Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [72]
“How much money is this guy after?”
“I don’t know. That’s what’s strange about this, Mac. Jeannette never heard from him again. I kept in touch with her by phone almost every day during the period between when she gave me the material and her murder.”
“Not a very efficient blackmailer.”
“Most criminals aren’t that smart.”
“Why did she give the material to you?” Smith asked.
“She wanted my take on it. Her main concern was Neil and what might happen to him if this information ever became public. She spoke with him about it a couple of weeks before the murder.”
“What was his reaction?”
“According to her, he wanted to think about it. Last I heard, he hadn’t brought it up again. He might have chalked it up to his mother’s drinking.”
“And the senator?”
“Jeannette claimed she hadn’t told him about the stuff from Chicago, but did tell him she wanted a divorce. She was really conflicted, Mac. On the one hand, she wanted to protect her son, and she’s not out to destroy her husband. I know—knew her pretty well. She’d become very vulnerable the past few years. I think she just wanted to bury her head in the sand and hope it would all go away. If Neil resigned from Marshalk, he’d be in a lot better position when and if the walls came tumbling down around him. As for the senator, he’d just have to accept the fact that he screwed up big-time and find another profession, provided he avoided doing time in some federal pen. She wasn’t a vindictive woman, Mac. She just wanted out for herself and her family, and didn’t know the best way to get there.”
Smith grunted and looked up into the tree, squinting against the flickering sunlight. “No way to trace the package she got?” he asked.
“I’m working on it. I have a friend in Chicago who’s checking with FedEx. I’m flying out there tomorrow with the senator. I’ll catch up with my friend in person while I’m there.”
Mac’s expression was thoughtful.
“So, Counselor,” Rotondi said, “the question I have for you is, What do I do with this information? It could have direct bearing on Jeannette’s murder.”
“Not much choice, Phil. Go to the police with it.”
“And take down one of the most powerful members of the Senate and a possible future president, to say nothing of a close friend? I can’t do that, at least not yet. I’m conflicted, too, Mac. Don’t get me wrong. If Lyle Simmons’s shabby dealings had anything to do with Jeannette’s murder, I want him, and anyone else involved, to pay. I spent my professional career committed to that.”
“All right then,” Smith said, “confront the senator and his son. Convince Neil to walk away from Marshalk and be ready to cooperate with the authorities should this thing become public.”
“Good advice, except that maybe it won’t become public.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Jeannette never heard again from the guy in Chicago. Makes me wonder if he’s decided to drop it.”
“But can you afford to take that chance, Phil? It seems to me that what you have to do is get out from being in the middle. Wanting to preserve a family’s reputation, which includes a leading political figure, is admirable. But there’s a limit.”
Rotondi started to say something, but Smith cut him off with, “And there’s the law.”
Rotondi nodded, his lips pressed together, eyes narrowed. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’ll give it a day and see what I can come up with in Chicago.”
“Don’t wait much longer than that, Phil,” Smith said, standing. “This is the sort of situation in which the stakes get bigger every hour.”
They left the park and started up the street.
“By the way, I tried to reach Jonell Marbury,” Smith said, “but got his voice mail. I assume he’ll get back to me this afternoon.”
“Emma is catering a going-away party for Marshalk this evening.”
“Who’s leaving?”
“I don’t