William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

Christina’s eyes brightened.

“And I’m not just talking about your win-loss record, although that’s pretty damn impressive. I’m talking about your personal reputation. I talked to folks, and what I got over and over was that Ben Kincaid was a man with integrity. A man who wouldn’t lie to or mislead the court, not even to defend a client. The world’s most square-shooting geek. A veritable saint.”

Ben shuffled his feet. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“I hope not, son. Because a saint is exactly what we need right now. The news media is going to forget all the good Todd has done for the poor, the homeless, battered women, since he came to Washington. They’re going to try to make him out like he’s a devil. And who better to convince them that he’s not-than a saint?”

Ben tugged at his collar. All this beatific talk was making him uncomfortable. He just tried to do his job as well as he could. He was no saint. Heck, once, when he was ten, he stole a comic book from Crest Groceries.

“So,” Christina interjected, “can we see the senator?”

“Of course. You folk need to have a good chin-wag about how he can best defend himself. He’s waiting for you now in one of the Senate cafeterias.”

“Really?” Ben arched an eyebrow. “That must be…”

“Awkward? Not for Todd. Ballsiest man who ever lived. I think he wanted to do it as a test. See who would sit with him, talk to him. And see who was distancing themselves, shunning him, acting as if he’s already been expunged. A senator needs to know who his friends are. Especially in times of crisis.” He pivoted his chair toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

“Oh-let me.” Ben raced around behind the wheelchair to help-but found there were no handles. “Aren’t there usually…”

“Not on my chair, son.”

“I’m surprised they make them-”

“They don’t. This one was custom-built for me. The senator’s wife, Marie, had it designed and paid for it herself. Birthday present, not six months after my accident. Special executive edition. See? A sliding tray I can fold across to use as a desk. A compartment under the armrest for holding documents and files.”

Ben pointed to a recess at the end of the right arm. “Even a cup holder.”

Bressler shook his head. “Cell phone charger.”

“Okay, now I’m impressed. But still-no handles?”

“I don’t need anyone to push me. I push myself.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. Usually-”

“I know, son. But I’ve taken care of myself all my life. Not going to stop now just because of this little accident. Now let’s get to that cafeteria. I think I can smell the bean soup from here.”

H e wasn’t hiding, not at all. Ben had to give him credit for that. To the contrary, Senator Glancy was sitting alone at a table square in the center of the main Senate Dining Room, a linen napkin in his lap, slowly sipping a drink. It would be virtually impossible for anyone to pass through the room without seeing him, and, as Ben watched, several men he recognized as fellow senators did come by and pause briefly to smile, say a few words of encouragement, slap Glancy on the back. But none of the women, Ben noticed. None of the women in the room came within three tables of him.

“Let me introduce you,” Bressler said, as he wheeled his way through the maze of tables to the senator. “Todd,” he announced, “your legal eagles have arrived.”

Glancy immediately sprang to his feet, his hand outstretched. “Ben! Great to see you again. How long has it been?”

“Well… a long time.”

“Too damn long. Particularly given all the good work you’ve been doing.” He shifted his gaze. “You must be Christina McCall.”

She nodded and took his hand, wincing slightly at the grip. “Good to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Ben told me he was bringing his partner. He didn’t tell me she was a beauty.”

Christina’s lips parted, but she remained silent, nonplussed.

“I hope you don’t mind me being blunt. I know we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about such things these days. Don’t want to be accused of being sexist. Or worse, get slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit. Which is why I’ve asked you to come here.” He glanced down at his administrative assistant. “Marsh, will you join us for lunch?”

“Are you kidding? With all the pandemonium upstairs? I’ll grab a Snickers bar on my way back to the office.” He swiveled his wheelchair around and headed out.

“Great guy,” Glancy said, as soon as Bressler was out of earshot.

“Certainly seems like an asset,” Ben commented.

“You don’t know the half of it. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. Brilliant strategist. Like one of those chess players who can anticipate what’s going to happen six moves ahead. And so loyal. He’s always stuck by me-even after his accident. His legs are paralyzed.”

“Permanently?”

“I’m afraid so. He tried physical therapy-I went to the sessions with him myself. Didn’t take. He’ll never walk again. And yet, he’s never let it get to him. Never complained, never indulged in self-pity. He works out regularly-he’s very fit from the waist up. You might wonder why he bothers. Well, I’ll tell you why-because this is a man determined to take care of himself. The epitome of self-reliance. Never married, never even dated, as far as I know. And given his current physical condition, probably never will. But he’s still the most productive person I’ve ever met.”

“What a profile in courage,” Christina said. “No wonder you’ve kept him all these years.”

“I’d do anything for the man. Anything at all. But enough about Marsh. How the hell are you, Ben?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Your mom still in that huge mansion in Nichols Hills?”

“Oh yeah. She’ll never move.”

“My folks are the same way. Jesus-how long has it been-ten, twelve years?”

“Something like that. Since law school.”

“Right. How come we didn’t hang out together more?”

Ben shrugged uncomfortably. “Oh… I suppose we just traveled in different circles.”

“Yeah, like you were in the ‘make-good-grades’ circle and I was in the ‘party-down-pretty-mama’ circle.”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“You were on law review, weren’t you? And you won the big Moot Court competition?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You did all that while I was schmoozing profs and local politicians. My dad wanted me to take over his oil empire, of course, and I did for a while. But I always had my sights on the political arena.” He snapped his fingers. “Didn’t we intern at the DA’s office at the same time? You worked with Jack Bullock.”

“Yes. But I… left early.”

“Right, I remember. Your father passed on. That must’ve been tough.”

Glancy obviously didn’t know or didn’t remember the half of what had really happened, and that was fine with Ben. “It was. But I moved on. And you launched that crusade to stiffen the sentences for domestic abuse. Launched your political career while you were still an intern. Not even out of law school.”

“I was very fortunate. Everything just fell into place. I’ve been lucky-I know that. Until now, anyway.”

The assistant restaurant manager appeared with a pen and order pad. “Three for lunch, Senator?”

“Exactly, Jonathan. What delectable viands have you got for us?”

“It’s Hawaii Day, sir.”

Glancy turned to Ben and explained. “Here in the Senate Dining Room, the menu is based on the food of a chosen state. Different state each day. They rotate through all fifty of them, then start over again. Equal time for every senator.” He turned back toward the manager. “Good God, I hope this doesn’t mean we have to eat poi.”