Homicide in the House Page 5

  “Well, I don’t have a lot of time during the shutdown to drum up support for him. You can’t help out?”

  He’d returned to reading the news on his device. Without looking up, Doug said, “He seems to be doing okay without our help, right?”

  Doug’s blasé attitude annoyed me. I was poised to respond with a clever retort, but my iPhone indicated I’d received a text message.

  I grabbed the phone off the countertop, put in my security code, and touched the green Messages app. Come to Cannon rotunda immediately. I’m in trouble. I double-checked the sender. It was Maeve.

  I typed back a reply: On my way. What’s wrong?

  No more time to think about dog contests or coffee. Time to bust a move and get to Capitol Hill pronto. “Doug, Maeve needs my help. Gotta run. See you tonight.”

  Doug didn’t look up from his iPad. “Good luck.”

  I checked my phone as I headed downstairs. No reply yet from Maeve. It was a quarter past seven. How had she managed to involve herself in another crisis before sunrise?

  After exiting our condo building, I quickly evaluated my transportation options. Should I take the subway or find a cab? Using my phone, I located the nearest Uber driver. Ten minutes away. By the time I waited for the driver to arrive, I’d be halfway to the Hill on the Metro. Maeve hadn’t returned my text. What did she mean by “in trouble” exactly? Without knowing the severity of the situation, the Metro was an acceptable choice.

  Absent the big commuter crowds to slow the boarding of trains, I arrived at Capitol South twenty-five minutes later. Maeve hadn’t replied. Perhaps the “trouble” had already blown over. Just in case she still needed help, I headed directly to the Cannon rotunda without stopping at the office. Reporters usually camped out inside the rotunda to shoot live cable television hits from Capitol Hill. It wasn’t as grandiose as the Capitol rotunda, but its Corinthian architecture with imposing columns did provide a stately backdrop for the camera.

  I exited the elevator and walked past the famous Cannon Caucus Room, which hosted the House Un-American Committee hearings decades ago. Hearing Maeve’s voice in the distance, I followed the narrow hallway circling the rotunda. After rounding the bend, I found my boss. She wasn’t alone. Next to her was Detective O’Halloran of the Capitol Hill Police. Jack Drysdale was between them, but the Speaker’s top aide wasn’t looking so handsome this morning. Blood flowed from his head onto the pristine marble floor. If he’d generated Clarence’s Capitol Canine votes, there wouldn’t be any more favors coming my way. Jack Drysdale was dead.

  Chapter Six

  Maeve took one look at me and almost leapt into my arms. I’d never seen her so discombobulated. “Thank God you’re here. What took you so long?”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea. You didn’t answer when I asked what the problem was.”

  She leaned close to me. “I couldn’t very well text you what happened,” she whispered. “I’m the lead suspect.”

  “You’re what?” My voice was ten times louder than hers, but I couldn’t hide my reaction.

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me near. “Keep quiet. This cop just arrived, and believe me, it doesn’t look good.”

  I lowered my voice. “Don’t worry. Let me talk to him. I know Detective O’Halloran.”

  I couldn’t tell if the look on Maeve’s face expressed astonishment or utter bewilderment. It didn’t matter. I raised a finger to my lips, indicating she should stay quiet while I spoke with O’Halloran.

  The detective and I had become acquaintances last year when Meg and I solved the murder of our former Senate boss. O’Halloran had originally pegged me as the chief suspect for the crime, but eventually appreciated my amateur assistance after I stumbled upon several key clues.

  The beefy middle-aged detective was deep in conversation with several uniformed officers who had begun to secure the perimeter. If I’d arrived any later, this area would have been sealed off. As I approached, I gave him a friendly wave. “Detective O’Halloran, remember me? It’s Kit Marshall.”

  O’Halloran stopped talking to his colleagues. He extended his hand and I shook it politely. “Ms. Marshall, how could I forget? The better question is why you’ve shown up again at the scene of a murder in the United States Capitol complex.”

