“Believe it,” replied Mac flippantly, pushing, pouring gas on the fire.
“Mason, quiet.” Lyman ordered in a sharp voice.
Mac smelled blood, pressed, leaning across the table, getting as close as he could without leaving his chair, a little extra gravel in his voice. “I’ve got you leaving her place around the time of death. I have prints all over the place-yours. I’ve got semen-yours. You killed her, Senator. Fess up.”
With the senator looking as if he was going to jump across the table after Mac, Lich jumped in, putting his arm in front of Mac and pulling him back. With a calm, smooth, respectful voice he said, “Look, you’ll have to excuse my partner here. He could stand to dial it back a little.” Lich shared a knowing look with Mac. Then, conversationally to the senator, “But, the point he’s so indelicately trying to make is that this is an unfortunate situation. If it was an accident, now’s the time to get out in front of it and give us your side of the story.”
Lyman tried to stop him, but the senator, raging, was not to be controlled now. He plowed right through. “What side? Seems like you guys, especially your little prick partner here, have pretty much already decided what happened.”
Lich, in his even tone, said, “Senator, tell us what happened Monday night?”
As the senator opened his mouth, Lyman both ordered and pleaded with his client, “Don’t answer that, Mason.”
Senator Johnson was having none of it. “Nothing. She was alive when I left. I got there just after 11:00 p.m. and left at 1:30 a.m. She was alive when I left. I had not one thing to do with Claire’s death.”
“Well, Senator,” Lich said, his arms spread out, leaning back in his chair, “Given what we’ve found thus far, we have good reason to suspect that you did kill Ms. Daniels.”
Lyman grabbed the senator’s arm firmly and, with a sharp biting voice, said, “Don’t respond to that.”
Senator Johnson had already opened his mouth, but he listened. He sat back in his chair, calming some.
Mac stirred the pot again. “Your wife know you were fucking Daniels?”
“Michael!” growled Lyman.
“You arrogant little fuck,” replied the senator.
“I’ll take that as a no,” smirked Mac, adding, “There’s motive right there, along with everything else.”
Lich, back in, calmly, the old pro, said, “Look, Senator, the question really is, did your wife know about your relationship with Daniels?”
“Mason, you will not answer that question,” ordered Hisle.
Lich kept going, talking over Hisle, “Say she doesn’t know, maybe the more relevant question is did Claire ask about it?”
The senator leaned forward, wanted to answer, about to answer, but Hisle stopped him, “Don’t.”
“That’s okay.” Lich continued conversationally. “But what we were wondering is if perhaps Claire started putting on some pressure, for a divorce or something like that?”
“Or, better,” Mac, combative, interjected, “if you don’t tell your wife, maybe she will. Claire’s sick and tired of being your bed sheet. So, she puts the wood back to you: tell your wife or she will.” His voice rising, “Now as these things go, that’s not good for a husband cheating on his wife. All you want is a little something on the side, especially something as hot as Claire Daniels. But you can’t have that little something stirring up problems at home. It wouldn’t be good for the political career.” Mac pointed at the senator. “And we’ve seen time and again how that political career, that power, that ambition outweighs everything else.”
Lich back in, calm. “So, you two naturally start to argue. But it escalates. It gets physical. It goes too far and, before you know it…” And then quietly, “You didn’t mean for it to happen, Senator. It was an accident.”
Captain Peters, having admired the performance of his two detectives, spoke directly to Hisle, “Manslaughter. Work with us and the district attorney will go that direction.”
The senator rolled his eyes. “Helen Anderson? I bet she’d sign off on this and file for my office the next day.”
“Mason, enough,” growled Lyman, obviously upset with his client. To the detectives, “You will excuse us.”
With that, Mac, Lich, and Peters headed out of the library and stepped outside.
Lyman and Senator Johnson headed downstairs to his game room. The senator was about to speak, but Lyman waved him off. This conversation would require some courage. He went to the bar grabbed two glasses and put them up on the counter. He snagged the bottle of Wild Turkey off the back shelf and poured each glass a quarter full, shots. The senator sat down on a barstool, grabbed his glass and knocked it back. Lyman did the same. Lyman looked at his glass and thought for a moment, another one? He decided the better of it. “Mason, we have issues here.”
“I’m sorry, Lyman. I spoke too much, but that little punk-”
“Did a number on you. And so did his partner.”
The senator jumped back in his barstool, thought for a moment, cognizance dawning. He nodded. “Yeah, they did.” He lifted his glass and Lyman poured him another small drink. He slammed it. “What do we do now?”
Lyman gave his friend another long look. “They’ve got you nailed pretty good, my friend. Do we need to discuss the offer made upstairs?”
The senator gave Lyman a quizzical look. “You think I did this?”
Lyman ignored the pleading voice, his own voice deep, hard. “I’m asking you this once, do we take the deal?”
The senator didn’t hesitate. “I did not do this.”
Lyman gave him one last long look and decided he believed his friend. Even if he didn’t, so what? He was the lawyer. He now had a job to do and a big one at that. “Okay, then, my friend. First thing you’ll do is shut the fuck up.” He couldn’t say that to most clients. Mason was his friend, and he needed a serious dose of reality. He couldn’t act like a United States senator anymore. He needed to listen to, instead of give-hell ignore-direction. He’d also have to give some thought to giving up his seat, but that wasn’t Lyman’s call. That was one for the political people. Johnson just nodded, and Hisle continued. “I’m going to tell the detectives that we’re done.”
“They’re going to arrest me, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon. You were there that night. You admitted you had sex with her. And we learned a few more things.”
“Like?”
“No forced entry, nothing stolen, and, most importantly, time of death between 1:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m.”
The senator pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we beat this?”
“Don’t know yet,” replied Lyman honestly. “We have a lot of work to do to create reasonable doubt.”
“Reasonable doubt?” growled Johnson. “Shit, reasonable doubt ain’t going to cut it. My career. Shit. My life is fucked if we don’t find who did this?”
“We’ll try, Mason.” Lyman replied.
“I’ve been fucking set up.”
“Like I said, we’ll try, but you better think about something else right now?”
“What’s that?”
“Gwen.”
They stepped outside, and Peters closed the door. Still standing on the steps, he took one long look at Lich and McRyan, smiled and stated, “Boys, that was good work in there.”
“Shit,” replied Lich, laughing out loud. “Mac, just so you know, I wouldn’t expect a Christmas card from the senator.”
Mac smiled. “No, I don’t imagine I’ll make the list.”
Peters chuckling along with his detectives, said, “Jesus Christ, Mac. ‘Your wife know you were fucking Daniels?’ I thought he was going to lunge across the table.”
They all shared a brief little laugh, and then Mac, back to business, said, “What’s next?”
“Well, much to your enjoyment, I’m sure,” replied Peters lightly, “you’ll be working with Sally Kennedy on writing up the summons and complaint.”
Mac wanted to say, “Fuck you,” but one didn’t respond that way to a captain. “You think we’re ready to go?”