Capitol Murder

By J. H. Creed

The president of the State Senate is murdered in his hotel suite. The political gurus, strategists and king makers, of both parties, scramble to take advantage of this leadership vacuum. This is the backdrop for the investigation by a veteran Capitol Police Department detective; hampered by the celebrity of the case.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. H. Creed
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452429618

Book preview

Capital Murder

John Creed

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 John Creed

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Chapter One

The Capitol building was abuzz with rumors, not an uncommon situation in an environment driven by power and the lust for power, but this was different. The normally hushed whispers of small groups of lobbyists or staffers huddled in a corner of the marbled hallways or leaning on one of the massive mahogany window sills had given way to open and unprotected dialogue between total strangers. People who, as a matter of political survival, would never let their true emotions surface, were wide eyed and open mouthed in disbelief. Could this possibly be true? Had the President of the State Senate been murdered? Why? Found dead in his suite at the Billings hotel was the shocking report on the 11:00 pm news last night; but murder?

Senate President Charles Chuck Boscotchi had plenty of people who didn't like him; it goes with the territory when one chooses a life in politics. Every decision a politician makes will piss-off somebody, but it's a long road from dislike to murder. Boscotchi was a workaholic who lived and breathed politics and insisted he be addressed as Senator, despite the fact that all his campaign material; print, television, radio etc., referred to him as Chuck. He had little time for what others might consider a normal life. He often blamed his three failed marriages on the demands of his career and it probably had a ring of truth to it; that, and his undying affection for scotch whiskey. Rumors of infidelity, spousal and alcohol abuse circulated during every election cycle but the wives and ex-wives would always come to his defense. His standard response was opposition smear tactics.

At 61, Boscotchi had worked, fought, and finessed his way as far as he could go. His voting record was far too conservative to successfully run for state-wide office, a situation dictated by the demographics of his home election district. So the senate presidency became his bailiwick, his personal fiefdom and power base which he protected with skill, cunning and political savvy honed over 34 years of holding public office.

It was 8:05 am and the governor’s communications director was holding a hastily called press conference in the 5th floor conference room of the Capitol building. The room, designed to hold 30 to 40 people, now held at least twice that many, with another 40 or 50 people huddled around the doorway; straining to hear what was being said inside. Some were holding small voice recorders over their heads pointed in the direction of the speaker. Others were scribbling on long skinny note pads rarely seen anywhere but in the hands of a reporter.

One disgruntled TV crew, that arrived too late to fit into the room, had set up a three-step ladder and was trying to balance their cameraman on the top step in order to get video footage. The Capitol press corps rarely makes much of a showing this early in the morning, but today it seemed as if every person in town with a press pass was suited up and ready for action. The prepared statement was short.

The Governor was shocked and deeply saddened by the untimely death of Senator Boscotchi, a selfless public servant who worked tirelessly for the betterment of all persons both in our great state and the nation; his death will leave a void which will be impossible to fill. By executive order all flags on state property will be displayed at half staff for the next seven days in honor of this great human being and statesman.

If the governor had been politically able to relate his true feelings, the press release would have read something like Halleluiah! The son-of-a-bitch is out of my hair for good! It suffices to say the two were more than political foes.

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Chapter Two

Kevin Maloney and Senator Boscotchi had been friends since the two served together in Viet Nam. Both were infantry grunts who forged a lifelong friendship sloshing through the rice paddies, jungles and the military bullshit of war. Kevin received the Purple Heart for taking a sniper’s bullet in the calf of his right leg; a piss poor shot he jokes today if the subject comes up. Boscotchi served his tour with little distinction.

Upon returning to civilian life, Boscotchi went to work part-time at an auto parts store and enrolled full-time at the university; majoring in political science. In the middle of his sophomore year he ran for an open city council seat and won; he quit school and never looked back. He kept his job at the auto parts store because the council job paid only $500.00 per month, but it allowed him one full time staffer. He reached out to Kevin, it took a little convincing, but Kevin agreed to take the staff job. Boscotchi had big plans and knew he must have someone he could trust without question; Kevin was that person. For more than three decades now Kevin has been the guard at the front gate, hatchet man, confidant, sounding board and fixer for the various offices held by Boscotchi. Behind Kevin’s back he is often referred to as Senator Maloney; in many ways his power is equal to that of his boss.

A nondescript, almost camouflaged door at the rear of Senator Boscotchi’s elaborate office in the Capitol building leads to a small room with a large marble topped coffee table flanked on either side by two large, brown overstuffed leather sofas. At the far end of the coffee table is an enormous leather arm chair which matches the sofas and behind that, against the wall, opposite the windows, a small desk. Next to the desk is an exterior door which opens to a custom built iron staircase leading to the legislative parking garage. The walls of the room are covered with low nap beige carpeting upon which hang two signed and numbered Bev Doolittle prints. This is known as the hide-a-way. This is the inner sanctum, the place where deals are cut and strategies are conceived and refined. Few people outside of the legislative circles know of its existence.

