Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [42]
“Hey, buddy, that’s what I’m here for.” He walked him to the door. “Call that rock promoter in New York and make sure everything’s on schedule. Free for lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Morton’s. My treat.”
In his office, Jonell read that morning’s paper. The Simmons murder was still page-one news, as expected. Most of the lead article was a rehash of what had been written in previous editions, with a healthy dollop of rumor and innuendo thrown in for spice. He was pondering the conversation he’d just had with Marshalk when a woman knocked on the door and opened it.
“Hey, Camelia,” Marbury said. “How goes it?”
“It goes okay,” she said, plopping in a chair. “You?”
“So-so. I was just reading the latest about the murder.”
“Poor Neil. He seems lost.”
“To be expected. He and his mom were close. So, all ready for your farewell bash?”
“I think so.”
Camelia Watson had resigned from the Marshalk Group after two years. Before becoming a lobbyist, she’d worked at the Justice Department in its governmental oversight department. While there, she had developed close relationships with myriad top officials in Congress and in a variety of federal agencies. Her relationship with them was what had attracted Rick Marshalk, and he’d aggressively pursued her to come to work for him, dangling a series of large salaries and bonuses until she’d succumbed. While she enjoyed the money and lifestyle it afforded her, she’d never found her comfort zone lobbying former friends in Congress and at various agencies, and finally decided to return to her old job at Justice—if they’d have her. They didn’t hesitate: “Welcome back, Camelia.” She was that good.
Marshalk had been unhappy when Camelia turned in her resignation, and tried to entice her to stay. She resisted. The more he persevered, the more she grew resentful of his attitude that he could buy anything, including her. While she’d kept her mood upbeat throughout the process of leaving, her disenchantment with Marshalk and the firm had become increasingly pervasive, and she often confided her negative feelings to Jonell. He served as her sounding board and confidant, their bonding enhanced by their African American roots.
His relationship with Camelia had caused occasional bouts of jealousy with Marla, who saw Camelia as a romantic threat. Both women were extremely attractive, but in different ways. Marla was fashion-conscious, her tastes running to designer clothing and spa treatments, which Jonell sometimes kidded her about—“Pretty highfalutin for somebody working at a leading agency for social change and justice like the Urban League,” he would say, but not too often. To which she would reply, “Working nonprofit doesn’t mean taking a vow of poverty.” Interest from a modest trust created for her by her father, a deceased Atlanta physician, provided her “play money” with which to indulge some of her whims.
Camelia Watson, on the other hand, lived a simpler lifestyle despite the lofty salary Marshalk had been paying her. She was no less attractive than Marla, just packaged differently. Her understated sexiness appealed to Jonell, including—especially—the oversize, round, red-framed eyeglasses she wore. He’d told her he thought the glasses were sexy, and she’d made it known, subtly, of course, that she wouldn’t have minded a romantic relationship with him. But it never went beyond that sort of office flirtation. Jonell might have lusted for her, but only, as a former president of the United States once famously said, in his heart.
Her face turned serious.
“Something wrong?” Jonell asked.
“It’s Marshalk. He insisted on taking me to dinner last night and—”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing wrong with going to dinner with your boss. It’s what he said that bothers me.”
“I’m listening.”
“He—he basically threatened me, Jonell.”
“Threatened you? With what?”
“About what I’ve learned about Marshalk Group since I’ve been here. He’s afraid that by going back to work at Justice, I might use my inside knowledge of how things work here to bring some sort of legal action against him and the firm.