Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [105]
Polly ignored him and went down the stairs and out the door, with Neil close behind. “If you won’t take me to Marlene’s place, I’ll go myself,” she said.
“All right,” he said.
They said little on the drive. Polly rang Marlene’s doorbell. Marlene answered. She was dressed in a designer set of pink sweatpants and sweatshirt with small green-and-yellow birds embroidered on the shirt.
“Hello, Polly,” she said pleasantly. “What a nice surprise.” She looked past her niece to where Neil stood. “And Neil, too. This must be my lucky day. Come in, come in. I have iced tea and lemonade and—”
“Aunt Marlene,” Neil said, “why were you at Mom’s house today?”
Marlene’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I haven’t been at Jeannette’s house since—” She pressed her hand against her lips and said, “Since that dreadful day.”
Neil stepped forward. “Marlene,” he said, “I was there. I saw you in Mom’s bedroom and—”
“I have never heard such an outlandish thing,” Marlene said, a smile returning to her heavily made-up face. “All this heat must be having a bad effect on you. Now, you two come in and enjoy the cool and a nice cold drink.”
“We can’t,” Neil said. “We have to go. I have an appointment.”
“Well, now, this is certainly strange,” Marlene said, “stoppin’ by this way and not bein’ gracious enough to accept my hospitality.” She’d slipped into her southern belle mode.
“Neil is right, Aunt Marlene,” Polly said. “We just wanted to say hello and make sure you’re all right.”
“Ah’ve never been better, you two sillies. Come back when you have some time to spend with your aunt Marlene. Ah insist.”
Neil drove Polly to the Hotel George. “I have to go see Dad,” he said. “He’ll be angry that I’m late. I wasn’t imagining that Marlene was there, Polly.”
“I believe you, Neil,” Polly said. “But that doesn’t mean she killed anyone.”
“I’ll be back by two,” he said, and drove off.
• • •
Rotondi finished lunch at the Blue Duck Tavern in the recently renovated Park Hyatt hotel and dialed Mac Smith’s number.
“Mac, Phil Rotondi here. Have you had a chance to ask Jonell about the envelope he delivered?”
“No, but he’s here, just arrived.” He put Jonell on the line.
“Hello, Jonell. I need something from you.”
“Anything,” Jonell said. “Mac tells me you’re working with him on my behalf.”
“Not much I can contribute, but I’m trying. Jonell, that envelope you delivered the day of the murder. Can you describe it to me?”
“Sure. Eight-by-ten, manila with a clasp. Rick Marshalk wrote the senator’s name on it in big purple letters.”
“Purple letters?”
Jonell laughed. “Yeah, it’s one of Rick’s many idiosyncrasies. He’s always writing things with a purple Flair. He’s flamboyant that way.”
“Okay, thanks. Hope your afternoon goes well.”
“I’m in good hands,” Marbury said. “The best.”
• • •
Neil arrived at the Hotel George fifteen minutes late. “Sorry,” he said. “Dad was tied up and—”
“No problem,” Rotondi said.
“I can’t stay long,” Neil said.
“Go ahead, Neil,” Polly said. “Tell Phil about Aunt Marlene.”
Rotondi listened as Neil recounted his confrontation with Marlene in Jeannette’s bedroom. When he was through, Rotondi said, “It’s not news that Marlene has mental problems, Neil, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into her being a killer.”
“That’s what I said,” Polly chimed in.
“I know that,” said Neil, “and I know you both view Marlene as being a harmless kook, but as far as I’m concerned she’s crazy enough to do anything. Look, I have to go. Polly wanted to run this past you, Phil, and get your advice on what to do with it.”
“My advice?” said Rotondi. “What do you think should be done, Neil?”
“I want to go to the police and at least make them aware of the possibility that Marlene killed Mom.”
Neil looked to Polly, and then to Rotondi.
“Sure,” Rotondi said. “Go to MPD and give them the benefit of your thinking. But don’t expect anything to come out of it. Aside from Marlene’s aberrant behavior, there isn’t one iota of evidence pointing to her as your mother’s murderer.”
Neil was aware that