  There was no good explanation for that question, except I’d somehow managed to find trouble again. I shrugged. “I’m here because my boss, Representative Maeve Dixon, messaged me this morning to meet her in the Cannon rotunda.”

  O’Halloran perked up. “Dixon texted you to come here? What time?”

  I opened the Messages app on my iPhone. “I got the text at seven-oh-three this morning.”

  O’Halloran rubbed his chin as he considered my answer. “Very interesting.”

  “Do you mind telling me what’s so interesting besides the dead body on the floor?”

  O’Halloran motioned to follow him a few steps away from the growing cadre of Capitol Hill police officers. Maeve was standing silently by herself, her head buried in her smartphone. She was likely trying to determine if news of the murder had broken yet. No reporters were on the scene, but they’d figure it out soon enough, especially when the police told them they couldn’t set up for their live television shots in the rotunda today.

  “Listen, I don’t know how you’ve gotten yourself involved in another murder, but you might want to consider a different line of employment.”

  “I know this is a strange coincidence, but why would I do that?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re going to have your Hill job for much longer. Your boss is our top suspect for the murder of Jack Drysdale.”

  I looked directly into O’Halloran’s eyes. “We’ve been down this road before, Detective. I was your number one suspect when you investigated Lyndon Langsford’s murder. Look how that turned out.”

  O’Halloran returned my gaze. “You’re correct. But this one’s different. You didn’t have a motive to kill Langsford, which bothered me from the beginning. I don’t have that problem with this one.” He motioned toward Jack’s lifeless body. “Your boss nearly came to blows yesterday with the victim, and every newspaper on Capitol Hill reported the incident.” To emphasize his point, he brandished yesterday’s Roll Call story on his smartphone.

  O’Halloran worked quicker than I remembered. He’d already fingered Maeve as a suspect with a credible motive. But she wasn’t the only person in D.C. who had a beef with Drysdale. “Isn’t it a big leap to assume Representative Dixon killed Jack because she got into an argument with him yesterday? If I murdered every person I disagreed with on Capitol Hill, I’d have a rap sheet a mile long.” There was nothing wrong with injecting a bit of humor. I gave O’Halloran a small grin.

  He didn’t return the smile. “It’s not just motive. A police officer saw Maeve Dixon hovering over the body a few minutes before seven this morning.”

  The morning’s events started to make more sense. I glanced in Maeve’s direction. The worried expression on her face indicated she understood the gravity of the situation. “That could be purely circumstantial. Maeve might have noticed Jack’s body as she walked past the Cannon Caucus Room. Any good citizen with a conscience would investigate if someone was lying on the floor.”

  O’Halloran shook his head. “Sorry. It doesn’t add up. Your boss has an office on the first floor of this building. Why would she be on the third floor so early in the morning?”

  He had me there, but there was no need to let him know it. “She’s a military veteran, Detective. She doesn’t believe in sleeping late. She might have been stretching her legs or looking for an available restroom. During the shutdown, they don’t open them up on every floor.”

  O’Halloran raised his eyebrows. “Last time I checked, members of Congress had private bathrooms in their office suites. I’ve been on the Capitol Hill Police force for over twenty years. You’re going to have to try harder to pull the wool over my eyes, Ms. Marshall.”

  O’Halloran
was at the top of his game. He seemed more confident than when he’d investigated the murder of my former boss. Better to change the subject and get as much information as possible from him. I tried to get a peek at the body, but now a bevy of forensic investigators surrounded Drysdale. There’d been a gash on his head, indicating that some sort of physical assault had killed him.

  “Do you have a murder weapon, Detective?”

  “I shouldn’t be sharing this information with you, but we won’t be able to keep a lid on this detail for long, once the media sharks get hold of this story. It appears that Mr. Drysdale was bludgeoned with the Speaker’s gavel.”

  I swallowed hard. It was best to watch my tongue here. O’Halloran could nail Maeve with motive and opportunity. Did he know she also had access to the weapon the night before when she presided over the House of Representatives?

  “That’s certainly an unusual w-weapon,” I stammered.

