Free Murder on Capitol Hill by Margaret Truman

to chair the committee had disheartened Lydia, but she decided not to allow her feelings to interfere with her performance. She had, however, raised the question with Veronica Caldwell about whether it was a wise idea to have an avowed political enemy of her husband’s heading up a committee to investigate his murder. Veronica’s answer made sense. Because MacLoon and Caldwell were known to dislike each other, it could only add to the public’s confidence in the committee’s integrity. MacLoon would be under the gun to disprove any personal grudge, would be doubly aggressive in the investigation. At least that was the theory.
    ***
    Lydia was kept waiting in MacLoon’s outer office for fifteen minutes before an aide ushered her inside, where the senator was giving an interview to a young newspaper reporter. “With you in a minute,” he told Lydia, waving his hand. He said to the reporter, “It will be the duty of the committee to assure the American public that the murder of Senator Caldwell was in no way connected with any government institution, nor did it have overtones or implications that in any way reflect on this nation’s governing bodies or those of its allies. Got that?”
    “Yes, I think so. Thank you, Senator.”
    MacLoon grinned broadly, stood and shook the reporter’s hand. “Anytime, my dear. The door is always open to you.”
    The reporter nodded at Lydia as she left the office.
    “Sorry to keep you waiting,” MacLoon said. “Sit down.”
    Lydia sat in an armchair next to his desk. “Isn’t it a little premature to be giving interviews about the committee’s work?” she asked.
    “I don’t think so. No sense in trying to play games with the press. I’d like to see this committee be an open one that the press and public can have faith in. No stonewalling. Doesn’t that make sense to you?”
    “Of course… within reason.” She observed MacLoon as he swiveled his chair and began rummaging through a file drawer. She could hear his heavy breathing, the result of a lifetime of cigars and cigarettes and a paunch that threatened to burst through his belt. MacLoon was almost totally bald, and had a full face that was made to appear even more so because of a tight shirt collar that pressed into the flesh of his neck.
    He found what he was looking for, turned back to his desk and suppressed a belch as he opened a file folder and thumbed through its pages.
    “Senator MacLoon, I know you’re busy but so am I. I wonder if we could discuss the committee and my role on it. I assumed that was your purpose in asking me here.”
    “Yes, sure. Just give me a minute.” He frowned as he read a page from the folder, then called through the open door, “Margaret, in here.” One of his aides, a buxom young woman wearing heavy makeup, entered and MacLoon handed the page to her. “Copy it and get it out to Markovich right away.”
    Lydia fought down her impatience, cleared her throat. “I’ll come back when you have more time.”
    MacLoon looked up, appearing to be surprised.“Relax, we’ll get to it in a moment. How about lunch? I’ll have it sent up—”
    “No,
thank
you. Senator MacLoon, I accepted this committee post at the request of Veronica Caldwell. I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand I’m pleased to be able to contribute something to solving this tragedy. On the other, I have a pretty successful law practice that will suffer during my absence. I want to get on with my work on the committee. I want you to understand that.”
    He looked at her as though she were an errant daughter. “Miss James, let’s not get off on the wrong foot. Frankly, when Veronica insisted on you as special counsel I opposed it. As far as I was concerned, what we needed was an attorney with a clean sheet who’s used to working behind the scenes and fitting into a team that has a clear-cut game plan—”
    “Why do men always use a sports metaphor? And in this case a mixed one.” Before he could answer