Chapter Ten
I woke the next morning with a renewed and determined focus. Yesterday had been a mess, but the situation wasn’t disastrous, at least not yet. Maeve’s involvement had remained under wraps, and other legitimate suspects with motives existed. Maybe clearing her name wouldn’t prove impossible. The person who discovered the body always faced tough questions, just like I had last summer. Although it had been a rocky road, the actual perpetrators had been caught in the end. Thomas Jefferson’s famous quote, “Justice cannot sleep forever,” fueled my optimism.
My calendar confirmed it was going to be a busy day: lunch with Judy Talent from the Majority Leader’s office, a likely meeting with Trevor’s contact at the Sergeant at Arms office, and then the Capitol Canine awards ceremony in the early evening.
Clarence sat obediently next to me while I checked my phone. He was trying to behave, but I could tell from the increasing rapidity of his tail wag he was losing patience. We had already been outside for our morning jog and he wanted his breakfast. Dogs are creatures of habit, and Clarence was no exception. If I didn’t comply with expectations soon, he would progress to a whimper, then a staccato bark, and finally a full-throttle beagle mutt howl. Mrs. Beauregard, our neighbor two doors down, relished documenting Clarence’s lapses in canine decorum. Every unleashed escape into the hallway and each early morning howl eventually made its way back to us, usually with the threat of a condo board “pet sanction.” Thus far, we’d managed to avoid an actual monetary penalty because Clarence seemed to understand subconsciously he was only allowed so many mistakes in any thirty-day period. I wondered if Clarence’s triumph as top dog on Capitol Hill might buy him some slack with the powers that be on the condo board. After all, he was about to become a bona fide Washington D.C. celebrity.
After I filled the dog’s bowl, Doug appeared in the kitchen. He always looked disoriented when he woke up, his bushy brown hair disheveled and his glasses slightly askew. He’d slept in the t-shirt I bought him for his birthday, which sported the slogan, “TRUST ME, I’M A HISTORY PROFESSOR.” He made a beeline for the espresso machine and began filling it up with fresh beans.
“Are you free this evening?” I asked.
Normally, I would have allowed him to ingest an initial caffeine infusion before interrogating him, but the clock was ticking.
“Um, I think so. What day is it again?”
“It’s Wednesday, all day.”
He grumbled as he removed the coffee mug with his espresso. He carefully tilted a small pitcher of heated milk and added it to his caffeinated masterpiece.
“I don’t remember anything on my schedule tonight. I was planning on teaching my class and then heading home for a long afternoon of writing.”
What else was new? That was Doug’s schedule every day. When he had an evening event, like a Georgetown faculty wine and cheese reception, he complained bitterly about forfeiting precious research time.
“It looks as though Clarence is going to win the Capitol Canine contest, so can you bring him to the awards ceremony tonight?”
Doug took a long sip of his latte and wiped a frothy mustache from under his lip before responding. “He’s winning? How did that happen?”
“It’s another mystery to solve. I thought maybe you decided to get your students involved. I haven’t had any time to marshal votes for him.”
“Nope, it wasn’t me. I didn’t even look at the website to monitor the voting.”
Clarence ran in between us and abruptly rolled over on his back. After his morning jaunt and breakfast, he typically requested a belly rub.
We both bent down to rub his pink stomach, and he gave a low growl of appreciation. Doug had to commit, since it would be almost impossible to get Clarence to the awards ceremony otherwise. “Can you meet me tonight for the event? One of the suspects in Jack Drysdale’s murder might be there, and it’s my best chance to talk with him.”
“Now I get it. You need me to handle Clarence while you interrogate suspects.”
I stood and put my hands on my hips. “No, I can handle our dog and my interrogations. But if he’s going to win Capitol Canine, then Clarence needs to make an appearance!”
The exasperation in my voice had caught Doug’s attention. He stopped rubbing Clarence’s belly and glanced up. “All right, I get it. Clarence and I will be there with bells on. Just text me the time and the address. At least we’ll spend some time together.”
