Poisoned Politics (20 page)

twenty

Later Tuesday afternoon

Danny slipped his arm
around my waist as we watched the Prestige Systems team back their black Suburban out of my driveway. “Feel better?”

I did, actually. It was hard not to, after seeing the complex system Bennett's team had installed. “Yeah, I do. Thank God.” I turned to Danny. “And thank
you
. I wouldn't have known where to find a company like that. And Peter surely wouldn't.”

“You would have probably asked Casey, and he would have put you in touch with someone,” Danny said as we walked toward the front door where Casey was standing, staring up at the video cameras Bennett's team had installed. “But they wouldn't have been as good as these guys. And that's what I wanted for you.” He kissed my temple. “I want to keep you safe, Molly.”

Even that small touch of his warm mouth stirred me. Now that fear had finally slunk back into the bushes, I was finally able to feel other sensations. Desire, for one. Pressed close to Danny, desire rose quickly. Only the presence of Casey kept me from suggesting Danny and I go inside.

“I'm impressed,” Casey said as he walked toward us. “That is one helluva system they've installed for you. What'd you say their name was again?”

“Prestige Systems,” Danny answered. “I can give you their number. You need a recommendation.”

Casey grinned, “I'm not surprised. Well, done, Double D. I have a feeling Peter Brewster is lucking out and doesn't even know it.” His smile evaporated quickly. “I'm just glad you won't be vulnerable anymore, Molly. These neighborhoods are way too tempting for thieves.”

“I'll say.” Danny nodded in agreement. “You were lucky you came home when you did and scared the son of a bitch away. And you were sharp enough to notice someone had been inside. Other people might not have picked up on those signs.”

“Yeah, I guess. It's just
…
”

“Just what?” Danny prodded.

“I still don't understand why a thief who's taken the time to watch my schedule so he could break in would spend time looking at my computer files or poking around in the desk drawers.”

“Maybe he was looking for money?” Casey suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” I agreed. “It's just
…
”

Danny studied me. “I can tell something else is bothering you, Molly. What is it?”

“The bottom drawer had Karen's office daytimer pulled out from the files. Celeste Allard said Molinoff was angry when he couldn't find it in the office. Also in that drawer are the flash drives where Celeste put all of the stuff she was researching for me. They're on three flash drives.”

Both Danny and Casey stared at me. “I thought Celeste was simply doing e-mail searches for you,” Danny said.

“That's right, but she also researched that organization I told you about, the Epsilon Group. You remember when we went to see that speaker?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. And I remember how boring he was. Don't tell me you have his speeches on those flash drives?”

That made me laugh. “To tell the truth, I only skimmed through them earlier this summer. It's mostly research notes on economic issues. Stuff like that.”

“I think it's more likely the thief opened that drawer looking for your financial information,” Casey said. “Probably hoping to find credit card statements or bank statements with your account numbers.”

That resonated. Nothing like money to get someone's attention. “Good Lord, you're right.” I shook my head. “Of course, that's what he was looking for. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“I think you're still spooked by what happened today,” Danny added. “And, be honest. It's only been a little over four months since Karen's murder. A lot of bad memories.”

Casey grimaced. “I'll say. Another reason to be glad you've got this new system. This is a dangerous city.” He glanced at his watch and started walking away. “I'd better get back to the house. See what else Peter wanted done today.”

Danny and I followed him toward the sidewalk. “Do me a favor and shut down my computer system, please,” I remembered to ask. “I'll be in tomorrow.”

“Who did the system for the Russell house, do you know?” Danny asked him. “Or did you handle it?”

Casey opened his car door. “Matter of fact, I didn't. The system was already in place. I checked it out and everything was working perfectly. I thought we had top of the line, until I saw this.” He glanced back at the house. “I'm going to suggest to Peter that he take a look at this one. After what happened here, I'll bet Russell will want an upgrade.”

“I'll bet you're right,” Danny agreed.

Casey started his car. “Why don't you two go out for a late lunch or early dinner. You deserve it,” he suggested with a smile, then pulled out onto P Street.

“I was about to suggest that very thing,” Danny said, as we watched Casey drive down the street.

