Murder on K Street Read Online Free PDF Page A

support and love I’ve been receiving and—”
    McBride joined the conversation. He leaned close to Simmons and said just loud enough for Markowicz and Rotondi to hear, “Neil just called, Senator. Polly heard it on the news and called him. Maybe you should—”
    “Call Neil and tell him to coordinate things with his sister. She’ll want to get here, I’m sure. I’ll pay any expenses.”
    Rotondi had sat silently during the exchange. Now he stood, grabbed his cane from where he’d hooked it over the arm of his chair, and limped to the window.
    “That leg’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” the senator said.
    “Sometimes worse than others.”
    “Let’s go in the bedroom, Phil. We have some talking to do.”
    Simmons leaned back against the king-size bed’s ornate headboard. Rotondi took a small club chair he pulled out from a French cherry desk.
    “Why do I get the feeling that you’re judging me, Phil?”
    “Paranoia, probably. I don’t judge anybody these days. I did plenty of judging people when I was putting away Baltimore’s garbage, but that was then. Still…”
    “Still what?”
    Rotondi shrugged and smiled. “I think you ought to pull Neil and Polly in closer, Lyle, especially at a time like this. You need them.”
    Simmons chewed his cheek. His expression was unfriendly.
    “The situation with Polly really tore Jeannette up,” Rotondi said.
    “I don’t need to be told that, Phil. I heard it damn near every day for the past four years.”
    “Yeah, I know. Not my
problemo
. Look, I’m here to help in any way I can. I won’t get in the way, but tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
    Simmons’s face softened. He gave forth a small smile. “I’m sorry about Homer’s TV show,” he said.
    “Maybe he taped it before we left.” Rotondi came forward and leaned with both hands on the cane. “Mind a suggestion?”
    “My driver, Walter, gave me one when he dropped me home tonight.”
    “McTeague? Good man. You have a lot of good people around you.”
    “Maybe Walter had a premonition. He said Jeannette and I should get away for a while, we both looked tired. If only.”
    “My suggestion is that you go with the flow of this tragedy, Lyle, and stop playing United States senator, at least until the right people get their arms around it. The so-called business of the people can wait.”
    “Easy for you to say. You’re retired.”
    “Happily so, but that’s irrelevant. I—” His cell phone rang. “Sorry.”
    Simmons got off the bed and walked out of the room.
    “Hi.”
    “Phil, I just heard,” Emma Churchill said. “Jeannette Simmons? Good God.”
    “I’m with him now, at the Willard. Where are you?”
    “Supervising the cleanup. I should be home in an hour.”
    “Homer’s at your house. I swung by there on my way here.”
    “You’ll stay with him at the hotel?”
    “No. I’ll meet you at the house. Frankly, I’m not sure why I’m here. He’s in command—insufferably so.”
    “He needs your friendship.”
    “He needs more than that. What was the party?”
    “A going-away bash for someone from Homeland Security.”
    “I hope you made them take off their shoes before entering.”
    He heard an exasperated sigh, coupled with an abbreviated laugh. “I’ll see you later,” she said.
     
     
     

CHAPTER   FOUR
     
     
    R otondi had been awake for an hour but opted to stay in bed, enjoying his painless repose. The moment he placed his feet on the floor, the pain would stab his leg and stay with him throughout the day.
    Emma slept sweetly next to him, on her side, facing away, one foot jutting out from beneath the rose-colored cover. Homer had co-opted a position at the foot of the bed, muscles twitching from a dream. Chasing cats? Being chased by a bigger dog? A lifetime supply of steak bones? A perpetual belly rub? Such simple pleasures.
    Emma’s body blocked Rotondi’s view of the clock radio, but he knew it was early morning from the color of the outside