The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [95]
“I’m afraid I’m not politically astute enough to understand why.”
“Because it would turn the tide, so to speak. Give the opposition the momentum going into not only the next presidential election but the House and the Senate contests as well. It would have been seen almost as a treasonous gesture by some, a selfish one at the very least. To throw away the power and prestige not only for himself but for his party and candidates for lesser offices as well. It’s the type of thing that simply isn’t done.”
“And you really think Graham would have done this?”
“I don’t think he would have been permitted to do such a thing, even if he’d really wanted to. But I do think that the fact that he even raised the possibility would have made a lot of people very, very nervous.”
“But why would someone come after me now?”
“Well, maybe someone thinks it could sour Graham’s chances at the presidency. That maybe the affair and the truth of your parentage might overshadow Graham’s nomination. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe someone doesn’t want anyone to know that Graham had had an affair.”
“Do you think that one of these men—Stinson or Fritz or whomever—was involved in Blythe’s death?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll be looking up Mr. Stinson tomorrow and we’ll see what he has to say about the matter. If nothing else, crossing his name off only makes the list shorter. And besides, who knows what I might learn from him?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Well, you two certainly made a day of it.” Jude stood in the open doorway, her hands on her hips, her expression peevish. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“Sorry, Mom, I really didn’t think we’d be this late. As I told you when I called, something came up that took a little more time than we’d expected, and then, on the way back, we were hungry and decided to stop for dinner—”
“And are you going to tell us just what it was that came up?” Jude frowned.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Jude, at least let them get into the house before you start grilling them!” Betsy called from somewhere behind the half-opened door. “And for the record, I wasn’t worried. I figured that Simon would take good care of you.”
“Thank you, Betsy.” Dina gave Jude a perfunctory peck on the cheek as she winked at Betsy.
“Don’t mention it.” Betsy pushed the door closed after Simon came through it. “Now, I trust you have the tape?”
“I have a tape, yes.” Simon took it from his pocket and held it up. “Unfortunately, someone else has one as well.”
“Who someone else?” Betsy turned halfway around in her chair.
“Someone broke into Simon’s house,” Dina announced, “we think last night, while he was here, and stole his laptop along with a disk that held his notes. They also took the copy that he’d made of the tape.”
The two older women fell silent, the ticking of the grandfather clock there in the hallway filling the void.
At last Jude said, “But that means that someone else . . .”
“Yes.” Simon nodded grimly. “Someone else knows what Miles told me. I’m sorry, Jude. I never expected this to happen.”
“Who knew about it?”
“The only person I told was Norton. And he swears he did not take it.” Simon told Betsy and Jude about the stop at the professor’s home. “He also claims not to have told anyone about it.”
“Do you believe him?” Betsy asked.
“I think I do.”
“What are we going to do now?” Jude looked from Simon to Dina and back again.
“First, we’re going to sit down in the study and have a brandy,” Betsy announced. “Then we’re going to see if we can develop a game plan.”
“While you pour”—Simon put a hand on the back of Betsy’s chair—“I have a call to make. Do you mind if I use your phone?”
“Go right ahead. There’s one on the desk in the hall,” she offered.
“Were you able to find that number for your old buddy Stinson?” Simon asked when the professor picked up.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” Norton chuckled. “Yes. I have it right here. I was just about to call Dina’s cell phone. Now, do you have a pen?”
“Just a minute.” Simon searched