Homicide in the House Read online

  “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question. My sources are telling me this isn’t going to be a brief one. The sides are far apart, and neither party thinks it’s to their advantage to give in.”

  “Do you mean several days?” How could we possibly keep the office running with just Dan and me? He didn’t carry his share of the workload under normal circumstances. The intensity of a shutdown would amplify the problem.

  “No, Kit. You’re not getting it. I mean weeks.”

  I choked on the big bite of chicken I had just put in my mouth.

  “Are you okay? Jeez, have some water.” Meg handed me a full glass.

  Sputtering, I took a gulp and then wiped my mouth quickly with a napkin. “Weeks? Are you serious?”

  “Of course. It takes Congress days just to take the political temperature of the country. Then it’s at least another week to start coming up with a compromise. After that, who knows how long it will take to broker the actual deal? Remember, the president and Congress don’t exactly see eye to eye these days.” Meg seemed unaffected by this prospect. She calmly sliced up another large bite of burrito.

  “Doesn’t this situation bother you?”

  “It’s annoying. None of us will get paid as long as this debacle continues. But we have most of our staff onsite during the shutdown, so it’s business as usual. The commute’s a lot better, isn’t it?”

  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” I muttered. I couldn’t get over the reality of trying to run the office for an extended period with only Dan’s help. Had Doug stocked up on some nice Virginia wine varietals? For sanity’s sake, I hoped so.

  I’d put a sizable dent in my fajitas, and it was time for me to head back to the office. I stood up, opened my purse, and counted out the appropriate amount of money to cover my meal. “Do you mind paying the check? I need to run.”

  “Sure. But didn’t you have another question?”

  “It was about your significant other. How is he?” Meg had dated Kyle for six months, which was a long time for her to remain attached to one guy.

  “He’s fine.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her terse response. Since we saw each other infrequently these days, Meg was usually eager to go into detail. Most of the time, she offered too many specifics. It was possible to over-share, and Meg and I had different ideas about where to draw the line.

  “Just fine?”

  She sighed. “It’s related to everything we’ve been talking about. I really enjoy dating Kyle, but he’s from the other political party.”

  “I know. But that’s never been a problem before. This town is filled with political party odd couples.” Mary Matalin and James Carville were the most famous, but countless others existed.

  “Until this investigation started. Kyle heard about it, and he’s really upset we might uncover something about the president. He thinks it’s pure politics and not substantive.” Divided government, perhaps not viewed negatively by our founding fathers, caused considerable political heartache in Washington these days.

  Meg paused a moment, and then she blurted out in a too-loud voice, “He even asked me to delay the investigation!” She put down her fork and rubbed her temples.

  “He can’t ask you not to do your job. That doesn’t seem fair.” I sat again in the booth. Meg needed my full attention—at least for three more minutes.

  She moved her fingers from massaging her temples to rubbing her eyes. “I feel like we’re at a crossroads. If I dive into this investigation, I’m not sure our relationship will survive.”

  I reached across the table, took hold of her hands, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Meg, listen to me. We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ll be here for you if this doesn’t work out. But you need to make this decision. I’d want to be sure Kyle is really issuing an ultimatum. I don’t know him well, but that approach doesn’t seem like his style.”

  She nodded and wiped away a tear. I had never seen Meg cry over a relationship. It was shocking. She usually got rid of guys at the slightest pretext—such as when they didn’t order the type of wine she liked.

  “Thanks. I’ll keep you posted. Maybe it will work itself out.”

  I got up to leave again, but she caught me before I could go. “Wait. We talked about me, but what about you? Is Doug any closer to making you an honest woman?”

  I gritted my teeth. Meg was just being friendly but had managed to aggravate my Achilles’ heel. I raised my left hand and shook it in front of her. “Nothing to report. No diamond here.” I didn’t add that recent events hadn’t been conducive to domestic bliss.

  She shook her head in apparent disbelief. “He’d better get moving, or someone else is going to beat him to the punch.”

