Poisoned Politics

by Maggie Sefton

  “By the way, my old Marine buddy with the Fairfax cops gave me a call yesterday. He said that your friend Samantha has definitely gotten the attention of the detective who’s investigating Quentin Wilson’s death. And not in a good way. She’s still not revealing the name of the person she was with the night Wilson overdosed. I don’t have to tell you that didn’t set well with those guys.”

  I released a long aggravated sigh. “I can imagine. I remember how the Arlington cops used to scare me when I was a kid years ago. They’d ride past on their motorcycles, staring through their shades. All they had to do was look your way, and you felt guilty. I swear to God.” I shook my head as long-ago images of those tough-looking cops darted through my head.

  Casey chuckled. “Yeah, I remember some of those guys. Most of them were Korean vets and tough as nails. You didn’t mess with them. My friends and I made sure we stayed way across the bridge in D.C.” His dark face lost its smile and that worried expression reappeared. “You gotta convince Samantha to tell the cops the truth, Molly. The stakes have been raised now. The medical examiner found opiates in Wilson’s bloodstream along with the sleeping pills, and they found a bottle of Vicodin on the floor and an empty mailing envelope with Wilson’s name on it.”

  I leaned against the counter. “Samantha told me the police revealed the medical examiner’s report when she and her lawyer went in for more questioning the other day. And they asked her a whole lot of questions about Wilson’s pill habit. Samantha told them everything she knew.”

  “Well, that’s good, but she still has to come clean about her whereabouts that night.”

  “Believe me, Casey, I nagged her a lot the other evening. I actually stayed over because I didn’t want her alone that night after that awful woman had spouted off on all the news channels.” I scowled into my mug. “Dammit. Samantha is paying a high price for her brand of loyalty.”

  Casey’s worried expression deepened. “Well, let’s hope she comes to her senses because she’s still at the top of the Fairfax cops’ list. All because she won’t explain where she was. My friend says investigators are wondering if she stayed with Wilson that night. Of course, that opens up all kinds of speculation.”

  I closed my eyes. “Oh, no … ”

  “Police can’t rule out anything, Molly. Apparently, they’re taking another look at all of the information they have. Including everything they found in Wilson’s briefcase and his office.”

  I considered what Casey said. Did that mean the surveillance photos of Samantha and Wilson? Wilson must have had them in his briefcase, so the cops found them right away. Samantha said the police told her lawyer the photos were being held in a safe place. “Did your friend mention any photographs?” I asked.

  Casey’s left brow shot up. “No, he didn’t. What kind of photographs?”

  “The very worst kind, Casey. Private investigator, peek-behind-bedroom-curtains kind of photographs. Samantha and Wilson, caught in the act at her Winchester estate. Samantha told me that Wilson received a courier-delivered package the morning of his death. He called her after discovering the photos. A little while later, Samantha received the same package. They decided to break off their affair immediately. That’s why Wilson was at Samantha’s that evening. He went to retrieve his personal belongings.”

  “Any idea who sent those photos? Any information on the mailer label?”

  I shook my head. “No, Samantha said Wilson checked on the company listed, something funny sounding, like Acme, Inc. It was bogus. No company listed with that name. And that Indiana address didn’t turn up anything either. So it was deliberately misleading.”

  “Someone’s either very smart or very careful. Probably both.” He thought for a second. “Does she think it could be the Widow Wilson?”

  “Yeah, both Samantha and I think his wife sent the photos. Mainly because neither Samantha nor Wilson received a blackmail message. Nothing, just the photos. If money was the reason someone took the photos, there would be a demand in a note or an e-mail. Neither one received a note. So, the only other reason would be to intimidate Wilson. Plus, the Widow Wilson has the money to hire professional investigators. Samantha said those photos had to have been taken from a distance because she has security fencing all around her property.” I paused. “Do you think the police found a message or something at Wilson’s office or in his briefcase?”

  Casey smiled. “I asked my friend the same thing. He said he wasn’t at liberty to say.”

  “Hmmmmm. That makes me curious. It sounds as if they did find something and maybe it implicates Widow Wilson.”

