“You were right all along, Ramirez. You had it pegged from the start. We got a call from a pawnshop about the watch. We just picked up the ticket holder, with what appears to be the right gun and a box from the Toth office.”
“You’re killing me.”
“He’s waiting for us in interrogation room six. Come on back. We’ll go in together and break down his ass and put the Laszlo Toth homicide to bed.”
CHAPTER 38
WELCOME TO SENATOR TRUSCOTT’S Philadelphia office,” said
the pretty receptionist at the desk facing the front door. “Can I help you?”
Kyle looked around at the paneled walls, the dark wood furnishings, the august seal of the United States Senate above the receptionist’s desk, at the tight, smiling face of the senator himself bolted onto the wall next to the seal. Maybe this was what his father meant about glory. If so, the son of a bitch could have it. There was something forced and artificial about the whole scene, something whose only purpose was to impress. From what he could tell about the job of a senator, it was all about sucking up for money, checking your values at the door, and voting with your party. Kyle would just as soon cut out the middle stuff and head straight to the party.
He looked at the receptionist’s sincere brown eyes and tilted his head. She seemed familiar. He had met her before. At a bar? At a club?
“Hi, I’m looking for that Senator Truscott,” said Kyle. “Is he around?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“But he’s coming to Philadelphia tomorrow, right?”
“He has an event at the convention center.” She eyed his outfit. “A fund-raising event. Would you like to buy a ticket? There are still a few available.”
“For a pretty stiff donation, I assume.”
“Oh, it will be worth it, I assure you.” Her pretty eyes widened, and she lowered her voice. “It’s not definite yet, but I have it on good authority that the vice president is scheduled to attend.”
“Really? The vice president?” Pause. “Do you have a fork, by any chance?”
“A fork?”
“Yeah, because I’d sooner stick a fork in my eye than go to an event that the vice president is scheduled to attend.”
The receptionist leaned back and smiled a smile of sudden interest. “I know you,” she said. “You’re that Kyle Byrne. I didn’t recognize you in that . . .” She waved her hand.
“Suit, it’s called a suit. Where did we meet, again?”
“I just started at this job. Before that I worked in the lobby of the building where your father’s old law firm was located.”
“Ahh, of course,” he said. “I remembered your lovely eyes.” He waited for the blush, but she wasn’t the blushing type. “It’s funny how we keep running into each other. What’s your name?”
“Sharon.”
“So, Sharon, maybe you could help me.” He sat on the edge of her desk, leaned forward. “What I’d like to do is to sort of meet with the senator before his convention center event. Could you set that up for me?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, actually.”
“The senator’s schedule is booked months in advance. There’s no way they can squeeze you in. And in any event, all scheduling for the senator is done in Washington. Requests for meetings need to be faxed to his office down there. I could give you the fax number.”
“How long will it take to get a response?”
“Count on weeks. And be aware that the senator’s ability to meet with constituents is very limited.”
“I guess that means forget about it.”
She looked left, looked right. “Do you have a couple thousand to donate to his campaign?”
“No.”
“Then yes, forget about it.”
“How about if I just leave a message for the guy? Could you pass that along for me?”
“Again, I could give you the fax number.”
Kyle stared at her for a moment and tried to think it through. Talking to her wasn’t going to help, because she didn’t have the power to help. But something seemed fishy. It was quite the coincidence, her being first at his father’s old office and now here. But maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe the cops who’d picked him up in his father’s office had been waiting for him all the time. Maybe they’d been tipped by the senator himself, who’d been tipped by someone who knew that Kyle had come calling to his dad’s old firm. By this Sharon? Maybe. It might be how she got this job. But girls like Sharon didn’t get plum jobs by trading information, they traded something else. And he remembered his suspicion about her and that bulldog lawyer when he had seen her before. Plus, the son of a bitch had mentioned that he had already begun a new job.
“Why don’t I talk to Malcolm about it,” said Kyle. “Is he around?”
Sharon flinched.
“I guess that means yes.”
“I think you should go, Mr. Byrne.”
“I suppose you’re right, I should go, but I’m not going to. Which is his office? I’ll just stop in for a few minutes, chat about the weather.”
“If you don’t leave now, Mr. Byrne, I’ll be forced to call security.”
“Before you do that, Sharon, why don’t you let your little buddy Malcolm know that I’m here to see him. And you can tell him that if he doesn’t see me right this instant, I’m going to have to have a chat with his wife about how he swung you this sweet job and all the lip smacking and knee knocking that went with it.”
SHAME ABOUT YOUR HOUSE ,” said Malcolm with a flickering smirk. “Shame about your dick,” said Kyle.
Puzzlement creased his pug features. “What about my . . . ? Oh.
Okay, we’re back in high school. State your business, Byrne. Some of us work for a living.”
The little creep was sitting in suspenders and shirtsleeves behind a desk in his private office, and Kyle could barely restrain himself from leaping over the wide desktop and throttling that thick neck. This punk was probably responsible for both his arrest and the fire, and Kyle would’ve liked nothing better than to batter that face bloody, while the photograph of the senator and his tight smile looked on from the wall. But then he might get some blood on the suit, and that would be a bitch to get out. Another argument for T-shirts and shorts.
“Nice digs,” said Kyle.
“I like them.”
“Quite a leap to go from toiling for a little troll like Laszlo Toth
to becoming an aide to a United States senator.”
“I got lucky.”
“Oh, don’t demean yourself. It was more than luck.”