“That’s the spirit. Thank you.” After giving Clarence a pat on the head and Doug a kiss on the lips, I bolted for the door. As usual, I was already behind schedule.
With the shutdown still in full force, Metro traffic remained sparse. Absent of delays caused by overloaded cars, the subway zipped along to the Hill in record time. During the long escalator ride from the Capitol South station to the surface, I determined there was enough time for a brief stop at my favorite morning breakfast stop, Le Bon Café. The tiny French bistro next to the Library of Congress’s Madison Building was reminiscent of the numerous eateries that populated Parisian neighborhoods. Usually stepping inside Le Bon Café was enough to transport me momentarily to my favorite European city, providing a nice respite from the persistent cloud of stress surrounding our nation’s capital.
This morning, Le Bon Café lived up to expectations. It was filled with the aroma of rich coffee, egg strata, and freshly baked pastries. I inhaled deeply, thankful that smelling delicious food wasn’t fattening.
Usually, the line stretched the length of the café. This morning, only one other person stood in front of me. If I was going to treat myself to a French breakfast, I typically went for scrambled eggs or a waffle with fresh fruit. But later today I had a pizza lunch scheduled with Judy. Sighing, I opted for a skim latte and a yogurt parfait. I had just grabbed my breakfast off the counter and was about to head for the door when Detective O’Halloran breezed through the entrance.
There was no way to avoid him in the tiny café. “Good morning, Detective!” The cheer in my voice sounded forced, but I didn’t want O’Halloran to know I was worried about the status of Maeve’s involvement in Jack’s murder. Keeping up appearances was the better strategy.
“Ms. Marshall. Just the person I was hoping to speak with this morning.”
Not a good sign. Maybe O’Halloran had some good information to share about the murder. Police weren’t supposed to talk about investigations in progress, but O’Halloran had exhibited loose-lipped tendencies in the past.
“You want to talk to me?” I asked, feigning innocence. My words had fallen on deaf ears. Staring over my shoulder, O’Halloran eagerly eyed the pan of oat bran crisp, fresh out of the oven. The sweet smell of brown sugar floated past us. Since I stood between him and a delicious breakfast, he’d want to keep this conversation brief.
After a moment’s pause for a deep inhale, O’Halloran returned his focus to me. “Ah, yes. Ms. Marshall. You saved me a phone call. Any reason why Jack Drysdale would place a Post-it with your name on it in the middle of his desk?”
So much for staying one step removed from this murder. “I have no idea, Detective. As you know, I met with Jack the day before he was killed. Representative Dixon had an appointment with the Speaker, and I spent fifteen minutes with Mr. Drysdale while our bosses chatted.”
“Why am I not surprised to find you connected to yet another crime in Congress, Ms. Marshall?”
“I have no idea, sir. Did the note on Jack’s desk say anything else other than my name?”
“Actually, it did. The name ‘Clarence’ was also on the Post-it.”
I couldn’t suppress a broad grin. At least one mystery was solved. “Clarence is my dog. Jack was trying to help him win the Capitol Canine contest. It was his attempt to persuade me to sell Dixon on the Speaker’s proposal to end the shutdown. He’d help Clarence win the contest, and I’d make sure the congresswoman would support the Speaker when push came to shove.”
O’Halloran shook his head. “Now I’ve heard
everything. You’re telling me Drysdale tried to bribe you by fixing a dog popularity contest?”
“Not exactly. He wasn’t fixing it. But if he told his numerous contacts to vote for Clarence, they’d do it. As you know, Detective, Jack Drysdale was the most powerful staffer on the Hill.”
O’Halloran sighed. “Yeah, I know. So powerful that even a member of Congress might want him out of the way.” He gave me a sideways glance with a half smirk.
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing, at least yet. Your boss doesn’t have a fancy congressional trip abroad planned for the near future, right?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But our scheduler is on furlough due to the shutdown.”
