.” I paused. “In fact, she told me she called Natasha after Wilson’s death and asked if she had noticed any signs of depression or comments that last day he was alive. Apparently Wilson was working at his office before going to Samantha’s to retrieve his things.”
“Yes, Natasha told me she blamed herself for not picking up any signals that Quentin might end his life. I told her I doubted there were any signals to see. Quentin Wilson accidentally took too many pills. And judging from what we’ve seen on the news channels, we can all understand the stress he must have been under.” Chertoff smiled just a bit. “That was kind of Mrs. Calhoun to reassure Natasha.”
“As I said, Samantha thinks highly of her.” I chose my next words carefully, sensing this would be a good time to pose my request. “Do you think it’s possible for me to meet Natasha? I promise I won’t disturb your office routine. I simply had a couple of questions involving some research that Wilson was doing before he died. It involved financial legislation currently before the House. My niece Karen Grayson was researching some similar legislation before … before she died.” I deliberately looked away. “She spoke to me about it the very day she was killed. I decided to follow up on her research. I suppose it’s sort of my own little tribute to her.”
“Of course, Molly. I wouldn’t mind at all, and I’m sure Natasha would be happy to help you, especially because of Karen. Sonia, my chief of staff, was also a friend of Karen’s. She and Karen went on some weekend shopping excursions with Natasha and other staffers.” Her expression turned sorrowful again. “It was dreadful what happened to Karen. I can’t tell you how heartsick many of us were at her death. I’d had a chance to work with Randall Jackson’s office on legislation that benefitted both our states several times. We were neighbors. It was tragic, simply tragic.”
“Thank you, Congresswoman, for your kind words. Karen was a shining light, and I still miss her.” Feeling those old thoughts of loss creep around the edges of my mind, I deliberately returned to the present. The Ugly Past scuttled back to the bushes. “Should I call your office and make an appointment with Natasha?”
“You won’t have to, Molly. Natasha and Sonia are here at the fundraiser,” she said with a smile. “I figured it was the best way to help Natasha shake off the unpleasant police questions. And Sonia jumps at any of Eleanor MacKenzie’s invitations.” She looked over her shoulder toward the people crowding Eleanor’s gardens and shady walkways. “I told them to go off and wander on their own. No need to follow me around … there they are — beside that fountain. Come along, I’ll introduce you. You and Natasha can have a few minutes to yourselves in one of Eleanor’s precious corners or garden enclosures.”
“Perfect. Now I won’t have to disturb your office routine,” I said, following in Sally Chertoff’s wake as she wove a path around Eleanor’s guests. I drained the last of my wine and deposited the empty glass on a passing server’s tray.
Spying two young women standing together a few feet from a table laden with new canapés and delicious tempting appetizers, I figured they were Chertoff’s staffers, clearly enjoying themselves.
“Molly, I’d like you to meet my chief of staff, Sonia Werner, and Natasha Jorgensen, who’s newly come over from Quentin Wilson’s office,” Chertoff said as we walked up to them. “Sonia, Natasha, meet Molly Malone. She’s on Senator Russell’s staff.”
Sonia offered her hand first, and we all exchanged greetings.
“Molly wanted to meet you, Natasha. She was Karen Grayson’s aunt, if you recall. You may remember her if you attended Karen’s funeral service last spring.”
The blond turned toward me immediately, her pretty face devoid of the happier expression. “Yes, I do recognize you from the service. Karen was a good friend and a mentor to me when I first came to the Hill. I was devastated by her death. It was simply tragic.” Her young face clouded over.
“As were we all, Ms. Jorgensen. Thank you for those memories of Karen. That sounds like her.”
“Ms. Malone has a few questions she wanted to ask you about Quentin Wilson’s last research projects, Natasha. It appears Karen was researching some similar subjects. Molly wants to finish Karen’s project, sort of in tribute to her. Do I have that right, Molly?” She glanced my way with a smile.
“I couldn’t have said it better, Congresswoman. I promise I won’t take more than a few minutes of your time, Natasha. I don’t want to take you away from Eleanor’s delightful surroundings very long.” I gave her a bright smile.
“I enjoyed talking with you, Molly, as usual.” Chertoff grinned. “And give my best to your old friend. I’m rooting for her.” She walked away, her chief staffer by her side.
“Which research project was Karen working on, Ms. Malone?” Natasha asked as we both edged away from an approaching group heading toward the canapés. Eleanor must be spending a fortune tonight.
“She was curious about some financial legislation that might be coming up before the House,” I said, heading toward one of the curving brick pathways that skirted the grounds of Eleanor’s Cleveland Park estate. “I recall her mentioning it when we had breakfast together the last day she was alive. I know that may sound strange, trying to follow up on some vague comment.” I deliberately gave a little shrug. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping Karen’s memory alive. She was such a perfectionist and a stickler for finishing any project she started.”
