Senate Cloakroom Cabal by Keith M. Donaldson Page B

has given you a lot of information, written and spoken, opposing the overwhelming majority of her party. Who has what to gain?”
    â€œRight. I see where there may be ethical problems, money passing hands.”
    â€œOkay, why? I would judge it to be something very big, something a freshman senator can’t take on alone. She needs outside help and calls you.”
    I sat back and took a deep breath, blowing it out.
    Max said, “She doesn’t have the goods to carry it off alone. That’s where you come in. Be aware that in a politically partisan hot bed like the Senate, each party draws a line in the sand, regardless of the right or the wrong. It then becomes the party’s way or no way.”
    â€œBut this is intra-party. It’s unlike a partisan battle, where neither view may be true. There will be a right and a wrong here.”
    â€œThat makes it more explosive. Getting in between those forces is like when we walk into a domestic fight and get turned on by both,” he said emphatically.
    â€œHow would I be in the middle? Wouldn’t I be the friend to one and enemy to the other?”
    â€œYour only hope here is that Senator Dalton has solid enough facts to get you started. One advantage she may have is her newness in the Senate, not sullied. She is too clean to be besmirched or threatened, and she can’t be blackmailed.”
    â€œNever compromised? That’s got to be scary for the big guys. They won’t be able to play intimidation games.”
    â€œShe has her father, a former two-term governor. He’s a power she could call on in a pinch. However, she’s no slouch—she impressively went out and got herself elected, against everyone’s wishes.”
    He surprised me. “How do you know all that?” I asked.
    â€œHer AA, Mr. Michael Horne, was the victim of a mugging in January. We were involved early on . . . a possible homicide. He was transported to emergency unconscious. His ID told us where he worked, and Capitol police told us the rest. They notified the senator, who frankly, I was not familiar with, so we did a background check. When you told me about her, I had Delia pull up what we had, which you are welcome to.”
    â€œAny skeletons?”
    â€œShe’s about as clean as a person can be and still be mortal.”

21
    T yler’s wanting to play made it doubly hard for me to get out of the house by 6:00. This would be the first time since my son was born that my work overflowed into my time with him. Jerry nearly had to push me out of the house.
    Horne’s directions were excellent. I was in the garage and on the elevator in no time. The elevator doors opened onto a recessed area off a main hall. The décor spoke quality, but at the same time, comfort—tastefully upscale with textured wallpaper in muted colors, chair rails, and plush carpet. The lighting was muted without being dull.
    I pressed Senator Dalton’s bell, which resulted in a distant chiming sound, suggesting a well-insulated door. I stood in front of the peephole. A female voice came through a speaker I had not seen. “Yes?”
    â€œLaura Wolfe,” I looked around the doorframe, but could not locate a speaker. I wondered if there was also video. I got no response, but then the door opened.
    â€œMs. Wolfe. Roanne Dalton,” she said, extending a hand. “Come in, please.”
    If I hesitated, it was barely a second. I was prepared for a pretty woman, but . . . I recovered. “Thank you.” I shook her hand.
    â€œPlease, to your right,” she said graciously.
    I walked through the two-door wide archway into an elegantly decorated living room. Drapes were closed on what I imagined were large windows or a patio door leading onto a balcony. I guessed that the furniture was French provincial or some eighteenth- or nineteenth-century period. I was not up on furniture. We had early eclectic at home.
    She was at my side. “I