Poisoned Politics

by Maggie Sefton

  Natasha shook her head. “Naw. It’s okay. I was just going through a lot of stuff in my head. There’s a lot going on.”

  I spotted another runner up ahead, coming our way. Sweating, T-shirt stuck to his chest. Notre Dame. Another runner right behind. Buzzed haircut said military. More runners would appear. Early morning was prime time to run before tackling rush hour traffic. Meanwhile, I figured I’d better ask the question I’d gotten up so early for. If I could find a way to ease into it.

  “You know, there’s another reason I decided to run early today. There’s something I wanted to ask you, Natasha. You know that gossip in the D.C. Dirt about the Hill staffer supplying pills to people? Samantha said Quentin Wilson told her you had a friend who could get him pills. Was that the same guy?”

  Natasha immediately lowered her head, staring at the ground as we ran rather than at the trail ahead. After a few seconds her quiet voice answered. “Yes, it was. Congressman Wilson looked so haggard and jumpy a few months ago, and he was starting to snap at people. I was worried about him. So, I told him about this guy I know, a friend from college, who worked over at Congressional Research Service.”

  Natasha went quiet while we ran past the balcony of the café restaurant where Danny and I had lunch the day he first walked back into my life. The café was empty now. Too early for customers. I deliberately matched my stride to Natasha’s so we would be in rhythm. Meanwhile, I chose my next words carefully.

  “I don’t know if you saw the local TV news last night, but it sounds like the young man they found dead in Houston is that same guy. This morning’s news said his name was Gary Levitz, and they mentioned he worked on Capitol Hill.”

  Natasha didn’t answer right away, so we strode together in silence along the towpath, only the sound of our sneakers hitting the dirt path. Key Bridge lay up ahead, its shadowed underpass arching over the towpath and canal. My radar always went on alert whenever I ran beneath that huge bridge that stretched from Virginia across the Potomac River and the canal before emptying into Georgetown’s M Street. Danny had warned me to be careful if I ran there alone. During the summer, drunks and vagrants would sleep off the previous night’s binge beneath that protective concrete arch.

  “Yes, I saw the news last night,” Natasha finally spoke. “And I knew it was Gary. I just knew it. It’s so awful. First, Congressman Wilson. Now Gary. All because of those stupid pills!”

  “I’m sorry you lost your friend, Natasha. Had you known him long?”

  She wiped her hand beneath her nose as we neared the underpass. “I’d gone to school with him back at the University of Minnesota. We dated a few times. And we both came to the Hill the same year. Gary was a smart guy, and he never did any drugs that I know of in college. So I was really surprised when he told me what he was doing now. But Gary insisted his uncle was a doctor, and it was okay to fill extra prescriptions. So I told myself it was okay. I mean, his uncle was a doctor, after all. Surely, it would be all right.” She went silent for several long strides. “But it wasn’t. And the Congressman is dead. And now Gary is dead. Part of me still feels guilty. I should never have told Congressman Wilson about Gary.”

  “Don’t do that to yourself, Natasha,” I consoled as we approached the underpass. “You were trying to help the Congressman. Quentin Wilson chose to take those pills that night. We’ll never know if he did it deliberately or accidentally. Who knows what was going on in his mind? I think the police said he was drinking, so that had to cloud his judgment.”

  My words echoed as we ran beneath the concrete span. The low rumble of tires vibrated on the asphalt above our heads, reverberating around us and side to side. I peered into the darker crevices beneath the span as we passed. No vagrants to be seen, just the distinct odor of urine rising in the early morning air to greet us.

  “Maybe I couldn’t have stopped Congressman Wilson, but I might have been able to stop Gary.” An anxious tone captured her voice now. “When police first questioned me at Chertoff’s office, they asked if I knew anything about Wilson’s Vicodin prescriptions. I told them I’d seen pill bottles on his desk. That’s all. I admit I was scared. I didn’t want police to think I was involved in Gary’s business. But now I’m feeling guilty. If I’d told police what Gary was doing, then he wouldn’t have gone running off to Texas. He’d be in trouble with the police, but Gary would still be alive!”

