Political Murder Page 8

  When she turned on her cell, which worked in her hotel-to-be she found tons of messages about the Senator. She always read the latest ones first as a matter of routine; she followed her habit.

  Jack had sent a once a day text update. His last that morning said, “Molly Greenwood is being appointed as Elvira’s replacement as I wrote earlier; the Sloan has always gotten on well with her and I as well; we continue to be a beneficiary of the murder and hence that has been highlighted in a few places. With Elvira gone, the heat has gone out for now. However, you still need to think about how to deal with it if asked. Although we are covered through mutual alibis, our industry and ourselves stick out. Best to get this solved. But, even without that, you will have more time since no one has contacted me about a new Hearing.”

  “The head of the Capitol Police is a longtime friend and would ap - preciate your help when you surface. He is not particularly anxious about hearing from you, but he is interested. Will keep you posted.”

  Since the obvious is usually true as her father had taught her long ago, the main beneficiary was Molly Greenwood, not the Sloan. So her leading candidate for the murderer was Greenwood. With that in mind, she had lunch in her hotel-to-be and ruminated over things in a gossipy vacation mode.

  She read no more emails. She knew better than to touch the stove as her father had also taught her as an incorrigible stove toucher, she chuckled. Takes one to know one she laughed out loud as the maître d’smiled back at her. Laughs made for happy times, big tips, and a shorter day the maître d’ knew.

  The maître d came over and started a pleasant conversation the way only the French can do who are born to service and love money in return. She knew it was a wonderful combination. They talked as he informed her he knew she would be back in a week and looked forward to it; she favored him with a smile, her charm, and a $100 bill to pay for her $25 lunch, as she asked him, “Could you handle this for me?”

  He nodded affably as she got up and walked out. With a Frenchman there was no need to say, “Keep the change.” That was nice because it let him keep his dignity and her not be looking as if she were bribing him. They both knew she was bribing him and paving the way for a lovely week. He had set the proverbial table for that. He had also arranged to serve the meal himself so the $75 was his. He knew this; he knew she knew this; and clearly this would be a lovely guest/host situation.

  Her father had taught her about frictionless service, why men be - came regulars so they didn’t have to hassle over meals, drinks, or service. She had noticed early on he got the same things served to him in some places, and the meal of the day at others. He rarely looked at a menu. When he had to look he would say please give me as close to the following as possible, let the chef make any choices required. Many times a chef had come out to thank him; this worked especially well if they were staying somewhere for a while or were planning to come back. He father had always clued in the chef about this if it were the case, just as she did with the maître d’.

  She enjoyed these thoughts as she walked back to the Navigator. She was earlier than some and liked the fact she didn’t have to be ferried out since the ship was small enough to dock in their harbor. It was nice, a high compliment her father gave out from time to time when deserved.

  She nodded when coming on board at the gate keeper, showed her passport and cruise ticket as a sign of respect, and walked to her suite. As she walked down the hall the Butler nodded in query and she said, “A bottle of Perrier, Benjamin.”

  “It is in your room, Miss Thatcher.” “Thank you, Benjamin. So nice you are always ahead of me,” and gave him her big smile which he reciprocated. And that was that until she met Dan for dinner.

  Jack

  That night Jack got one text message from Elizabeth saying, “Good work. I believe I know who it is and will work on it when I return.” Jack knew that her Dad, John Putnam Thatcher, had worked out many murders when involved first hand. Elizabeth clearly had the same talent though perhaps more boldly put or, and he paused, or more youthfully put, or both. Jack sat back and thought about it over his late night bourbon.

  She was right to call a spade a spade. It was late at night but he knew the Captain would be up having a bourbon too. So he called him and said, “Elizabeth thinks she knows who it is. I wouldn’t best against her. She says she will work on it when she gets home, which proba- bly means she’ll give you the suspect wrapped up for you.”

  Dan knew this was time for him to repay the favor by saying some - thing. He talked a lot to hide in the open; but when a suspect or in- formant or advisor started talking, he went silent until they stopped. He did this out of habit with Jack but knew Jack knew. No harm done.

  “Keep me informed, Jack. Thanks for calling late; makes my bour - bon more mellow, gets an item off your punch list, and let me know when you have the murderer trussed up for me,” as they chuckled together.

  Jack knew he had just been signaled that Dan bought it. Well, good. Best to keep it in code. You never knew even with them using their own cell phones.

  With that they both tried to finish their last drink and go to bed. They both found their minds were swirling around the new data and couldn’t knock it off and go to bed quickly. Separately they got out their scratch pads and made some notes. They were similar but dif- ferent based on their roles in the Elvira murder.

  Resolution

  The next day Elizabeth texted Jack and said, “Take the package I sent you over to Greenwood. Let her open it alone.” Jack called Greenwood and she agreed to see him. Jack had no Pan - dora complex; he had no desire to look and did not. The next day he went to the Capitol Building, walked in, was passed through to the new Senator’s office, and met with Molly alone.

