Deadly Politics (18 page)

Danny gave a crooked smile and watched me sip my wine for a minute. Then he asked softly, “Have you forgiven him yet?”

Whoa
. Danny's perceptiveness was downright spooky. But since I'd had a fair amount of Pinot Noir with only soup and salad to soak it up, I looked at him, completely open.

“You mean for killing himself or for not fighting back?”

“Both.”

I stared out into traffic once again. “I tried to. I really did. I learned how to release the anger years ago, otherwise I would have exploded. And I learned to channel most of it into fighting for the causes Dave and I both believed in. Education and the environment. I really thought most of it was gone until last month when Karen died.” I let my eyes focus on the red lights changing at the intersection. “But it came surging back. You got to see a sample tonight.” I sent him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“No apologies necessary. Anger is an old friend. Or enemy, depending how you look at it.”

I held up my wineglass. “To old enemies and old friends.”

Danny clinked my glass with his. “Whatever the hell that means.”

I took a deep drink of the luscious smooth red. “Well, for one thing, it means I was right to be suspicious of Jed Molinoff. If his assistant is cozying up to Ryker, then there's something going on. Ryker doesn't come out and ooze his oily charm for nothing. If he's laughing and talking with Ambassador Holmberg, then you bet there's a reason. Ryker is chairman of the Financial Services Committee. So there are millions of reasons why he could be interested. And they all have dollar signs on them.”

Danny looked skeptical. “Maybe Ryker was there to hear Holmberg speak, like the rest of us.”

“Maybe.” I swirled the remaining wine in my glass. “But a leopard doesn't change his spots. Ryker's spots have gotten bigger over the years. Rumors have his personal fortune growing at a healthy rate.”

“Rumors?”

I was about to repeat some of them when my cell phone jangled in my purse. Checking my watch as I dug it out, I wondered who would be calling me after ten o'clock at night.

Celeste's name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, Celeste, is everything all right?”

“No, Molly, it's not.” Traffic sounded in the background. “Could you meet me, please? I'm over at that coffee shop in Foggy Bottom where we met last time.”

“Sure, sure, I'll come over right now. What's happening?”

“Somebody came into my apartment tonight when I went out for my run. I tell you, Molly, it scared the hell out of me.” Her voice was higher than usual.

A cold ball formed in the pit of my stomach. “Someone got into your apartment? Are you sure?” Danny looked over his coffee cup, his concern evident.

“Absolutely. When I came back from my run, several desk drawers where my computer sits were hanging open and so were drawers in my dining room bureau and in my bedroom. Whoever that freak is, he even went through my closets! My dresses were all pushed back, and the medicine cabinet in the bathroom was wide open.
Freak!
”

I looked at Danny while I repeated. “He went through your desk and your bedroom, too? My God, Celeste, it sounds like some sicko.”

I watched Danny's expression change. He took out his pen and wrote on his napkin.

“Whoever it was, it means he had to be watching me to know exactly when I left for my workout.”

Danny handed me the napkin with the word “Message” written on it. “Maybe it's a message, Celeste. If so, that's scary. You need to leave Jackson's office now—”

“To hell with that office, Molly, I'm leaving
town!
Tonight. I packed up my suitcase, my briefcase, and laptop, and all my files, and I got the hell out of that apartment. I'm not staying around while Jed and his goon stalk me.”

“Where are you going?”

“My aunt left me her house on the Eastern Shore when she died several months ago. It's been closed up for nearly a year, but I have the key. I plan to hole up there until I can find another job. Maybe in Washington, maybe not. I've had it with this stuff. But I wanted to give you these data files before I go. I'm sorry to be calling so late. Do you think you can come over, please? I want to get on the road before midnight, if I can.”

“Sure, Celeste. I'll be right over. Stay inside the coffee shop. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

I caught Danny's concerned expression as I closed my phone. “I know what you're thinking, and I'm thinking the same thing. It's way weird—”

“Nope, what I'm thinking is I'll drive you over and stay in my car to keep watch in case this guy followed her.” He signaled for the check.

“So, you believe her story?”

“Hell, yes. Someone sent Celeste a message tonight. Whoever is behind this, it looks like they want her out of Congressman Jackson's office.”

I ordered some black coffee while Danny signed the check.

_____

Celeste bent over her large takeout coffee. “I have a feeling that guy came in before and didn't find what he was looking for. That's why he came back.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, hunched over another cup of coffee. I wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight anyway.

Celeste looked up at me with her clear gaze. “I never leave any search files on my laptop. I put everything that's important or sensitive on flash drives, including those email search files. And I always carry those flash drives with me. I throw them into my purse or briefcase. The only time I don't have them physically with me is when I run outside around my apartment in Capitol Hill. So, I figure Jed's goon watched me long enough to learn my schedule, then he came in and found the flash drives lying beside my laptop.”