  “You don’t know that, Natasha. Gary knew exactly when the police started asking questions. You know how stuff spreads all over the Hill. No way were you the only one who knew about his side business. I’ll bet Gary got texts the minute the detectives showed up on Capitol Hill. He probably took off for Texas the moment word spread.”

  Natasha was silent as we strode along the canal, traffic noise of M Street getting louder and closer. “This is where I like to turn,” she said.

  We slowed our strides and turned around to return the way we came. Traffic had increased on Key Bridge in the scant few minutes since we’d first passed beneath. Suddenly, something Natasha had said a moment ago came back into my mind.

  “I’m assuming Gary had a car,” I asked, edging into my question.

  “Yes. He’d just bought a new one. A Mazda. Really pretty. Bright blue.”

  “Boy, Texas is a long drive from Washington.”

  “He didn’t drive. He told me he flew to Dallas, then took a bus somewhere else.”

  My little buzzer went off. “So you must have talked to him after he got to Texas.”

  “Yes. He called me after he got there. He wouldn’t tell me where he was, just some motel. I told him to be careful and stay in touch.”

  “Why’d he take a plane then a bus? Did he run out of money or something?” I probed.

  “You know, I asked him that. He said he couldn’t use his car, but he didn’t explain why. Just said he needed to fly into Dallas, then take a bus and pay cash for everything.”

  The word “needed” flashed in my mind. “That’s kind of weird. I wonder if he was meeting someone there?” I conjectured out loud. “Did he mention anyone?”

  “Not exactly. But I got the feeling he was. When I asked how long he would be there, he said probably only a couple of days. He’d be moving someplace else as soon as he got a new ID. Of course, that really worried me.”

  Hmmmm. I pondered as we returned beneath the underpass. This time, another runner passed us by. Probably military from the look of him.

  “A new ID, huh? Sounds like Gary might have been making a run for the border. Or, maybe simply start working some job with his new identity. There’re a lot of big cities in Texas, and they’re spread out. Lots of little towns surrounding them where he could blend in. A lot easier than in Mexico.”

  “Oh, I wish he had! Maybe he’d still be alive and safe.”

  “And maybe not. It sounds like Gary had more problems bedeviling him than you knew. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken his own life.”

  We strode past the Park Service barge used to give tourists a ride down the Canal in good weather. The sun was beginning its morning climb. I could feel the temperature and humidity rise together—in tandem.

  “Oh, Gary … why did you do it?” Natasha asked sadly.

  “We’ll never know. None of us really knows what’s going on inside another person’s head, even if they’re a loved one. My husband killed himself years ago during his third term. He was brilliant and passionate and cared so much for the people he represented in Colorado. Yet … he shot himself. After all these years, I still haven’t figured out why. Why would he end his life like that? I have no answers. The reasons died with him.”

  Natasha glanced at me as we approached the next access point to the connecting streets. “I’d heard about that, Molly. I’m sorry.”

  “Keep the good memories of Gary,” I advised, not allowing myself to dwell with those sad memories from the past. They had a power of their own
. “That’s what I did, and I kept Dave alive for his daughters. Listen, I’m going to head back to my house so I can get ready for the office. Take care, Natasha, and let’s stay in touch, okay?”

  “I will. And thanks.” Natasha gave me a little smile before I turned off the towpath and headed toward Wisconsin Avenue and the streets above.

  _____

  “Good morning, Molly,” Luisa greeted. “There’s a beautiful surprise waiting in your office. From the colonel.” She gave me that Cheshire cat smile of hers.

  I had to laugh as I walked down the hallway toward my office. “Danny is retired from the Marines, Luisa. So, he’s no longer a colonel. Technically.”

  Luisa gave a dismissive wave as she walked beside me. “Once a colonel, always a colonel. That’s what I say.”

  It was hard to argue with reasoning like that, so I switched subjects. “How’re those grandbabies of yours doing?”