Kevin has been on the phone at the desk in the hide-a-way since 3:00 am, arriving there a little more than two hours after a call from the Chief of the Capitol police informing him of Boscotchi’s murder. Kevin, and his wife Bea, had decided to spend a quiet anniversary at their lake shore cabin and skipped the late news. When Chief Marston called they immediately drove back to town. Except for two quick stops, one at police headquarters to talk to the Chief and one to drop Bea off at their apartment, Kevin headed straight for the one place he could trust; the hide-a-way.

The phones of the hide-a-way were randomly tested for bugs once each week and the room itself was swept for any other type of eavesdropping device once each month. This, in addition to the sound deadening, carpeted walls, made the hide-a-way as secure a room as any outside of the C.I.A..

Lack of sleep normally did not have much of an effect on Kevin, he was used to long nights and early mornings, but this was different. The strain was starting to show in his voice as he talked to the state party chair, William Anderson.

Bill, we have to figure a way to get that bastard to do it!

I know, I know, I’ve been racking my brain ever since I heard the news, but I think he hates you almost as much as he hated the Senator. Remember you were the pit bull in all our dog fights with him.

Listen, suppose I call him direct and try to cut a deal?

Kevin, get real, are you sure you’re ok?

Yeah. Kevin said. I’m fine His tone of voice showing his displeasure at the suggestion.

Listen, I earned the goddamn seat and I intend to get it!

Anderson’s response was slow and deliberate.

Take it easy Kevin; just take it easy, the Governor can’t make an appointment to fill the Senators vacant seat by pulling a name out of a hat. You know the law as well as any attorney, he has to select a name from three submitted by the party.

Goddamn-it I didn’t put you in that job to patronize me so just knock it off. I called every son-of-a-bitch on the central committee this morning, to make sure each and every one received a first-hand report, and not one of those bastards offered the slightest hint of support.

Jesus Christ Kevin, you didn’t ask did you?

Of course not, I was merely trying to get a feel.

What was your assessment of Reverend Purdue?

Oh, he gave me what you might expect, some ‘God must have needed help in heaven’ crap, but not an inkling of who he might support.

Yeah, he always plays his cards close to the vest, but you know he’s the key?

I know, I know, and man I’ve kissed his ass enough over the years to have calluses on my lips! Listen, I’ve got to go, the caucus is meeting in five minutes and they’ll formally forward the majority leaders’ name to become the new president and I need to be there.

OK, I’ll be in on the 2:30 flight.

Good enough, I’ll see you later.

Kevin hung up the phone, went out the back door, hurried down the iron staircase, through the parking garage and then the tunnel that led to the back door of the senate lounge. Several minority members were having coffee and discussing the events of the past 12 hours, all looked up as Kevin entered the room. It was Senator Chatman who spoke first; a major player in the minority and a sincere, decent woman.

You have my most heartfelt sympathy Kevin, we rarely agreed philosophically, but I had the utmost respect for Chuck, I’m so sorry.

The others chimed in as Kevin made his way to the front door, thanking them as he went. The caucus room was directly across the hall from the lounge but it might as well of been on another planet. The hallway was a sea of news people, and as soon as they saw Kevin, he became the focus of their attention; blocking his way.

I’m sorry I have no statement at this time, please, please let me through.

The hallway glowed with the surreal light of TV flood lamps. At least a dozen microphones were vying for space around Kevin’s’ head, like a swarm of oversized mosquitoes, as he pushed his way to the caucus room door. When he reached the doorway it was blocked by a Capitol security guard.

I’m sorry Kevin, Senators only today.

What the hell are you talkin’ about, I always attend caucus meetings!

I have my orders Kevin, Senators only, absolutely no exceptions.

Who’s order? Demanded Kevin.

Senate president Pro-Temp Billings.

Kevin was livid and it showed. He swung around, lips tight, eyes glaring, nostrils flared as he pushed his way through the crowd and headed back to the sanctity of the Senate lounge.

Through all the commotion and clatter of staccato questioning from the reporters Kevin heard nothing except one anonymous barb that stung like a hard right to the nose; power is a fleeting thing Kevin.

Kevin was so mad as he looked aground the lounge at the faces he dealt with daily, faces he knew as well as his own, that he couldn’t recognize a single one. They were all saying something but none of it registered. He headed straight for the exit which led to the parking garage, went through the tunnel and up the iron staircase to the hide-a-way. After grabbing a handful of papers off the desk he went through the door into the senate president’s office and out into the reception area; startling receptionist Carol Meyers.

Jeez, Kevin, I had no idea you were back there, I should have known, I’m sorry, this is such a terrible day. Frankie’s been looking all over for you.

Kevin mumbled something inaudible back to her as he headed out the front door of the office and down the hall to the office of Senator Billings.

