She did indeed pick up her assignments, but by eleven o’clock she was headed to the jail to see Luke. Would they let her see him? She’d never visited an incarcerated person before, and maybe there were restrictions or procedures.
It wasn’t going to be easy. She learned that the moment she walked through the main doors and asked to visit a prisoner. She was directed down a maze of poorly lit and twisting hallways where visitors were instructed to ask permission. She took her place at the end of the line and waited, glancing nervously at the clock ticking on the wall and hoping she’d have enough time to visit Luke and still see her father’s speech.
At last it was her turn, and she approached a thickly muscled officer manning the counter. “Your relation to the prisoner?” he asked.
“A friend.”
“No friends can visit,” he said brusquely. “Family or legal counsel only. Next.”
He turned his attention to the next man in line. It was a blow, but there was no point in arguing with a man who didn’t have authority to change the rules, especially since she had other allies in this building. Superintendent Castor had been a decent man when he met with her in February. He’d been disappointed in the Department of the Interior’s lack of action from the pictures she’d taken. Perhaps she could persuade him to let her take more today.
The superintendent’s secretary gave her the bad news. “He’s in meetings all morning, but he has an opening at three o’clock if you can come back.”
Marianne had no choice but to agree.
Troubles with the streetcar delayed Marianne’s trip back to the Capitol, and it was five minutes after one o’clock when she finally arrived. An usher opened the door to let her slip inside the gallery overlooking the House floor, and her mother shot her an incendiary look, for her father was already speaking. At least Sam sent her a cheerful wave before going back to hanging on the railing to watch Clyde in the chamber below.
Marianne crept toward an empty seat, wincing at the squeak it made as she sat. She ignored the poisonous look Delia sent her and scanned the House floor. What a disappointment! Only a dozen congressmen were in their seats, and her father spoke to a mostly empty chamber. Still, she straightened in pride as she watched. Clyde urged a revised system of taxation for livestock that would benefit small ranchers throughout the country. It was a well-reasoned proposal. The fact that Magruder Food would benefit if this legislation passed shouldn’t be held against him.
What a shame there weren’t more people to hear it. Her gaze traveled to a cluster of spectators in the front row of the gallery. Given how they were jotting notes on pads of paper, shesuspected they were journalists, and one was looking directly at her.
Dickie Shuster. His yellow jacket was so loud, she was surprised it was permitted in these dignified chambers. He sent her a smile and a nod, and she returned it. Barely. Luke had warned that Dickie had long known the scandal about her birth, and it was disconcerting to see him here.
Her father’s speech came to an end, and time was allotted for questions from the floor. Marianne scanned the few congressmen in the chamber, hoping one of them would raise their hand as her father patiently waited to field questions. He’d been preparing responses to possible challenges for weeks, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. After a few moments, the man sitting in the speaker’s chair broke the silence.
“Seeing no questions, the House shall now move for the presentation of a bill to provide pensioner burial stipends, sponsored by the gentleman from Rhode Island. Thank you, Congressman Magruder.”
Clyde gathered his notes and left the podium. That was it?
Clyde returned to his seat while another man rose and began his presentation, but it all seemed rather anticlimactic. Apparently the only congressmen gathered in the chamber below were ones who had speeches lined up to deliver to the nearly empty room.
She leaned over to Vera. “Can we go now?”
“Shh!” Vera said angrily. Marianne’s tardiness still annoyed her mother, but it was hard to sit here and listen to pension benefits when she had a three o’clock meeting with the jail’s superintendent. A glance at the others indicated they all intended to sit quietly and listen to the rest of the presentations this afternoon. How could she escape?
Her gaze landed on Dickie Shuster, who gave her another smile and then a pointed look toward the exit door. He wanted to speak with her.
It was all the excuse she needed. “I’m going to speak with Mr. Shuster,” she whispered to Vera, then left without waiting for permission. The chair let out a painful squeak as she rose and angled her way down the aisle toward the exit door. An usher held it open for her. Dickie came right behind.
“What a surprise to see you here today,” Dickie said with an artificially bright smile.
“Really? I thought it only natural to come for my father’s speech.”
“Of course, of course.” Dickie’s voice echoed down the marble corridor. How ironic that there were more people in the halls than in the chamber. “Actually, I’m glad for the opportunity to see you again. Tell me, do you have any insight into the recent article that appeared inModern Century? I can’t imagine it went over very well in your family.”
How much did he know? “Why do you think I’d know anything about it?”
“You have an affiliation with the Poison Squad,” he said. “I saw the photographs you took of the young men. Delightful photographs, by the way. You are to be congratulated.”
“Thank you, but I don’t have anything to say about what was written inModern Century.”
The article was an embarrassment for the Magruders. She’d always blindly accepted what her father said about the safety of chemical preservatives, but now she’d seen proof that at least some of them were dangerous. According to Dr. Wiley, the levels of salicylic acid used in Magruder’s Creamed Chipped Beef were unacceptably high. It wasn’t bad enough to cause immediate illness, but it was impossible to know the effects of long-term exposure. Luke had done the right thing in sounding the alarm about it.
She hurried down the corridor and quickly got lost in the confusing maze of hallways, but Dickie followed closely behind. Soon she was in the hall of statues, a cavernous room lined withlife-sized sculptures of American heroes. Tourists crowded the room to gawk at the statues, but Dickie kept pelting her with questions, coming uncomfortably close to her association with Luke.
She gave up trying to evade him and spoke frankly. “I once met a man who said you were not to be trusted. He warned that you were cunning, clever, and underhanded.”
Dickie’s look was part amusement, part pleasure. “Moi?” he asked innocently. “I am a harmless guppy.”
