Deadly Politics by Maggie Sefton Page B

Nearly eleven o’clock. “When will these people leave?” I whispered to Casey.
    â€œSometimes you wonder, Molly. I just had to help two staffers into cabs and another into the upstairs bathroom to throw up. Be glad you’re just talking to them.”
    â€œWhoa, thanks for sharing,” I said and laughed all the way to the library. Ryan caught up with me at the doorway.
    â€œI spied a few cookies, so I grabbed those, too,” he said as I gratefully accepted the ceramic mug of coffee. Steam wafted off the black brew, tickling my nose.
    â€œThanks, Ryan, you’re a lifesaver,” I said, snatching the cookies as well. “When do you get to go home?”
    â€œOh, in another half hour, probably. See you later, Molly.” He was already halfway out the door.
    There was Peter’s folder on the desk, so I took a deep drink of coffee and pulled my phone from my pocket. I stood, paging through Senator Russell’s dinner schedule and munching cookies, while I dutifully entered the dates on my electronic calendar.
    I did notice that, with the exception of this weekend, Russell did the majority of his entertaining during the week, clearly leaving weekends free for return trips to Colorado. I’d been impressed with his regular attendance to his home state and constituents. Smart man.
    â€œWe’ll keep you busy, Molly,” Brewster said, strolling into the library. “You’ll be earning your salary for sure.”
    â€œI can see that, Peter. My dance card is practically full. I notice Russell leaves weekends open. Back to Colorado, right?”
    Peter nodded, sipping from a square-cut crystal glass. It looked like Scotch. “Absolutely. Gotta keep in touch with the people who sent him here.”
    I flipped through the pages again, this time noticing the suggested guest lists. Several names jumped out at me, faces appearing. More faces and names coalesced as I went through the pages. “You’ve done a good job of arranging these lists, Peter. Did you do it, or does Russell pick and choose?”
    â€œA little of both. Incidentally, if you see any potential conflicts in the guest lists, I’d appreciate your input. We can always move people around in the interests of congeniality.”
    I smiled as I read. “Congeniality, huh? I never pegged you as an optimist.” Spotting a couple of names, I said, “Now that you mention it, you might want to separate these two.” I pointed to the names of two Western congressman.
    â€œWhy’s that?” Peter asked, peering over the list.
    â€œ He had an affair with his first wife years ago,” I answered, pointing to the names. “You might want to invite them to separate dinners. In the interest of congeniality.”
    Peter chuckled. “Thanks, Molly. See, you’re a great help already. Senator Russell has a lot of plans—”
    I didn’t hear the rest of Senator Russell’s plans. Another list had caught my attention and another name. I stared at this name. Congressman Edward Ryker. I didn’t have to search for this face. It rocketed from the back of my mind and out of the past. The past I’d tried so hard to bury. Old memories seared through me, cutting off my breath. Finally, Peter’s voice pierced the fog.
    â€œMolly? Are you all right?”
    I blinked, then shook off the past to meet Brewster’s confused gaze. “I … I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
    Peter peered at me. “Never mind. I’m more interested in what you saw that transfixed you so. You didn’t even hear me.”
    â€œOld memories from the past, that’s all.”
    â€œOld memories or old enemies?”
    I held his gaze. “Both. I’ve got a lot of history in this town, Peter. And a lot of ghosts. It’s only inevitable they start creeping around.”
    â€œIf there’s any function you don’t care to attend, just let me know. The