Deadly Politics by Maggie Sefton

Author:Maggie Sefton [Sefton, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, soft-boiled, politics, congress, maggie sefton
Publisher: Llewellyn
Published: 2012-06-30T14:00:00+00:00

Nine

Ryan approached with a tray of wicked appetizers. “Get away from me with those things, Ryan. They’re lethal.” I shooed him with my free hand, before sipping my Sauvignon Blanc.

“Oh, but they’re small, Molly,” he tempted anyway.

I kept shooing. “Begone, before I snack again.” This was the last time I would take Albert up on his suggestion to sample the caterer’s fare for dinner. They had the most deadly array of calories and cholesterol spread out in the kitchen that I’d seen in quite a while. Deep Southern specialities, miniaturized. Cajun treats were dotted here and there to spice things up. I’d inhaled several of them before I caught myself.

Sipping my wine, I strolled down the hallway, away from the clusters of congressman and aides, staffers and hangers-on. I’d already done my conversational duty for the evening and then some. Peter had emailed that he and the senator would be delayed, so I reported for duty early, ready to meet the eager politicos. Sure enough, six of them showed up early, standing on the mansion doorstep. Luisa shepherded them my way, and I took over. First, I paraded them past tables laden with scrumptious delights, then I took them to the bar. Get them happy and well fed. That was my strategy.

More congressmen and spouses had trickled in, and I renewed old acquaintances while making new ones. The senator, bless him, was only a few minutes tardy and made everyone forget with his booming laugh and tirade on D.C. traffic. By the time Peter made an appearance, I’d chatted my way through seven states, discussed off-shore drilling with two Louisiana freshmen over étouffée appetizers, debated the pros and cons of state gambling casinos with an old friend from Tennessee, commiserated with a Florida representative about the current real estate insanity, and celebrated Georgetown’s showing in the NCAA Sweet Sixteen last month with a fellow alumnus. I’d had to tap dance around that one. Chaos had taken over in early March, and basketball never even got on my radar screen.

I walked down the back hall to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. The caterers were starting to wrap things up. Coffee urns had sprouted on the counters like larkspur in my garden. Trays of cakes and other assorted high-calorie dessert treats sat ready to distribute.

Noticing it was nearly ten o’clock, I wondered if I might be able to slip out. Then I could get up really early and take a good run along the canal towpath. No need to wait for Danny to show me his special route. I’d run there years ago. It couldn’t have changed that much over the years.

Once I started my running schedule again, I’d really feel settled. I hadn’t had a spare moment to ponder personal stuff all day or evening. Running always provided a quiet time for me to be alone with my thoughts. I could think and work out problems.

My conversation with Celeste earlier that day still bothered me, particularly her comments about Jed searching for Karen’s daytimer.

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