  “Or, maybe it’s vague enough to implicate your friend Samantha, too,” Casey said, giving me a stern look. “All the more reason Samantha needs to remove herself from this investigation entirely by telling police where she was that night and with whom. Her lawyer must be tearing his hair out in frustration.” He drained his coffee and refilled his cup.

  “He’s bald already, if I remember correctly. He’s probably working on an ulcer right now. And so are all her friends.”

  Casey reached inside his jacket and pulled out the notorious local rag, placing it on the kitchen counter. “There’s a new story here I think you’ll find interesting.”

  “All the sleaze that’s fit to print, right?” I drained my mug and followed Casey’s example, refilling it to the brim.

  “In the ‘Whispers & Rumors’ column today, there was some anonymous tip about a Capitol Hill staffer who supplied prescription drugs to clients on the Hill. And it even mentioned Wilson as one of the so-called ‘clients.’”

  “Oh, brother. Now, they’re going to trash Quentin Wilson’s reputation. Next, they’ll sharpen their knives and slice into Samantha.”

  “They’ve already started. I thought you’d seen it. Otherwise, I’d have said something.”

  “Damn. And this day was stressful to begin with.” I took a deep drink of steaming coffee and felt it burn all the way down my throat. I picked up the newsprint and scowled. “I don’t believe I’m gonna have to read this every day.”

  Casey chuckled as we left the kitchen. “Join the rest of us, Molly, and keep up with the gossip.”

  “You haven’t been in this rag, Casey. I have,” I countered, waving the tabloid as we turned down the hallway. “I’m going to read this garbage, then call Samantha.”

  “Give her hell, Molly. No more protecting Mister No-Name. It’s getting dangerous out there,” Casey warned as he walked in the opposite direction.

  _____

  I started in on my friend the moment she answered the phone. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Samantha. You need to call your lawyer today and tell those Fairfax cops exactly where you were the night Wilson died.”

  “Well, hello, Molly,” Samantha’s contralto voice answered. I could hear the amusement in it.

  “Don’t argue with me. You have to protect yourself. The sharks are in the water now. Did you read that local rag, D.C. Dirt? They’ve already named you and called Wilson the latest in your list of numerous liaisons! Good God, Samantha! They even hinted you were there with him the night he died!”

  “I know. I’ve been hearing from my friends all morning. They’re convinced Sylvia Wilson is behind all those rumors. Apparently she was making the rounds of every party and gathering she could these last few days. I doubt the woman slept from the sound of it.”

  I heard the tiredness in Samantha’s voice, so I pressed again. “It sounds like that woman has a personal vendetta against you. It’s gotten more than nasty out there. Sylvia Wilson is vicious, and the only way you can stop her is to tell police where you were that night and with whom. Once you do, you’ll shut her up for good. And the Widow Wilson will look like the vindictive bitch she is.”

  Samantha’s soft laughter came over the phone. “You’re such a fighter, Molly. You always stick up for your own.”

 
; “Always. And I’ve got the battle scars to prove it,” I joked.

  She laughed louder. “Bloodied, but unbowed, the two of us. Bless your heart. You can rest easy. When my lawyer called to give me hell this morning, I told him to schedule a meeting with the Fairfax County Police this afternoon. I’ll tell them exactly where I was that night and with whom.”

  I released a long loud sigh. “Thank God, Samantha. I know you were giving Jefferson Carter ulcers. What’d he say to convince you? All of your friends have been pleading with you for days.”

  “Well, he reminded me if I thought my life was unpleasant now, that was nothing compared to what would happen if I became the chief suspect in a murder investigation. But it wasn’t Jefferson who convinced me, actually. It was Julia.”

  I pictured Samantha’s daughter, Julia Monroe, a talented pianist, supporter of the arts, and as unassuming and low-profile as Samantha was flamboyant. “Excellent. I’m curious. What’d she say?”

  “Julia came to my house early this morning, right after she’d dropped both girls at school. I was still in my dressing gown, so I was surprised to say the least.”

  “And?”

