After profiling each rider anywhere near me on the Metro, I convinced myself the killer hadn’t decided to make good on the issued threat—at least not tonight. My mind meandered about the case. Thanks to the menacing phone call, I hadn’t fully considered the relevance of finding the “JR—CP” entry in Jessop’s appointment book. It was impossible to determine if the appointment had any connection to Senator Langsford’s murder.
On the significant side, it was suspicious that Jessop had met with Regan on a monumental issue only a short time before the homicide. If Carter Power was the reason behind Langsford’s demise, the timing of the meeting was another piece of circumstantial evidence implicating Jessop or indicating his involvement.
Had Regan told Jessop that Langsford was unwilling to “play ball” on Carter Power, thus leading Jessop to decide it was time to kill him before the critical committee vote? It was possible. Or maybe Jessop gave Regan the idea that Langsford should be eliminated. Even if Regan had an alibi, he might have enlisted Jeff Prentice to do his dirty work for him and Jessop.
On the other side of the coin, Carter Power was a huge defense contractor. Regan might have simply paid Jessop a courtesy visit about the status of the company. Jessop served on the Armed Services Committee in the House of Representatives, so he had a general interest in all large-scale defense contractors, including the biggest nationwide supplier of the military’s batteries. For all I knew, Jessop might have requested the meeting, not Regan.
How did our already identified suspects jive with the threat I received earlier this evening? I had no recall of the phone number, so that was a dead end. The voice on the phone had been mechanically altered beyond recognition. Anyone might have placed the call, likely with a so-called disposable “burner” cell phone that could be purchased at any large retail store. Jeff Prentice and Senator Regan might have reason to threaten me if either, or both, was the guilty party.
My mind drifted back to earlier today in Jessop’s office. Perhaps my clever excuse for snooping hadn’t fooled Kyle. Had he shared my exploits with Jessop, who had placed the call to scare me? Even worse, had wholesome Kyle somehow been coerced by Jessop to do his dirty work for him? Meg was on a date with Kyle right now. As soon as I got off the subway, I needed to text her to make sure she was safe.
In the meantime, I pulled out my notebook to jot down a few notes. Matt had given me sound advice when I began working for Langsford. If a problem was perplexing and the details overwhelming, get out of the weeds and look at the situation as an outsider. Could I apply that approach to Langsford’s murder?
The culprit knew Langsford would be in the office early that morning. It was a Tuesday, and he wasn’t always present in the office at such an early hour. That meant the perp, or an accomplice, had access to accurate information about Langsford’s schedule.
Another important clue was the murder weapon, the stainless steel model military helicopter that had been on display inside his office for as long as I worked there. It had proven a lethal weapon, yet only someone familiar with the senator’s inner sanctum would have known its location—tucked away in a corner alcove several feet away from his desk.
The more I thought about the crime, the more it seemed premeditated. The only fingerprints on the helicopter were mine, or the police would have followed that lead. The murderer had likely worn gloves to hide his or her fingerprints, which implied the person had come to the office that morning to commit the crime.
Furthermore, the killer didn’t bring a weapon. It was an important detail, and no doubt a critical piece of the puzzle I hoped the police had fully analyzed. It was difficult to carry any “weapon” into a congressional office building these days. Security was tight, and every person entering Hart passed through a scanner. Bags, purses, and coats needed to be removed and placed on the conveyor for X-ray screening. Anything that could be used as a weapon wasn’t allowed inside the building. Only someone who regularly visited or worked within the congressional complex would understand the extent of these restrictions. The would-be murderer would have to rely on obtaining the weapon inside the building. My intuition had told me all along this was an inside job. Someone close to Langsford had killed him, and likely for strong political or personal reasons.
Unfortunately, everyone who had a motive for killing Senator Langsford appeared to have an airtight alibi. I crossed Jessop off the list after confirming that he had, in fact, visited a senior citizens center the morning of the murder. There were photos and a press release on his official website to prove it. Several theories and motives were plausible, but few people had the opportunity to kill Langsford. Except me, of course, which made it even more imperative that the real killer was discovered. If the police were similarly stymied, how long would it take Detective O’Halloran to circle back to me as the prime suspect, despite my lack of motive and late arrival on the scene? He had already tried to connect the one piece of physical evidence, the blond synthetic hair, to Meg. That deduction made perfect sense to him because he could then link the murder to yours truly.
After texting Meg, who assured me she was perfectly safe with Kyle and a delicious glass of bubbly, I put my key into the lock for the door to the condo and braced myself. Sure enough, as soon as the door cracked open, Clarence appeared out of nowhere, poised to bolt down the hallway to freedom. After I blocked his escape route, he issued several loud protest barks and ran toward the kitchen. If he couldn’t make a mad dash out the door, then Clarence was always amenable to the next best thing, namely doggie treats or more food in his dish. I called for Doug, but there was no response.
After placing my purse on our countertop, I scrutinized a hopeful Clarence, who was seated politely at my feet with his ears and tail at attention. Clarence firmly believed good manners would get him anything he wanted in this world. For him, good manners meant sitting on command and putting on the saddest face he could possibly muster up. Clarence’s belief system wasn’t flawed; he got exactly what he wanted ninety-nine percent of the time when he looked at me with his wide eyes and expectant gaze. In fact, Clarence’s behavior might be the most predictable part of my day. If I woke up one morning and Clarence didn’t try to use his wiles to cajole me, I would wonder if there was something drastically wrong with him or if I had woken up in someone else’s apartment. His unsurprising behavior was endearing. Throughout the vast majority of my day, I interacted with unpredictable, fickle, and often untrustworthy people. Clarence’s routine provided comfort in a world that was anything but.
After rewarding Clarence’s patience with a biscuit, I wandered into the bedroom and office area and found Doug. With iPod earphones in place and books strewn all over the room, the mad professor at work was oblivious to my arrival. Since he clearly couldn’t hear anything besides the music, he seemed startled when I walked in front of him. His face brightened, however, and he stood to give me a welcome home kiss. I returned the favor with even more enthusiasm. Shocked, he pulled his headphones off quickly.
I laughed at his eager reaction. “Don’t get too excited. I’m famished and I need to eat.”
He looked behind me. Clarence had ambled into the room, quietly sitting behind us. He looked at us optimistically. Clarence understood several English words, and his favorite was “eat.”
“You’re not the only one who’s hungry. Let’s get Clarence his dinner and you some wine.”
I gave him my broadest smile and said, “That’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day!”