Chapter Four
They didn’t build homes like Swanlea anymore.
Granted, they didn’t build senators like Francis Ono anymore either.
But back to the house. The classically beautiful English country manor had been designed in 1919 for singing cowgirl Tally Valentine. Originally a hunting lodge, the rustic structure was transformed into a four-story, twenty-five-room mansion complete with stables, servants’ quarters, tennis courts, and swimming pool. The singing cowgirl had lived among the classical ceiling frescos and gold-leaf-mirrored decorative niches until her death in 1979.
A year later the home had been purchased by then-senator Francis Ono, and the Ono family had lived there ever since.
From the start, Ono had been a controversial figure. A Dem who switched parties after his election, he’d been a big proponent of nuclear energy and a big opponent of the Equal Rights Amendment. Just to keep everyone confused, he’d been pro-Labor, pro-Education, and pro-Healthcare. He’d retired from the US Senate in 2012 but was still a force to be reckoned with in California politics. In fact, his surprise endorsement of Clark was a large part of why Jason’s brother-in-law was now a junior representative for the Golden State.
Jason had never met Ono—he did not attend political functions, especially political functions held for Clark—and he assumed Ono did not know of him or connect him to the West family’s political dynasty.
A surprisingly youthful housekeeper dressed in funereal-black led him to a sumptuous library where, despite the warmth of the day, the former legislator stood before a roaring fireplace beneath a life-sized portrait of himself, painted probably three decades earlier. He was drinking brandy.
The housekeeper stood silently in the doorway until Ono turned his head. Ono stared for a long moment at Jason.
“Special Agent West, I presume?”
“Senator Ono.” Jason stepped forward to offer his credentials, but Ono waved him impatiently away. He pointed to a pale-blue brocade sofa.
“Sit. Brandy?”
Jason had only ever seen photos and footage of Ono, and he realized he was still expecting to encounter that very large and vigorous physical presence. Ono was now in his eighties. He was shrunken and frail. His sallow skin was mottled with age spots, though his brows, intimidating mustache, and toupee were all defiantly ink black. There was a tremor in the hand that jabbed at the sofa.
Jason politely declined the brandy and took a seat on the sofa where Ono indicated. Ono continued to stand over him, glaring down.
“We need to get something straight, Agent. Georgette did not kill herself.”
“Right. The coroner’s verdict was accidental death.”
“Possible suicide,” Ono spat out. “I read every word of that garbage report. If you’d known my granddaughter, you’d understand how ridiculous, how insulting to her memory the very idea of suicide is.”
Jason did not take offense at Ono’s tone or the finger wagged aggressively at his nose. He got it. Ono’s response to grief was anger, and he was looking for someone or something on which to vent that anger. Jason just happened to be the nearest available target.
He kept his voice quiet and courteous. “Sir, I know this is difficult. I know you’re not satisfied with the original investigation, which is why I’m here. I promise I’ll look at everything—”
“That’s not what I want! I want the Bureau to conduct its own investigation. From scratch. That’s what I’ve asked for.”
“Absolutely. That’s my intent.”
“I don’t trust the police.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“I don’t trust anyone!”
“Okay, well…” Jason offered a smile. “I accept your challenge.”
Ono glowered from beneath those black, bristling brows. “I don’t want to be humored, Agent.”
“Senator Ono, I’m sure you know the Bureau doesn’t expend resources on humoring people.”
Ono’s upper lip curled. “Now you’re being diplomatic.”
“I try. May I ask why you reject the idea of accidental death?”
“Because it wasn’t an accident.”
“Right. How do you know that?”
“Because it’s too great a coincidence. Georgette feared for her life. The idea that she would then die accidentally in such a stupid, ugly way strains belief!”
Coincidences did happen, of course, though law enforcement was naturally skeptical of them.
“Why did your granddaughter fear for her life?”
Ono’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head.
Jason said, “She must have said something that made you think she was afraid. Did someone threaten her?”
“Possibly.”
Wasn’t that a yes or no question?