Homicide in the House Read online

  As soon as I got out of the bed, our overweight beagle-mix rescue mutt jumped up and took my place. As a history professor, Doug usually slept later than me. Clarence might think Doug couldn’t tell the difference between his two bedmates, or maybe the dog just liked curling up in a pre-warmed location. Either way, once I vacated the bed, my spot was taken.

  After making myself a venti-sized latte in our complicated high-end espresso machine, I took a shower and dressed quickly. With no time to wash it, I had to wet and blow-dry my shoulder-length straight dark hair to make it behave. I was even paler than usual due to lack of sleep, and my normally plump cheeks looked almost gaunt. As someone who was always gaining and losing the same five pounds, I hoped that meant I’d lost some weight.

  It was already half past seven. Not good. No doubt many congressional staff had never gone to bed, and others had already descended upon Capitol Hill. I clicked on the television in the living room to assess the damage.

  While listening to the cable news reports, I began scrolling through the messages on my iPhone. Many staffers had worked through the night. Emails had arrived at all hours and were piling up. Numerous bright blue dots next to the unread messages stared at me in a long, vertical column. After determining who sent the emails, I knew there would be no swiping and deleting. These missives had come from important Capitol Hill staffers and could not be answered without careful consideration.

  Doug stirred inside the bedroom. I’d had no time to walk Clarence this morning, so hopefully he was getting motivated to take him outside.

  “Hey,” I called out, “every channel is talking about the government shutdown. I need to head into work right now.”

  Doug flipped over onto his back and ran his fingers through his messy, thick brown hair. Blindly he reached for his glasses, sitting on the nightstand. He put them on and yawned loudly.

  “What did you just say? I’m just waking up.”

  I sighed. I didn’t have time for a long conversation. “The government is shuttered. I’m heading to the office because I’m running point for my boss.”

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” Doug grumbled.

  I ignored his snarky comment. “Can you take Clarence out? I’m already an hour behind schedule. There are at least a dozen emails I’ll have to answer on the subway.”

  Doug shifted on the bed and rolled Clarence onto his side. As Doug scratched his pink belly, Clarence entered a trance-like state of ecstasy. Our dog, always passive in the morning, particularly liked being rubbed on his underside.

  “That’s fine, I don’t have a class until this afternoon. Clarence and I know how to fend for ourselves these days, don’t we, buddy?” Clarence growled softly.

  This time I took the bait. “Doug, the entire federal government is closed. I work for Congress, who decided shutting down the government was preferable to agreeing on a budget. That means I need to get to work.”

  Doug waved his hand at me in a halfhearted attempt at dismissal. “Congress wasn’t always the problem, you know. It used to function just fine.”

  As a historian, Doug could make comments like this and rattle off a hundred different anecdotes to back them up. Best not to argue with him when I had no time to spare. Besides, I wasn’t ignorant when it came to congressional history. “I’m not dealing with Henry Clay these days. Not everyone is a great compromiser. I’ll keep you posted about tonight.”

  Doug didn’t reply, so I hustled out of the bedroom, grabbed my purse, and left the condo. He certainly hadn’t won any sunshine awards for his attitude this morning. It was true I hadn’t spent much time with him and Clarence lately, but this was Washington D.C., and I was trying to climb the ladder on Capitol Hill. Doug’s job as a tenured Georgetown professor was far less stressful. He taught classes and wrote books. He was busy at times, like when he was trying to meet a publisher’s deadline or preparing to teach a new course. But for the most part, his schedule was predictable. Mine was the opposite. Until a few months ago, our divergent lifestyles had always seemed complementary. Lately, I wasn’t so sure. I still enjoyed spending time with Doug. Since accepting this new job in the House, those carefree opportunities had almost disappeared.

