William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“And that would be…?”

She looked at him levelly. “I think you already know the answer to that question.” She slipped a finger under the shoulder strap of her dress and wriggled it down, revealing what was hidden beneath.

Wounds. Several slashes running down her shoulder.

“I-I thought vamps bit people in the neck.”

“Some do. Unfortunately, you can kill someone that way. Shoulder wounds are less dangerous, easier to get to, and easier to conceal afterward. They bleed a lot, but there’s no chance of bleeding to death from a shoulder cut. It’s perfect, really.” She pulled the strap back up. “So I can do all the things my body wants me to do, and still wear hot clothes.”

Loving shook his head. “I can’t believe you actually-”

“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said? Wake up and smell the bloodlust, handsome.” She beckoned toward someone at the other end of the room. A moment later, they were joined by a tall and thin, stubble-cheeked, midtwenties man wearing a leather shirt, leather pants, leather lace-up sandals, and a black cloak. His ears and a good part of his face were covered with piercings, and he wore a thick silver band around his neck. The man had also shaved his head, except for one twisted strand that dangled down in front of his eyes. His face was abnormally white: Loving suspected he used makeup to create the effect. And he was supposed to believe this guy had a normal nine-to-five job?

“Charles,” Morticia said, “show the man your teeth.”

“Why should I?” he replied. His voice was low and guttural.

“So that he can believe.”

“I don’t get ’em out unless I plan to use them.”

“Please,” Morticia insisted. “I’ll make it worth your while later.” She looked at him sheepishly. “Say cheese.”

The man shrugged, then, after a moment’s more hesitation, smiled.

They were properly called canines, Loving knew, or eyeteeth, but at the moment it was impossible to think of them as anything but fangs. They were prominent, long, and extremely sharp. Sharp enough to cut through almost anything. Or anyone.

“I ’m taking you two out to dinner tonight,” Senator Glancy announced, after Judge Herndon ended the day’s session. “Special permission from the judge-don’t have to be back to my cell till ten. So what do you say? It’ll be just the three of us, plus my dear, sweet federal marshals. We need to talk.”

“We could try Stan’s,” Christina suggested. “It’s nearby. It’s mentioned in all my guidebooks.”

Glancy shook his head. “Too close to the Washington Post offices. I don’t want to be spotted by a bunch of reporters. Especially reporters who’ve had too much to drink.”

“What about Two Quail? I hear it’s very elegant.”

“And packed with lobbyists. Who are even worse than reporters. At least the reporters don’t offer to fix you up with women.”

Ben’s jaw lowered. “Lobbyists do that?”

“Ben, they’ve got gorgeous babes standing by to provide a BJ in the bathroom if you’re on their A list. Or they’ll pick up a hottie and deliver her to your place-so you won’t be seen doing it. And as fun as that sounds, we need someplace our privacy will be respected.”

“Then you’d better pick.”

Glancy smiled broadly. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“The usual table, Senator Glancy?”

“If it’s convenient.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Glancy turned back toward Ben and Christina and winked. “You gotta love it. The man acts as if nothing has changed. No shocked expression, no double take. He’s a pro.”

Just as well, Ben thought, because he noticed a lot of double takes from the patrons as they passed through the elegant and exquisitely chic Four Seasons restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. Just a stone’s throw from the POTUS himself, Glancy had said. The Man with the Big O. Which in this case stood for the Oval Office. “I supposed they’re used to scandals in this town.”

“It’s not that they’re jaded,” Glancy replied quietly, as they approached the secluded table in an alcove in the rear of the restaurant’s dining area. “It’s that they’re cautious. A politician can be down one minute, up the next. No way of predicting. One day Newt Gingrich is practically running the country; a year later he’s writing bad science fiction novels and reviewing books for Amazon.com. One day Nixon is humiliated and retired from politics; next thing you know he’s the damn president. In the long run, it’s smart to be nice to everyone of importance. Or who might be. Or ever was.”

“Or,” Christina said, “you could just be nice to everyone. Period.”

“You could. But you’ll never get yourself elected to the U.S. Senate that way.” He took the menu from the waiter and smiled. “Thanks for humoring me. I get the impression this fancy-schmancy haute cuisine isn’t your usual bill of fare. But I wanted to make the most of my night out.”

“Not at all,” Ben said, as he gazed at the menu. The prices were not listed, which was never a good sign. “If I don’t eat this way often, it’s not by choice, it’s because… um, because…”

“Food allergies,” Christina said, bailing him out. “Has to be very careful or he gets heat flashes. Believe me, it’s a mess.”

Glancy smiled. “You shouldn’t have any problem here. The original owner set a standard for quality that has never been compromised. The four-star chef is probably the best in DC. Get this-the filets are dry-hung to age for four weeks before serving. Four weeks! And this is top-grade USDA-prime triple-plus beef. The best there is.”

Christina gazed at the menu. “Despite hailing from Oklahoma, I’m more of a fish person.”

“Of course you are.” Glancy flashed a quick smile. “Fish is brain food.” He reached across, brushing her hair with his hand, pointing at her menu. “Let me recommend the terrine of baby coho salmon with truffles and pistachios. It’s better than sex.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. But you know. It’s a thing people say.” He grinned again, the high-wattage smile that got him elected.

Was it Ben’s imagination, or did it seem as if everyone in this whole damn case was trying to hit on his partner?

“We should have brought Shandy,” Ben said, trying not to be too obvious.

“Oh, she’s been here before. And she pretends to enjoy it, for my sake. But she’s a girl of simple tastes at heart. A good girl, loyal. Not a dishonest bone in her body. But more the quarter-pounder type, if you know what I mean.”

“And Amanda?”

“Amanda gets off on work. It’s all she knows, all she loves. Spinning a PR disaster into a triumph, that’s her natural high. Nothing I could give her could ever compete with that.”

After they ordered, Glancy predictably wanted to discuss the case. “Don’t take this as criticism, Ben. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but-are we getting creamed?”

Ben took a long draw from his water crystal. “It’s much too soon to predict-”

“It’s slaughtersville, right?”

“Things always look bad when the prosecution is putting on their evidence,” Christina said.

“Naturally,” Ben added. “I mean, we knew they had a case. If they hadn’t, they never would’ve gone to trial. Not against you. We’re just going to have to tough it out until Padolino finishes.” He paused. “I am sorry about the trouble with your wife.”

“Marie?” Glancy waved his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about her. She gets it. She knows how the game is played.”

“She looked pretty upset…”

“Well, that’s the best way for her to play it, don’t you think?”