Internal Affair by Marie Ferrarella

know, it’s a terrible habit.”
    There was no judgment intended on her part. “I was just thinking that this is supposed to be a smoke-free environment.” According to state law, all public places of work in California were to be kept smoke free.
    “Busted,” Wiley admitted. He nodded at the tall, silent column. “Hence the air purifier. I’m really trying to cut down, but with the pace of the campaign and the stress of the job, I’m finding it difficult. But I guess it’s better than drinking, and I never let myself be photographed with a cigarette.” He looked as if he was debating snuffing out the cigarette, then decided not to. “Don’t want to be a bad role model for the kids.” The grin grew more sheepish. “I try to limit myself to five, but sometimes I cheat by emptying out the ashtray. That makes it look as if I haven’t had any and, well…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Maggi.
    Maggi’s smile in response was soft, easy. “I understand.”
    To Patrick’s disgust, his partner was really beginning to sound as if she was awestruck by the man. He would have thought after what she’d said in the office, just before they left for here, she could see through this tin demigod.
    “Let me empty that for you,” she offered.
    Then, before the congressman could demur, Maggi took the ashtray and threw its contents into the waste-paper basket beside his desk. Wiley smiled at her.
    It wasn’t the smile of a predator, Patrick thought, trying to be fair. But with little effort, it could have been.
    “If you don’t remember speaking to her, then just how did she get into your car, Congressman?” Patrick wanted to know.
    Rather than looking annoyed or cornered, Wiley simply spread his hands out in puzzled consternation.
    “I really don’t have an answer to that.” All he could do was reiterate what he’d previously said. “As I already told you, I allow my staff access to my cars.”
    “There’s no log, no record?” Patrick pressed.
    The sheepish grin was back. That was for people like McKenna, Patrick thought. He just wasn’t buying it.
    “I’m afraid I’m lax that way.”
    From what he’d learned, Wiley was a very organized man. What he maintained didn’t jibe with the established image.
    “Can you remember who had it last?”
    Wiley shook his head. “You’ll have to ask my office manager, Travis Abbott. He handles the everyday details for me. But I just want you to know that everyone on my staff is trustworthy,” he added as if he felt honor-bound to make the statement. “I’ve never had a pair of cuff links stolen, much less a car.”
    Maggi could feel herself being led further and further away from the heart of the original discussion. “This is a lot bigger than car theft, Congressman,” she said.
    The congressman sobered. “I know, murder.” His hands folded before him, he shook his head. “I still can’t believe it, one of my own people. It’s so ugly.”
    “Uglier still when the victim was pregnant,” Patrick told him.
    Wiley’s eyes widened in shock. “Pregnant? She was pregnant?”
    “Coroner says seven weeks.” Patrick’s voice, like his expression, was grim.
    Wiley covered his mouth, as if to keep back words wreathed in horror. “My God, that poor girl.”
    There was appeal in his eyes as he looked at Maggi, although it wasn’t clear to her just what he was appealing to. She chalked it up to confusion.
    “I had no idea.” The congressman took another drag of his cigarette, a long one this time. Ashes hung suspended on the end of it, defying gravity. “I had no idea,” he repeated quietly.
    Just then, there was a knock on the door and a pert brunette they’d interviewed several days ago stuck her head in. She nodded toward them, then looked at Wiley.
    “Sorry to bother you, Congressman, but you have a meeting with Mr. Donovan in less than half an hour and really should be going. Todd has the car waiting for you out front.”
    “Right.” He rose,