Silenced by the Yams - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,45
For Randolph’s sake, if nothing else?”
Mertz nodded and Jorge was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Since Clarence was still packing his things, we agreed to wait for him at the coffee shop across the street. Guy wanted to ask a couple of questions before going back to work, so he joined us.
The heat and humidity walloped us as we stepped onto the sidewalk and crossed the two lane street. Feeling far too hot for coffee, I ordered an iced tea while Guy declined anything and Colt sucked down an ice cold bottle of water. Despite our desire for air conditioning, we waited at a small table outside so we could see Clarence when he exited the Tanner building. DC business suits and tourists passed by our table at irregular intervals. I looked at my watch and cringed. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. We’d been in that place for two and a half hours and I’d promised Howard that I would get home. I really needed to see my girls, take care of Mama Marr, and possibly fit a nap in there somewhere, but I didn’t want to leave Colt and Clarence until I knew they were going to be okay together.
Colt was unusually introspective. I suspected he was rehearsing his next conversation with Clarence. Things were likely to be very awkward between them. Would he ask for a DNA test? Truthfully, it wasn’t necessary. The resemblance was uncanny. If Clarence cut his stringy hair, they would practically look like twins.
While waiting for Clarence, we filled Guy in on the circumstances that lead us to the confrontation in the banquet hall. Somehow we boiled the tale down to about three sentences, to which Guy responded, when we were done: “You don’t say.”
“Thank you for helping us out,” I said. “Your text was most timely.”
He tipped his fedora. “Happy to be of service. I hope you’ll include me in more of your adventures. This was quite a lot of fun.”
I sighed. To be honest, it all felt very anti-climactic. And I still didn’t have any information that would help me vindicate Frankie. Maybe Frankie was correct that he was being framed as revenge by friends of Vivanna Buttaro’s. Colt said if that were the case, time to stop this train and get off, because we took that trip once already and it wasn’t pretty. We’d learned the hard way not to mess with Mafia, even the misfit kind.
Sadly, he was right.
Guy tapped his umbrella tip a couple of times on the concrete beneath our feet. “Don’t you wonder why Senator Juarez would want to talk with Jorge?”
Actually, it hadn’t registered on my radar. “Maybe he wanted to rent the ACL building for an event. A fundraiser or something. Jorge said that it’s rented out for all sorts of reasons by all sorts of organizations.”
Guy harrumphed. “Seemed more important. ‘The Senator insists’ were the receptionist’s exact words if I recall. And who tells a Senator that he’ll ‘call him back later’? Just appears like there’s a relationship there that goes beyond simple party arranging.”
“You think he’s gay too?” I asked.
“Not that kind of relationship,” Guy said, shaking his head and staring at the building. “Senator Juarez is very straight. He was caught with his pants down receiving some gratitude from a young female intern many years ago, but the story never made the headlines because of a much larger scandal involving a president and an intern with a stain on her dress.”
“I have a friend who wants to work on Juarez’s presidential campaign, if he runs.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see if he runs. He’s being investigated for voter fraud during his last run for senator.”
“Really?” Colt said. “That hasn’t been in the news, has it?”
Guy sniffed. “I just told you—news is all relative. The syndicates broadcast the stories that are most likely to entice viewers to change the channel from Seinfeld reruns or Jersey Shore. This story isn’t big enough yet. Not enough facts.”
I chewed on that for a while. “What does any of that have to do with Jorge, do you think?”
“Nothing, I guess. It just wouldn’t seem that they’d run in the same circles is all.”
Finally, Clarence appeared on the sidewalk in front of the ACL building bearing a sad face and a small box which presumably contained his possessions. I was relieved, because the heat was overwhelming. We could finally wrap everything up and head our separate ways.
I called his name. When he spotted us he waited for a couple of cars, then crossed