  “She announced we were going to have a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting. Her words, not mine. She told me she’d been able to laugh off all the various whispers and rumors about my affairs over the years, but this incident was not laughable. Some of the things she’d read and heard this weekend brought tears to her eyes. And then … then she said someone at school had already whispered something ugly to Peyton. Well, I tell you, Molly, that did it. If anyone had tried to hurt my precious girls, I’d tear their throat out with my bare hands. And to think that I did it myself … well, I couldn’t bear it. I dissolved in tears.”

  My heart ached for my dear friend. All of us had trespassed in one way or another over the years. Regrets and recriminations had become part of everyone’s baggage. If we were fortunate, we learned how to lighten that load over time. But repentance wasn’t for everyone. And redemption, only for the lucky few. Forgiveness … well, that was even harder. Often sought, seldom found. Especially for ourselves.

  “Samantha, please don’t beat up on yourself any more than you already have,” I said in a soft voice. “We all make choices in life. Some choices are good, some aren’t so good. But most of us don’t have our actions spread out in the tabloid sleaze for all to see. We get to make our mistakes in private. You were simply unlucky. Much worse is going on in Washington right now, but it will stay behind closed doors. It’ll never be out in the open for everyone to see.”

  “And here, I’d always considered myself lucky.” I heard the smile return to Samantha’s wet voice.

  “And you are. You’re healthy and have people that love you. Thank God for friends and family.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Her response brought an amusing image to my mind, and I knew it would make Samantha laugh. “Hey, if you really want to make this a ‘new beginning’ you could go to church. I’ll even go with you. When’s the last time you went? I can’t even remember the last time I went to Mass.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. The two of us going to Mass?” Samantha burst into laughter. “Lord, girl, the earth would shake if we walked in there.”

  “Stained glass rattling in the windows, holy water splashing in the font,” I continued, laughing at the images I’d created. “Hey, it would be fun!”

  Samantha hooted with laughter again. “You are crazier than a bedbug, girl. I swear you are.”

  Hearing Samantha reply with one of her old phrases made me feel better. Samantha was wounded, but she’d recover. Bloodied but unbowed. The two of us.

  “Listen, Eleanor MacKenzie is coming over this week for one of Russell’s dinners. Is it all right if I tell her you’re cooperating with police?”

  “Sure, go ahead and tell the Queen Mother,” she teased. “She’s probably fit to be tied by now.”

  “I’m sure she is. She shot me a couple of looks the other night at that charity fundraiser she held. I could tell Eleanor was dying to talk to me but couldn’t because of all the guests. So, I’d like to ease her mind. She really cares about you, Samantha.”

  “I know she does. The old dear. Go ahead, Molly. By the way, you’ve never asked me who I was with that evening.”

  I heard the tease in her voice, so I played along. “Oh, I figured you’d tell me sooner or later. Tell me now, so I can update Eleanor. That way, we know the word will spread to all the right circles.”

  Samantha chuckled. “Good idea. My companion for that evening … and that night … was my dear old friend, Bernard Bergstrom.”

  I paused, for only a heartbeat. “What! Isn’t he—”

  “In the Administration? Yes, he’s one of the President’s foreign policy advisors.”

  “Ye Gods, Samantha!” I blurted. “The Administration! You’ve … you’ve always stayed within Congress! What were you thinking?”

  “I have friends all over Washington. And in all three branches of Government.” I heard the tease again.

  “Dear God …” I muttered while Samantha laughed lightly. I could tell she was enjoying my reaction.

  “Bernie is a wise man and I needed some of his sage counsel after I’d received those photos. He’s seen his share of scandal over the years. He knows how to survive.”

  I glanced at my computer screen and saw all the messages blinking at me. “I’ve gotta get back to work. Listen, Miss Thing, I know we’ve got a tripartite government, but promise me you’ll leave the Judiciary alone, okay?”