  “Getting bigger by the day,” Luisa beamed. “I’ve got more pictures I’ll show you later. But right now, you’d best get to your office. There was a note attached to your gift, so I imagine you’ll want to answer it. Oh, and I brought you a mug of coffee, so you won’t be interrupted.”

  I grinned at Luisa the Matchmaker. “Thanks, Luisa, you’re a sweetheart. I’ll read that note right away. And I’ll send Danny your regards.”

  Luisa simply grinned conspiratorially before she headed toward the upstairs stairway.

  Sure enough, there was a vase of brilliant summer roses in the middle of my desk. Crimson red, coral pink, snow white, and sunshine yellow rimmed with red. Gorgeous. I settled into my desk chair and opened the small white envelope taped to the vase. The handwritten message was short.

  “Thinking of you. Love, Danny.”

  I read those five words and felt their message work through me. And their meaning.

  Oh, God … the “L” word. Now what?

  I experienced a brief flush of anxiety sweep over me. Neither Danny nor I had ever used the word. Not with each other. Now Danny had done it. Served the ball into my court. Thrown down the gauntlet. Crap. Now what?

  I stared at the little card, the words taunting me. This is a test. I know it is. Danny said it first just to see what I’d do. Sneaky. What could you expect from someone who’d spent years creeping around jungles, deserts, whatever. I put the card beside my cell phone and picked up my coffee, hoping the caffeine would settle my thoughts.

  No such luck. All it did was allow the two competing Voices Inside My Head to have at it.

  For God’s sake! What are you agonizing about, woman? Crazy Ass insisted. Of course, you love him!

  Not so fast! Sober-and-Righteous cautioned. There’s no need to attach more importance to this relationship than it warrants. It’s merely a primal mating ritual. Hormones, glands, what-have-you.

  Don’t be ridiculous. You know it’s more than that. Just text the man that you love him. How hard is that?

  Hold on! Do not confuse sexual attraction with love.

  You’ve got to be kidding, Crazy Ass countered. Pick up the phone and send him a text. The weekend is fast approaching.

  Sober mumbled something incoherent, so I stared at the card as it sat there, accusing me. Waiting for me to answer. Return Danny’s serve. Pick up the gauntlet.

  What is it with these sports metaphors?

  I ignored Crazy Ass, and picked up my phone. Finding Danny’s name in the directory, I keyed in a simple text. “The flowers are beautiful. I love them. Thank you so much.” I hesitated over the send button, then pressed it.

  Steady on, Sober decreed, obviously pleased with my cowardly decision, while Crazy Ass made all sorts of clucking chicken noises. I tried to ignore them both by turning my attention to a copy of the D.C. Dirt in the middle of my desk. Casey had drawn an arrow to a short paragraph above the fold in the “Whispers and Rumors” section.

  Sources close to the Dirt have let us know that photographs taken of recently departed Congressman Quentin Wilson and his paramour have surfaced. Apparently, these photos show the congressman and his lover in flagrante delicto. The Dirt cannot help but wonder: who would take such photos? Was someone blackmailing Congressman Wilson? Was that why he took an overdose of sleeping pills and painkillers? The Dirt wants to know.

  I stared at the paragraph. Oh, no. Not the photos. I grabbed for my phone again and punched in Samantha’s number. She answered on the third ring.

  “Hello, Molly, I take it you’ve read the morning sleaze rag.”

  “Good Lord, Samantha, I’m so sorry. How in the world did they learn about the photos? It had to be a leak at the police department, don’t you think?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” she said, her voice sounding tired. “But my lawyer has already delivered a letter advising that rag we will sue them up one side and down the other if they print that trash.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  She let out a long sigh. “I have no idea. But it’s the only thing we can do at this point. Threaten to sue the bejeezus out of them.”

  “I’m so sorry, Samantha.” I vainly searched for something else to say and remembered my morning run. “Let’s change the subject. I took my morning run by the C&O Canal and saw Natasha Jorgensen so we ran together for a while. She confirmed that the guy in Texas was her staffer friend, Gary Levitz.”

