“No trouble, my dear,” Walker said quickly. “She’s missing.”
“Missing? She was working with you all the other night!” Kendra said. She frowned, playing with a little silver pendant of the Washington Memorial she wore around her neck. “But didn’t you tell me she was moving on—that she felt she wasn’t really cut out for politics?”
“Yes, dear,” Walker murmured.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Kendra declared. “Ellery, could you ask Ginger to bring a coffee and tea service in here? You people are so consumed with work that you forget good manners!”
Ellery disappeared out the door as bidden.
Kendra sat, motioning for Matt and Meg and the congressman to do so again. “Born and raised in Virginia by old-school parents,” Kendra told them. “And while many aspects of Southern history might be regrettable, Southern hospitality is not one of them. Why didn’t you offer these hardworking agents some form of sustenance, Ian?”
“My dear, we hadn’t gotten that far!” Walker protested. He looked at her as if he still adored her and the gaze she gave him in return said the same thing. Meg knew they’d been married for nearly thirty years. Their devotion was admirable.
If it was real.
“We’re fine,” Matt assured her. “And I’m from Virginia myself.”
“I hope you voted for me,” Walker said.
“Yes, actually, I did,” Matt said.
“And you, Ms. Murray? I’m sorry, I mean Agent Murray?” Walker asked.
Meg saw that he was studying her closely.
She’d never met him. Between their schedules, she and Lara had only managed to get together for a few brief breakfasts and dinners. While Lara had talked about her job and the people she worked with, she’d never had a chance to bring Meg to a fund-raiser or any other event where she might’ve gotten to know Walker. Yet he seemed to know her. Or know about her.
She forced a smile. “West Virginia,” she told him. “But if I was registered in Virginia, I’m sure I would’ve voted for you.”
A young woman in a polo shirt and chinos walked in, bearing a silver tray laden with a teapot, an urn, finger sandwiches, cream and sugar and serving utensils.
“Thanks, Ginger,” Kendra Walker said.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Walker. The children are being dropped off soon. Shall I watch them in the playroom until you’re ready?”
“Yes, please.”
When Ginger left, Kendra asked, “Coffee, tea?”
“Coffee, please,” Matt said. “Just black.”
“Same for me, thanks,” Meg said.
“Congressman,” Matt began, “Lara Mayhew called a friend after she left you the night before last. In her message she said she had to leave.”
Meg thought the congressman would appear baffled, that he would claim he had no idea why.
If he’d done something to her, he would know she hadn’t been found yet. Or would he? Had he left her body lying somewhere they wouldn’t easily find it?
But he shook his head sadly. “I was sorry, sorry because I knew I was losing one of my best employees. But there was an issue that I’ve determined to deal with in one way, and Lara was opposed to my position.”
“What was your position?” Meg asked.
“It had to do with a health issue, but you realize that committees manage to tack all kinds of add-ons to a bill to get other members to vote for it. Once a bill reaches a vote, it might contain a lot of extra provisions, many of which have nothing to do with the original bill,” Ian Walker explained. “Lara’s opinion was that we should nix the whole bill. After Hubbard died, I was trying to rework it on my own, but others became involved, too. Lara was an idealist. None of us want to admit it, but we aren’t capable of creating an ideal world. Or an ideal bill. Not when government requires compromise.”
He seemed earnest. And it was plausible.
“Garth Hubbard was a remarkable man. I believe he would have made an exceptional president,” Kendra said in a sorrowful voice. Her fingers tightened around her necklace as she added, “Such a tragic loss.”
“I thought there was some question about his death,” Matt said. “Weren’t there accusations flying around that either the far left or the far right had done him in?”
“When a political figure dies suddenly and unexpectedly, there’s always a conspiracy theory,” Walker said with a wave of his hand. “I loved Garth like a brother. But he had high blood pressure all his life. He told me once that his doctor had said he’d probably die of something heart-related sooner rather than later. He did. Massive heart attack. Better now, I suppose, than if he’d made the presidency.” Walker seemed to reflect for a minute, then said, “Lara was disheartened by his death. I suppose she just didn’t have enough faith in me.”