Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [59]
“You know I’m not very good at that,” he said.
“Oh, come on, Phil. Please?”
They took to the floor and moved stiffly. The feel of her against him was exquisite, and his thoughts raced back to those times when they’d been intimate.
“Thank you, Phil,” she said into his ear.
“For what?”
“For being here. I know it’s not easy.”
“It’s not hard, Jeannette. Your folks and friends are nice people. I’m having a good time.”
“That may be,” she said, “but I’m sure that if I—”
“I’m happy for you and Lyle,” he said, cutting off what he knew she was about to say. “I just hope we can stay in touch.”
“You bet we will, Phil. Count on it.”
She kissed him lightly on the lips as Lyle cut in and swept her away.
• • •
They did stay in touch. Rotondi graduated at the top of his class from Maryland’s law school, and Simmons received his law degree from the University of Chicago. The announcement of the birth of Lyle and Jeannette’s first child, a baby boy they named Neil, arrived in the mail, followed by a phone call. And there were other announcements from the Simmons household, most having to do with Lyle’s rise through the Chicago and state political ranks, as well as news of the birth of their second child, a girl named Polly.
Rotondi settled into the U.S. attorney’s office in Baltimore and eventually sent out a personal announcement of his own, of his marriage to Kathleen. Simmons’s election to the U.S. House of Representatives brought the family to Washington, close to Baltimore where Phil and Kathleen lived, affording the couples time to get together on a regular basis, parties at Simmons’s D.C. home, occasional weekends away, and dinners at favored restaurants. Phil had never told Kathleen about his college romance with Jeannette Boynton and how it ended, concerned that it might taint her view of Lyle and Jeannette. His continuing friendship with the rising political star and his family was important to him. But his reluctance to share with his wife that portion of his life also had to do, he knew, with not wanting to have to answer what would undoubtedly be her first question: Why would you want to remain friends with someone who did that to you? Although he didn’t have to answer that question for her, he silently knew the truth. His friendship with Lyle Simmons was based, in large part, on his fascination with the man. He enjoyed being close to an increasingly powerful figure without having been sucked into his vortex, able to stand aside and observe, offer advice and not give a damn whether it was taken or not. All of this was selfish, of course, including the reflected importance he felt as the one to whom members of the powerful man’s family frequently turned.
Better that Kathleen not have reason to raise that question than have to honestly admit to those weaknesses.
• • •
“A refill?” the bartender asked Rotondi.
“What? Oh, no, thanks. Time I was going.”
He’d paid his tab and was on his way out the door when his cell phone rang. It was Lyle.
“Phil. Glad I reached you. I’m on my way to the Willard to meet with the detectives. I arranged for a suite.”
They won’t be impressed, Rotondi thought.
“Can you meet me there, Phil?”
“They won’t want me in on the interview, Lyle.”
“After they’re done. The medical examiner is releasing Jeannette’s body. We need to plan a memorial service. I told Neil to call Saint John’s Episcopal on Lafayette Park.”
St. John’s Episcopal, Rotondi thought. The Church of the Presidents. Every U.S. president since James Madison had attended services there; Pew 54 was reserved as the “President’s Pew.” Jeannette was never particularly religious, but when she did attend church services, Rotondi knew, it