Free Murder on Capitol Hill by Margaret Truman Page A

she added, “I just left Horace Jenkins at the MPD and he talked about playing an inning at a time. You talk about teams and game plans. I’m sorry, but I don’t see this as a game.”
    He squinted through the heavy, mottled flesh of his face. “No need to get testy, Miss James. We’re in this together, after all.”
    “Over your objections.”
    “That’s right. After Veronica did some talking I decided that having you on the team might not be such a bad idea after all. Your reputation is solid, no obvious skeletons in your closet, you’re close to the family and you understood Caldwell and all this arts nonsense he was involved with.”
    Lydia shifted in her chair. “You might as well know, Senator, that I don’t consider it nonsense. I’ve been involved myself, which is how I got to be friends with Veronica Caldwell.”
    “
Senator
Veronica Caldwell,” he said.
    “That’s right. I also became friendly with
your
wife through the arts.”
    “The difference there, Miss James, is that my wife’s dabbling never influenced my Senate duties.”
    “Are you saying that Veronica Caldwell’s activities influenced her husband’s?”
    “You know it. You might also be interested to hear that Senator Caldwell was about to get in some hot water over it. The arts section of the last Interior bill upset a lot of people around here. The same thing happened when he worked behind the scenes to kill a committee bill to investigate these damn cults and the brainwashing they use. That was one of the things that drove Jimmye McNab out of the Caldwells’ life.”
    Lydia wasn’t sure whether to admit her ignorance of what he was saying or to pretend some knowledge of it in the hope that it would encourage him to say more. She decided to say nothing. It didn’t work. MacLoon looked at his watch. “Tell you what, Miss James, I have some things to do. I’ll have one of my people show you to the office we’ve found for you. It’s not much but it’ll have to do. We’re cramped for space all over the building.”
    “I’m sure it will be fine. What about staffing?”
    “It’s in the budget. I’ll have someone fill you in completely. I’d like to get started on this immediately so that we can get it over with.”
    “I’ll do all I can to see that it’s a thorough and efficient investigation. I’m concerned about leaks to the press of the committee’s activities. I feel it’s vital we be able to function quietly.”
    “We can talk about those things later.” MacLoon unwrapped a cigar and chewed off its tip. “Hope you don’t mind working with a cigar smoker.”
    “Not at all.”
    He held a lit match close to the cigar’s blunt end and slowly, carefully inhaled. As his first exhalation of blue smoke curled easily toward the ceiling he said, without looking at her, “Let’s understand one thing right from the top, Miss James. This investigation in the Senate has nothing to do with solving Cale Caldwell’s murder.”
    “Pardon?”
    He drew on the cigar again, stood and came to the edge of his desk, and leaned on it, his face close to hers. “Solving murders is for the MPD. This committee’s function is to assure the American people that the murder had nothing to do with their government.”
    She leaned away from him as she said, “I gathered that was your position from what I heard you tell the reporter, although I assumed you viewed it as only one of the committee’s functions. Now I take it you view public assurance as our only function.”
    “That’s right.” He perched on the edge of the desk.
    “I’m afraid I don’t agree.”
    “You will as it progresses.”
    She stood. “Thank you for your time, Senator. I’d like to see my office.”
    He told a young man who’d been reading a newspaper in the outer office to escort Lydia and see that she had access to any supplies, furniture and staff help she needed. The young man, who introduced himself as Rick Petrone, and who told her he’d been