  I reached the eerily desolate Metro. At the height of rush hour, the long platform that lined the subway tunnel had fewer than ten people waiting for the next train from suburban Virginia into the District of Columbia. This was the reality of the shutdown. Only a miniscule portion of federal workers faced the commute into work today. Everyone else was sitting in their pajamas or robes, watching Kathie Lee and Hoda get tipsy while sipping a cup of coffee and munching on homemade waffles … or at least that’s what I would be eating.

  I shoved the image of leisurely furloughed life out of my mind. The shutdown was no vacation for the office of Maeve Dixon. In fact, it was precisely the opposite. It gave Maeve the opportunity to show her constituents, and maybe the whole country, that she was a rising star in American politics. My job was to make sure she was front and center when every important decision and deal transpired.

  With renewed resolve, I triaged the growing list of emails requiring immediate attention. There were several messages called “Dear Colleague” letters about various legislative proposals that had been filed last night to “solve” the shutdown. After scanning those, I saved them in an email folder but did nothing further. Time would tell which bills received attention from the party leadership or the media. Those would be the solutions Maeve might want to support.

  One message caught my attention. It was from Jack Drysdale, the Speaker’s top staffer who had called Maeve last night. Drysdale didn’t miss anything. He had obviously made note of my name when Maeve told him I would serve as her lead person on the various policy proposals to end the crisis. I’d never met Drysdale, so this email might present an opportunity to build a valuable political relationship.

  Drysdale had a reputation for terseness. His message indicated the scuttlebutt was rooted in reality, Speaker wants to meet with Rep. Dixon at 2pm. Members Only meeting but come so we can talk. JD.

  We had been summoned to the Speaker’s lair in the Capitol. The first order of business upon arriving at work would be to make sure that Maeve had no conflict for two o’clock. I had lunch with Meg at noon, but that left plenty of time to make the afternoon appointment. I’d think about strategy for the meeting once I had time to consider how Maeve should play her cards.

  The next message that caught my attention was from another VIP staffer on the Hill. The name “JUDY TALENT” stood out prominently on my list of unread iPhone emails. Judy was in the same position as Jack Drysdale, but one rung lower. She was the top aide for the Majority Leader in the House. I scanned Judy’s email. She didn’t request a meeting but wanted to “touch base” to make sure Maeve was “on message” for the shutdown. Who was running the show for our party, Jack or Judy? Both deserved responses, and I needed to email them pronto.

  After the subway arrived at the Capitol South Metro station, I rode the long escalator to exit and was greeted by a freezing blast of arctic air. Why did wind tunnels persist in subway stations? I tightened the scarf around my neck and shoved gloved hands in my pockets. At least the shutdown hadn’t taken place in a nice weather month. That would have only intensified my envy of my furloughed federal brethren.

  Capitol South was more conveniently situated than my previous Senate Metro station. The House of Representatives office buildings were located less than a block away from the subway, a suburban commuter’s dream. Only two minutes after leaving Capitol South, I ascended the concrete staircase to enter the Cannon House Office Building. Usually, a line snaked outside the doors, particularly during the popular tourist months. Today there was no line, and I marched right up to the heavy door. I gave it a good tug, but the door didn’t budge. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered through the dark glass doors. The entrance was usually filled with Capitol Hill Police officers screening visitors and staff through metal detectors. Then
I saw the sign proclaiming this ingress closed “due to the government shutdown.” So much for convenient access to the office. I hiked down the stairs and headed up First Street toward Independence Avenue.

  The Cannon Building was the oldest congressional office structure in the entire Capitol complex. On a typical working day, its entire 800,000 square feet were occupied with elected members of Congress, their staffs, tourists, lobbyists, and other visitors who came to Washington D.C. to plead their case to the nation’s legislature. After I entered the building through the security checkpoint, I stared down the long hallway, flanked with numerous congressional offices on both sides. Rather than resounding with the chattering of staff and the click-clack of high heels pounding on the ornate floor, the corridor was silent. Two staffers stood outside one of the offices, their heads huddled close together in a seemingly private conversation, no doubt trading secrets about how Congress was going to dig itself out of the mess it had created by shutting down the government. Other than that, the corridor was jarringly empty.

