All The Pretty Things (Revised Edition)

Chapter One

Cincinnati, Ohio: June 4th

WELL, YOU’VE GOT THE face.

Tess narrowed her eyes and hoped her gaze revealed nothing to the man across the table. She had both been looking forward to and dreading this meeting for the past year. The face? Blonde hair and blue eyes looked nice from behind the lens of a camera. Appearances mattered in the game of politics, and if his salary was any indication, Brian Tisdale was going to teach her how to win.

A face people like. I’ve always thought so, even during your father’s campaign.

It took an exercise of willpower for Tess to keep from rolling her eyes. Glad to be helpful. She and Brian had grudgingly been acquaintances for years. As Senator Daubney’s campaign manager he had paraded her around at political fundraisers, posed her for commercials, and basically used her as a marketing tool ever since her early teens. She knew how he operated. Now, as a favor to her father, and with the incentive of a healthy paycheck, he had agreed to act as her campaign manager.

Is your father coming? Brian asked. He glanced at the door even though they were the only ones in the conference room.

Tess shook her head. No. I talked him out of it. I know you wanted this to be private. She curled her fingers tightly into her palms. If Brian was already worried, I am in for a very uncomfortable conversation.

Some of these questions are going to get personal, Tess. Brian reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sleek tablet. That’s the way things work in this world. You’ve got to know what you’re getting into.

Sometimes, Tess wondered if she really did know. So far, her political career had been confined to the state of Ohio, but being a national political figure required more work and opened her to a lot more public scrutiny. Whenever she had doubts, she reminded herself of her career path. She had written it out on a sheet of notebook paper when she was only twelve years old and stuck to it as closely as she could. Her determination had helped her become valedictorian at her exclusive high school, salutatorian at college, and a magna cum laude graduate from an Ivy League law school. Now, after several years spent working for her father in Washington and serving in the Ohio State Senate, it was finally her time.

Brian tapped the screen and Tess stared at him over the frames of her glasses, waiting for him to continue. I’m going to lay it out for you. If you want this congressional seat, you’re going to have to work for it. This won’t be like the primary. The other Republicans were willing to make nice with a pretty new girl from a well-known political family, but Robertson and the Democrats won’t. He’s used to winning and he has no scruples about using theatrics, mudslinging, and outright lies to get results. I’m worried, and Ohio’s second district has been in Republican hands since the early 1980s. We can’t let that change now.

That doesn’t say much for your faith in me, she said, careful to keep her tone neutral.

Faith doesn’t count in an election year. I want you going into this with both eyes open. Brian scrolled down the screen. At least this part won’t take long, since I already know most of your background.

Tess leaned forward across the table to get a better look at what he was reading. Even upside down and distorted, she could tell that it was a list, and she was able to make out a few of the words. Money? Family? Drugs? Criminal Record? Sex? What kind of list is this, Brian?

The same list I’ve used for every campaign I’ve ever managed. It’s called the ‘We’re Fucked’ list, and we’re going through it together. When Robertson starts throwing stuff I want to know whether it’s shit or hand grenades.

Tess narrowed her eyes hoping it would disguise some of her fear. Mentally, she braced herself for the barrage of questions. Okay. At least now I know why you didn’t want dad here. Go down the list. What is ‘money’ supposed to mean?

The war chest. More specifically, where you got yours. Thankfully, we’re playing with your cash, so you don’t have too many lobbyist puppet masters to worry about appeasing, and I know you didn’t obtain any of it illegally.

You’re actually worried about that?

Brian sighed and tapped the tip of his finger against the list. You know, Tess, for a politician, you’re depressingly naïve. It’s going to come back and bite you in the ass someday. Anyway, your family is golden. Your father’s name and reputation are going to boost you from the start. Your mother’s a piece of work, but she knows how to smile for the camera. Joshua should buckle down and take life more seriously, but he’s not usually in too much trouble. You won’t end up like Congressman Kempshaw.

Tess shifted back in her chair. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for Kempshaw. The senior congressman from North Carolina was a straight arrow, as much as one could be in politics, but his drug-addicted brother had caused him plenty of campaign problems during the last election. Her own family might be dysfunctional, and she was no exception, but at least they were private about their vices.

