Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [5]
Simmons rejoined his son and McBride. Neil was attempting to look into the foyer past one officer stationed at the front door but without success. An assistant medical examiner arrived and began to take charge of Jeannette Simmons’s body. The press, now numbering in the dozens, shouted questions from where they were sequestered.
“I wish they’d take her away,” the senator said in a low voice to Neil and McBride. “This is becoming a circus.”
“What did he ask you?” Neil asked his father.
“What time I got home. He’s an unpleasant little bastard.”
He’d no sooner said the words than Chang reappeared and said to Neil, “A word with you, please, sir.”
Neil looked to his father, who said with a nod, “Go on, Neil.”
After Neil and Chang had retreated to the area shielded by trees and shrubs, Simmons turned to McBride. “Why won’t they let me back inside?”
“Just as well that you stay out here, Senator, until they’ve finished up what they’re doing. It will take awhile.”
“Before they bring her out, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“How could this have happened?” the senator asked no one in particular. “Who would have wanted to kill her?”
McBride didn’t have an immediate answer to either question. “Some sicko,” he finally offered.
“Yes, a sicko. I can’t stay here tonight.”
“You’ll stay with Neil?”
He replied quickly. “No. Get me a suite at the Mayflower or the Willard.”
McBride stepped away to place a cell phone call as Chang returned with Neil Simmons.
“He wants a statement from me, where I’ve been all night, things like that,” said Neil. “You’d think I killed Mom.”
Now Neil was able to see into the foyer at his mother’s lifeless body. He turned away from the sight. What sounded like a gurgle came from his throat.
“I’ll need to pack,” the senator told Detective Chang.
“I’m afraid you cannot enter the house, sir, while my investigation is in progress.”
“How long will that be?”
“Overnight.”
“You can’t expect me to—”
“The Willard, Senator,” McBride announced, snapping shut his phone.
“I’ll need a change of clothes, damn it!” Simmons snapped at Chang. “I have a day of important meetings ahead of me and—”
Hard stares from Chang and McBride stopped Simmons. He spoke more softly now. “I would appreciate it, Detective, if I could pack a bag for the night.”
“I will see what can be arranged,” Chang said, and left.
Markowicz broke away from the press contingent, which had continued to grow in size, and came to the front steps of the house. “I’ve got to tell them something, Senator.”
“I can say that—”
“No, sir. A statement from you at this time would be viewed as inappropriate.”
“Is anything appropriate at a time like this?”
“There’ll be tremendous sympathy for you, Senator. No one, including the media, will be critical of you for not saying anything. I’ve formulated something in my mind. I can issue a statement that comes from you.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’ll keep it short. Here’s what I intend to say.” He spoke the words into Simmons’s ear. The senator nodded.
Chang returned. “Senator Simmons?”
“What?”
“If you wish to pack a suitcase, I will escort you inside.”
“I don’t need an escort into my own home.”
Silence from the others mitigated Simmons’s tone. “All right,” he said. He told McBride to call Phil Rotondi on his cell phone. “He’s on his way from the shore. Tell him I’ll be at the Willard and to come directly there.”
“I’ll come in with you,” Neil said.
“I’m afraid not, sir,” Chang said.
The detective and the senator entered the foyer, where a temporary sheet had been placed over Jeannette Simmons. Evidence technicians who’d joined the flow of people into the house took still photographs, along with a video of the crime scene. Chang led Simmons on a wide path around them to the foot of the stairs. “Upstairs, sir?” he said.
“Yes.”
Chang followed Simmons down a long hallway and into a huge master bedroom.
“I must ask you to not touch anything aside from the items you choose to take with you,” Chang said.
“Yeah, sure,” Simmons muttered. He opened one of many