Two Peasants and a President (17 page)

“Hello.
”
It was one of his aides.  The bottom-feeding cable news network was requesting an interview that evening. 

“Who’s doing the interview?  Hm
m
,” he said, mulling it over.  The host was a particularly strident and venomous individual, who seemed to d
e
light in
unpleasant and often bizarre questions, the kind that only grave ro
b
bers and gang bangers could enjoy. 
Better to defend oneself in person than allow unopposed target practice,
he thought.  Besides, the last time this swamp creature had taken him on in person, he’d been seriously bested and Baines had rather enjoyed it.

“Tell them to at least let me get to the office and look over what I’ve already got scheduled.”

He had barely stabbed the red button when the phone rang again.

“Senator, this is Gladys, from across the street.”  Gladys scarcely needed to announce where she lived; she’s the neighborhood busybody, someone who can be counted on to know everything from who is cheating on her husband to whose dog has pooped in whose yard.  She is also something of a vigilante, who can sometimes be seen looking out her window with binoculars.  Gladys had on a number of occasions been a royal pain in the ass for almost everyone on the block, but she was one of those persons whom it is wiser to humor than confront. 

“Good morning, Gladys,” he said brightly, wondering what tidbit of someone else‘s life was about to be shared with him.

“I know it’s probably none of my business,” she began with her favorite prelude to what most likely would turn out to
not
be any of her business,
“but I noticed there was a man who arrived just after your cleaning lady today,  rather foreign looking, short and stocky, but he did seem clean cut, nice suit and tie ‘n’ all.  I always like to be on the safe side; you know how things are these days,” she continued in another of her favorite refrains.

“Thank you, Gladys, I’ll look into it,” he answered. 

Doris had never come with anyone before.  She isn’t even married
, he thought,
and I’ve known her long enough to know she would never bring someone to the house without first asking.  Something didn’t feel right.

Spotting a break in the oncoming traffic, he swung the Lincoln around, almost clipping a parked car in the process and shoved the accelerator down.  As he processed what his neighbor had just told him, his foot moved lower.  In an unusual move, he decided go around the block to the driveway of the neighbor behind him.  Walking through the yard at a good clip, he scanned the windows on the back side of his house.  No one could be seen peering out.

His study i
s at
the back of the house and opens
out into the back yard.  He entered quietly, feeling a bit silly at first, when he noticed that Doris had apparently forgotten to rearm the alarm system.  It was very unlike her; she was nothing if not fastidious, which was precisely why she was an excellent maid. 

Suddenly there was a muffled cry from upstairs, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor.  Snatching the Sig-Sauer .45 out of his desk drawer, Baines flew down the hall and, hurtling in shock over Doris’s limp body, took the stairs by two’s and three’s.  Rounding the corner at the top, he heard a chair hit the wall. 

Molly’s bedroom door was open and the man his neighbor had d
e
scribed was standing there with a garrote stretched between his hands.  After
throwing a chair at him, Molly had flipped her mattress on its side and was attempting to hold him at bay while she swung at him with a brass end table lamp.  The man turned and saw Baines and the gun.  Making a split second decision, he rushed the window using his arms as a battering ram. 

Baines fired once, decapitating one post of the four poster bed.  His next shot blew a chunk of mullion out of the window frame.  Then the glass exploded outward as the man’s bulky frame catapulted onto the porch roof.  Baines raced to the window, momentarily losing sight of him as he disa
p
peared below roof level. 

A car with smoking tires was roaring down the street.  As its driver stomped the brake, the man made his break across the front lawn.  Baines fired twice, narrowly missing him.  The man was
jinking
from
side to side, wisely making himself a difficult target.  The driver had reached around and shoved the door to the back seat open and, as the man dove in, Baines fired again.  A cry of pain told him that this time he had not missed. 

Tires smoked again as the car surged forward.
Baines, now aiming for the driver, fired his remaining three rounds.  The first shattered the driver’s window, the second found flesh as the driver grabbed his neck.  The third shattered the rear window as the car rapidly gained speed.

The sound of sobbing turned Baines head.  Molly, now completely obscured by the mattress, was curled up in a ball.  Shoving the mattress aside, he looked at her anxiously, praying not to see blood.  Then he bent down and took her into his arms, saying nothing as she cried.  She grabbed his arms desperately, laying her head on his chest as tears streamed onto his shirt. 

Molly was still shaking when the first sirens sounded in the distance.  They quickly grew in number and intensity until the street outside was bathed in flashing lights, rather resembling a Bruce Willis movie set.

“Listen, I want you to go to my bedroom.  There’s a terrycloth robe behind the bathroom door.  Just wait there until I come and get you.  The police are going to want to go over this room and will want everything left exactly as it is.  Can you do that?”  She nodded weakly. 

Presenting himself first at what remained of the window with his hands up, lest a cop mistake him for the intruder, he identified himself and said he would meet them at the front door.  Already, Gladys could be seen planted squarely on her front lawn, basking in glory and chatting up a young cop who still had his gun pointed nervously at the house.  

Going down to the living room had always been an unconscious act, but when he rounded the corner and saw Doris lying there at the foot of the stairs sprawled in a pool of blood, he had to grab the railing and sit to keep from passing out.  He looked away until the dizziness and nausea had subsided. 
The
n
a soft knocking at the door told him he needed to pull himself together.