There you are. Sighed Senator Billings receptionist. Frankie’s in her office.

Frankie Ott has been Chief of Staff to Senator Billings since he was first elected to the Senate seven years ago. Ott was the political strategists who laid the plans for the successful primary and general elections that brought Billings to the Senate. Billings, who made a gazillion dollars in the hotel business prior to being elected, wasn’t exactly a political neophyte at the time, but he wanted a first rate strategists, and Frankie was the best. In addition to a long and impressive list of political victories, she developed a very successful political board game, which she sold to Parker Brothers, making her independently wealthy. After Billings was elected he persuaded her to become his chief of staff.

Frankie’s office door was closed and Kevin swung it open as if he were escaping a burning building, charged in, slamming the door behind him, and demanded.

"What the fuckin’ hell is going on?

At the same time Frankie was demanding.

Where the hell have you been?

I’ve been in the hide-a-way since three o’fuckin clock this morning! What the Hell’s with the caucus?

Calm down. I have everything under control! Christ sakes, I tried to call you at home all last night and all I got is the answering machine. I’ve been trying your cell phone since 5:00 am this morning and all I get is the ‘not available’ recording. Your office had no idea where you were. I finally left a message on your voice mail about a quarter to eight; don’t you ever check in?

Forget that; what’s goin’ on with the caucus?

Look, as soon as I heard the news last night I called my boss and laid out a plan he could not refuse. As you well know if the office of the senate president becomes vacant, for any reason, the Majority Leader automatically becomes Senate President Pro Temp.

So what! Billings is a shoe-in to be elected president by the full senate

"Exactly, but, in order to accomplish his own agenda, he needs an appointment to the vacant seat he can work with and you, my dear, are the perfect candidate.

Kevin’s blood pressure started to drop and his breathing was noticeably easing.

I convinced him to close this mornings’ caucus meeting to senators only to give him the best shot at selling the plan. You know a couple of those old codgers haven’t had an original thought in 20 years. They depend completely on their staff in these types of situations; I wanted them out of the meeting.

What’s your plan? The Governor, by statute, must select from a list of three and you know I’m not exactly on the top of his wish list.

"Per the state constitution, the Governor must select from a list of not more than three names submitted by the party of the Senator whose seat is vacant. Just about everyone thinks it must be three names; because that’s the way it’s always been done. We’re only going to submit one name; yours. That’s why it was so important to have Senators only in this morning’s caucus.

The boss has more than enough sway to bring the whole caucus on board as long as a couple of key aids are excluded from the decision."

Man I hope you’re right, if he can’t I can kiss that Senate seat good-bye.

Yeah, like you had any other chance, anyway we’ll know in a few minutes, they should be breaking any time now.

What about Reverend Purdue?

That’s one of the easy ones. Billings’ former business partner, Harold Stevens, is trying to buy his way into Heaven as the patron saint of the good Reverend’s massive construction program for his new church, auditorium and TV studio. Purdue isn’t about to let go of that fat goose.

Does Billings think he can get Stevens to go along?

Already did. I made sure the boss called him last night, Stevens called back about 8:15 this morning, Purdue and his entire faction are on board.

The ball’s in your court now. It’s up to you to get your people lined up."

I’ve got Bill Anderson working on them as we speak.

Good, now tell me the details of last night; I’m sure you’ve talked with your buddy Chief Marston.

I did indeed.

The morning news said he was shot but not much else; I’ve heard both suicide and murder.

Well it wasn’t suicide. Look, they don’t want a lot of the details out right now so keep what I’m about to tell you strictly to yourself.

Not a problem.

He was assassinated, I mean a professional hit!

Frankie’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

You’re kidding!

She said in a voice of pure astonishment.

I wouldn’t kid about the murder of my best friend and boss. He was shot twice, in the back of the head, at point blank range.

Jesus Christ! You got any ideas? I mean no one knew Boscotchi better than you, you must know every single detail of the man’s life, public and private.

Quite honestly, once I realized that I could be of no help with the investigation, I’ve been on the phone trying to get my name out there, but I can’t for the life of me think who would do such a thing. I mean he had his fair share of enemies, but none that hated him enough to kill him.

One did.

Yeah Kevin sighed. you’re right.

What about your safety, I mean you two were like clones.

Oh, I’m fine. Kevin shrugged. The Chief wanted to give me a bodyguard but I turned him down, I am packing my .38 though.

I’m worried about you Kevin.

Don’t be. Man, what a profession, my best friend is murdered and all I think about is being appointed to his seat, this is one cold business.

It is if you want to win Kevin. By the way, you and I are going to have to be more careful now, if Purdue gets wind that we’re an item he’ll put the skids to you for sure.

Just then the phone rang and Frankie hit the speaker button.

The Boss wants you Frankie

OK, tell him I’m on the way.

Frankie hit the phone disconnect button, looked Kevin in the eyes and said, "This is it baby, wait right here,