  Samantha laughed so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

  ten

  Thursday evening

  Danny’s name flashed on my cell phone as I logged off my office computer. “Hey, there, I’m almost finished,” I said as I shoved some files into a desk drawer. “Senator Russell and Peter arrived a few minutes ago, thank God. Otherwise, I’d be playing hostess for the dinner guests and making you wait. When’s our reservation, again?”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell them we’ll be a little late,” Danny’s deep voice sounded. “Why don’t I pick you up at Russell’s? It’ll save you time.”

  “Uhhhh, okay. I was going to change, but—”

  “No need. You always look great.” I heard the light in his voice, and it went right through me like always. Hard not to like a man who said things like that.

  “Flattery, flattery,” I teased, checking my makeup in the framed mirror beside the bookcase. Grabbing my purse, I rifled through it with one hand, searching for my small makeup case. “I appreciate it after the day I’ve had.”

  “What have the politicos been up to while I’ve been gone? Their usual chaos?”

  “Actually the politicos weren’t the stars in this melodrama. Other players were making news. And Samantha had a leading role. I’ll fill you in at dinner,” I said as I touched up my makeup and fluffed my hair.

  Danny laughed deep in his throat. That sound always made my pulse race. “I can’t wait. I’m on Connecticut Avenue now. I should be there shortly.”

  “Give me ten minutes, okay?” I said, closing my office door and heading down the mansion’s main hallway. “I’ve got to deliver a message to one of the dinner guests.”

  “Roger that.” His phone clicked off.

  The sound of voices beckoned to me from the living room. Since these dinners for Senate colleagues were deliberately smaller than Russell’s earlier dinner events, there was a more intimate atmosphere, which was precisely what Senator John Russell told me he wanted. Only eight people around the table, talking and getting to know one another in a more relaxed setting.

  I paused at the edge of the living room and scanned the guests. Senator Russell was beside the fireplace, talking with my old friend, Senator Alan Baker, senior Republican on the Senate Banking Committee. Peter, who had ju
st returned from a Hill staffer meeting a half hour ago, still managed to look relaxed while talking with Senator Baker’s wife, Brenda. I spied the senator from Oregon and his lovely wife on the sofa, chatting with the senator from Missouri. And there, beside the bookcase, was Eleanor MacKenzie in her signature peach silk—couture, of course. She was speaking to a couple I couldn’t recognize from the back.

  I debated interrupting for a brief moment with Eleanor when she suddenly glanced my way. I smiled and pointed toward the hallway. Eleanor guessed my signal, and I watched as she excused herself from the couple and walked toward me in her queenly stride.

  “Forgive me for interrupting, Eleanor, but I have good news to share, and you’ll want to hear it.”

  Eleanor’s bright blue gaze sharpened and focused on me. “Please tell me Samantha has explained her whereabouts during that dreadful evening when Congressman Wilson died.”

  I gave her a big grin. “Yes, she has, thank goodness. Samantha and her lawyer, Jefferson Parker, spoke with the Fairfax County Police just the other day.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes in uncharacteristic fashion, which told me how worried she’d been. “Thank Heavens,” she breathed. “I cannot tell you how upset I’ve been ever since it became known Congressman Wilson died at her home. That’s when the rumors started, getting worse every day.” She shuddered. “Horrible, simply horrible. And then that Ohio woman’s ugly accusations. After that, the gossip turned even more malicious. Every place I went.”

  “I know. Samantha’s stepped on a lot of toes in this town, and—”

  Eleanor gave an unladylike snort. “Humph! She’s done more than that. Samantha has engaged in outrageous liaisons with those younger congressmen, almost as if she was deliberately flouting …” Eleanor gestured, at an unusual loss for words.

  “Propriety,” I ventured, with a devilish smile.

  Eleanor gave me a schoolmarm’s look. “Yes, propriety. It may sound old-fashioned, but it still has value. I’m afraid Samantha’s done irreparable damage to her reputation. There were many who envied the social standing she’d acquired in this city through her political connections and her considerable wealth. Some of them have been waiting gleefully for her to slip off that tightrope she was walking. Now that she has, and in such a public fashion, she will have a hard time re-establishing herself. That is, if Samantha chooses to.” Eleanor arched an aristocratic brow in skepticism.