She Knew Too Much: A Briana Song Crime Thriller by Jemma Stark

Author:Jemma Stark [Stark, Jemma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

The Congressman

Congressman John Patterson’s office was located at 867 Magazine Street, about a few blocks away from Central Business District. It was a fairly large building made of glass, with revolving doors at the entrance that would have made a first-time visitor second-guess if it was the workplace of a well-known politician or a small-sized mall.

A massive billboard was on display in the parking lot, with the man in the picture dressed smartly in a dark gray suit with a red tie knotted perfectly to complement his appearance. His index finger was pointed at a caption that read: A VOTE FOR CONGRESSMAN JOHN PATTERSON IS A VOTE FOR CHANGE. A VOTE FOR GOOD REPRESENTATION. A VOTE FOR ACCOUNTABILITY. DON’T MISS OUT! VOTE WISELY!

Buck brought the car to a halt a few inches away from the billboard and killed the engine. He took out a handkerchief from his side pocket and wiped his face before glancing at me.

“So, here we are,” he announced. “Look, I know how emotionally invested you are in this investigation, but I want you to remain calm when I start asking the congressman some questions. We can’t afford to be too direct, because this isn’t exactly an official assignment. It’s off the books. I hope you understand my point?”

I nodded briskly. “Yes, but am I at least allowed to ask questions of my own? I promise to be as objective as possible.”

“Are you giving me your word on that?”

Raising my right hand, I said, “Just count on me. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Alright, let’s do this,” Buck said, unlocking the car. Just as I was about to pick up my FBI jacket, he shook his head. “Don’t wear that, Briana. Remember, this is an unofficial visit.”

I dropped the jacket in the back seat, adjusted the holster around my waist, and took out my agency ID. We climbed the stony stairs to the main entrance and went past the revolving door.

There was only one desk in the main lobby, and seated behind it was a petite woman who was probably in her late thirties. Hanging on the wall was another framed photograph of Congressman Patterson dressed in another fancy suit, shaking hands with the governor.

“How may I help you please?” the receptionist asked, rising to her feet.

Buck offered her a radiant smile and leaned against the desk. “Hello, ma’am, we’re here to see the congressman. I believe that we have a meeting with him.”

“Oh,” said the receptionist, “do you have an appointment?”

I shook my head. “We forget to schedule one ahead of time, but I can assure you this is a very important meeting.”

The receptionist smiled thinly. “I’m sorry, you can’t see him without scheduling an appointment. As we speak, he’s preparing to leave for an engagement in Beinville.”

“Would you be kind enough to inform him that we would like to see him?” Buck asked.

“Sure, but I have to know your names,” she answered.

“Fair enough,” Buck muttered as he took out his agency ID and flipped it open in the receptionist’s face.

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