Temporarily free from my obligations, I left West River around nine a.m. and set my GPS for the condo address. While driving I formulated my approach to James Simms. I decided politicians were ready to answer questions and get their faces out there no matter if it was Sunday or any other day of the week. I relied on him being home when I got there. Did politicians socialize or go to church? They were silly questions that invaded my mind and I quickly brushed them away. The belief I would find him home and ready to talk with me was at the top of my mind. It helped me prepare my opening words, not that I had any concrete idea of what those words would be.
When I arrived, I got out, smoothed my outfit, handed my keys to the valet and then walked with confidence to the front door of 50 West. Impressed with the friendly doorman, I didn’t think it appropriate to confirm the Simms’ condo number with him. I couldn’t give the impression I didn’t know where I was going. As it turned out, I didn't have to since a concierge sprang from nowhere to greet me. My expression diverted from the fascinating mosaic floor tile to his voice. He asked my destination and directed me to the elevators. Satisfied I was safely inside he wished me a good day and left to greet the next visitor. I commanded my heart to stop beating so fast.
I couldn't believe that James Simms earned enough money to afford this level of luxury from work in the political field alone. He obviously lived off private money. Again, the contrast between James and his brother hit me. Michael had never given the impression he was wealthy but he must have enjoyed a huge part of the family wealth like his brother did. I rang the chime at number nine and waited until a uniformed maid answered the door. She ushered me into an expansive alcove on the right to wait for Senator Simms. Book shelves were lined with leather-bound books that had to do with politics and law as far as I could tell. Black leather was the predominant upholstery choice in furniture. I chose to stand.
"Welcome to my home," a voice said behind me. "Emma tells me you are a reporter from the West River Daily News." His tone was deep and rich and when I turned my head at his voice, the resemblance to Michael proved startling. The difference was his face was creased in friendliness rather than arrogance. "Come into the living room and I will introduce you to my wife, Sarah."
For the first time since planning this charade, it dawned on me I had no credentials to show if asked. Apparently, none were needed. I relaxed at the welcome and entered a large curved room. Its walls were mainly glass and the wallpaper was a view of the New York Harbor and Manhattan skyline. The condo was on the end affording the curvature and spectacular view. I had a feeling I was invited into this area for a reason. James Simms seemed to enjoy flaunting his wealth and success. This interview should be easy enough, not that I made interviewing a habit.
Sarah Simms reached to shake hands with me as she stood up. She was striking. It is the only description that came to my mind at first glance. Tall, slim and fit, my five foot six stature seemed dwarfed compared to hers. She stood a couple of inches above me. I want to say her hair was blond but that would not do it justice. It was more like sand on a beach that never saw shade and where sunlight highlighted in the right places. Her cut was short and perfectly outlined a somewhat chiseled oval face. Both Sarah and James were friendly, putting me at ease right away.
"Would you like refreshment?" asked Sarah. "We were just getting ready to have a glass of raspberry tea, or would you like a glass of wine?"
I told her tea was fine. There was no way a glass of wine was in my cards. I had to stay focused and make this a professional call, not a social one. I expected the maid who answered the door to be summoned to bring the drinks. Instead, Sarah walked toward the kitchen and suggested a tour if I wanted to follow her. I definitely wanted to see more and was very curious about the kitchen. She appeared to be at home in the domestic environment as she opened the expansive stainless steel refrigerator door and then placed three tall etched iced tea glasses on the counter. While the ice clinked, I gaped at the pristine kitchen which opened into a casual dining area.
"It is all very beautiful," I said. "Your view is stunning." I said.
She smiled and picked up the tray with three glasses of raspberry tea and we returned to the living room. So far I had not noted even a hint of a dust particle. If I knew anything at all about reporters I knew they spent a short time on chit-chat before getting into the meat of the subject.
"I hope I am not taking too much of your Sunday," I said. "I have a few questions I want to ask about your brother, Michael." I observed the Senator’s face.
"Of course. I expected that once I knew you came from the West River Daily News. I will answer anything I can."
"What kind of person was he? I mean I want to know more about his personality," I said.
The Senator leaned back. "Michael had a good heart when we were growing up. He always went for the underdog and wasn’t afraid to work for their causes. As a young teen he could play poker as well as any expert that made a living that way." James smiled. "He used to make sure he won and then took his winnings and gave the money to someone he thought needed it most. Usually, it went to someone who was trying to raise a family on minimum wage, but on occasion he simply handed bills to the homeless. He told us it was appalling that in America working families still went hungry."
"I am very surprised at that," I said. "The rumors I have heard from reliable people tell a very different story."
"I am telling you what he was once like. In later years, he became very cynical. Poor people were forgotten and he seemed no longer to care about them."
"He told us he was tired of trying to get people to move upward in their jobs and earn enough for their families to live on without hand-outs," said Sarah. "We were surprised but I agreed with him. If people want to have families then they should first be sure they can afford them."
James gave her a quick look and then turned to me. "Sarah and I don’t see eye to eye on that idea but I was very surprised to see Michael change so much. He used to be right in there with me on my campaigns until we started arguing more and more. Then he pulled away and we had little in common after that."
"What caused him to change so drastically?" I asked.
"It is a mystery to me," said the Senator. "In fact, we barely spoke to each other and before his untimely d
eath we hadn’t spoken for the past few years."
"I regret that now," said James. "I should have made more of an effort to see him."
"Did Michael have enemies?"
"Without a doubt he had enemies. He became arrogant and ruthless when he dealt with other people. It was almost as if he baited them so they wouldn’t like him. It is beyond me how he managed success with that coffee house of his. He had a vendetta when it came to any competition. He was bent on running others out of business in hopes he came out on top, I suppose. When he hurt someone or when anyone crossed him he lashed out and was unapologetic. He just didn’t care."
I could relate to some of those statements. We talked for a few minutes longer but no new information was learned on my part. I thanked them for their time and stood to leave, expressing my condolences.
"I hope I have helped with your article. I don’t want you to put Michael in a totally bad light. He had his good side and that’s what I try to recall most."
In the foyer I noticed a framed photo of Michael and James. The silver frame with what I was sure was onyx stones on all sides, showed them in their youth. James had his arm around his brother’s shoulder.
"You both look very happy in this photograph."
James shifted and looked at the picture. "That was definitely in our better times. Loyalty meant something to Michael then."
The Michael Simms mystery took on a different aspect in my mind, and it was at that moment that I knew I was cut out to be a full-fledged detective in this case.