  “I agree, Ms. Marshall. Not too many people have access to the gavel used on the floor of the House. I imagine it will narrow our suspect pool considerably.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought. “Tell me something. Don’t members of Congress have access to the gavel when they sit in for the Speaker during debate on the House floor?”

  O’Halloran knew the answer to that question. He wanted to emphasize a point. I answered him as casually as possible, “Sure. But all members of the majority party preside over the House floor from time to time.”

  He rubbed his chin again. “That’s right. I’m sure it won’t be hard to see who was in the chair yesterday evening, after your boss’s fight with Jack Drysdale in the Speaker’s office. Don’t you agree?”

  I gulped again. Yikes. O’Halloran had the trifecta. He’d established a plausible motive, confirmed she had the opportunity to kill Jack, and soon enough, he’d tie her to the murder weapon. My heart started to beat faster, and my mind raced with suspicious thoughts. Had Maeve slipped her trolley and killed Jack Drysdale? Sure, my boss was a handful, but I didn’t peg her as a killer.

  It was time to end this conversation and switch into damage control mode. I ignored O’Halloran’s question. “Thanks for your time, Detective. I’m sure we’ll be in touch in the coming days.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but I can guarantee your boss will be hearing from me soon.”

  Ominous words. I trotted toward Maeve, who was chewing on her thumbnail. Before this morning, I’d never seen her so ruffled. Her air of apprehension had intensified in the past ten minutes since I arrived on the scene.

  I wanted to throttle Maeve for getting herself into this predicament, but this wasn’t my best pal Meg. Maeve Dixon was still my boss, and I had to treat her accordingly. In a halfhearted attempt to calm myself, I counted silently to ten before speaking.

  “Congresswoman, I talked to Detective O’Halloran from the Capitol Hill Police. He said that an officer found you standing over the body around seven this morning. Can I ask what you were doing by the rotunda at that hour?”

  “I woke up early this morning and planned to squeeze in a workout in the House gym. On my way there, I got a text message from Dan.”

  She retrieved her phone from her purse and entered her security code. Maeve turned the phone so I could read the message: Jack Drysdale wants to meet you at the Cannon rotunda at 7 this am. He wants to talk about a deal.

  “Instead of heading to the gym, I decided to see what Drysdale had to offer. I got here a few minutes before seven and didn’t see him anywhere. I walked past the caucus room, and then I saw him on the floor. I ran over because I thought he’d had a heart attack.” She paused for a moment, clearly distraught. “I couldn’t stop looking at the terrible wound on his head. There was a bloody gavel next to his body.”

  “Maeve, this is important. Did you touch anything?”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No! I swear I didn’t. It was surreal. I’m not sure how long I stared at the body. The next thing I remember is a police officer grabbed me by the arm and asked me what happened.” She rubbed her temples vigorously with her fingers.

  “There’s something not right about this story. Why would Jack Drysdale text Dan and not me?”

  Maeve frowned. “I have no idea.”

  “Remember, Jack said he didn’t want to deal with Dan on the shutdown. He asked for another name, and you gave him mine.”

  “That does seem strange,” Maeve said slowly.

  “What it means is that Jack didn’t communicate with Dan this morning. Someone else texted Dan so you’d show up at the rotunda at precisely seven this morning. Someone who wanted you to discover the body.”

  Maeve gasped. “You mean I was set up?”

  “That appears to be the case. Your fight with Drysdale yesterday was the perfect frame for the murderer. You played right into his hands.” I corrected myself quickly, “Or her hands.” Last year I’d learned the hard way that with the proper motivation, both men and women could transform into killers.

  “The police told me to wait while they figure out what they need from me. After I texted you, I called a lawyer in town and he said he would meet me at the police station if I’m called in for questioning.”

  That was a good move. It was flattering that Maeve contacted me first after she discovered the body, but I wasn’t a legal eagle. If she became the prime suspect, she would need the best defense lawyer in Washington D.C.

  “Let me find out what’s going to happen next.”

  Maeve nodded. O’Halloran might take another question from me. After that, his patience would likely wear thin.

