The Collectors (Camel Club 2)

Congressman Bradley.”

Stone admitted, “I’m trying to connect the dots myself, frankly. Were you at the Federalist Club that night?”

Warren nodded slowly. “It was supposed to be a tribute to the old man and ended up being a nightmare.”

“You actually saw it happen?” Milton asked.

“I had that great misfortune. I was next to Mike, Mike Avery. Senator Pierce had just finished a nice toast and bam, shot came out of nowhere. It all happened so fast. I had my glass of champagne next to my lips. Spilled it all over me. It was awful. I was sick to my stomach, a lot of people were.”

“You know Avery well?”

“I should, we worked together, day and night, for ten years.”

“Where is he now?”

“Moved with me when Bradley became Speaker. He’s out of a job now too.”

“We understand that he was the one who put together the event at the club and arranged for the toast.”

“No, he didn’t. Mike and I drove over there together. We were just part of the guest list.”

“We were told he was getting people in the room for the toast.”

“So was I. We were just helping out.”

“Who were you helping?”

“Albert. Albert Trent. He was the one who suggested the toast. Albert was always thinking of stuff like that. I’m just a poor wonk with limited social skills.”

“Albert Trent? Did he put the whole event together?”

“Don’t know. But he was certainly working the room that night.”

“Is he out of a job now too?”

“Oh, no. Albert stayed behind at the intel committee.”

“But I thought you said you followed your congressman?” Stone said, puzzled.

“Normally, you do. But Albert didn’t want to leave. Bradley wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that. Albert had cut some deal with the new intel chairman coming up to be his top aide. Albert has a way of making himself indispensable. But there’s a lot to do at the Speaker’s office, and not having Albert left us shorthanded. I’m not telling tales out of school. That was public knowledge.”

“But Bradley let him have his way?”

Warren smiled. “You obviously didn’t know Bob Bradley. Like I said, the guy was incredibly decent, honest, hardworking, but you don’t get to his position in life without being tough as hell and persistent. And the man didn’t like having a subordinate buck him. Dollars to doughnuts, Albert was going to end up in the Speaker’s office sooner rather than later.”

“But with Bradley dead, that became a moot point?”

“Of course. Me and Mike tried to do the right thing, and we’re unemployed. Albert bucks the old man and he’s sitting pretty. And Mike’s got four kids and his wife stays home. Trent’s single and no kids. Tell me how that’s fair.”

After they had left, Milton said, “I know, everything I can find on Albert Trent.”

Stone nodded. “Everything.”

“That seems a pretty clear motive for murder, though. I’m surprised the police haven’t jumped on it. Warren didn’t even seem to catch it.”

“What motive?” Stone asked.

“Oliver, it’s obvious. If Bradley lives, Trent has to leave the intelligence committee. If he dies, Trent gets to stay where he is.”

“So you think the man murders the Speaker of the House to avoid changing jobs? And he didn’t pull the trigger because he was at the club. So he’d have to hire a hit man to do it for him. That seems a little extreme to keep a midlevel government position. And like Warren said, the Speaker’s office is far more prestigious.”

“Then there has to be something more.”

“Agreed. But right now we don’t know what that is.”

Inside the house, Dennis Warren picked up the phone and spoke with his friend and former colleague Mike Avery. Then he punched in a second number.

“Albert? Hey, it’s Dennis. Look, sorry to bother you at work, but some guys were here asking some weird questions. I called Mike Avery too, to give him a heads-up. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d call you anyway.”

Trent said, “I appreciate that. What exactly did they want to know?”

Warren recounted the conversation and then added, “I told them you’d organized the toast for Bob and that you’d stayed behind at the committee.”

“What did they look like?”

Warren described Stone and Milton. “Do you know them?”

“No, not at all. That is weird.”

“Well, again, I just thought I’d give you a heads-up. Hope I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have.”

“I have no secrets,” Trent replied.

“Hey, Albert, if anything opens on the committee staff, let me know, willya? I’m tired of twiddling my thumbs.”

“Will do and thanks for the info.”

Albert immediately left his office and made a call from a pay phone and arranged to meet with Seagraves outside the Capitol later.

When Seagraves arrived, Trent said, “We’ve got a problem.”

Seagraves listened and said, “Well, their next move is obvious.”

“You’ll take care of it?”

“I always take care of it.”

CHAPTER 53

WHILE MILTON AND STONE were making their investigative rounds, Caleb glanced up from his desk in the reading room as Annabelle walked in, wearing a black pleated skirt and matching jacket, white blouse and low pumps. She had a tote bag slung over her shoulder and was holding her newly minted library card with her picture on it. Caleb approached her.

“Can I help you, Miss . . . ?”

“Charlotte Abruzzio. Yes, I was looking for a certain book.”

“Well, you came to the right place. After all, this is a library.” Caleb laughed.

Annabelle didn’t even crack a smile. She’d told him to keep the conversation to a minimum and not to attempt any lame jokes, but he’d gone and done it anyway, the little dork. She gave him the name of the book she wanted. It was one he’d suggested the night before when they’d gone over the plan.

Caleb retrieved the volume from the vault, and Annabelle sat down at a table with it. She was seated facing the door and also where she could easily see Caleb.

An hour later Caleb jumped up. “Ah, Jewell, how are you? Jewell, it’s so good to see you,” he said, advancing quickly on the older lady after giving Annabelle a “that’s her” look.

At her seat Annabelle gritted her teeth. What a piece of work. The man could not have been more obvious if he’d pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tackled the old woman. Luckily, Jewell English seemed not to have noticed because she was fumbling in her bag.

A few minutes later Caleb gave Jewell a book from the vault, and she settled down with it. Caleb kept going back over to her often and then glancing at Annabelle as though she might have somehow missed the identity of the target. In exasperation Annabelle finally gave him such a fierce glare that he fled back to his desk.

When Jewell was done an hour later, she packed her bag, said good-bye to Caleb and left. Annabelle followed her a minute later and caught up with her out on the street where the elderly woman was looking for a cab. Annabelle had wrapped a scarf around her head and put on a long jacket she’d carried in her bag. As a cab pulled up to the curb, Annabelle made her move. She bumped into Jewell, jostling the woman’s bag. Her hand slipped in and out of it so fast, a person standing right next to them would’ve been unable to follow the move.

“Oh, my Gawd,” Annabelle said in a deep southern voice. “Honey, I am sooo sorry. My mama didn’t raise me to run into nice ladies like you.”

“That’s all right, dear,” Jewell said, a little out of breath from the collision.

“Y’all have a nice day,” Annabelle said.