“Let’s walk down to the boathouse before Martin gets here,” the Senator said, changing the subject as he led them off the rear deck.
Drake knew what the Senator had in mind. Before she’d left them alone, Meredith warned him her husband would try to slip off and have a cigar.
“If he starts inhaling, you tell him to stop. He’s stopped smoking cigarettes behind my back, but he hasn’t gotten over his love of cigars. The doctor and I will put an end to this if he doesn’t,” Meredith said.
When they reached the dock beside the boathouse, the Senator took a Hemingway Short Story from his pocket, clipped off the tip, and lit it with a silver lighter. When it burned evenly, he smiled at Drake.
“I imagine Meredith warned you to keep an eye on my smoking. She pretends she doesn’t know what I’m doing, and I pretend I never inhale. She’s better off not knowing everything. Like, how you’ve been doing lately. How’s your practice?”
Several boats were out on the lake, and Drake smelled steaks being grilled somewhere. He was drinking too much and letting his work slide, but he thought no one had noticed. His marvelous secretary was skilled at covering for him.
“If you phrase the question that way, you probably know.”
“I practiced law for fifteen years before I entered politics. I still know lawyers here. No one blames you for losing your focus after Kay died, but your friends don’t want you to get in trouble because of it. I don’t either.”
Drake focused on a boat passing by. Its wake slapped against the side of the dock, like the nightly memories that pummeled his mind.
“Senator, I’m okay. A little depressed at times but Margo, my secretary, keeps things running. I won’t let my clients down, don’t worry.”
“Son, I’m not worried about your clients, I worry about you. You let me know if there’s something you need help with. I mean that. This thing with Rich Martin is important, don’t get me wrong, but you’re more important. I just need to know if I can count on you bringing your A game.
“I’ll let Richard Martin tell you what he’s working on when he gets here. You’ve probably guessed my interests are a little broader than his. The Secretary of Homeland Security is visiting next week to dedicate the chemical weapons disposal facility at the Umatilla Depot. He will also pay Martin Research a visit. I want to make sure Martin’s project hasn’t been compromised and the Secretary’s visit isn’t upstaged by this murder.”
So that was it. A little worry about his son-in-law, but a bigger worry about a defense project and a Cabinet member’s visit being upstaged. He had been mildly flattered for a moment, being asked to help the Senator’s friend. Now he was mildly angered.
“Concern noted. Keep the Secretary’s visit on the front page and Martin’s dead secretary off, for the good of the country. Your friend must be here, we’re being summoned,” Drake said, breaking the beginning of an awkward silence when his mother-in-law waved from the terrace.
Standing on the terrace next to Meredith was a man perhaps ten years younger than the Senator, and better tanned. A little less than six feet tall, he looked like tennis was probably his game. Trim, in gray slacks, a light blue button-down shirt and a yellow tie loose at his neck, the man looked like someone in shock, unfamiliar with violence and death.
“Richard,” the Senator called out, as they stepped onto the terrace, “this is my son-in-law, Adam Drake. He’s the attorney I wanted you to meet. Let me get you a drink while I walk Meredith inside.”
Left alone, Richard Martin shook hands with Drake without speaking. His eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders slumped.
“Your father-in-law thinks highly of you, but I don’t need an attorney,” Martin said.
“You’ve dealt with murder investigations and security problems that threaten your company?”
When Martin answered him with a silent stare, Drake continued.
“I’ve prosecuted cases like this, dealt with the police and managed the press. I know what you’re in for. You could use someone to help manage the situation. I can help if you want. Or, you can do it and run your company at the same time. The Senator is trying to help, but I don’t particularly care, one way or the other.”
Martin shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his chin to his chest.
“Janice Lewellyn was the nicest person I’ve ever known. She worked for me from the start-up of the company and never asked for anything. Everyone loved her. I can’t begin to explain this to her husband and children. We had the best security we could afford, and she’s still dead.”
Drake stepped beside him and looked across the lake, following Martin’s unfocused gaze.
“I lost my wife a year ago today. Things get turned upside down when you lose someone. The Senator wants to make sure you have someone to help you through this, that’s all. Any idea why this happened?”
“No idea,” Martin answered. “Looking for something in my office, I guess. But there’s nothing missing. All of our research is on the main computer, completely secure.”
“Anything in your office that might be of value to anyone?”
“Not a thing. The police think this was a burglary, but other than computers and stuff, there’s nothing anyone could quickly sell.”
“You said you had the best security you could afford. How did someone break in?” Drake asked.
“We don’t know. We’ve had vandalism a couple of times. After we landed the DHS contract, we had to upgrade our security. I hired a new company. They’re supposed to be the best in the business, certainly the most expensive. They revamped our whole system. Even they don’t know how the killer got in.”
“If you want my help, I’m willing to step in, as your attorney. I’ll deal with the police. They’ll want to take up a lot of your time, and I’ll deal with that. I could visit tomorrow, if you want.”
Martin continued to look out over the lake, then nodded his agreement as the Senator walked out and put an arm around Martin’s shoulders.
“Richard, you could use a decent night’s sleep. Why don’t you head home? Let us help you with this tomorrow. You have a tough week ahead of you.”
Martin didn’t argue and said goodbye, with a little wave of his hand, before he allowed the Senator to walk him to his car.
The dinner was subdued, despite their best efforts to talk about everything except the empty chair across the table. Drake thanked Meredith for preparing his favorite paella, told the Senator he’d call him after he visited Martin Research, and headed home.
Kay had fallen in love with a run-down vineyard and an old stone farmhouse in Dundee, the heart of Oregon’s wine country, and had convinced him to make it their first home. A retired orthodontist from New Jersey had grown tired of farming grapes and sold the vineyard. The farmhouse needed a lot of work, but it was home.
In twenty minutes, he drove beyond the suburbs of Portland into wine country and the wineries dotting the gentle western slopes of the Willamette Valley. The region was magical to him. Its rows of grape vines, undulating over rolling hills of red earth, and the year-round white peak of Mount Hood in the distance surpassed anything Napa Valley had to offer.
Tomorrow, he’d go for a long run with his dog, then try to help the struggling CEO.