“Yes, she was. Karen was a tremendous role model for me, Ms. Malone—”
“Please, call me Molly. We’re all in this crazy business of politics and politicians. So, we all work for the same company, so to speak.”
She grinned. “Okay, Molly. As to those research projects, most of Congressman Wilson’s legislative research concentrated on his Energy and Commerce committee work. But I do recall the congressman expressing interest in some financial legislation several weeks ago. I rememb
er thinking it a little strange because he’d never been interested in that area before. He was very focused and targeted on what impacted his Ohio constituents.”
“Do you remember any details in particular?” I probed. “Was there a specific bill he was interested in?”
Natasha shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Molly. But I can point you to someone who may have more specific details. She’s a senior researcher in the Congressional Research Service. Congressman Wilson always tried to get on her schedule. I can’t remember her name, but I can find it for you when I’m back at Congresswoman Chertoff’s office. I have my day scheduler and records from Wilson’s office in a drawer, because I can tell I’m going to be answering a myriad of questions when Sylvia Wilson is appointed to finish the term.”
I couldn’t miss the brief flash of irritation that appeared on the young woman’s face. “I’m sure you will be, Natasha,” I gave her a wicked smile. “Judging from that performance on the evening news Wednesday night, the Widow Wilson seems quite the diva.”
Natasha’s smile escaped. “You have no idea.”
“It was also smart to keep all your records,” I added. “Protection, so to speak.” I decided to venture a little more. “You know, Samantha Calhoun is a very dear friend of mine. We grew up together here in the hothouse of Washington politics. Both our fathers were Senators. So, you can imagine my reaction to the Widow Wilson’s performance on the evening news. Let’s hope her fifteen minutes of fame are over.”
Natasha’s eyes danced. “Don’t bet on it. That woman has plans, trust me. And I certainly wasn’t going to be included. Clearly, she’s bringing her Ohio lackeys with her. Let’s see how long they last on the Hill.”
I laughed. “You know, Samantha had very complimentary things to say about you. For the record, she’s glad you’re in Chertoff’s office. She said Congresswoman Chertoff was lucky to have you. You were Quentin Wilson’s right arm.”
Natasha glanced into her empty wineglass. “Samantha Calhoun is a lovely person. I’ve met her at some political fundraisers. Please tell her I appreciate her kind thoughts.”
I debated my next words. “Samantha told me she called you after Wilson’s death. She said you were just as shocked by Wilson’s pill overdose as she was.”
“Yes, we spoke. It was nice of her to call. She wound up reassuring me and said not to blame myself for missing a signal that wasn’t there.”
“That sounds like Samantha. You know, I’m curious about something, Natasha. I’d heard that Wilson was using prescription painkillers too. That’s a lethal combination with sleeping pills. How long had Wilson been using them?”
Natasha looked up, and her gaze turned anxious. “I’m not sure exactly. I just saw the pills on his desk.” Her glance darted away.
“That was a tragic mistake on his part,” I said, intrigued by her reaction.
“Yes … yes, it was,” she said softly, glancing into her wineglass again, clearly nervous.
I sensed there was something else she could have said, but chose not to. I didn’t push it. “I’m sorry I asked, Natasha. I can see all of this brings back unpleasant memories.” I began to back away. “Go rejoin your friend and enjoy Eleanor’s hospitality. You’ve been very kind to answer my questions. Thank you so much.”
“You’re more than welcome, Molly.” Natasha’s smile returned. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you. Let’s hope Senator Russell has another reception for Midwesterners. Maybe I’ll see you then.”
“You definitely will. Shepherding politicos at the Senator’s various functions is one of the best parts of my job. Of course, getting to live in Georgetown is another perk, I admit. I live only a few blocks from the Senator’s Q Street home, so I get to walk to and from the office.” I purposely started strolling in the general direction that Congresswoman Chertoff and her staffer Sonia had walked.
Natasha fell into step beside me. “Boy, are you lucky! I’d almost open a vein to live there. I was hoping to find a house to share with several roommates so we could afford it. I love that area. Plus all the great cafes and shopping all around.”
“I know what you mean. It’s all too easy to go shopping after work. Of course, whenever I feel that urge and my bank account isn’t cooperating, I go running along the Canal instead. Works every time. Of course, I don’t take my credit card running.”
“Don’t you love running by the Canal,” she said, waving at her fellow staffer Sonia across the rosebushes. “I run there every morning between Rock Creek and Key Bridge.”