“Are any of them missing? Did he take anything?”

She shook her head. “No. All of them are there, but they were moved around, my cell phone, too. I think that guy deliberately moved everything and opened drawers and stuff to let me know he had been there and could come back again. He did it to scare me.” She shuddered.

That cold hand in my stomach squeezed tighter, and another emotion surfaced.
Guilt
. It was my fault Celeste was in this mess.

“Celeste, I'm so sorry I got you involved in all this. If I hadn't asked you to do those email searches, you never would have gotten on Jed's or Larry's radar screen.”

“That's not true, Molly,” she countered. “Remember, this all started when I saw Jed searching Karen's computer files and began asking questions. Don't feel bad. I got on Jed's radar screen all by myself.”

“Promise me you'll start sending out those job inquiries.”

“Believe me, I plan to once I'm away from Washington and safe on the Eastern Shore.”

“Email me and let me know where you are and how you're doing, okay?”

“Don't worry, I will.” Celeste checked her watch. “I'd better head out now, so I won't be driving too late.” She grabbed her coffee and stood; she was still wearing her workout clothes.

Feeling a maternal surge suddenly, I rose and gave Celeste a big hug. A “mom” hug. She squeezed back. “Take care of yourself, Celeste, please. And keep in touch with me, okay? I want to hear from you.”

“I will, Molly, I promise. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into her jacket pocket and brought out two of the portable data storage units or flash drives. They were no bigger than key chains. “These are the files I've already searched. I'll mail you the last one when I finish with it this week.”

I dropped both of them into my purse. “Thank you, Celeste, for everything you've done. And don't think that Jed Molinoff and his goon squad are going to get away with threatening staffers. I'm going to spread the word that Larry Fillmore is up to his old tricks,” I vowed.

Celeste found a small smile. “Thanks, Molly. I've already emailed Jackson's office my notice of resignation, so they can believe they've successfully run me out of town if they want to. I don't care anymore.”

I walked with Celeste out to her car parked in front of the coffee shop. Glimpsing Danny still in his car across the street, I waited for Celeste to rev her engine before giving her a good-bye wave. She waved once more, then pulled out into the steady flow of nighttime D.C. traffic.

I stared after her until she turned the corner, then I walked across the street. Danny was standing beside his car, holding my door open.

“You okay?” was all he asked.

I looked him in the eye and let him read my thoughts. I was a long way from okay.

Fifteen

His cell phone rang
as he exited the parking garage. He checked the screen and walked away from the pedestrians crowding the downtown street, office workers hurrying to their jobs.

“What's next?” he asked, watching tourists pass by, fanny packs and water bottles at the ready.

“When can you leave for the Bay?” Raymond asked.

“I can be there tonight.”

“That's fine. Just let me know when you're in place.”

“Roger that.” He clicked off, then edged around a line of tourists who waited to load a nearby sightseeing bus.

_____

“Step away from that coffeepot, Peter, I plan to drain it.” I marched into the Russell kitchen, two huge coffee mugs in hand.

Peter looked at me with feigned shock. “Good God, Molly. If you drink all that, we'll have to scrape you off the ceiling before the reception.”

“Have to, Peter,” I said, filling first one mug then the other with Luisa's dark brew. “I didn't get much sleep last night.”

Peter looked at me with a devilish smile. “Would that lack of sleep have anything to do with your increasingly busy social life? Household gossip has it that you've been seeing a retired military officer. I believe Luisa refers to him as ‘the colonel.'”

I took a large drink of strong coffee before taking the bait. No way was I up to bantering with Peter without caffeine. A lot of caffeine. “Household gossip, huh? I had no idea I'd fallen into a nest of busybodies.”

“That's a non-answer if ever I heard one,” Peter teased. “Boy, that relationship must be heating up.”

“Relax, Peter. We're old friends from high school. And we spend our time sightseeing around the city or running along the canal.”

Peter looked doubtful. “Luisa is going to be very disappointed to hear this.”

“Luisa's a matchmaker at heart. She'll find someone else to set up. How about you? You've landed in single-guy heaven, Peter. Girls outnumber guys in Washington by five to one at least.”

He gave me a wink. “Good maneuver, Molly. Switched to offense.”

I saluted him with my mug before taking another drink. “C'mon, Peter. Girls must be throwing themselves in your path. Why don't you grab one?”

“I do, occasionally.” He acknowledged with that deceptively boyish smile of his. “But spare time is a rare commodity around here, as you know.”

“Amen. And for the record, my sleep deprivation was caused by worry. I've kind of adopted one of Karen's friends from the office, and she's going through a hard time right now.” I deliberately made it sound like my attentions were maternal.

