Michael and I parted company in front of Union Station. He headed for 1st Street NW and the Dirksen Senate Office Building. I spotted Max leaning against his unmarked Crown Victoria chatting with one of MPD’s uniformed cops. It was muggy, but not as insufferable as Washington can get in the summer.
When I got close enough not to have to shout, I said, “Anyplace a gal can get a ride around here?” The cop that Max was talking with gave me a sharp look.
Max pushed off his car and turned to me. I put my arms out and gave him a big hug. He returned it and then held me out at arm’s length.
“I do believe you are taking care of yourself.” He chuckled. “Laura, this is Officer Travolta.”
“No relation to the famous one,” the officer said shyly. He touched the brim of his hat with his index finger in a casual salute.
“This little lady solves the tough cases we can’t,” Max said with one arm still around me.
“Me, MPD, and the FBI.” I gave Max a friendly nudge.
The officer smiled uneasily at my familiarity. “Well, I better get back to my rounds.”
Max turned to me. “You’d best get in the car before you melt.”
We buckled up, and Max maneuvered his unmarked cruiser through the maze in front of Union Station and headed for Constitution Avenue. I took a drink from a cold bottle of water I’d picked up in the station.
It felt so natural, driving in Max’s comfortable car. We passed the National Gallery of Art’s two buildings and passed other museums on the left and government buildings on the right. As we crossed 15th Street, everything opened up with the Mall grounds and the Washington Monument on our left and the grassy expanse of the Ellipse and the White House to the right.
There was a softball game on the Ellipse where the White House Execs played their games. They would largely be a new team of players this year. Janet Rausch, the murdered intern, had played on last year’s team along with Kat Turner.
“Conjure up old memories?” Max asked, looking past me at the field.
I nodded, my lips pressed hard together.
“A lot of people got hurt because of one man’s lust,” he said disgustedly. “But enough of old, ugly thoughts. What new ones would you like to discuss?”
“One that may kill hundreds of thousands of innocent people.” I stared straight ahead, as Max drove west on a heavily wooded avenue. “I honestly don’t have a clue how to stop it.”
“You feel as though you’re backed up against a wall with a bright light in your eyes?”
I nodded. “There’s no hard evidence to chew on, Max. The Senate’s a never-never land. Tutoxtamen may never be approved. Yet the man most affected by this acts like they called off his fox hunt, rather than being angry that his miracle drug was given a death sentence.”
“A little thing you’ve picked up from your observation of him?”
“Truthfully, if Michael hadn’t explained the value of the little things, I might not have had the same concentration.”
“I highly doubt that. Little things are ingrained in your soul. You don’t have to work to remember them. You can’t help but absorb them.”
I smiled. “That’s part of why I called you. Oh, Jerry’s getting Chinese. Please stay.”
“You sure, after your long day?—Forget I asked. I want to see my godson.”
“Jerry and Tyler are either at or returning from the restaurant right this minute.”
We were passing the Lincoln Memorial where Constitution became a ramp to the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. “Jerry’s in charge of the food, and you’ll be in charge of Tyler. I have it by good authority that some brews are cooling in the fridge. You two will have time to talk and play with our little one while I shower and change.”
He half grunted, half laughed. “You give me the tough stuff.”
“You won’t be able to get your godson into any bad habits in that amount of time,” I teased.
“Prepare me. What is he into these days?”
“People’s undivided attention. He is very curious.”
“Gets that from his mother. I have forgotten what that age is like. Are you and Jer spending any time on Scalawag?”
“We are. In fact, he went down last Saturday and gave her a once over.”
We drove in silence as we crossed the Potomac and exited onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. I looked upriver at Georgetown and the hills beyond.
“Back to my serious problem, I’m having a tough time with this one,” I said quietly.
“What about your lists? You always make lists. What do you know?
What do you suspect? Is there a suspect or—?”
“Only the politicians, but that’s pure speculation.”
“Ah yes, those lovely, loosely gathered thoughts.”
“Which usually connect to make up a story,” I said grandiosely.
“Right, while we poor cops have to struggle for clues and evidence.”
“That’s what I’m missing. No crime site. No trace evidence. Only the act itself.”
“That’s about where we were last year when we found an unidentifiable body, and then you showed up and identified her.”
“Sheer luck, which I could use right now. If there’s a trail, I haven’t found it.”
“You’re too used to being a beat reporter, collecting hard facts. You’re dealing with senators who have fought to get where they are. Many may have even been involved in a shady deal or two, done things hidden from the public. It may have been when they first ran for an office, be it dogcatcher, council, state, or whatever. They’ve had their share of mixing it up. They have strong egos, and their clashes over the years have hardened them. There is not a weak sister in the bunch. They’ve had their fights, and they’ve learned the art of compromise.”
He stopped as though overtaken by other thoughts. I mulled over his words.
“That’s why they have all that sweet talk like: honorable, gentleman, gentlelady, esteemed colleague, my good friend, you name it. On the Senate floor, they act like the Stepford Wives, and behind the scenes, like Jack
the Ripper. They’re a bunch of actors who know how to put on a show for C-SPAN.” His voice had hardened.