O’Halloran huffed. “Then I’ll tell you instead. She shouldn’t leave Washington until we solve this murder.” He saluted military style with his right hand and moved past me to place his order.
His dismissal had been abrupt and the conversation disconcerting, to say the least. Maeve was still a person of interest. Even though the police had kept her name out of the press so far, that wouldn’t matter if O’Halloran gathered enough circumstantial evidence to label her a formal suspect.
The morning had started out so promising with the speedy commute and stop at my favorite breakfast joint. As I shoved the yogurt parfait into my purse, I could feel my body tense up. No amount of tasty food or libations would give me relief. The only solution was to find Jack’s killer so Maeve Dixon could resume her role as a marginal yet ambitious member of Congress.
In five minutes, I opened the front door to the office and retreated to the safety of my desk. The suite seemed quiet, but appearances could be deceiving. I had just enough time to turn on my computer and suck down half of the yogurt parfait before the door to Representative Dixon’s private office opened. My boss emerged, wearing an athletic zebra tank top, gray spandex shorts, and a matching black headband.
“Early workout at the House gym?” I asked.
“Since I never made it yesterday due to the fiasco with Drysdale, I did the early morning CrossFit circuit.”
Maeve was referring to a killer regimen several younger representatives followed when the House was in session. They met in the gym reserved only for members of Congress and apparently knocked out a workout fit for cage fighters. My boss was a regular, mostly for the exercise, but also because it gave her an opportunity to network with colleagues she might not interact with otherwise.
“I’m impressed. Unfortunately, I have news for you that might make you wish you stayed at the gym.”
She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat still beading on her face. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing at the moment. But I ran into Detective O’Halloran from the Capitol Hill Police, and he indicated you are still a person of interest in the murder.”
I cringed, waiting for the explosion. Instead, Maeve gulped down half a bottle of water, swallowed, and nodded her head.
“I expected this. That’s why I consulted with an attorney yesterday.”
“What are you going to do if you’re named an official suspect? Won’t that hurt you politically?”
“It won’t help. My attorney will handle the police, and I’ll have to lie low for a while until this mess is solved.”
“What about the shutdown? I thought you wanted to help broker the solution?”
Maeve smiled. “That’s why I hired you, Kit. You’re the consummate public servant, always looking to find the perfect public policy solution to heal our nation’s woes. I’ll have to retreat from the shutdown negotiations if the murder investigation focuses on me. I would be a distraction, and neither party would welcome my presence.”
“Did you tell Dan about this?”
In the midst of a leg stretch, she answered my question. “I have. He understands and supports my decision. Dan may not know Washington D.C., but he has been a loyal soldier throughout my short political career.”
“Maybe I can help. You know I solved the murder of my boss in the Senate last year.”
Maeve gave a short, dry laugh. “I heard about it and Dan reminded me last night.” Her face turned serious. “Listen to me. I don’t want you investigating the murder of Jack Drysdale. You were lucky once to find a killer in the Capitol. Luck like that doesn’t strike twice. Believe me, I know from firsthand experience in combat.”
“I’m really concerned if we leave it to the police,” I said. “They might settle on you as an easy target.”
Maeve stepped right up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “I appreciate the gesture, Kit. I was trained as a soldier, and that means I put my faith in the system. They might focus on me initially, but the police will figure this out. I don’t want anyone getting hurt in the line of duty.” Her smile returned. “And that’s an order.”
“I understand. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m counting on it. Try to keep Dan focused. He’s a worrywart.” She gave me a playful wink, then continued, “I’m headed for a shower. After that, I’ll be in my office.”
Now I knew why the voters of North Carolina chose my boss to represent them in Congress. She was a class act. Despite her concern about my informal inquiries, I didn’t give a second thought to my plan for the day. There was nothing wrong with asking a few innocent questions.
