Free Poisoned Politics by Maggie Sefton Page B

need privacy to ask your question. Sure. Let’s take some fresh air before the humidity rises.”
    â€œBoy, I must need to work on my signals because you’re starting to see right through me,” I joked as we headed through the French doors leading outside.
    The well-manicured Russell garden was green and lush, thanks to the gardening crew’s copious watering and Washington’s occasional summer thunderstorm. The rose bushes were laden with blossoms and all sizes of blooms—crimson reds, snowflake whites, buttery yellows, and soft hues of lavender and pink. Other flowering shrubs abounded as did low-level border plants. I paused beside a gardenia bush with pearl white blooms, wide open. A delicate scent floated upward on the morning’s humid air, teasing my nostrils. Edging the entire squared garden were tall, thick boxwood hedges. Green screens of privacy. Their distinctive scent bringing back memories of leisurely strolls through so many of Virginia’s historic gardens.
    â€œReading people is part of my job, Molly,” Casey said, following me down the flagstone path. “What’s on your mind?”
    I paused for a second, deciding how best to broach the subject. “I’m sure you’ve heard me speak of my old friend, Samantha Calhoun. Senator Beauregard Calhoun’s widow.”
    â€œYes, I recall your mentioning her. The two of you grew up together in Washington, I believe.”
    â€œYes, we did, and we tried to stay out of trouble in those days. The advice given to us was ‘Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want printed on the front page of the Washington Post .’” I gave in to the enticing scent below and leaned over to sniff a deep crimson rose’s perfume.
    Casey chuckled. “Words to live by, I’d say. Was that your father’s advice?”
    â€œActually it was Eleanor MacKenzie’s advice. She sort of watched over Samantha and me years ago, helping us stay out of trouble. We used to call her the Queen Mother.”
    This time Casey laughed out loud. “I can see Mrs. MacKenzie in that role. She’s a special lady even now. But why are we out here in the garden reminiscing, Molly?”
    I turned and looked into Casey’s intent dark gaze. “Because I’m afraid my friend Samantha is involved in something that could become fodder for lesser papers than the Post . Congressman Wilson chose to end his life at Samantha’s home while she was out for the evening. She told me she returned early Sunday morning and found him dead on her sofa.”
    Surprise flashed briefly through his eyes. “Hmmm. That’s not good.”
    â€œTell me about it. Samantha and Wilson had been having an affair since the beginning of this year. And you know how Washington is. You can never keep those things secret for long. That’s why I’m telling you, Casey. I know I can trust your discretion, but I wanted to ask if you’d overheard any gossip the other evening. About Samantha and Wilson, that is. I’ve already asked Aggie and Ryan. They heard bits and pieces.”
    Casey examined his coffee mug. “As a matter of fact, I did. Of course, the comments were more innuendo and speculation, though. But one woman did mention she was convinced the Northern Virginia home mentioned in the newspaper was Samantha Calhoun’s. So, I’m afraid the gossip is spreading.”
    â€œ Damn . Samantha and Wilson were ending their affair that very day. That’s why Wilson was at Samantha’s house that evening. He’d returned to gather some personal belongings. Why he chose to end his life there, we don’t know. But Samantha called the police as soon as she found him.”
    â€œWhere was she when it happened? Did she tell you?”
    â€œAll she’s said was that she was with an old friend and confidant in Washington.” I let my annoyed expression finish the sentence.
    Casey looked