Anyway, I know you don’t use drugs, and I know you don’t have a criminal record. That leaves…

Sex, Tess said. It was the only thing left on the sheet of paper. You really think this is necessary? I’m not married, so it’s not like anyone can catch me having an affair.

Brian stared at her. Tess stared back and folded her arms over her chest, refusing to be intimidated. The fact that you aren’t married is part of the problem. People are going to talk, you know. He studied her so intently that she wondered if he was trying to see through her skin. You’re wealthy and attractive. You come from an excellent family…

You make me sound like a show dog, she muttered. Do you want to walk me around in the ring and find a stud to breed me? I promise not to bite when the judges check my teeth.

I’m just saying that some constituents will wonder why you aren’t married.

Why should they care? In her mind, she defended herself against more than her campaign manager. She had given this speech to her parents, friends, and other well-meaning family members and colleagues since her mid-twenties. It’s not 1950 anymore. There are plenty of single women my age. In fact, I know plenty of women decades older than me who are single too.

Yeah, but most of them are divorced, and they aren’t the ones running for office. A good family image–

Which I have.

Which you have, is necessary in these sorts of things. Brian smiled at her like he did when arguing with her father. She hated it. Okay, I’ll stop. Just please tell me you outgrew the lesbian college thing like the rest of your sorority. The Republicans have made some strides in the last few years, but they’re nowhere near ready to elect an openly gay congresswoman yet.

Tess held his gaze and remained silent. She had never discussed her sexuality with Brian, and he had never asked, but both of them had known this was coming. She leaned back in her chair and continued staring until Brian groaned and tapped to the next page. Fine, fine, I guess that was too much to hope for. How many people are you out to, and how much damage control do I need to do?

Give me some credit. I’m not stupid, Brian. She had kept her sexuality quiet. Even though gay marriage was legal in more than a handful of states and recognized by the federal government, it did not change the fact that her party’s disapproval of homosexuality was carried by the sea of bile that flowed from their far-right constituents. Aside from my brother and a few, um, personal arrangements… Brian frowned and she groaned. What, you expect me to remain celibate? I’m gay, not crazy. Anyway, none of my friends or acquaintances know. I’ve even kept it a secret from my parents.

Your father’s busy, and your mother doesn’t stop talking long enough to listen to anyone but herself, Brian muttered.

Tess sighed, but she could not contradict him. Her relationship with her mother had never been very fulfilling for either of them. In fact, she much preferred her father’s mistress, Cindy. She was much more tolerable to be around. You’ve never paid for these ‘personal arrangements,’ right?

Tess forced herself to look appropriately offended. Fortunately, she had always been an excellent liar. It was a skill that had served her well. Of course not! I hate to break it to you, Brian, but women can usually get sex without paying for it.

Teresa Daubney, if you are lying to me–

Why do you think I’m lying? She could tell Brian was uncomfortable. He refused to look at her and fiddled with the tablet. It felt good to know she had inherited her father’s intimidating prowess and not just his political name.

I suppose it explains why no brokenhearted exes have come crying to the newspapers saying they slept with you.

Maybe I just happen to be discreet and persuasive. Isn’t that how a politician is supposed to operate? Brian still did not look convinced so she changed tactics, softening her expression and speaking in a soothing voice. Don’t worry, Brian. There’s no girlfriend for you to cover up, and there are no exes for you to worry about. In fact, I am planning on avoiding that sort of company during the campaign. I don’t need the media poking their nose in my personal life.

Good girl. The praise annoyed her. The last person she wanted to seek approval from was Brian, and yet she sat there with him, doing just that. Brian tapped to the next page of his notes. Promise me that if something comes up, you’ll tell me before I read about it on the Internet.

I promise. Like hell she would tell him. If anyone found out any of her three secrets: that she preferred women, that she had paid for their company until four years ago, and that not all of the services she requested were ‘average,’ Brian was the last person she would go to for help. Money could buy a lot of things, but it could only go so far with Brian.

Chapter Two

Washington, DC: September 27th

HOW DO YOU FEEL about Cincinnati?