  He was consulting another plainclothes police officer adjacent to the crime scene. “Detective, can I ask you one more favor?”

  O’Halloran put his hand up to silence me. After he finished his conversation, he turned in my direction. “Why not? Would you like a bagel and coffee, too?”

  Actually, a bagel and coffee sounded terrific. I restrained myself from asking him for toasted sesame with light cream cheese and a cup of java served light and sweet. One look told me a sarcastic retort would get my butt tossed out of the rotunda area. I was already pushing the envelope with my police comrade.

  “Detective, my boss wants to know if her presence will be required at the Capitol Hill Police station today? If so, legal counsel will meet her there.”

  From the look of concentration on his face, I guessed that O’Halloran was carefully evaluating his answer. He might have wanted to haul Maeve to the precinct for a full-scale interrogation, but the threat of her lawyering up gave him considerable pause. He was also dealing with a member of Congress. Bringing her in officially if he wasn’t absolutely certain about her status as a suspect might cause him more political trouble than she was worth at this point.

  My gamble paid off. “We can have an officer conduct an interview here.” Then he added, “For now. That doesn’t mean we won’t want to schedule a more formal Q&A at the station later on.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Maeve would be spared the indignity of a potential mug shot today. Her face relaxed when I told her she’d avoided an imminent trip to the pokey. However, her relief didn’t stop her from barking orders. “Kit, you need to return to the office and bring Dan up to speed. I might be tied up here for a while. Get prepared for the press inquiries.” She glanced about furtively. “We’re not going to be able to keep a lid on my involvement. We’ll need a plan.”

  I held my tongue, but I knew firsthand the pressure Detective O’Halloran was feeling to solve the homicide of a congressional staffer. Maeve would need more than a well-devised press plan. She’d better have Perry Mason on speed dial.

  This wasn’t the time or place to advise Maeve about murder investigations. I’d debrief her later in the privacy of the office and ask a few questions of my own. Number one in my mind concerned the Speaker’s gavel. How in the hell did it travel from the House floor to the Cannon rotunda? The gavel was a monumental symbol of the institution. Given its unique status in the House
, figuring out the path of the murder weapon would likely point to the person responsible for this horrible crime.

  No amount of meditation was going to prepare Dan for this news. I hustled downstairs and found him trying to operate the fax machine. Given the morning’s events, I skipped telling him that no one communicated via fax anymore.

  After I told him what had happened, he buried his head in his hands and started to shake uncontrollably. His hands flew to his brown mane, and a moment later, the tugging commenced. As I watched in amazement, I realized the origin of the idiom “tearing your hair out.”

  I was about to suggest he needed to get a grip when the shaking and yanking suddenly stopped. His eyes were semi-crazed and intensely focused. He pointed directly at me. “You. I have the answer. You can fix this.”

  “Have you had a mental breakdown? Do I need to call the Employee Assistance Program for help?” EAP provided counseling to congressional staff. I hoped they made emergency office visits.

  Dan ignored my question. “When I hired you, someone in House leadership told me that you solved your former boss’s murder in the Senate. I couldn’t believe it so I searched on the Internet and found the news stories.”

  “That was a completely different situation. I knew the suspects because they were associates of my boss. I was an insider. I only met Jack Drysdale yesterday, remember?”

  “You have to solve this murder to clear Maeve.” Dan looked at me with pleading eyes. A few tears glistened in the corners. “I left North Carolina to move to Washington D.C. for this job. No one else is going to hire me if she’s accused of murder. It’s not like I’ve exactly impressed everyone here. I haven’t had a chance to prove myself yet!” Dan’s tirade culminated in a high-pitched squeak.

  I had to calm him down. I eased him into a chair next to my desk and put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at a comforting gesture. “Look, I’ve been in a similar situation. I’m sure the police are going to solve this murder. Detective O’Halloran’s not a bad cop.” The last part was true. O’Halloran was an admirable public servant. His investigatory skills hadn’t impressed me last year, but maybe he’d learned a few tricks since then.