Estelle breathed out heavily. One minute, her husband—the next, her son.
“And I wonder if I could hide out here for a little bit because I can’t go home.”
“But Andrew, you have to talk to the police,” Estelle said. “Once you explain what really happened, everything will be fine.”
A knock, solid and heavy, fell on the front door, and she knew who it was before she even stood up. Sure enough, there stood two officers wearing the very familiar uniform of the Virginia State Police.
“Mrs. Watkins, have you seen your son, Andrew Watkins, today?” Officer Gruff asked in a rather gruff voice, as if he could talk in any other way.
She opened her mouth, trying to decide what to say, when Officer Anderson chimed in, “We have reason to believe that your son is a suspect in the murder of Senator Caldwell, and may have even used your husband as an accomplice.”
Episode 4
Insistent pounding on the kitchen door pulled Estelle from a deep sleep. She stumbled down the hall and to the stairs, then across the kitchen.
“You don’t look so good,” Vera said by way of greeting.
Estelle muttered something equally uncomplimentary in return. She opened the fridge, shoved the plastic container in Vera’s hands, and turned to shuffle back upstairs.
“Cheesecake, while definitely wonderful, is not going to sate my curiosity.”
Estelle sighed and pulled out a kitchen chair. “I’m not awake enough for this.”
“Share this with me.” Vera, who knew Estelle’s kitchen as well as she knew her own, grabbed two forks and popped the lid off the container. Each friend took a bite, then Estelle sighed again.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, I think I can guess part of it. Sam’s car is here, which means he’s not at work. And because Sam is...Sam, and it’s a workday, he would be at work if he had a choice. Plus, Andrew’s car is out back, covered by a tarp, which I guess is supposed to make it invisible or something, but it’s not working. I don’t see Andrew here either.”
“Correct as usual, King Friday.” Estelle took another bite before continuing. She’d never had cheesecake for breakfast before, but she might have to make a habit of it, now that she’d tried it.
“Andrew has been arrested, and Sam is undergoing further questioning.”
Vera almost dropped her fork. “What? But I thought Sam was the suspect. How did Andrew get dragged into all this? Wait a minute—the news said it was Senator Caldwell they found in your garbage. Oh, no. Andrew wasn’t interning for him, was he?”
Estelle explained how Andrew had changed internship positions recently, and Vera shook her head.
“This isn’t good.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say, it gets worse.” Estelle laid her fork on the table and pressed her fingers into her temples. “A body in a trash bin is suspicious, all on its own, but the body of a politician is ten times worse. As soon as the police got hold of the body, they sent it to pathology. They examined it from head to toe and found a puncture mark. They had reserved all the trash from our assigned garbage truck that day, and went digging through it. They found a syringe with traces of insulin still inside it, and the senator’s blood on the tip. And not only that...”
“Oh, you’re not going to say what you’re about to say.”
Estelle nodded. “Andrew’s fingerprints on it.”
Vera shook her head emphatically. “He’s diabetic. I bet there are hundreds of syringes with his fingerprints in garbage trucks all the way between here and D.C.”
“I know, but how many of those garbage trucks also held the body of a dead senator?” Estelle had been awake most of the night trying to come to grips with the situation and was now finally able to share it with Vera without breaking down, but it wasn’t easy.
“But there’s more,” Vera said.
“Yes, there’s a lot more, and it’s confusing and I’m trying to remember everything I learned last night. It’s all jumbled around in there, like yarn.”
“Don’t say yarn—I was supposed to call the Episcopalians last night and forgot.”
“Okay, I won’t say yarn. But do you still want to hear the story?”
“Of course. Sorry. I won’t interrupt again.”
Estelle snorted. She’d believe that one, sure enough. “Well, you remember the other day when Sam went to D.C. to meet with a client? Well, he stopped in and took Andrew to lunch. They ran into Senator Caldwell and Senator Beckham, who were having an argument on the sidewalk outside the senate building. Apparently, both men are up for reelection, so everything that happens right now on the political scene is very important. Andrew got pulled into their conversation a little bit, but then they saw Sam and excused Andrew to go on his way. Well, when the police questioned Beckham in connection with Caldwell’s murder, he said he’d seen Sam with Andrew, and that puts Sam as a possible accomplice to Andrew.”
“So Sam has been demoted from chief suspect to assistant suspect. That can’t be good for the ego,” Vera said.
“I just wish neither one of them were suspects.” Estelle crossed her arms on the table and buried her face in them. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What did you say? You’re all muffly in there.”
Estelle raised her head and repeated herself, then added, “We were at the police station until three a.m. They said things are piling up to look pretty damning.”
“Watch your language,” Vera said mildly. “You never know when Mabel will overhear. So what is all this that’s piling up? Okay, a needle with fingerprints is pretty damning, but that’s not big enough to be a pile.”
“Andrew...well, he’s made some pretty foolish choices. He helped Caldwell get some information about Beckham to sway an upcoming vote, and apparently he’s done a few other things to help Caldwell’s campaign. He’s been down at campaign headquarters nearly as much as he has the senator’s office, burning both ends of the candle, you might say, getting everything ready for November elections. And he has a mole in Beckham’s office, too.”
“A mouse in your kitchen, a mole in Beckham’s office—will the insanity never end?”
Estelle ignored her. That was the best thing to do sometimes. “Do you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
Estelle filled up two glasses with ice water and carried them to the table. “Maybe I’m just reading too much into it, because after all, these are my boys we’re talking about, but the police seem to think they’ve got their man, and I’m not sure they’ve investigated anyone else. Soon, I’ll be visiting my son through Plexiglass. And I don’t think they sanitize those phones very often.”
“Bring Handi-Wipes.”
“Thanks. You’re very comforting.”
Vera took a sip of her water. “I don’t think he’ll go to jail. This will all get resolved one way or another.”
“It doesn’t help that Andrew took a picture of the two senators arguing.”
“Why did he do that?”
“He didn’t know they were having an argument. He and Sam just saw them outside, and Andrew wanted a picture of the two men he’d been working for. So he