My email inbox indicated the push to find a solution to the shutdown had begun. Several legislative options had emerged, including one from the Majority Leader. I clicked on the file to open the document describing the proposal and groaned inwardly. A two-page summary preceded fifty pages of drafted bill language. Lunch with Judy was in three hours. At least part of that conversation hinged on an informed discussion about this deal. No time for procrastination.
Usually there was a dull roar in the background of a congressional office. Multiple televisions blared, with the House’s floor activity broadcast from one set along with various cable television political talk shows on the others. Staffers were constantly on the phone, talking with colleagues, constituents, or reporters. “Controlled chaos” described it well. Ensuring consistency in all interactions executed in the congresswoman’s name was no small task. Without the comforting din, my mind wandered as I stared at the computer monitor.
I was getting nowhere fast. It was time for a change of scenery. Where could I go? Smaller cafeterias throughout the congressional complex were good places to escape, but the shutdown had restricted food service to the main cafeteria in the Longworth Building. That wasn’t an option because it was a lobbyist cruising ground. I’d never eaten a meal there without numerous interruptions from notorious K Street peddlers.
After a few minutes of concentration, an idea popped into the recesses of my overtaxed intellect. The problem wasn’t just the lack of background noise; it was everything surrounding me. I needed to get out of this building entirely. Congress was one big tangled web of conflict and confusion these days. Before the winter chill set in, I’d accidentally happened upon an oasis of relative serenity. Adjacent to the Cannon Building was the Madison Building of the Library of Congress, where I’d attended a legislative process class on the intricacies of House committee procedure. After the class ended I was, as usual, hungry. The search for the elevators to the upstairs cafeteria led me to the La Follette Reading Room, a small resource facility at the Library reserved for members of Congress and staff. Members of Congress never used La Follette because they also had access to the ornate Congressional Reading Room in the Library’s historic Jefferson Building. Since that day, I’d made several trips to the hidden treasure when the pressures of daily Hill life became too much.
After printing the legislative proposal and grabbing my portfolio and coat, I headed to the Library. An underground tunnel connected Cannon to Madison, so going outside wasn’t required. But after I was done with my work, it would be time for lunch with Judy Talent at the pizza eatery on Pennsylvania.
I exited the elevator on the second floor, hoping La Follette rema
ined open during the shutdown. Madison was even emptier than the House office buildings. Vaguely, I remembered a librarian telling me La Follette was open as long as Congress was in session. They certainly weren’t getting anything accomplished, but technically, Congress was scheduled to convene today. Grabbing the handle of the heavy door to La Follette, I saw my hunch confirmed as it swung open.
A middle-aged woman with oversized black glasses and a tight bun nodded as I entered. Sometimes clichés proved true; this was the Library of Congress, after all. Probably every librarian in the United States wanted to work here. Apparently, the need to escape Congress was not uncommon. Several other staffers sat at tables and carrels, quietly reading or working at computer terminals.
I found an empty chair and sat down. I was about to open my portfolio and begin work when I glanced over at a book on a display shelf. It was a historical monograph on the Speaker of the House, and on the cover was a photograph of Sam Rayburn holding a gavel. The image got the gears in my brain churning, but not on the subject of the legislative proposal in front of me. I shifted back to Jack’s murder. How did that gavel make its way from the floor of the House of Representatives to the crime scene?
So far, this detail hadn’t made it into the press, which meant the police were keeping a tight lid on it. Murder weapons were important pieces of the puzzle, but this one was such an unusual artifact, it could potentially lead investigators to the killer. Unfortunately, my boss had presided over the House floor the evening before the murder, so the weapon was pointing Detective O’Halloran squarely in the direction of Maeve Dixon.
I snuck a peek at the librarian sitting at the desk. She was flipping through the latest edition of National Journal magazine. Appearances suggested she wasn’t overwhelmed by work. Maybe she could provide valuable research assistance.
I sauntered over and she looked up from her reading with a broad smile. This was an auspicious start.
“How can I help you?”
Returning her smile with a grin, I said, “Do you have any research materials about the Speaker’s gavel?”
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