  A similarly uncomfortable silence greeted me inside our office suite. No perky intern acknowledged my arrival, and the flat screen television that entertained visitors in the waiting room was turned off.

  I slowly opened the door that led to our workstations and the chief of staff’s small private office. Peeking around the corner, I said tentatively, “Dan, are you here? Representative Dixon?”

  No response, but someone had to be here. I had walked right into the office suite without using my key. After placing my purse on my desk, I turned on my computer. Before I started answering emails, didn’t it make sense to figure out who was inside the office?

  Dan’s door was closed. I knocked softly, but he didn’t reply. There was a low humming sound coming from inside.

  Ummmm. Ummmm. Ummmm. It repeated itself several times.

  This was officially weird. There was no way I could start working without identifying that noise. The last time I barged into an office unannounced, I had discovered the body of my former boss, Lyndon Langsford, who had been stabbed inside his Senate office. Did I want to go down that road again? That was a ridiculous notion. What were the chances of something like that happening twice?

  I grasped the knob, twisted it, and pushed open the door. Dan was sitting at his desk with his shoes off and his legs crossed, sporting bulky earphones and a blindfold. My presence had gone completely unnoticed. His arms were outstretched and his hands were turned upwards, as if he was summoning a higher power. Completely oblivious, he continued humming, or whatever that sound was.

  I decided to wait another fifteen minutes. Perhaps he’d be done by then. When I returned, I cleared my throat to get his attention. The “ummmms” grew louder.

  I walked over to Dan and lifted one of the coverings away from his right ear. “Earth to Dan. Are you almost finished?”

  Perhaps my response was foolhardy; after all, Dan was my boss. But did he realize the clock was ticking, and every minute this crisis lasted could negatively impact Maeve’s approval rating?

  My intrusion must have surprised him, because he almost levitated off his chair. He hastily removed his eye mask and earphones. “Jeez, Kit, why did you do that? I was in the middle of my meditation.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined your flow, or your buzz, or whatever. But Maeve needs to make decisions, and she won’t want to issue an edict without finding out how her constituents perceive the shutdown. Have you called our district director in North Carolina yet?”

  “I was going to do that right after my morning chant.” He stashed his earphones and eye shield inside a desk drawer.

  I didn’t have any more time for Dan. “Let me know what you find out. In the meantime, the Speaker wants to see Maeve at two o’clock this afternoon. I need to confirm the appointment and make sure she’s ready.”

  Dan seemed surprised by this revelation, but he didn’t say anything else. I interpreted his silence as approval of my plan and marched out of his office. I almost ran into Maeve, who was taking off her coat and heading into her private sanctuary. By now I was certain Dan was out of his league. It was up to me to get Maeve through this calamity without suffering a major political setback.

  Chapter Three

  My stomach always seemed to know what time it was. When it rumbled, I knew it was time for lunch. The office was now under some semblance of control. Dan was scheduled for numerous phone calls with the congressional district, Maeve was reviewing a Congressional Research Service report in preparation for her meeting this afternoon with the Speaker, and I had confirmed the appointment with Jack Drysdale. Sneaking out now meant I could enjoy a quick lunch with Meg, no doubt the highlight of my day.

  After exiting the Cannon Building, I retraced my steps toward the Capitol South Metro station and approached Tortilla Coast, a popular watering hole for House members, staff, and lobbyists. It was never empty, even when Congress wasn’t around. Today was no exception. Faced with limited options in the cafeteria, Capitol Hill staffers forced to work during the shutdown were all congregating at the Coast. If we couldn’t sit at home with a warm mug of hot chocolate, at least we could sip yummy margaritas.

  As I made a beeline for the entrance, I heard a familiar voice over my shoulder.

  “Howdy, stranger!”

  Meg appeared out of nowhere and immediately stretched out her arms for a big hug. We’d worked together for four years in the Senate and during our tour of duty had become best friends.