“Really? So, do I. Funny I haven’t seen you. I’m usually there around six or six thirty.”
“I confess I’m an early bird,” she said, backing away. “I try to start my run around five thirty or so. I’m at the Hill by seven.”
“I’m impressed. Take care, Natasha, maybe I’ll see you there some morning,” I said as she walked away.
The string quartet struck a couple of short chords, indicating they were about to commence play once more. I noticed several of Eleanor’s guests edge away from the food and meander across the grass toward the upper patio where the musicians were seated. Eleanor’s mansion had an Old World style that suited her. The upper patio jutted out from the upstairs sitting room. The downstairs patio off the main room was filled with the catering staff who were carrying what looked like serving trays of desserts.
I debated leaving to avoid the temptation of what would undoubtedly be a wickedly sinful assortment of calories. I’d had a few moments when I arrived earlier in the evening to chat with Eleanor. I could tell from her expression she wanted to speak more but couldn’t under the circumstances. As hostess of this grand fundraiser, she had no time for anything more than brief conversations with her many guests.
Certainly there was no time for a discussion about our mutual dear friend Samantha Calhoun’s current predicament. That would take a great deal more time, indeed.
nine
Tuesday
Larry Fillmore took the Metro escalator steps two at a time as he climbed upward, phone pressed to his ear. “I just had a call from Gary Levitz,” he said, moving away from the early morning crowds emerging from the Capitol South Metro station. “A friend at the Dirt called him last night and gave a head’s up about today’s issue. He’s panicked and wants to get out of town fast. I told him to grab all the cash he could get his hands on, and I’d call him back in a couple hours. Meanwhile, he should take a cab to Reagan National Airport and wait for my call. Promised him I’d have an out-of-town contact lined up.”
“Good, good,” Spencer replied. “I’ll call Raymond and get him on it right away. He’ll handle arrangements. I’ll let you know where to meet him so he can fill you in. So, make sure you don’t get tied down in meetings this morning.”
Larry strode across New Jersey Avenue, the Rayburn Office Building two blocks ahead. “That will be tricky. Jackson’s in committee meetings this morning. I’m supposed to go with him,” he protested, annoyed. “I’m his chief of staff, remember?”
“Send someone else. Call in sick, a dental emergency, whatever. Just be available, got it?”
Spencer didn’t ask, he directed; Larry noticed. “Got it,” he echoed.
“I’ll call as soon as I hear from Raymond.”
Trying once more to salvage his morning, Larry ventured. “Why don’t you just have Raymond call me. He can give me the details over the phone. It’ll be faster.”
Spencer’s deep voice chuckled. “Raymond only calls me.”
Larry kept his mouth shut as he turned around and headed back toward the metro station. Meanwhile, he clicked on his office phone number. Dental emergency, it was.
_____
“Molly, there’s some coffee left if you’re interested,” Casey said, leaning inside my office. “Luisa made a fresh pot.”
Music to my ears. I grabbed my empty mug and pushed away
from my desk. Only eight thirty-five and I needed to escape the computer screen already. It was going to be a long day. “I’ll need another mug to finish all these e-mails.”
“Don’t you just love mornings,” Casey joked as we walked down the stretch of polished walnut hallway.
“Ohhhh, yeah. It’s been fun ever since I turned on my kitchen TV and caught the morning news. Boy, the Widow Wilson must have hit every news outlet in the D.C. metro Area. I expect to see her on the Shopping Channel next.”
Casey snickered over his mug. “Widow Wilson. I gotta admit, she’s something else. She was everywhere these last few days.”
“Tell me about it.” I rounded the corner into Luisa’s immaculate kitchen. The wide windows on the east side let the morning sun pour in. Morning sun always cheered me up.
“How’s your friend holding up under the widow’s media blitz?”
I pulled the urn’s lever and watched the hot black stream pour into my mug, aroma wafting to my nostrils. The caffeine lobe of my brain responded on scent alone. “Pretty well, considering. She’s basically staying home and keeping out of the public eye for a while. That’s hard for her, because Samantha is someone who’s always going somewhere. She’s got groups and meetings all over town.” I took a sip, hot and strong.
“That’s probably a good idea for now. Mrs. Wilson is bound to go back to Ohio sometime.”
“She’ll go back, but she won’t stay,” I jibed, taking another sip. “I hear she’s going to be appointed to finish out her husband’s term. So, the Widow Wilson will be amongst us. What a happy thought.” I made a face.
Casey looked genuinely surprised. “No kidding! Brother, she must have a lot of connections.”
“Old Ohio money, and she’s tight with the Governor. I’d say that’s a sure bet.”
Poisoned Politics Page 9