I was puzzled at his diatribe. “What senator crossed you?”
“None. I hear them and read about them. My point is they are a different species in a made-up world. They walk around and look normal, smile for the cameras, crack jokes with their constituents, but up there, in their castle . . . well, they’re just different.”
“So, I have to get inside and find out why their water flows upstream?”
“Yup. They don’t like change or inquisitive reporters. It’s why new senators are rarely heard from. Senator Dalton has some celebrity, but that’s only good for them if they can use her to their advantage. She was forced to compromise her principles and didn’t like having to do it. She called you. She smells rotten meat and knows she can’t do anything alone.
“Computer chips may not be put into a new senator’s brain, but I wouldn’t put it past the leadership to try if they thought they could get away with it. Away from the Hill, these mafioso of legislation become bearable. Most have a good sense of humor that ingratiates them to their adoring public. Your Senator Dalton is struggling against the current. I wish her well.”
I felt like I had just been given a sociology lesson.
“This is not like last year when my beat included the White House.”
“I suggest you look at this the same way,” he replied tightly, “even with no corpse. Although knowing you, I am sure you are intuitively.”
Ingrained in my soul, I thought. Spout Run loomed up ahead. We began the run up the hill to Lee Highway into my neighborhood. Max turned onto my street and a couple of blocks later into our driveway, parking right behind my little red convertible.
We found my two boys in the kitchen. I kissed and hugged Jerry and rushed to Tyler, who was clearly letting me know it was his turn. Jerry and Max greeted as good buddies do. After a few minutes of bonding, I turned my seven-month-old over to Max with a squeal of protest by Tyler.
“He’ll stop as soon as I’m gone.” I headed for the stairs. Before I reached the top, Tyler’s squeals had turned to happy gurgling.
My shower did wonders for me. When I got back downstairs, I found the three on the back deck. I fished a cold bottle of water from the fridge and joined them. Tyler was still in Max’s arms, and Jerry was setting the table. The containers of food occupied the center of our round picnic table. Tyler’s high chair was already in place.
“Looks cozy,” I said, pushing the screen door open.
My voice alerted Tyler to my presence, and he began to gyrate and struggle in Max’s arms. “I think I’m history,” he said, handing up my son. “Jer was explaining your plans for the backyard. I like your hot tub.”
I received the blond-haired bundle of energy and got a squeal of delight and a playful slap on my face with a pudgy little hand.
“Come on, let’s get at this stuff while it’s still hot,” Jerry urged.
I put Tyler in his high chair. He fussed, but I directed his attention to the food on his tray, which he happily began to bat at. After some urgings, he picked some up and aimed for his mouth, missing more often than not. Fortunately, Jerry had remembered to put a plastic mat under Tyler’s chair. We attacked our mixture of sweet-and-sour pork, moo-shu chicken, and Mongolian beef mixed in with more rice than an army could eat.
After dinner, I took Tyler up to clean and dress him, and then brought him back down for a round of goodnights.
“Is this the same kid who was here earlier?” Max said, taking Tyler and giving him a smooch. Tyler was relaxed with Max and gurgled his delight. Jerry and Tyler played noses. Max promised to stay as I relieved Jerry of our son and hustled him up to bed.
Max and Jerry were lounging on the deck with fresh drinks when I joined them. Once settled, I filled them in on my visit to New Jersey. Some of it Max had already heard, but I knew from past experience he never minded hearing stuff a second time. There might be some subtle difference that could give more texture to the story. Even in the telling, I thought of things I hadn’t covered earlier.
Jerry asked, “Why would Rogers put on a face for you? For what purpose?”
“I don’t know enough to know. Max, you remember our lunch when we saw Senator Kelly and the young woman with long, light-brown hair?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she comes under Senator Pembroke, who chairs the Health, Education, Labor, and Pension Committee. She works for the Health Policy Committee, its investigative arm. Pembroke was Kelly’s point man in rallying party members to support the FDA’s rejection of Tutoxtamen. Pembroke and Senator Crawford are friends. They live in McLean, and their wives socialize.”
I explained Michael’s covert actions using Nancy Morris to cozy up to Crawford’s AA. “It’s so convoluted. I get weary just thinking about it.”
“I told you, it’s a different world up there,” Max chortled.
I nodded. “Michael and the Hill staff are a conspiratorial bunch. They’ve formed a sort of underground, totally beneath the radar.”
Jerry chimed in. “Ralph Morgan may know Pembroke.”
“Isn’t that the lawyer who worked for the vice president?”
“He joined us last fall, finally fed up with government lawyering and being lied to.”
“You knew him from college?”
“Law school. We were roommates.”
“You see, Miss Laura? You do have contacts.”
“Before you go taking up any of Ralph’s time,” Jerry jumped in, “remember he works on billable hours. He’s no longer salaried like he was at the White House.”
Our evening ended with promises all around that we would get together in a week or two. I missed seeing Max. He and Jerry had already talked about a weekend down on the Potomac. They said they’d even include Tyler and me. Life was good.