  Molly had the gravitas for the job plus the bedside manner to please the most demanding of constituents. He was sorry to be the bearer of what he suspected would be bad news for her. Everyone in DC liked Molly, at least far better than Elvira. But, and this was another big but, he did work for the Sloan and that was that.

  He was quickly ushered into her private office. Molly looked right behind the Senator desk; she fit; she was suited for it; everything was right except possibly what he was carrying.

  “Molly, I have been instructed personally to give you this package. It will speak for itself I am told.” Molly looked at him; she knew Jack was a serious player; nothing in how he looked appeared good for her, and her was all she ever thought about despite dissembling otherwise.

  She thought about what she should say. She realized that with Jack anything she said wouldn’t help and might indeed hurt. So she said nothing, and looked at him.

  He had given her a minute to take it in. Since she said nothing, he got up, and started to leave, saying at the door, “Goodbye.” Molly sat there for a moment before opening the package. It con- tained only a CD. She put the CD in her laptop and saw the scene of her killing Elvira in the Ladies room.

  The enclosed unsigned note said, “Admit what you did; say it was self-defense; no one liked her. And we will take it no further.” A very professional note. A note no politician would write or advo - cate. Must be a bank, only interested in money. She chuckled sar- donically, remembering Dr. Johnson saying, “Nothing is as innocent as a man in the pursuit of money.”

  She had been drugged by power. She had gotten so close after her lifelong work and had been tagged out by Elvira. She couldn’t stand it; she accepted the job of Chief of Staff to stay close to Elvira as said in The Art of War, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” She had done everything right until this.

  Molly was a realist. She knew no one liked Elvira. She knew there would be no sympathy for her unless she created it. She paused. The note didn’t set a time line. So she would get offi - cially appointed as Senator next week and take the oath. She got a few things done on her agenda, and then she would confess.

  A month later she called Harry and said that in a fit of Elvira’s pas - sion she had charged at Molly an
d, in her self-defense, she had de- fended herself. And she paused as Harry did.

  What now she asked Harry? Harry paused and said, “You have been sworn into the Senate. Peo - ple like you and didn’t like her. I will get you a top notch criminal lawyer and let him advise you. Wait until I do that. I will let Dan know that something is coming and to keep it on ice for a few weeks. Then our rabid Democratic defense attorney will plead your case.”

  “OK,” she said. Harry thought that politics was the ultimate narcotic, not heroin or anything else. He had just had an incredible high. He was in the midst of history, up there with Watergate. Unfortunately, he would never be able to tell anyone about it.

  It was anticlimactic from then on. They waited a few weeks; the de - fense attorney pleaded well; they got a sympathetic Democratic AG in DC; and she pled to self-defense and manslaughter with a short 3 year term, with only one year to serve.

  Molly had achieved her dream of becoming be a Senator; she got to do a Made for TV movie that made her several millions. The only problem was she was barred from the catnip, and never could do politics again.

  On the other hand, Molly was treated as a rock star in her tennis court privileged white colored prison for her 12 months and outside thereafter. That introduced her to a position of victim power she never would have had in the Senate. In her year inside she adjudicat- ed everything with authoritarian power and respect. When she left, she had to admit she missed it. But she transferred that to leading Prison Advocate groups and had her mission for the rest of her life. She chuckled thinking that finally she had been victimized, the ulti- mate power in the New America of the Left.

  In the meantime, Elizabeth and the Bank had escaped to Ireland without fanfare. There were no more Senate Hearings, which were helped by prodigious PAC contributions to the various Senators that might inspire such activities. And as always, Elizabeth chuckled, it was one’s enemies that benefited the most.

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Elvira was buried quietly without fanfare. The police had kept her body for some weeks and then turned it over for burial. No one came forth to claim it; the Governor of California did not want to draw attention to the situation so she was essentially buried semi-anony- mously in the equivalent of a pauper’s grave since she had no family or any that would claim her.

  The Sloan did what banks do, at least successful ones, by continuing to prosper. They followed through on Elizabeth’s plan and domi- ciled in Ireland. The great Elvira fiasco stopped anyone from fol- lowing up. So by default the Sloan and everyone was safe.

  The informal HQ in the Devonshire was happy. Everyone grew closer together, even Ev and Charlie. When they were apart they actually missed each other. Charlie racked it up to age; Ev thought it was because Charlie had come around. George loved being Emeri- tus, which he always had been in part. John liked passing things on to Elizabeth. Bowman and Nicholls remained themselves.

  Elizabeth hooked up with Dan. They got married to satisfy Dan’s parents; and every once in a while they came together as husband and wife. Most of the time they were just good friends, which most married couples would do anything for a decade or so after marriage.

  There would be more Elizabeth knew, and was grateful for it. Most of her life was still in front of her she thought. She would be right.

  And the world kept turning.