Deadly Politics (19 page)

“Yeah, she was. Celeste packed her bags last night and headed out of town. And she's quit her job in Jackson's office. We met at a coffee shop so she could say good-bye.” I didn't mention the data storage drives.

Casey peered at me. “Where're you going with this, Molly?”

“I'm not sure. All I know is my antennae have been buzzing on Jed Molinoff for the past few weeks. Ever since I saw him coming out of Karen's apartment after her death. He rifled her desk and took some photos.”

His eyebrows raised. “Do you think he broke in?”

“He obviously had a key. Karen told me they were having an affair, so I'm betting he went back to eliminate any traces. To keep the wife and kids back home in Nebraska from finding out.”

Casey gave a wry smile. “Well, that's the most logical explanation.”

“I was ready to write off Jed's behavior as cheating-spouse panic until Celeste called. Her story makes me wonder if something else is going on with Jed Molinoff. If so, I want to find out what it is.”

“How do you propose doing that?”

Casey's skeptical expression had returned. So I tried to appear disarming. “Well, I'm not sure. I've exhausted all my gossip and search sources. So, I guess I've got to find some more.” I gave him a sideways smile. “You've worked in security and law enforcement. Any suggestions?”

Casey smiled knowingly. “If you're asking if I do surveillance work, the answer is ‘not anymore.' You can burn out on that pretty quickly. And I wouldn't advise you to start snooping around, either. Especially not on a congressional chief of staff.”

“Don't worry, Casey. I wasn't planning on peeping in windows. I'll stick to asking questions.”

Casey's BlackBerry sounded and he motioned to me as he stepped away to answer. “Later, Molly.”

I needed to return to my office and get back to work. My cell phone was on my desk, fairly quivering with messages, no doubt. As was my computer email inbox. Swishing the last of the coffee in my mug, I decided that a third mug would be necessary this morning. Peter was right. They would have to scrape me off the ceiling before the Western delegation arrived tonight.

Sixteen

“Molly, your father is
rolling in his grave right now, you know that, don't you?” a long-time Democratic party staffer rebuked. “How can you betray your father's principles like that? You should be working for the Democrats!”

Only the better-quality Sauvignon Blanc allowed me to moderate my response to the irate Denver Democrat. “I haven't betrayed any of my father's principles, Carl, and you know it. Senator Russell may be an Independent, but he's picked up Robert Malone's mantle and run with it. You guys dropped it in the dirt in that last campaign. All that partisan bickering between Democrats and Republicans, I could barely watch the news. It was all I could do to drag myself to the polls in November.”

The old-line Democrat blinked at me, surprised by my sharp response. I drained the glass, glad that I'd only had one so far.

Figuring I'd better redeem myself for the senator's sake if nothing else, I gave him my brightest campaign smile. “Believe it or not, Carl, we're all batting for the same team. Helping Coloradoans, right? That's why I'm here. And I know you are too.”

Carl frowned petulantly. “Still, you should be on
our
team, Molly. It's just not right. It's …”

He struggled for some other words that might convince me. Trouble was, I'd had a lifetime of listening to words. They were no longer enough. I needed action now. I wasn't sure when that shift had taken place inside, but I could feel it. Whether or not Russell would be able to deliver more than words, time would tell. The front door opened both ways.

I was about to maneuver the disappointed Dem to the bar so I could hopefully escape when Peter came striding toward us. Rescue was at hand. I caught his eye and gave my please-take-this-guy look.

I'd been verbally flogged by every Colorado Democrat for the past two hours. All that saved me was escaping to the buffet tables. I'd be dieting for two days after tonight's binge. But it was the only way to keep my former colleagues mellowed. Democrats were easy that way. Feed them and show them the bar. Republicans were trickier.

“Good to see you, Carl. I figured I'd better run interference before you convinced Molly to jump the fence again. Pardon me for gloating.” He did a poor job of concealing his glee.

“He was pitching hard,” I jumped in before Carl could start another tirade. “I'm sure you gentlemen will excuse me for a few minutes.”

I was about to make a dash for freedom when Peter placed his hand on my arm. “Casey wants to see you. He's in the kitchen hallway.”

Peter returned to mollifying the Denver Democrat while I skirted around the edge of the living room, hoping no other Westerner would drag me into another heated conversation. Holding my empty glass in front of me, I looked like just another thirsty political staffer headed to the bar.

I spotted Casey down the corrider that lead toward the kitchen. “Peter said you wanted to see me.”

Inside the kitchen the catering staff was busily moving into dessert mode, loading trays and plates. Silverware clanking, glass dishes clinking together. The aroma of coffee filled the air as the giant urns started revving up the brew.

