Washington Masquerade by Warren Adler Page A

Burns’ death was related to his columns. Some cried administration hit job. Some protested to such a libel of the President. There was outrage, invective, mean-mindedness, and cries of conspiracy. The media fed the paranoia with its usual loud drumbeat. They loved it.
    Fiona and Izzy followed up as best they could, and Hodges assigned a number of clerks in uniform to screen the material from the public, a massive undertaking that offered little in the way of concrete information. All of it was emotional, and there was absolutely no factual evidence offered to buttress the notion that Adam Burns was murdered. Most rejected suicide, and accident wasn’t even on the radar.
    At first, Chief Hodges, despite the growing media coverage, did not take the speculations and accusations seriously, although he pressed Fiona and Izzy to keep digging and resisted any effort to expand the investigation, worrying that it would create the impression that he was actually responding to the frenzy. But as the pressure mounted from the media, various politicians, and the general public, he had to rethink his public relations strategy.
    Normally a publicity hound who loved the limelight, Hodges resisted holding any press conferences. Fiona knew why. He had nothing very interesting to report except that the investigation was continuing, but the questions would be more barbed than usual, saturated with political motives, making him a target for ridicule or worse, a lackey of the powers that be.
    â€œJust cover the bases—facts only—ignore the noise,” he urged.
    They did. Days went by and the noise only accelerated.

Chapter 4
    They sat in the back of The Shamrock, a nondescript old-fashioned tavern on Wisconsin Avenue. Phil Owens, the Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, sat on the other side of the booth in the back of the tavern. One of his tasks was to oversee the Secret Service, charged with protecting the President and Vice President, their wives and children, former presidents, and others who were deemed by statute to need protection.
    Phil’s wife Dolly was one of Fiona’s closest friends, a pal from her Mount Vernon school days, and Phil had been Fiona’s teenage heartthrob, which was not the only part of her anatomy that had been affected. He was technically her first lover, the sex had been a clumsy and painful event, an embarrassing turnoff for both of them. For Fiona there was always the guilty thought that she had deliberately used Phil to “do the deed.” It was never discussed between them ever again, but it had resulted in a permanent bond, their shared secret.
    Phil’s marriage to Dolly was a social event of the season, a full-scale wedding in the National Cathedral and a reception at the Chevy Chase Country Club. Fiona had been one of the bridesmaids. They mingled socially on the party circuit and called each other a few times a week. Fiona had been Dolly’s confidante on her troubles with her husband, which ironically did not have to do with infidelity. Her point of contention was the old cliché: balancing work and home. Phil was driven and intense, determined to climb the ladder of political power and celebrity. Clearly he was moving ever upward.
    Fiona did not shrink from using her personal connections in her investigations. Implicit in these contacts, especially among old friends, was absolute trust and confidentiality. Of course, official boundaries were adhered to, but often blurred. With close friends like Phil, they could address each other in shorthand and still maintain official, although quasi-distance.
    â€œDo you think Burns’ death is connected?”
    â€œI couldn’t say.”
    â€œCouldn’t or wouldn’t, Phil?”
    â€œBoth. Are you abandoning the idea of suicide or accident?”
    â€œNot yet. We have no evidence or proof either way.”
    â€œSo you’re thrashing around for more sinister possibilities?”
    â€œJust