  Leave it to Meg to have the last word. With that pronouncement, I hauled my unbetrothed body back to the United States Capitol to deal with the Speaker of the House.

  Chapter Four

  By the time I reached the office, I’d already decided how Maeve should handle the meeting with the Speaker. She had to listen to the man’s spiel; after all, he was the most powerful member of Congress. But she shouldn’t commit to supporting his proposal to end the shutdown, at least not yet. The longer she held out, the more likely the Speaker might be inclined to sweeten the pot. If pressed, she could easily claim her constituents in North Carolina didn’t completely support the Speaker’s plan, whatever it was.

  My phone was ringing as I reached my desk. I didn’t recognize the number, but given the crazy political situation, anyone might be calling to lobby Maeve Dixon. On-the-fence votes were rare in the House of Representatives, and Maeve qualified as such. I snagged the receiver after placing my handbag on my desk and removing my gloves.

  “Kit Marshall speaking, can I help you?”

  “Hello, Kit. This is Gary from Capitol Hill Media and Consulting. I’m calling about Clarence and the Capitol Canine contest.”

  Talk about a miscalculation. This wasn’t exactly a call from a Beltway power player. I chuckled. “Sorry. We’re in shutdown mode around here and I wasn’t expecting your call. I completely forgot about Capitol Canine.”

  “Totally understandable, given the political circumstances these days. I hope Clarence is still ready for the competition.”

  I hesitated. Capitol Canine was an online contest in which members of Congress and Capitol Hill staff posted photos of their dogs with quirky bios. Internet voting determined the winners.

  “Are you still going forward with the contest, despite the shutdown?”

  “We thought about postponing it, but we decided that Washington needed an uplifting contest like Capitol Canine to distract itself from the shutdown. Besides, most federal employees are furloughed, so they have plenty of time to browse the web and vote.”

  “I’d l-like to do it,” I stammered, “but it’s a really busy time, and—”

  Gary cut me off. “You don’t have to do much. We already have the paragraph about Clarence and his photo. I just need final permission to post it so we can start the voting tonight.”

  “I had planned to lobby my friends to vote for Clarence. I just don’t have the time to do that now. Maybe Clarence should take a pass this time around.”

  Gary’s voice grew impatient. “According to the contest rules, if Clarence withdraws, he will not be eligible for the contest in future years. Is that what you want?”

  I was caught off guard by Gary’s ultimatum. Did Clarence deserve a lifetime ban from Capitol Canine? I looked at the framed photograph I kept of him on my desk. His large brown beagle mutt eyes pleaded for a chance to win the top dog title.

  “Okay, you got me. I’ll keep Clarence in the contest.”

  Gary’s voice brightened. “Terrific. The voting starts this evening and lasts for forty-eight hours. Don’t forget about the party two nights from now to reveal the big winner. Good luck!”

  I hung up, wondering if I had a death wish. How was I going to make sure Clarence garner
ed a respectable number of votes in the contest and help my boss solve the shutdown crisis?

  I didn’t have much time to ponder my predicament before Maeve appeared. “Kit, are you ready to join me for the briefing with the Speaker?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She tapped her watch. “We only have ten minutes to get to the Capitol. We have to go now.”

  “Absolutely, Congresswoman.” When Maeve was annoyed, it was better to call her by her title than her first name. I grabbed my notebook, iPhone, and congressional identification badge.

  On the walk to the Capitol through the underground tunnel, I briefed Maeve on the proposed strategy for the meeting. She agreed it was best to play it cool for now. I reminded her this was a member-only briefing. No staff, including myself, would be in the room. To my knowledge, Maeve had never met with the Speaker one-on-one before today. I snuck a look at her. Her long hair was perfectly styled, likely the result of a professional blowout at a salon. That wasn’t a bad idea for such an important day. She wore a tailored black power suit and had chosen a fitted white blouse with a crisp collar. Her only jewelry was delicate diamond-stud earrings. Like me, Maeve was an unmarried woman navigating the nation’s capital, although I doubted she’d remain single for long. Ten years my senior, she was a hot commodity on the D.C. dating market. K Street power brokers, prominent lawyers, and wealthy businessmen had thrown their hats in the ring for a chance to spend a visible evening with Maeve Dixon.