  “You and I figured as much. Listen, Molly … I’ve done a lot of thinking this morning, and I’d like you to call Eleanor and tell her that I gratefully accept her offer of shelter from the storm. I thought the clouds were lifting, but after this news, I can tell that a tempest is brewing. I welcome Eleanor’s kind offer. Joining the convent, so to speak.”

  I heard a hint of Samantha’s old self surfacing. “You’ll survive. Meanwhile, any innuendo the Dirt throws your way won’t stick. You’ll be out there doing good deeds. What is it the nuns used to say … doing charitable work?”

  “Good Lord, don’t remind me. This may kill me, you know.”

  “Celibacy never killed anyone, Samantha.”

  “Spoken by a woman who’s about to spend the entire weekend in flagrante delicto,” she drawled the words. “Mad, wild sex.”

  Oh, yeah! Crazy Ass cheered. Sober simply scowled.

  I just laughed. “By the way, thanks for the lingerie. The shop delivered the box yesterday. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous. Almost as pretty as the flowers Danny sent this morning.”

  “Ohhhhh, good. He sent flowers. Smart man.”

  I hesitated, then said, “And a card saying ‘Thinking of you. Love, Danny.’”

  Samantha paused for a moment. “Tell me you replied in kind, Molly. Or I’m gonna come over there and smack you.”

  That made me laugh. “Yes, yes, I did … I thanked him for the flowers.”

  “And?”

  “And that was it. I chickened out with the L word.”

  “Molleeeee … what am I gonna do with you? You know you love him and he loves you. Now stop acting like a jackass!”

  “Why can’t we just have sex? Why do we have to talk about love? Isn’t there a song about that? What’s love got—”

  “God, Molly, you’re impossible, you know that?”

  “I can’t help it. It’s my nature,” I deliberately teased, hoping my lighter tone would deflect her aim.

  Not in the least. “You’re just afraid of commitment, Molly. Committing yourself.”

  That shook me. What the hell? “I am not! Don’t be ridiculous! I was married twice. I loved Dave and …”

  “You loved Dave and were committed to helping his career. Helping him become the man you saw inside him. And then he died before he could live up to your expectations. And, Frank, hell, I saw the two of you together. You were old friends from the Denver political arena. You two made a good team. You were committed to working together. But admit it, Molly. You didn�
�t love Frank.”

  Whoa … Samantha’s aim was as true as ever. Right straight to the bull’s-eye.

  “You know I’m right. But Danny is something else again. This man moves you. I can see it. You admitted it a couple of weeks ago. You said he reached something inside you. And that was scary. Because this time, you’d be committing yourself.”

  I considered what she’d said for a long minute. “You’re right. It does scare me.”

  “Look, I understand because it’s happened to me. I didn’t want to admit how much Quentin had gotten to me. The real me. I loved him. That’s why all this hurts so much. But you and Danny have each other right now. We don’t get that many chances in life. Don’t let this slip away. You’ll regret it. Trust me.”

  Samantha’s words resonated. She was right, as always. “I promise. I won’t let it slip away, Miss Thing. Thanks for the advice. And the sexy lingerie.”

  “Anytime, sugar,” she lapsed into her old drawl. “It’ll be easier for me to take the vows under Mother Superior MacKenzie if I know you and Danny are enjoying each other. At least one of us will be having fun.”

  I laughed out loud, the image of Samantha in a habit traipsing after Eleanor. “We’ll do our best.” The sound of my cell beeping caught my attention. “Uh, oh. There’s a text. I bet it’s Danny.”

  “Well, hang up and answer it, sugar. Stop wasting time. Talk to you later.” She clicked off.

  Sure enough, the blinking green light on my phone indicated a text waiting. From Danny. Like the first message, it was short.

  “Glad you liked the flowers. How about the note?”

  Damn! That man was positively spooky. I paused over the keypad then entered the words: “Love you too.” Then hit Send.

  I picked up my coffee and drained the mug, then turned on my computer. Work was waiting. I was about to go for a coffee refill before I settled into the financial accounts when I heard the telltale beep from my phone. I stared at the blinking green light, then pushed it. Another message from Danny.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard. It’ll get easier. I promise.”