It worked. Peter nodded. “Once a mom, always a mom, right, Molly? Well, you tell her that working on Capitol Hill is exciting, but it also takes its toll on you.”

“That's about what I told her. Some can handle the pressure, others can't. And it's okay to head home for a break, too.”

Peter checked his watch. “I have to head over to the Hill, so I'll see you this evening with the Western delegations. Old-home week.” He drained his coffee as he headed for the door.

I accompanied him into the hallway. “I confess that I'm looking forward to this reception. I figure the entire Colorado Democratic contingent will head straight for me. Some will whine, others will cajole. It should be fun.”

Peter cackled. “Looks like we've corrupted you entirely; you sound like an Independent.”

“Blame it on my naturally contrarian nature asserting itself. I've never liked someone telling me what to do and whom to vote for. If the Democrats start to annoy me, I'll go over and talk to the Republicans. That'll drive them nuts.”

“You are bad, Molly. See you tonight.” He sped down the hallway to Albert's waiting car outside.

I finished off the first mug as I walked to my office. Emails and phone calls were waiting for me. Instead of returning to the computer's blinking cursor, however, I stood in the doorway and started on the second mug.

There was no exaggeration in what I told Peter. I had been up most of last night, pacing around my living room in the dark, just the television screen's filtered light flickering on the walls. I barely noticed. My mind was consumed with everything that Celeste had told me earlier that evening.

Jed had sent someone to stalk Celeste, then break into her apartment. Deliberately invading her privacy, leaving multiple signs a prowler was there. Surely Molinoff wouldn't resort to such tactics because she was checking emails. Was it because she'd dared to question his rehiring of Larry Fillmore? Or was it because Celeste knew about Jed's affair with Karen? That
had
to be it, I decided. Jed needed to protect his squeaky-clean family image so his star could continue to rise alongside Congressman Jackson's. Meanwhile, I agreed with Danny's assessment. Jed was sending a message to Celeste:
Back off!

That thought angered me. Cowardly Jed probably sent Larry the creep to do the dirty work. Larry was more than a bad actor. According to Samantha, his record on the Hill was rife with office confrontations with young women. Did Molinoff think he could unleash his attack dog at will? We'd see about that.

I slipped my cell phone from my pocket and punched in Samantha's number. After several rings her voice mail came on. “Hey, Samantha, Molly here. I wanted to ask a favor. Could you ask your network of mice to see what else is out there concerning Larry Fillmore? He's up to his old tricks, targeting a friend of Karen's in Jackson's office. Frightened her out of town in fact. Tell your mice to spread the word. And while they're at it, see if they can find someone who knew him personally. Or maybe knew his ex-wife. I want to know if Larry has an even darker side. You know, like violent behavior in the past. Throw some light on it. Fillmore shouldn't get away with scaring talented staffers out of town. You can chalk this up to my being a mom. Thanks, Samantha. I really appreciate it.”

I clicked off and continued down the hallway, mind still churning. Maybe a few minutes in the mansion gardens would be calming. I pushed open the glass doors and stood on the patio, admiring the well-tended flowerbeds and shrubbery balanced throughout the garden. Elegance and symmetry.

“Pretty, isn't it?” Casey's voice sounded behind me.

“It surely is,” I agreed as Casey walked over to unlock the back gate. I heard the distinct sound of the caterer's truck coming down the mansion driveway. Sure enough, the red and white truck appeared. Checking my watch, I waited until Casey rejoined me on the steps. “Aren't they a little early? Usually they don't show up until noon.”

“The senator is pulling out all the stops for this reception. Colorado delegation will be here.” He gave me a smile. “I have a feeling you won't be happy when you see the bills.”

“Thanks for the warning. At least I'll know to sit down when I open the mail.”

The caterer's staff started unloading cartons, trays, and metal storage units, rolling them toward the side door where Luisa stood waiting. The kitchen was Luisa's domain, and no one trespassed without her permission. Caterers included.

Casey and I stood watching the parade as several familiar faces passed by, giving us a wave. Unfamiliar faces also passed by, pushing carts and carrying trays. Different nationalities. A miniature global tour of nations. I noticed Casey scrutinizing each and every one of them as they walked to the kitchen. A stray thought wiggled from the back of my brain.

“I notice your checking out the staff, Casey. I'm curious. Do the caterers use the same kitchen staff each time or do they hire from a central pool or something?”

Casey didn't take his eyes off the parade as he answered. “I wish they used the same ones each time. It would sure make my job easier. But, no, they've told me they use a large employment agency that provides temporary kitchen hires, just like most caterers in town.”

“So those agencies do the ID checks on their employees?”