Casey bent his head closer as two workers passed by, trays in hand. “Michelle and Natalie pointed out some of the temp workers they've had these past two months, and I got one of the other workers to help me ask questions. And believe it or not, one guy remembered seeing a woman sitting in her car when he was taking a smoking break outside.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Did he see anything else? Did he see someone come up to the car?”

Casey met my anxious gaze with a steady one. “As a matter of fact, he did see a guy come up to the car and talk to the woman, then get inside the car. And he recognized the man because he'd seen him at the reception.”

“
What!
”

Casey's gaze hardened. “It was Jed Molinoff. The temp worker said he recognized him as the same guy I had to calm down at the party. He also saw Molinoff leave Karen's car after a few minutes and walk down Q Street.”

I stared back at Casey, momentarily speechless. Meanwhile, my heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. Anger started to rise. “Dammit to hell …” I whispered.

“Your antennae were right on, Molly. That son of a bitch Molinoff doubled back around the corner and returned to Karen's car. He was the last one to see your niece alive, and he's been hiding it all this time. We've got to tell Schroeder about this.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Where is this guy? What's his name?”

“Forget about it, Molly. He's pretty spooked already. There's no way he'll stay here long enough to talk to the police. He's about ready to jump ship right now. Sweating buckets when we questioned him.”

“Then how can Schroeder confront Jed if he doesn't have a witness?”

“Let's leave that to Schroeder, okay?” Casey recommended. “He's an old pro. He can put pressure on Jed and see if he cracks. Maybe he'll admit he went to see Karen. And who knows? Maybe he saw someone lurking about in the area when he left. Maybe.”

“And maybe not. Maybe all Jed Molinoff did was keep Karen from finishing her phone calls. That's why she was still sitting in the car when that thug walked by.
Bastard
.” I looked Casey in the eye. “I
knew
Jed was responsible for Karen's death. I could feel it.”

“That's stretching it, Molly.”

“It's his fault she was in her car so late. She was calling to find another staff job. Maybe she'd already found one. If Jed hadn't shown up to harangue her again, she would have been out of that car and gone.”

“You don't know that for sure.”

“I don't have to know it. I can
feel
it.”

Casey watched me. “Let Schroeder handle this, Molly.”

I pulled my BlackBerry from my pocket and flipped to my directory. “What's your cell number, Casey?”

He paused for a second, then rattled off the local number. “Can I ask you a favor, Molly?”

“Sure.”

“I can tell you're mad as hell, but make me a promise, would you? Don't do anything without checking with either Danny or me, okay?”

I could live with that. “Deal.”

_____

The taxi had barely pulled away from the sidewalk in front of Russell's mansion before I dialed Celeste's cell number. I didn't care if it was nearly eleven at night.

Her voice sounded anxious when she answered after three rings. “Molly? Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, Celeste. Everything's okay,” I lied. “I just wanted to check how you were doing.”

“Did you get my email this morning?”

“Yeah I did, but I wanted to hear your voice. Just being a mom, I guess.”

“Thanks, Molly,” I could hear her smile. “That feels good. There's no way I can tell my mom about this stuff. She never wanted me to come to Washington anyway.”

“Your mom's a smart woman. Maybe a trip home wouldn't be a bad idea, Celeste.”

“Yeah, I might do that. After I figure out this job situation. Then, I'll know what I'm doing. Right now, I'm actually enjoying being here on the Bay. My aunt's house was all closed up and covered in dust. But it's a block from the beach, so I take long walks every morning and at sunset too. It's really peaceful.”

I could picture her sitting on a porch, staring out at Chesapeake Bay. Peaceful. I could use some of that myself.

“Well, that makes me feel better, Celeste. Listen, you stay in touch, okay? I'll look for an email every morning, otherwise, I'll be checking in on you.” I made sure my tone was warm and maternal.

“I will, I promise. But feel free to call me anytime. I can always use a little mothering.” She actually laughed.

“I'll do that. Now you get back to planning your next career move, okay?”

“Will do. Talk to you later.”

I clicked off, still feeling unsettled despite the cheerful tone in Celeste's voice.

The taxicab pulled up in front of my house. Light shone from every window. After Celeste's home break-in episode, I decided I no longer wanted to come home to a pitch-black house at night. I paid the driver and exited the cab, still clutching my cell phone. There was another call I wanted to make.

Racing up the steps, I dug out my house key while searching through my directory in the dim light of the streetlamp. Once the front door closed behind me, I paused only a moment before punching in Danny's number.

