Deadly Politics

Read Deadly Politics for Free Online Page B

Book: Read Deadly Politics for Free Online
Authors: Maggie Sefton
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Mystery, Politics, soft-boiled, Congress., maggie sefton
property, Molly. I can rent it to whomever I choose. And it’s not free. Your residence there will be as property manager. Remember ‘other duties as assigned’?”
    He was serious. Oh my God! I sat back in my chair and stared at him. “You’re willing to take a loss to let me—”
    â€œI’m not taking a loss. It’s vacant, remember?”
    â€œYeah, but you could rent it in a heartbeat for three or four thousand a month.”
    â€œIt’s okay. My other properties are rented. You don’t have to worry about me, Molly.” He grinned. “That’s my CPA’s job. You’ll be working closely with him, needless to say.”
    Well, he had me there. I wasn’t Brewster’s CPA or his mother. If he wanted to give me a Georgetown townhouse to live in, who was I to say no? Meanwhile, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach caused me to pause. Who was I to say yes ? Could I actually live in the midst of all this again? Here in Georgetown? Memories were around every corner. Ghosts roamed the streets. Could I do it?
    Out of nowhere, a voice I hadn’t heard in a long time whispered, “Make new memories.”
    I recognized that cheeky voice. Ever since Chaos took over my life. Crazy Ass, I called the voice, because it always brought the wild, out-of-nowhere, go-for-it suggestions. Good old Crazy Ass. I’d missed it. The voice of the opposition, Sober-and-Righteous, had been ruling the roost for weeks now and had sent Crazy Ass scurrying into the bushes when Chaos appeared. Virtuous, but boring as hell, Sober was strictly steady as she goes, nose to the grindstone and full of other guilt-producing clichés that could be counted on to keep me on track.
    â€œMake new memories.” Hmmmmm. There was a thought.
    â€œYou’re considering it, I can tell,” Peter observed.
    â€œDamn right. I’d be crazy not to.” I stared through the window at the boxwood. I hadn’t smelt boxwood in years. By June, the scent would be heady. My nostrils twitched.
    Sober-and-Righteous asserted itself into my imaginings. Hold it! Everything’s moving too fast. This guy is worse than a carnival barker hawking teddy bears. You need time to think.
    I had to agree with Sober. Things were moving way too fast. This offer, the money, the house, the idea of living and working in Georgetown—I did need time to think.
    I looked Peter in the eye. “This is a lot to digest. The money, this whole job offer, the house, all of it. I need time to consider everything, Peter.”
    â€œI understand. Think about it all you want. This afternoon. Then call me with your answer this evening.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a card. “Here’s my cell.”
    â€œYou need an answer tonight?” I said, not even trying to hide my surprise as I took the card.
    Now it was Brewster’s turn to be sober. “The senator needs someone fast. Those accounts are piling up. If you say ‘no,’ then we have to go back to square one.”
    Guilt. Works every time. “Okay, I’ll let you know by this evening.” I gathered my things and rose to leave.
    Brewster came from around the desk, all boyish charm again. “Would you like to meet the senator?” he tempted. “Luisa beeped me that he’s returned from his breakfast with constituents. He’s got a few minutes before he heads to the Hill.”
    Shocked, I found myself stammering. “Oh, that—that’s not necessary, I—I don’t want to delay him—”
    â€œNo delay, Molly. He’s been anxious to meet you.”
    Brewster proceeded to escort me from the library and into the hall, ignoring my protestations. I looked down the hallway, and there was Russell, walking straight toward us. I gulped. No time to get away.
    â€œSenator, I’ve done my best to sell Molly on the position. I’ll leave it to you to close the

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