Poisoned Politics Read Online Free PDF

had died when his plane was shot down during the Vietnam War. There had never been any indication of remains being found. Samantha was told that the plane wreckage was at the bottom of the Gulf of Tonkin Bay.
    â€œTake a sip of tea. Black, no cream or sugar. It’s good for you,” I prodded.
    â€œAll right.” Samantha took a sip then held the mug close to her chest with both hands, as if it were winter instead of mid-July.
    â€œWould you mind my asking some questions?” I ventured. “I want to get this entire scene in my head. I’m still confused about a few things.”
    She nodded. “Go ahead, Molly. It’ll help me remember what I told the police. I need to get it inside my head too.”
    â€œWhen did you come home this morning?”
    Samantha took a large sip before answering. “I left D.C. about six a.m. and arrived here around six twenty-five, I think. I turned into my driveway and was surprised to see Quentin’s car still there. I’d assumed he’d gathered his things and left by early evening.”
    â€œThen, you walked inside?”
    She closed her eyes and her voice came out tighter. “Yes. I found him on the sofa. I thought he was asleep and kept calling out his name and telling him to wake up! When he didn’t answer, I got this sickening feeling. That’s when I checked his pulse and didn’t feel it. I even checked his throat. His skin was cold. He was cold.” She shuddered visibly.
    â€œYou said there were pills scattered all over the coffee table. Do you have any idea what kind of pills they were? Had you ever seen him take pills before?”
    Eyes wide open now, Samantha nodded and sipped more of the strong tea. “Yes, many times. Quent had trouble sleeping. Some nights he couldn’t wind down. Even sex didn’t seem to relax him. So he took sleeping pills every night.” She stared toward the tall cherry wood bookcases, each shelf filled with books and treasures brought back from her international travels. “Several of the capsules were opened and spilled out beside the bottle of beer. Quentin loved Guinness, so I always kept a few bottles in the fridge for him.”
    I peered at Samantha. “Why would he open the capsules? If he was intent on killing himself, he’d simply swallow them with the beer, wouldn’t he?”
    â€œLord, Molly, I don’t know.” She looked away from me. “I cannot imagine why Quent would resort to taking his own life. I mean … I told him I’d pay the blackmail money if it came to that. Why would he do it?”
    Having walked in after a tragic suicide had taken place years ago, I was still at a loss for an explanation to offer Samantha. “Who knows? I still haven’t figured out why Dave killed himself, and it’s been over twenty years.”
    She glanced to me with compassion. “I’m sorry if this brings back ugly memories, Molly.”
    I shrugged. “That’s okay. It was a long time ago, and I’ve come to the conclusion that none of us can know what’s going on inside someone else’s head. Sometimes the people we care about the most can deliberately hide their thoughts from us.”
    â€œI guess you’re right.”
    An idea came suddenly. “Do you think that blackmailer called Wilson? Maybe he scared him and Quentin panicked.”
    â€œI don’t know, but I don’t like the coincidence of those photos arriving on his doorstep Saturday, and that same night Quentin decides to kill himself.”
    I didn’t like coincidences, either. “I know, it doesn’t make sense, considering you’d told him that you would pay any blackmail money. Something else must have scared Wilson. Scared him enough to take his life.” Another idea surfaced. “What occurs to me is there was no blackmailer. You said Wilson was afraid his wife had ordered the photos. Maybe that’s exactly what