Casey snorted. “I wish. Realistically, there's so much demand in Washington, they're hard-pressed to find enough workers. Most of them are foreign-born and barely speak English, if at all. This is a good way for them to earn money, because there's always a need. And given the senator's decision to entertain half of Washington, there's no way the caterers could have complied without temp hires.”

“I think the official term is ‘undocumented workers,'” I said with a wry smile.

“I'm afraid so.”

I paused, trying to phrase my next question. “Tell me, Casey, did the police ever question the caterers or kitchen staff the night of Karen's death?”

Casey gave me a quizzical look. “Yes, I was with Lieutenant Schroeder when he questioned the two women who own the business and their kitchen staff. They were too busy running things inside to notice anything happening outside.”

I nodded. “I imagine they would be. But I was more curious about the others. Those temp workers we've been talking about. I've noticed they come and go, back and forth from the kitchen to the caterers' trucks, to the living and dining rooms and garden, and outside to the trash bins. And I've noticed one or two taking a smoke break outside as well.” I shrugged. “I was just wondering if one of them saw anything that night. Anything at all. Karen's car was parked down this street. Maybe one of them saw something or someone.”

Casey pondered what I said. I could tell he was surprised by my question and even more surprised that I'd pointed out a potential source of information that might have been overlooked. Undocumented workers had become almost invisible in our urban environments. They were everywhere and nowhere.

“That's a good point. The temp workers were long gone when Schroeder and his boys were asking questions. Let me ask the caterers and see if they remember their repeat hires. I know I've been able to recognize several faces today already. In fact, tonight would be a great time to ask questions. The senator has doubled his orders for this reception, so there're twice as many workers in the kitchen as usual.” He paused for a moment. “Now you've got me curious, Molly. I'll start asking questions and see what I find out.”

“Thank you, Casey. I really appreciate that. We may not find out anything, but at least we asked. That'll make me feel better.”

He peered at me again. “There's little chance of ever catching the scum who killed your niece, you know that, don't you? Even if one of these folks saw something, we'd never be able to get them to testify or even give a statement. At the mere mention of the police, they'd disappear back into the shadows.”

“I know, but at least I'll feel like I did something. I guess I'm still frustrated the police have nothing to go on. And I keep wondering if somebody somewhere saw something that night. Something, anything that might help find the killer.”

“I just wish I'd been outside when that guy appeared on the scene. He never would have approached Karen's car if he spotted security.”

“Don't beat yourself up. I've done a number on myself too. I was feeling guilty that Karen was making phone calls outside, rather than going home first. I'd asked her to come home with me to spend the weekend with my cousins in Virginia. But my friends pointed out that Karen would have stayed at the reception with or without me. Her entire office was here.”

Casey eyed me. “Don't forget, her boss Jed Molinoff was the real reason your niece was still outside.”

Hearing Casey mention Jed gave me an opening. “Can I tell you something in confidence? Something that I've only told Danny, your former commanding officer, retired Colonel DiMateo.”

Casey finally cracked a smile. “He was Lieutenant DiMateo when I knew him.”

“Did you guys actually call him ‘Double D'?”

“We called him Lieutenant. ‘Double D' was strictly amongst ourselves.”

I couldn't resist. “What's it stand for? Other than the double initials?”

“Off the record? Damned Dangerous. He was scary brave, but we'd follow him anywhere.”

Damned Dangerous
. I'd have to ask Danny about that. “Okay, then, off the record. I've been contacted by Celeste, one of Karen's friends in the congressman's office, and she alerted me to some of Jed's strange behaviors since Karen's death. He rehired a guy, Larry Fillmore, that Karen had insisted he fire earlier because of bad behavior. When Celeste asked Jed about it, he got mad and demoted her to the Records office. Then this guy, Larry, started bothering her at work. I checked out this guy with a Washington source, and she said he's got a history of being transferred from offices, often for problems with female staffers.”

At that point, Casey's expression changed from skepticism to interest. “That's easy enough to check.”

“I already did. Apparently his ex-wife also filed a restraining order on him a few years ago. Over a week ago, Celeste started getting hang-up phone calls on her answering machine every day. But last night, everything got kicked up another notch. Celeste called and said she came back from her evening workout run and found that someone had been in her apartment. And whoever it was deliberately left signs of his entry. Drawers open, things moved around on her desk. She thinks he was checking her computer data files, too.”

Casey's expression had hardened. “How credible is this girl? Do you think she's a head case?”

“I believe her. As I said, an old friend with impeccable connections validated Larry Fillmore's tawdry history, and we've both seen Jed's erratic behavior in action. Danny was with me last night, and he thought the break-in could be a message to Celeste to stop asking questions.”

“That's possible. But it's more likely she was vandalized by some random sicko who likes to paw through women's underwear. Tell me, how's this Celeste taking it? She must be pretty spooked.”