  We turned the corner in National Statuary Hall and approached the Speaker’s lair. Other offices in Congress had gatekeepers, but they were located inside the actual suites. The Speaker stationed his gatekeeper in the hallway outside the series of rooms he and his staff occupied. The Capitol Hill Police provided security at all times, ostensibly supplying actual firepower to support the staffer who worked the entrance desk.

  Previously, I had only stolen a furtive glance down this corridor. The imposing “SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE” title appeared above the doorway. The only people allowed to enter were those who had business with the Speaker, and I had never been summoned before today. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and ornate wood furniture added to the regality. The appearance of the Speaker’s antechamber projected a singular message. The person who occupied this real estate was the epitome of power and authority.

  The guy at the desk immediately recognized Maeve. After all, he worked for the Speaker. It was his job to recognize members of Congress, particularly those in the same party. After appropriate greetings, he asked her to take a seat while he confirmed the Speaker was ready to see her.

  He peered at me from under his glasses. “Staff is not permitted to attend this meeting.”

  “I know. Jack Drysdale said that he wanted to speak with me while Representative Dixon meets with the Speaker.” I returned his steely gaze with one of my own. He was leadership staff, a coveted position in the House of Representatives pecking order. That didn’t mean he had the right to treat me like the hired help.

  He grumbled in response, but I saw him start to type something. No doubt, he was sending an instant message to Jack to confirm my story. I took a seat next to Maeve on the ornate bench. We waited in silence, shifting uncomfortably on the ceremonial furniture as the minutes droned on.

  Finally, the gatekeeper told Maeve she could head to the Speaker’s office for her meeting. Out of pure habit, I stood up when Maeve was summoned. He quickly motioned for me to sit until Jack graced me with his presence. This had better be worth it. I was used to waiting for members of Congress, but staff usually treated each other with a modicum of respect.

  Ten minutes later, Drysdale turned the corner and strode down the hallway. I easily recognized him from all the times I had seen his photo in Capitol Hill newspapers. In his late forties, Jack was one of those politicos whose looks had improved with age. His brown hair was slicked back in a GQ-inspired coiffure that matched his fitted wool designer suit. I guessed Burberry, but perhaps it was Paul Smith London? Either way, Jack Drysdale was the most supremely confident man I’d ever seen in my five years of Hill experience. I couldn’t stop staring.

  I stood up as he approached and thankfully the gatekeeper refrained from instructing me otherwise. Jack flashed a thousand-watt smile as he extended his hand. It was like shaking hands with Bruce Wayne. “Kit, I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” I shook his hand politely. I needed to play it cool. By virtue of his position and undeniable sex appeal, Drysdale was a man used to getting what he wanted. Right now, Maeve wasn’t for sale.

  “Why don’t we chat in my office? It’s on this corridor. The meeting between our bosses shouldn’t take long.”

  Jack evidently believed that Maeve would succumb swiftly to the Speaker’s proposal. No need to disabuse him. I dutifully followed him down the hallway and entered an office suite. Several people were waiting in the anteroom as we breezed past. With one dismissive glance, Jack waved them off. “Don’t worry. They’re just Hill reporters. We’re doing a quick pen and pad session with them in a few minutes.”

  Jack motioned for me to take a seat in his private office, which though voluminous resembled the workspace of a typical rank-and-file House member. The formal settee was no more comfortable than the bench in the corridor. Maybe the Speaker’s office believed a sore behind encouraged shorter meetings and made visitors more inclined to acquiesce. Admiring the marble fireplace and mantle behind his desk, I could picture Jack donning a smoking jacket and offering me a brandy. But his face was all business.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush here. The Speaker needs Representative Dixon’s vote for his budget deal. It’s imperative the party caucus stick together. If we can count on her vote, then we can figure out how to make it worth her while in the long run.”