The mid-afternoon summer sun filtered through thick maple trees bordering the sidewalk. Cicadas droned overhead, high pitched, in the heat. Maybe a shady patio not too far away, with an icy pitcher of sangria and lunch leftovers. Gourmet fare. Then a fast pace back to Fortress Malone.

I slid both arms around Danny. Public display of affection, be damned. “If I'm not mistaken, you made a delightfully lewd suggestion earlier this morning before the criminal interruption.”

Danny smiled that slow smile that always set my pulse racing. “You're reading my mind.”

“Turnabout is fair play,” I said as I lifted my mouth to his.

Tuesday evening

Raymond sipped the aged scotch as he watched Pennsylvania Avenue traffic far below. Headlights flashed on, taillights bright in the early evening. “Have you heard from Ryker yet?” he asked the man standing beside him at the large window.

“Oh, yes,” Spencer replied. The large diamond in his ornate gold ring caught the overhead light as he lifted his glass to his lips. “He was not happy Malone discovered the entry this morning and the bug. I reminded him that none of the actions would have been necessary if he hadn't gotten careless a month ago. If he hadn't shot off his mouth where Wilson could overhear, we wouldn't have had to clean up after him.”

Raymond chuckled. “I bet that shut him up.”

“Yeah, it did. For the time being. He's getting full of himself now that the bill passed his committee.” Spencer drained his glass, moving away from the wide window as he walked across his spacious corner office to the beige leather chairs clustered about a coffee table.

Raymond followed after him. “I'm not surprised. Ryker delivered his committee. Now, Dunston has to deliver the Senate committee.” He sank into buttery soft beige leather and leaned back into the chair. “Do you foresee any problems? Dunston seems to have burrowed into the chairmanship.”

Spencer picked up the cut glass decanter on the table and poured more amber liquid into Raymond's glass. “Not really. Dunston's made sure the bill is treated as bookkeeping issues mostly. International money transfers. Common daily occurrences. Nothing interesting.”

Raymond admired the liquid gold in his glass. Light sparkling off that outshone the flash of Spencer's enormous diamond to his way of thinking. “Except in those cases, the transfers would be done by your banks.” He smiled at his old comrade, then took a drink of nectar and felt the gold coat his throat.

“Amen,” Spencer grinned and lifted his glass. “He who holds the money, makes the money.”

Raymond stared toward the window, lights from the Washington Mall and monuments shone in the distance. Early evening twilight. “We were lucky today. With Trask, I mean.”

“Ohhhh, yes.” Spencer settled into the chair across from Raymond. “I promised Montclair there'd be no contact with Malone. You're going to keep an eye on her. Just occasionally. That's enough. Nothing obvious. As we said before, she doesn't know anything. Not really. Those Wilson files are simply reports of monetary policy. I assured Montclair she knew nothing.”

“Let's hope it stays that way. I told Trask he could take some time off. Go sail his boat, take a break.”

“Tell him he can start his break in Europe.” Spencer reached inside his jacket and withdrew a silver storage drive and placed it on the coffee table. “We need Trask to deliver this to our man in Stuttgart. We want a personal delivery on this matter. You can tell Trask we'll book him through London first, then Paris. I don't imagine he'll mind an extended stay in Europe. The tourists will be leaving for home soon. Leaving Europe to the Europeans once again.” He grinned.

“I think he'll enjoy it. The sailboat can wait a few weeks. He wants to buy a bigger boat anyway. So he might as well go shopping along the south of France.” Raymond laughed until his cough started. But the glorious molten gold soothed the annoying tickle away.

“
Vive la France
,” Spencer agreed, lifting his glass.

the end

about the author

Bestselling mystery author Maggie Sefton was born and raised in Virginia. She grew up in Arlington, a stone's throw across the Potomac River from Washington, D.C. Maggie's hometown has always had a special hold on her, which she blames on her lifelong fascination with Washington politics. Maggie swears she's been watching politicians since she's been old enough to read the
Washington Post
. Author of the bestselling Colorado-based Kelly Flynn mysteries (Penguin), her books have spent several weeks on the
New York Times
bestseller list and the Barnes and Noble bestseller list.

Author photo by Tom Koetting.