Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [36]
Of the twelve guests at the dinner table, the attorney general of the United States was the most prominent, at least in terms of government rank. “Delighted you agreed to join the commission, Mac,” he said, referring to a task force established by Justice to study proposed new legislation affecting sentencing guidelines. Smith knew that his inclusion in the group was a tip of the hat to creating a nonpartisan look to the commission; he’d not made a secret of his dissatisfaction with the Jamison administration.
“The ramifications of the legislation are substantial,” Smith said. “It could dramatically change the legal system.”
“And as far as you’re concerned, not for the better I take it,” the AG commented lightly.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Smith said. “We still have testimony to get through.”
A law professor from Georgetown University, an acknowledged Jamison supporter, weighed in with his views on the proposed legislation, his stance at odds with the way Smith saw things. Smith turned to Annabel and said, “Wonderful dinner.”
“Superb,” she said, understanding his need to shift conversational gears. She lightly placed her hand on his.
Mitzi Cardell occupied the seat at the head of the table. It was no surprise to anyone that her husband, the “man of the house,” hadn’t been assigned that seat. Although Mitzi’s wealth was the result of her husband’s financial success, she ran the show when it came to dinner parties. That she was the first lady’s closest friend only added to her clout.
Along with being well connected in Washington, Mitzi Cardell was an extremely attractive woman who turned heads wherever she went, with soft blond hair always perfectly coiffed, a slender figure that wore designer clothes well (she was on Washingtonian Magazine’s best-dressed list every season), and a politician’s penchant for saying the right thing and smiling at the right time. There were those who resented her wealth and position, who viewed her marriage to the older John Muszinski as representing gold digging at its finest. But those comments were always whispered, by those who vied to be elevated to inclusion on her guest lists.
“How is Mrs. Jamison?” Annabel asked.
“She’s terrific!” Mitzi replied. “She’ll go down in history as the most effective first lady ever.”
Mac Smith silently considered that a gross overstatement, but others at the table heartily agreed with their hostess’s assessment.
Following dinner, Mitzi announced that cordials would be served in the library. As everyone left the table, a housekeeper came to her and said that she had a call. “Be a dear and take it,” she said to her husband, who nodded and disappeared into another room.
“So, Mac, how’s the tennis game?” a congressman asked after their drinks had been served.
“Slow,” Mac said. “My knee keeps acting up.”
“But he never uses it as an excuse when I beat him,” Annabel said. “He’s still tough on the court, although I let him win now and then.”
“A wise wife,” the congressman agreed. “Can you believe this weather? In all my years in Washington I’ve never seen it so cool at this time of year.”
“I’m sure the president will take credit for it,” Smith said.
“As well he should,” the congressman said, laughing.
Smith just smiled.
Mitzi asked Annabel, “Looking forward to Jeanine’s tea?”
“Very much,” Annabel said. “I’m eager to see the redecorating she’s done at the White House.”
“You’ll love it,” Mitzi said. “She has such wonderful taste—in everything.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Smith sneaked a look at his watch and said quietly to his wife, “Time to be going.”
Mitzi had already decided the same thing and smoothly indicated that the party was over. She and her husband stood at the door and said good night to their guests. When the last one had gone, and after checking on the cleanup being performed by the household staff, they retired to their bedroom, where she sat at a dressing table removing her makeup while John changed into pajamas and a robe.
“Your father called,” John said.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s