Special Agent Robin Hart had no particular feelings about Cincinnati one way or the other, but decided that it would not be wise to say so. Assistant Director Greely was the kind of boss who liked listening to himself talk. She chose to humor him and leaned on the chair in front of his desk. She knew Greely liked to imagine that he was approachable, a ‘people person’ that always had an open seat in his office. She remained standing and wondered what she had gotten herself into this time.

There were two possible reasons for Greely to send her to Cincinnati. The first was a transfer to their field office, something that she definitely did not want. She tried to remember any regulations she might have broken. Her last couple of cases had been smooth and relatively minor, and she had been cleared on the Grainger shooting months ago. She didn’t have trouble with any of the three B’s—no broads, no booze, and no Bureau cars—so she had no idea what might have motivated Greely to transfer her. Of course, there was always another possibility. He might be sending her on assignment.

I don’t know how I feel about it. Depends on why you’re asking, I guess.

Your new assignment. Greely pushed a manila folder and a flash drive across his desk.

Robin gave in and took the flash drive, slipping it in the pocket of her neatly pressed slacks. Honestly, the whole dressing up thing was what she hated the most about her job. The occasional firefight or dangerous situation was also unwelcome, but really, the fancy clothes were worse.

Flipping open the file, she glanced over the summary page. Her brow furrowed. Corruption cases were nothing new to her since she had reluctantly put her counterterrorism days behind her, but this one seemed particularly slimy. No one working for the government wanted to investigate one of their own, especially not her, and investigations like this tended to make a lot more enemies than friends. Privately, Robin wondered what she had done in a past life to deserve this. It must be bad karma, she thought as she looked back up at Greely. Well, shit.

Shit is right. We’ve had a couple of tips on this already. Everything we know so far is in the file. We didn’t take it too seriously at first, so it’s not much, but the information started to pile up.

Robin scowled. You mean you ignored it.

Greely did not deny it. Washington’s a funny place. Everybody knows everybody.

So he’s got friends. So what? Corruption is corruption. With a sigh, she looked back down at the folder. Robertson. Where have I heard that name before? It seems vaguely familiar. She flipped through the limited information in the folder. The House Committee on Financial Services. Subcommittee on Domestic Monetary Policy and Technology, Subcommittee on Capital Markets, Insurance, and Government Sponsored Enterprises, this guy has his fingers in a lot of pies, and money is the main ingredient.

Tread carefully on this one, Hart. This isn’t some petty border control officer taking bribes. Robertson is a well-respected and influential politician, even if he does come from the middle of nowhere. Don’t make me bail you out of trouble for stepping on a congressman’s toes.

I don’t think Cincinnati is in the middle of nowhere, Robin pointed out. To Assistant Director Greely, any city that wasn’t on the East Coast or in California was ‘the middle of nowhere.’ She had never been to Cincinnati, or even Ohio, but she assumed that if it was big enough to warrant an FBI field office there had to be some civilization there. So, why am I going to Cincinnati if I’m investigating a congressman working in Washington?

Because he’s up for reelection. His offices, his support staff, and most of his paperwork are all there right now. Besides, I want you to keep an eye on the monetary supporters of his campaign.

Oh. Bribes. Can't be clearer than that. How much support am I getting on this?

Use some of Cincinnati’s brick agents. No need to ship too many of our people over there. I’m calling their regional branch today to give them a heads-up. You’re the lead Special Agent on this, but try to play nice, will you? It’s their sandbox. We’ve got enough trouble dealing with local law enforcement without worrying about inter-agency cooperation.

Robin closed the file, tucking it against her side. Got it, she said, taking a step back.

Get out of here, Hart. One of the Betties got you plane tickets for tomorrow, so you’d better pack and do your homework. Robin headed for the door, ignoring the slightly sexist remark and reminding herself that she really did like her ADIC once in a great while.

Despite her initial wariness about investigating a well-connected federal politician, the more Robin thought about her new assignment, the more she looked forward to it. This was the part of the job that she loved, sinking her teeth into a fresh case and digging up the incriminating information she needed right from under the subject’s nose. It wasn’t quite as exhilarating as taking down a terrorist cell, but it still required a certain amount of finesse and intelligence.

