Murder on K Street - Margaret Truman [93]
Like everyone else in the room, Rotondi found himself at times swept up in his friend’s oratory. But now and again he would remember the file of destructive information sitting in a drawer in his suite, concealed beneath shorts and socks. His conversation with Kala Whitson had put things in better perspective for him. According to her, the Justice Department was poised to come down on the Marshalk Group, and by extension his friend the Illinois senator. There was nothing he could do to head that off; nor was he sure he would if he could. Obviously, he could share what he had with Simmons and at least give him a heads-up, providing him some time to plan a counteroffensive. But there was more than a few people’s political future at stake.
There was Jeannette’s murder.
What part did the package of material Jeannette received from Joey Silva, “the weasel,” play in her murder? Rotondi had been grappling with that question since the day she was killed. Who would be hurt the most should that information become public? The choices were easy. Her husband, certainly. Rick Marshalk and his lobbying firm. Neil Simmons.
The next question was: Who knew Jeannette had come into possession of the photos and documents? According to her, she hadn’t told her husband, but had intended to talk with Neil about it. Which didn’t mean that the senator didn’t know. It was conceivable that his son had brought it up with him, or that Jeannette had done the same but chose to not tell him, Rotondi, that she had. Too, mobsters behind the laundering of money through Marshalk and one of its eventual recipients, Senator Lyle Simmons, had executed Joey Silva because of his double-dealing. They certainly had reason to make sure Jeannette never had a chance to reveal the material about their connection with her husband and the Marshalk Group. Had they dispatched someone to silence her? The more Rotondi thought about it, the more plausible it became.
He joined Simmons and his two staff members in the limo for the ride back to the Ambassador East. McBride and Markowicz were, of course, generous in their praise of the boss’s performance that night.
“What did you think, Phil?” Simmons asked.
Rotondi smiled. “You were great, Senator. Not good but great.”
Simmons suggested getting together for a nightcap but Rotondi declined. They were scheduled to fly back at seven in the morning, and his leg had been particularly bothersome that night. He stripped down to his shorts and turned on the TV. After a few local stories, the anchor shifted to Washington:
“We’ve just learned that the police investigating the murder of the wife of senior Illinois senator Lyle Simmons have come up with what an anonymous source says is a ‘major development in the case.’ Senator Simmons was here in Chicago tonight addressing a fund-raising dinner. In an unrelated story, we have learned that Simmons spent this afternoon huddled with political advisers about his expected candidacy for president. A spokesman for the senator, his press secretary Peter Markowicz, denied that the meeting was for that purpose. In other news—”
Rotondi called Emma, who’d just returned from that evening’s job.
“How’s it going?” she asked before he could pose a question.
“Here? Fine. Hey, I just heard on TV that the police are announcing some sort of news about Jeannette’s murder.”
“I heard that, too, but I don’t know any more than you do. Hold on a sec. There’s a message on my machine.”
Her answering machine sat next to the phone, and he could hear the incoming voice: “This is Mac Smith, Emma. I know that Phil is in Chicago with the senator, but it’s important that I speak with him.