He answered on the third ring. “Molly, are you all right?”

“No, I'm not. I want to rip out Jed Molinoff's throat.”

“What happened?”

“I asked Casey to question some of the kitchen staff about the night Karen died, and one of them saw Jed get into her car late that night. After Casey showed him the door.”

There was a pause before Danny replied. “Are you still at the senator's or at home?”

“I'm at home. I'm sorry to be calling so late, but I need some tactical advice. I've been living on caffeine and canapés and no sleep since yesterday, and I'm getting madder and madder by the minute. I need to bounce all this off someone who's still rational before I decide how to confront that bastard.”

“I'll be right over. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” I said, letting my anxiety show.

“Don't drink any more coffee.”

_____

“Sanity must be resurfacing, because I'm feeling majorly guilty about calling you so late,” I said as Danny stepped into the foyer. I noticed he had a bottle of wine in his hand. Dressed casually, he looked amazingly relaxed considering it was after midnight.

“No problem. I said you could use me as a sounding board anytime, and I meant it.”

“You might change your mind after tonight,” I said as he followed me into the living room.

Danny held up the bottle. “First, the wine. Then you can start the debriefing. That's an order, corporal.”

I found a smile for the first time in the last two hours. “It is, huh? Okay, Squad Leader, follow me.” Beckoning him to the kitchen, I pointed to the cabinets. “Corkscrew's in that second drawer.” Opening another oak cabinet, I found the wineglasses Nan had loaned me until I could retrieve my own things from Colorado.

Danny popped the cork then proceeded to pour the rich, dark red into both glasses.

“No breathing?”

“No time tonight. This is twenty-year-old reserve Cabernet. I figured it would do the trick.”

Now I
really
felt guilty. “Twenty years? Danny, you shouldn't waste it. I'll be pacing the floor and ranting.”

“Believe me, it won't be wasted. You need some sleep before you do anything. Especially pay a visit to Molinoff.” He handed me a full glass. Then raised his in salute. “Do you want to pace here or in the living room? I'm going to get comfortable. Rant when ready.”

Danny headed back to the living room, slipped off his leather jacket, and settled at the end of the sofa. I inhaled the rich aroma and took a sip, letting the velvety smooth taste of blackberries and cherries roll on my tongue. Luscious.

“Ohhh, this is too good …” I said, as I wandered after him.

“I'm waiting for the floor show. You promised pacing and ranting. You better get to it before the Cabernet goes to work.”

I took another sip, deeper this time as I began a slow ramble around the living room. “I knew Jed Molinoff was hiding something. I could feel it. Turns out he lied to the police. He never mentioned going back to Karen's car after he left the reception. Casey plans to call Schroeder. The police have to question Jed again. He was the last one to see Karen alive.”

“Exactly what did the kitchen worker see?”

“He saw Jed walk up to Karen's car and get inside while she was making phone calls.”

“Did he see anything else?”

I nodded as I passed the bookshelves. “After a few minutes, Jed left the car and walked down the street.
Bastard
. If he hadn't shown up to delay Karen, she would have been out of her car when that vicious scum went trolling for prey.”

“Let the police handle it, Molly.”

I took another deep drink while I circled the room. Past the sofa, around the antique secretary, past the bookcases again. “But the police can't prove anything. Casey said the kitchen worker was ready to jump ship. They're all undocumented workers. You know how it works. He'll go to ground. No way he'll testify against Jed. So Schroeder can only push Jed so far without a witness.” I turned and repeated another lap of the room, Danny watching me, sipping his wine. “There's something Jed's not saying, Danny. About Karen's death. I can feel it.”

“What do you think it is?”

Taking another large drink, I felt the velvet seep inside my veins, bringing its warmth. Relaxing warmth. I continued my path. “I think Jed saw something that night. Who knows? Maybe he passed the killer on the sidewalk and is afraid to admit it.”

“Why wouldn't he admit it?”

I paced beside the windows. “Because if he did, then Jed would expose himself and his affair with Karen. Especially if he had to give a statement to the police. No way would that stay a secret. It would get back to Nebraska and the wife and kids. And boom— squeaky-clean image shot to hell.”

“That makes sense,” Danny said, taking another sip.

I circled the living room again and again, slower each time, stewing over Jed, sipping Cabernet. “I knew he was hiding something. I knew it. I knew it,” I chanted softly. “I'm not going to let him get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

More pacing, slower. “Hiding his involvement. Not telling the truth. He's got to tell the police. I'm going to make sure he does.”

“How do you plan to do that, Molly?”