  I shifted slightly in an effort to look more at ease. “Do you know the details of the Speaker’s proposed deal? The level of funding for various programs will matter to her and the constituents in the district.”

  Drysdale chuckled. “I’m not your details person. If you want to talk policy, I can put you in touch with the people writing the legislation.” He leaned across his desk and added, “But let’s get real here. The details don’t matter. This is a political decision, plain and simple. We need Maeve Dixon’s support.”

  His face was less than a foot away. I suddenly had newfound respect for the politicians back in the day who were the infamous recipients of the “treatment” from Lyndon Baines Johnson. I leaned back on the settee, but that monstrosity was too heavy to budge an inch.

  “Believe me, Representative Dixon wants to be helpful. Right now, she can’t commit to a course of action.”

  Drysdale fixed me with a hard stare. The frustration on his face implied he didn’t appreciate a noncommittal answer from a low-level congressional staffer. But after a few seconds, he relented. With a friendly grin, he asked, “Isn’t your dog in the Capitol Canine contest?”

  He’d caught me off guard with such an abrupt change in mood and topic. I narrowed my eyes in distrust. “Yes. His name is Clarence.”

  “I love dogs, and I’m sure you want Clarence to do well in the contest. You know, my dog won Capitol Canine a few years ago.”

  “I didn’t know that. Congratulations.” Where was this headed?

  “Capitol Canine is about who you know. And I know a ton of people who would be happy to vote for Clarence. Maybe we can become better friends if we join forces?” He followed up his offer with a sexy wink.

  Had I just been propositioned to sell my boss’s vote for a Clarence victory in the Capitol Canine contest? A direct approach was often best. “Are you trying to trade support for the Speaker’s shutdown plan for votes in a dog popularity contest?”

  “Don’t be so literal, Kit. We’re colleagues, and I’m simply trying to help you out.”

  After a long moment of silence, I decided to throw him a bone—no pun intended. “Maybe I can give you an answer on the Speaker’s propo
sal in a week? I’ll have to check with my chief of staff about the conversations he’s having with the voters in the district.”

  Apparently, Jack didn’t appreciate my version of a compromise. The sexy Bruce Wayne smile disappeared instantly, and his face contorted in anger. Raising his voice, he growled, “Check with your chief of staff? This is useless. I need to make sure the Speaker seals this deal.”

  Jack stormed out of the office, and I followed him down the corridor until he entered the Speaker’s private suite. I was gutsy, but marching uninvited into the supreme leader’s office space was beyond my pay grade.

  I didn’t want to return to the uncomfortable wooden bench in the hallway with the gatekeeper wondering why Drysdale had dismissed me. Instead, I took a seat next to the reporters in the outside waiting room. I had a clear view of the Speaker’s suite across the hallway so I’d see Maeve when she emerged from her meeting. I’d stuck to our plan. Had Maeve held firm? I’d find out soon enough.

  Smartphones are great time wasters. I fiddled with various apps as I waited. The next level of “Angry Birds” was within my grasp when I heard footsteps and voices across the hallway. I got up and stood in the doorway to greet my boss.

  From the look on her face, she was not pleased. She charged like a linebacker to the exit of the Speaker’s lair with Jack Drysdale on her heels.

  “Stop, Congresswoman Dixon. You’re not listening to reason!” From behind, Drysdale placed his hand on Maeve’s left shoulder in an attempt to prevent her from leaving the suite.

  Maeve had impressive reflexes. She turned her body toward him and grabbed his wrist with her right hand. “Don’t touch me! Is this how the Speaker’s staff treat members of the House?” Her voice was loud and filled with vitriol.

  The gaggle of reporters who had been relaxing inside the anteroom trailed behind me. This was better than a boring pen and pad session. One of them murmured, “I think that’s Dixon from North Carolina.”

  This was not a good development, but Maeve didn’t know that the press had a front-row seat to her altercation.