As he stepped over the corpse of a fine woman who had cared for him for almost ten years and now was dead, due to no fault of her own, he was stricken with a deep sadness.  His eyes welled up and he tried to wipe away the tears before opening the door.  A trio of officers whose guns were still out of their holsters stood on the porch.  Only when he had told them the intruder was gone did they finally relax enough to retire their pistols. 

He started to describe the getaway car, when the officer who seemed in charge said that Gladys had already provided a complete description, along with a partial tag number.  Baines raised his hand and waived to Gladys, who by now was absolutely beaming.

The ubiquitous yellow tape had already begun to festoon the front yard, looking almost festive, as if they were having a party for recently promoted police officers.  But the somber pair of techs carrying a body bag out the front door reminded everyone that the house had been visited by tragedy.

A half an hour later, Molly and Baines were seated on the living room couch, giving their accounts of what had happened to the two detectives. 

Baines felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket.

“Excuse me,” he said to the detectives, “it’s the Capitol.”

“Yeah.  Yeah,” Baines said into the phone,  “I’m all right but som
e
body just murdered my housekeeper.  No. . .  No. . .  Absolutely no stat
e
ments to the press yet.  I don’t care.  Screw the media.  A dear friend was murdered in my home and they can fucking well wait,” he said angrily.  “No
. . .  Not until I’ve finished talking to the police.  I’ll call you back.”  He pressed the red button with his thumb and tossed the phone on the coffee t
a
ble.  He’d decided not to mention Molly for now; Gladys would no doubt tend to that.

Molly placed her hand on his knee to comfort him.  He started to think about how much worse he would feel if she weren’t here, but then he r
e
membered that she had possibly been the target. 

“Senator,” the detective continued, “as things stand, you and Ms. Marshall and your neighbor have all described the man as short, stocky, well-dressed in a dark suit and tie and appearing to be foreign, possibly Or
i
ental.  We’ll likely find that the car, or at least the tag, was stolen.  That doesn’t give us a lot to go on.  What we’re missing is a motive.  Who would want you or Ms. Marshall dead?”

Baines thought for a moment: “Detective, as soon as I’ve had time to think things over, I’ll be happy to share my thoughts.  You have to unde
r
stand, you can’t be in the Senate for ten years without making enemies.  In the past couple of weeks, I expect I’ve probably added a few more, but just
throwing out a list of everyone who might be unhappy with me would cast suspicion on a lot of innocent people.”

“With all due respect,”
said the older detective, “a woman was just murdered in your home, a close friend of yours.  Whoever did it nearly succeeded in murdering Ms. Marshall too.  For all we know, they may have been targeting yo
u and just mistimed it.  We’ve got
to have someplace to start.” 

Then the younger of the two detectives leaned forward:

“Senator, crack pots and people who are mad
at Congress don’t use garrotes
and getaway cars.  Based on what we’ve seen so far, this thing was a professional hit.  There’s a strong possibility they’ll try again.  Now why don‘t you share whatever hunches you have?  There‘s got to be somebody who stands out in your mind.”

Calmly, Baines replied:  “Detective, please understand that Molly and I appreciate what you’re trying to do.  But we’ve both been badly shaken by this, especially Molly.  She came very, very close to ending up like poor Doris.  If she wasn’t such a fighter and if I hadn’t shown up when I did, you’d be investigating two homicides today.  Give us a day or so to gather our thoughts and then we’ll share them with you.” 

Reluctantly the detective closed his notebook. 

“All right, Senator, here’s my card.  Please call me day or night if you think of anything.”

“One other thing, detective, we’d appreciate having someone watch the house for a few days, at least, in case the killer decides on an encore.”

“We’ve already taken care of that, Senator.  You’ll see someone parked outside beginning this evening.  There will also be increased patrols in the area for the time being.  You obviously have a gun and know how to use
it, but please
try not to unload on one of us.”

When the detectives were gone, Baines called a contractor friend that his ex had hired to do remodeling before they moved into the house, asking him to take care of the window and get someone to clean up the stairs where Doris had lain as soon as the techs were gone.   

******

“What do you say we go somewhere else to talk?” he said to Molly.  “The technicians will probably be around for another hour or two and I really don’t feel like watching them.”  Before leaving the house, Baines slipped a smaller handgun in
to his pocket, one that wouldn’
t make a large bulge like the big Sig.  He also decided that, at least for the time being, the Sig would reside in the
Lincoln’s console.

“
What just happened?” asked Molly as they waited for their coffee at a nearby cafeteria. 

“Good question,” replied Virgil.

“Do you think it was Brewer’s boys,”

“I don’t know.  Blackmail is one thing, but murder in the home of a United State Senator is a whole different ball game,” he replied.

“What if Chuck just decided to get rid of me and the video?”

“Chuck’s a certifiable thug, but I don’t think he’s got enough between his legs, or his ears for that matter, to put together what happened today.  Besides, if I were him I’d assume we have a copy of the video stashed somewhere.  He knows that if that gets out, he could end up at the sausage factory.  No, I think our friend Chuck is doing exactly what he was told; he knows it’s his best option.”

“Well, Mr. Senator, just how many other enemies do you have?”

“Until today, only the kind that stick a knife in your back or say nasty things about you to reporters.  Obviously someone else joined the club.  You know, when I caught a glimpse of that guy, before he turned into a flying wrecking bar, China flashed through my mind.  But even though China has become a lot bolder, there’s no way in hell they would dare
attempt to
assa
s
sinate a sitting United States senator.”  The words had scarcely left his mouth when he began to wonder. 

“As I recollect, it was me he tried to murder,” she said.