The relationship between congressmen and their supporters were often blurry, and it was usually difficult to prove bribery directly. The political game was pay-to-play, after all. Casually, she flipped through the file again, sidestepping a junior agent as she read and walked. Most of it was background information, and very little prep work had been done so far. She would be building this case from the ground up.

* * *

Robin felt the wide, buggy eyes of Charlie, her Siamese fighting fish, staring at her mournfully through the clear plastic walls of his home. He swirled his colorful fins, circling excitedly as she reached for his tin of food. Sorry, buddy. Robin opened the top of his tank to pour in a few fish flakes. No blood worms or shrimp for you today. You’re getting fat.

Charlie’s lips stretched into a long ‘o,’ puckering sadly at her. Robin decided that meant she was forgiven even though she had insulted him. She had developed a silent form of communication with Charlie over the years. He was surprisingly good company for a fish, anyway.

I have to fly out to Cincinnati for a job tomorrow. Charlie seemed all right with this, but that was probably because he was preoccupied chasing after his food flakes. Mrs. Villancio and her cats will take care of you while I’m gone. Charlie did not like the cats, but since Mrs. Villancio took them everywhere with her, he did not have much of a choice. He fluffed out his gills, opening and closing his mouth almost like he was talking.

Robin’s job did not allow her much flexibility to care for a pet or develop a social life, but she liked seeing Charlie swim around in circles when she walked through the front door to her apartment. It was nice to know that someone was happy to see her, even if that someone was only a betta fish. His deep purple fins floated weightlessly in the water like tiny scarves.

Charlie was a gift from her stepbrother, also named Charlie. His full name was Charleston, after the city where he had been born, instead of the standard Charles. His mother had died when he was young, and he attached himself to Robin when their parents married. She had been fifteen at the time, seven years older than him, but she was fond of him anyway and didn’t mind babysitting him. Unfortunately, that job had fallen to her all too often during her teenage years, while her mother searched for herself in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Charlie’s father was a good guy, and he helped when he could, but he was entirely too passive to handle her mother’s drinking problem.

Pulling out her laptop and flopping back onto the couch, Robin typed in her password and began reading through her work e-mail. Most of them were mundane, unimportant messages, but she did read one saying that her flight was confirmed for 10:05 AM the next morning.

Robin began searching the Internet for publicly available information on Congressman Robertson. The information that the FBI had provided her with was a good start, but she wanted to know more about this guy than when his birthday was and from which schools he had graduated. She needed personal information—did he have hobbies, where he went grocery shopping, whether he was on good terms with his family or not. Some of these personal details would be impossible to find out online, but she could look up his voting record.

Is this what our elected officials do all day? Robin sighed in exasperation, scrolling through the list of recently passed bills. Many of the items on their agenda were nonessential bills of congratulation or procedural guideline agreements. Finally, toward the middle of the list, she found some of the more important laws that Congress had passed in the last six months. Most of them dealt with the budget. Bills coming out of committees that Robertson was involved with handed out a lot of money. Several bills carrying the congressman’s name had gone up for debate and eventually passed. Robin smiled, warming up to this case despite her initial reservations. The murky nature of politics definitely made corruption charges difficult to prove, but sometimes, she really did enjoy her job.

Chapter Three

Cincinnati, Ohio: September 27th

TESS KICKED OFF HER heels as soon as she stepped through the door to her apartment. She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, letting the slope of her shoulders fall from the stiff, rigid line that she presented to the world. She walked inside and tossed her briefcase down beside a pile of papers and yesterday’s Chinese takeout.

Tess was proud of her apartment. She had financed it without any help from her father. The view was worth the price tag that came attached to it. Cincinnati’s skyline was not as memorable as, say, Manhattan’s, but the glowing lights above Queen City Square were beautiful at night. With a sigh, she left the window and wandered into her kitchen, surprised to find an uncorked bottle of wine sitting on the counter and an empty glass waiting beside it. Shrugging, she poured herself some of the red and took a sip, not too concerned that someone was in her apartment. As she