Murder at Union Station - Margaret Truman [91]
“But Rich can testify to the book being true, Geoff.”
“Jesus, you still don’t get it, do you?” he said, repeating what had become a mantra that early morning. “Read my lips, Ellen. The Dems will destroy Rich and his credibility. Widmer made it plain to me last night that unless we have Russo’s own voice implicating Parmele in the Eliana assassination, there’ll be no hearing.”
“Maybe that’s just as well.”
“No, Ellen, Widmer’s not saying he’s willing to call off the hearing unless we find Rich and the tapes. What he is saying is that if he has to call off the hearings because I fell on my face, I can kiss my job goodbye. So can you.”
Lowe wasn’t aware as he uttered this threat that losing her job with Senator Widmer wasn’t an unpleasant idea for Ellen at that moment. She’d considered resigning for weeks, not only from her job with the senator, but from her relationship with Lowe, too. She’d discussed quitting with her father, a former mid-level corporate executive who’d been downsized out of his job and was currently selling cars to make ends meet. His advice: “Never leave one job until you’ve landed another, Ellen.” His words made sense, but did the same wisdom apply to leaving boyfriends? Looking for a new job while accepting a paycheck from a current employer smacked of disloyalty, although it was done all the time. Shopping for a new boyfriend while sharing a bed with the current one didn’t sound any more admirable.
What’s a girl to do?
Lowe left the bed and stood in the center of the room, hands on hips, jaw jutting out, a commander about to launch his troops into battle. His pillow-disheveled hair and frayed yellow terrycloth bathrobe detracted from the image.
“Look, Ellen, here’s what we do. I’m going to take another crack at Mac Smith. There’s no sense in me trying to get through to Kathryn. She sounds like a broken record: ‘Rich is off on a research project and I don’t know how to reach him, etc., etc.’ Yeah, right! I never liked her. What Rich ever saw in her is beyond me. She’s dumb as hell. But maybe she’ll open up to you, huh? Woman to woman. Get hold of her and tell her Rich’s life is in danger. Tell her that all we want is to keep him safe and at the same time help him promote his book. She’s obviously nuts about him, although why I don’t know. What a pair. You tell Kathryn that the best thing she and Rich can do is to give you the tapes and notes and whatever else he has.” He stepped toward the bed, as though what he’d just said was an especially intelligent breakthrough. “That’s it. Tell Kathryn that once we have the tapes and stuff, it’ll be out in the open and Rich won’t have to worry anymore. Who do they think they’re kidding with him hiding out? He’s not on any goddamn research trip. He figures if he’s not available for the hearings, they’ll be canceled and he’s off the hook. That means you and I are on the hook, Ellen, big-time, strung up by Widmer and left to dry.”
Ellen swung her long, shapely legs off the bed and shook her tangled mass of carrot-red hair. She wore a short pale blue nightgown. Lowe plopped down next to her and began to knead her neck. “You can do it, baby. I know you can. Get her at work or the apartment, wherever you can. Come off sweet and caring—like you are naturally.” He grinned and pressed her neck harder to reinforce his words.
“Easy,” she said, pulling away, standing, stretching and heading for the bathroom.
Lowe went to the window and looked out. The rain continued to fall, hard and wind-driven. He’d pull this off. He had to pull it off. Once it was over, maybe it was time to move on, use the leverage of his position with Widmer to land a bigger and better job on the Hill. Hell, once Parmele lost his bid for a second term and a Republican was in the White House, there might be a spot there for Geoff Lowe. The new president would know it was the Widmer hearings that brought down Parmele, and that Geoff Lowe was the brains behind it.
He’d been pursuing a dream of having political clout since high school, where he was elected senior class president, not an especially