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By Root 759 0

that the primary wasn’t in the bag. Everyone had some skeletons in their closet. Sheryl Browne couldn’t possibly be as squeaky clean as she came off. She had been in college during the sixties, for shit’s sake. While long-ago drug use wouldn’t damage her, if she had hit someone while drunk driving or high . . . or had an affair with a married man . . . and what about her ex-husband? What had happened there? And if not that, what about her current husband? He’d made his money in the dot-com boom and sold out before it fell apart. He was ten years younger than the bitch. What was up with that? If Harper found out he was cheating on the bitch . . . no, that might generate sympathy for her. What about her public record? She’d been on the board of supervisors of some small central valley county, and Jeffrey knew there were many opportunities to put your hand in the wrong pies. He’d done it. It was just a matter of being careful and finding the right people . . .

Dammit. He’d paid for an opposition report and nothing juicy was in it. They hadn’t looked deep enough. Everyone had a scandal in the past. Even that perfect bitch.

Barring that, there was always the October Surprise technique. Or, in this case, the May Surprise.

He would have someone come forward against Sheryl Browne. Tell the voters she was a two-faced corrupt bitch. It didn’t have to be true, it would only need to generate enough doubt about her. It would leak late on the Friday before election day so Browne didn’t have time to respond. It would be all over the Sunday papers, the Internet, the news.

Now that Jeffrey had a plan, he felt much better.

He also needed a plan to deal with the crap going on back home in Sacramento.

Jeffrey had been the one to come up with the blackmail plan so that he, Hamilton, and Richie wouldn’t get their hands dirty. It had also been his idea to take Chase Taverton out, and who had thought about the court archives? Jeffrey, of course. Not that there was anything incriminating in the transcripts. But if someone dug deep enough, they might connect Hamilton to the mole in O’Brien’s legal team, which would open up scrutiny regarding the pretrial motions. And if the case was under serious investigation, the falsified coroner’s report would be discovered, and the lab tech Harper blackmailed might decide the fact that he solicited underage prostitutes wasn’t worth keeping secret any longer.

Maddox was settled, and now Claire O’Brien needed to be dealt with. Just like Jeffrey had dealt with Rose Van Alden, which had unfortunately led to Chase Taverton needing to die ten years later.

Jeffrey had been to her house before, using his charm to entice her to sell. Richie called her the psycho cat lady. Hamilton was disgusted by the clutter and stacks of newspapers and magazines along every wall. Jeffrey just wanted the deal to go through. They needed the money from this development, and the old bitch wouldn’t sell.

Without the Van Alden property, the entire deal would fall apart and they’d be out millions. They wouldn’t recover for years. And some of the investors would take it out on them. But with the property, they were set for good. The money they’d make would launch their careers.

He’d attempted to charm, plead with, cajole Van Alden into selling. He hadn’t wanted to kill her. He’d always gotten what he wanted when he wanted it because of his charisma and good looks. None of it worked on the old lady. Jeffrey hated to fail. Failure was, simply, never an option.

So she had to die.

Rose Van Alden was a small woman. She looked like a gray, wrinkled child when she slept. Her mouth was open and she snored lightly. She slept on her back, which made the job easier. They didn’t want a struggle that could potentially leave suspicious marks on the body.

Jeffrey had the clear plastic garbage bag in his hands. Hamilton had come with him to hold the blankets down in case she tried to fight. Fighting would leave marks that might lead the police down the wrong path.

Jeffrey leaned over the body and placed the plastic over her face, holding it