Murder on Capitol Hill Read Online Free

his father. Will he forgive him?”
    Lydia shrugged. “Who knows… Veronica got him here, and I can only assume that Cale will be pleased to see him.”
    They watched Mark Caldwell go to a secluded corner of the room, lean against the wall and watch sourly as his mother greeted her guests.
    “Why don’t you go say something to him?” Clarence suggested. “He looks pretty miserable.”
    She did. “Mark Caldwell?” Lydia said as she approached him, hand out.
    He scrutinized her, she thought, like a cornered animal might a potential enemy.
    “I’m Lydia James. Remember me?”
    He obviously didn’t, but went through the motions of shaking her hand. A long awkward pause. Finally she said, “Quite a night for your father.”
    “I guess so. Excuse me, I want to get something.” He went quickly to one of the bars and ordered a Seven-Up.
    Lydia returned to Clarence. “That was quick,” he said.
    “He never was very talkative. Sort of nice, though. I hope he puts things together and gets out of that awful cult. It’s scary what they can do to a person who’s susceptible to control. You’d think after Jonestown and all the exposés, but they go on. My God, even the daughter of the senator who was killed there went and got herself a guru…”
    More guests arrived, some of whom joined Lydia and Clarence, but Lydia’s attention was focused onMark Caldwell, who’d gone back to his corner. She felt sorry for him, wanted to break away and try again to put him at ease. She didn’t. Along with her sensitivity to his discomfort was an apprehension about Cale Caldwell’s entrance and his reaction to seeing the son he’d washed his hands of years ago.
    Moments later, the Senate Majority Leader came through the door looking every bit the part of a successful and powerful senator. His face, tanned the year round from a sunlamp in the Senate barbershop, provided a healthy, handsome scrim for a wide, dazzling smile. As usual, he was dressed immaculately in one of a dozen suits he kept in his office to change to for nighttime activities. He kissed his wife, slapped a Senate colleague on the back and waved to well-wishers across the room.
    The pianist immediately launched a medley of “man” songs—“Man of La Mancha,” “The Man I Love,” “My Man”… Guests pushed toward the door to greet the guest of honor. Lydia glanced over to where Mark Adam Caldwell stood, saw that he’d made no move toward the door, that his sullen expression hadn’t changed.
    Senator Caldwell made his way through clusters of people and now came up to Lydia and Clarence. “Hello, Lydia,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Mr. Foster-Sims, glad you could come.”
    Someone touched him on the back. He turned, and as he did he spotted his son for the first time. Although Lydia could not see his face because his back was to her, the tightening of his body was evident. His shoulders hunched up, veins at the side of hisneck bulged. His wife came up to him with their other son, Cale, Jr., on her arm.
    Charles handed Caldwell a drink.
    “Thank you, Charles,” he said, never taking his eyes off Mark Adam. Veronica looked at Lydia, smiled, then said to her husband, “Well, go on and say hello. He’s here to pay tribute to you too. Please, just go over and shake his hand.”
    “Why is he here—?”
    “I just told you…”
    “I’m not sure I—”
    “Cale, it wasn’t easy for him to do it. Please, don’t drive him away again.”
    Lydia’s gesture was involuntary as she reached out and touched the senator’s arm. When he turned and looked at her, she nodded her head, trying to encourage him to do as Veronica asked.
    He took a deep breath, glanced at those around him, then slowly strode toward where his son stood.
    Few guests were unaware of what was occurring in the corner between father and son. Lydia, Clarence, Veronica and Cale, Jr., said nothing as they watched the hesitancy with which the senator offered his hand to Mark, and the