William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“Lady, how can I say this nicely? Buzz off.” He returned his attention to his outline.

She grabbed his collar. “Don’t you turn away from me. Don’t you dare turn away from me! I’ve taken down bigger men than you, Okie. Much bigger. All it would take is a few phone calls and you’ll never practice law again!”

“Amanda?”

Both heads whipped around to see Marshall Bressler wheeling himself into the room. He was holding a bottle of blue-colored pills. “Anyone got a bottle of water? I’m a wreck without my morning medication.” He looked up. “Oh. Is this a bad time?”

“Depends on your definition of a bad time,” Ben said, removing Amanda’s hands. “I think Amanda was about to commit her first murder. That we know of, anyway.”

Amanda clenched her fists and made a sonorous growling noise. “You are so… infuriating!” She whipped around to face Marshall. “This man is trying to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for!”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be what we’ve worked so hard for?”

“He insists on calling that damn detective.”

“Did you read his report?” Marshall asked. “I think it’s safe to say his testimony will end the media portrayal of Veronica as an angelic innocent.”

“What the hell do you know about the media!” She looked as if she were about to pull her hair out by the roots. “All the media will report is the talk about sex. And Padolino will make sure there’s lots of it. Enough to fill the front three sections of the Post. Did you see the poll results I e-mailed to you?”

Marshall waved a hand in the air. “You know I never look at e-mail, and you should never put anything important in one. Republican eyes are everywhere.”

“Paranoid much?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, that’s what they were saying back in ’04, and then we found out the Republican staff members of the Judiciary Committee had been hacking into our restricted e-mail messages for more than a year, sometimes even leaking them to right-wing pundits. Remember that story?”

Ben frowned. He did.

“These poll results are irrelevant,” Ben said. “Any negative fallout is irrelevant, as I’ve been trying to explain to Amanda. It’s an unfortunate consequence of what we have to do to make sure our favorite politician doesn’t get a lethal injection.”

Marshall tilted his head to one side. “I’m not sure trashing Veronica will do it.”

“It won’t hurt.”

“What we really need,” Marshall continued, “is to give the jury an alternate suspect.”

Both Ben and Amanda stared at him.

“Reasonable doubt is fine, but once Padolino starts talking his trash in closing, he’ll wash all their doubts away. We need more. We need doubt plus a bogeyman. A good one. That might do the trick.”

Ben laid his pencil to rest. “Did you have anyone in particular in mind?”

“Does it matter? Just pick someone.”

“Okay. I pick Amanda.”

She shot invisible poison daggers at him.

“I’m serious, Ben,” Marshall said.

“I am, too. And if we had a viable potential suspect, I’d be the first to put the theory before the jury. But I won’t pick someone at random and trump something up.”

“It could work.”

Ben shook his head. “You’ve been watching too much television.”

“At least give it some thought. How about the junior senator from Oklahoma? He had plenty of motive to want Todd out of the way.”

“I won’t do it,” Ben said emphatically. “Given the way this case is being covered, even the slightest courtroom accusation could destroy someone’s life. It’s a totally unethical tactic.”

Marshall pursed his lips. “You’re sure about this. No Mister X?”

“Not unless it’s a Mister X whom I really believe might’ve done the deed.”

Marshall nodded slowly, then pivoted his chair around and wheeled himself toward the doorway. “Then let’s hope one turns up.”

“Psst!”

Christina looked up and saw Padolino leaning out the hallway door of his office, motioning. “Can you come in for a moment?”

“Ooo-kay.” She stepped inside. He slammed the door quickly behind her. “Is there some reason for the secrecy?”

“Well… I thought it best we not be seen talking together. You know, before the trial is over. Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“That you’re conspiring with the enemy?”

“Something like that. And I didn’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Christina stared at him, at the way he was twitching his fingers, pacing back and forth. He never acted this nervous in the courtroom-or for that matter when he was speaking on national television. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering…” He fidgeted with the edge of his desk. “I wondered if maybe, you know, when this case is over you and I could, like… get a drink together. Or something. I know your boss doesn’t drink. Do you?”

“Absolutely,” she answered. “I’m a fiend for club soda. Are you serious?”

“What? Did I do something wrong? Do I not seem serious? I just thought, maybe, you know, you and I-”

“Is this some sort of psych-out plan? Some dastardly plot to weaken the defense by making advances to opposing counsel?”

“No! Not at all.” He pressed his hands together. “I’ve just been, you know, watching you. I mean, not in a bad way. Just during the case and all. And I thought maybe you and I should get to know each other better.”

Christina’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know whether to believe the man or not. And it didn’t much matter, in any case. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think my boss-who by the way is actually my partner-would appreciate it.”

“But I already asked him.”

Christina froze. “What?”

“I asked him. If it would be all right if I asked you out. I mean, for all I knew there could be something going on between the two of you. Some of my staff thought there was. So I did the honorable thing. I asked him.”

“And he said…”

“He told me to go right ahead. Do whatever I wanted to do.”

“Is that a fact.” Christina turned, careful to keep her face from registering emotion. “Well, in that case-”

The door swung open so fast it almost hit her in the face. Steve Melanfield came barreling through. “Paul! Great news. We-” He saw Christina and stopped. “Oh. Hello.”

“Back at you,” Christina said. “What’s the good news?”

He looked at her, then back at Padolino, then back at her. “What the hell. I suppose it doesn’t matter. Everyone will know soon. My people in Oklahoma City tell me it’s at least ninety percent certain we’re going to have a new senator.”

“Excuse me?” Christina said. “We haven’t lost this case yet.”

He shrugged. “Win or lose, the governor has had it. He’s going to call for Glancy’s resignation. ’Course, Glancy could refuse, but given all that’s been revealed, it puts him in a pretty tough spot.”

“And if Glancy resigns?”

“The governor gets to pick someone to fill out the remainder of his term.”

“And who do you suppose that will be?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. But I know this-the governor owes Kodiak Oil big time. He’ll make sure we’re taken care of. He won’t pick anyone hostile to me.”

“Or me,” said another voice from the hallway. This time it was Oklahoma’s junior senator, Brad Tidwell, and he appeared just as jubilant as Melanfield. “And since I’ll become the senior senator, I think I can arrange to assume most or all of Glancy’s former committee assignments.” He squeezed Melanfield tightly on the shoulder. “Steve, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Alaska or bust!”