  “You look terrific, as always.” That wasn’t merely a polite comment. Meg was stylish, attractive, and smart. In Washington D.C., having all three of those qualities definitely gave her an edge.

  Meg ran her fingers through her short blond bob and waved her hand to dismiss my comment. Her manicured fingernails and recent highlights indicated she hadn’t let the threat of the salary hiatus during the federal government shutdown interrupt her beauty regimen.

  “Are you ready to eat?” Meg headed through the doors to the restaurant and asked the hostess to seat us. Meg had a voracious appetite and good genes. The latter prevented her from gaining an ounce, no matter how much she ate.

  We plopped ourselves down in a booth and the waitress delivered a basket full of warm tortilla chips, the watering hole’s signature offering.

  The minute the basket was on the table, Meg dove into the chips. “Can we have some Sunset queso to go with this?” The waitress looked amused at Meg’s immediate request, but she nodded and scuttled off to place our appetizer order.

  It was often hard to get a word in edgewise with Meg. I waited until she had stuffed her mouth with a big chip saturated in yellow cheesy dip mixed with jalapeños. Asking all my questions at once might prove the best strategy. “Why are you working during the shutdown? When is this going to end? And oh, how’s Kyle?”

  Kyle was Meg’s clean-cut boyfriend from the other side of the political aisle. He used to work in the House of Representatives but now was a chief of staff in the Senate. We’d met him last year while informally investigating the murder of our boss.

  Meg swallowed and took a big gulp of water. “Actually, those three questions are related.”

  Before she could elaborate, our waitress came over to take our lunch order. Given my constant battle with the bulge, I usually stuck to a bowl of soup when I indulged in lunch at the Coast. But this was no ordinary day. Who knew how late I would have to stay tonight? “I need some shutdown comfort food. I’ll have the chicken fajitas.”

  Meg studied the menu. “Kit, you are absolutely right. I’d like to build my own burrito with steak, guacamole, and tomatillo sauce.” She handed the menu to the waitress and smiled. Her order was met with another brief stare of disbelief from our server, who undoubtedly wondered how svelte Meg could ingest a monster burrito after having inhaled a basket of chips and creamy queso.

  “I’m going to have to eat lunch and run because my boss has an appointment with the Speaker in an hour. Give me the lowdown on what’s happeni
ng.”

  “Like I was saying, your questions are tied together. I’m working during the shutdown because the committee is crashing on a big hearing involving government waste.” She lowered her voice and leaned in close. “We think the White House might have tried to cover up questionable expenditures from several executive branch departments.”

  Meg worked for an oversight committee in the House of Representatives who kept a close eye on government spending and procedures. While our party controlled the House of Representatives, the Republicans had the White House. Divided government made the politics on her committee particularly contentious. With less than a year until the next election, Meg and her colleagues were under considerable pressure to scrutinize the current administration.

  I moved in closer to the table so we could keep our conversation discreet. Washington D.C. was full of snoops who liked to listen to the private conversations taking place in adjacent restaurant booths. “When are you going to bring this scandal to light?”

  Meg shrugged. “It depends how much we can dig up during the shutdown. The chairman would like to go public as soon as the government reopens, if that’s possible.”

  We ended our conversation as our waitress approached with our lunches. My fajitas sizzled as she placed them in front of me, and Meg’s burrito could have fed an army. Less than five seconds later, we had both dug into our meals. Too bad stress didn’t burn calories, because if it did, calories consumed during a government shutdown wouldn’t really count.

  After several big bites, time was growing short. I needed to talk to Maeve before we walked over to the Speaker’s office, so I had to wrap up lunch with my best pal. “You didn’t answer my other two questions.”

  Meg smiled with her mouth full. After swallowing, she said, “Sorry. Didn’t you ask how long this shutdown was going to last?”

  I nodded. Meg usually had good information because of her various committee staff contacts.