Page 77 of Capitol Matters

Applause answered him.

“In honor of that tenacity, and of the one-hundredth anniversary of the Capitol’s founding, I can think of no better time to consider the expansion of our borders,” he continued. “Most of you are familiar with Preston Adler, the human ambassador who has lived among us for the past four years. He was unable to make it tonight but prepared a speech addressing the reintegration of magic into modern society.

“To deliver that speech in Mister Adler’s stead, I introduce my daughter, Miss Holland Lyle.”

Another round of applause swelled then petered out as Holland approached centerstage.

Watching Maximus usher her toward the podium was the realization of a childhood dream. From the time we were old enough to be aware of our parents’ aspirations for us, Holland and I had the same goals: to rise through the ranks of the Investigative Department and to make our fathers proud. Maximus’s steady smileand the twinkle in his eyes proved that Holland had accomplished what she set out to do.

I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding aside to where Jacoby Thatcher sat, impassive. Grimm made a sad substitute for my father but, through the years, I had come to crave his approval. Long before tonight, he’d made clear how often I fell short of his expectations. I got the occasional pat on the back for a murder well done, but those accolades were for Marionette, who always felt separate from me.

Across the table, Daddy Longlegs stood and offered apologies for an untimely exit.

Holland had barely begun to speak but, considering Longlegs’s political leanings, that may have been the reason for his retreat. I understood. I didn’t want to hear the Capitol rhetoric, either.

When I slid my chair back, Thatcher clamped his hand onto my wrist. I looked over at him, trying to imagine Grimm’s face behind the beady eyes and ducktail hair.

“Try to do one thing right tonight,” he grumbled. “Surprise me.”

Drawing a steeling breath, I jerked loose of his grip. Before I stood, I checked Holland and found her straightening her notecards. She was nervous, but not for long. Maximus waited in the wings with magical stress relief. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sending some her way this very moment.

I rose and trailed several paces behind Daddy Longlegs as he headedfor the exit.

Once he was out of the room, I picked up the pace. I couldn’t risk losing him in the maze of the halls outside. Between his stature and pinstriped suit, it was a wonder I hadn’t spotted him before he joined our table. As I took soft steps along the marble floor, I hoped he was up to something nefarious. Not only would it put me in good company, it would make interrupting him that much more interesting.

Signs jutted out of the wall indicating the bathroom doors. When Longlegs turned off into the men’s room, I heaved a sigh. If I had to wait while this guy took a shit…

Stopping outside, I leaned against the wall. This required a plan. The Bronco was parked in the front lot—some distance from here. Too far to puppet-walk Daddy Longlegs while hoping not to run into anyone nosey enough to wonder why we weren’t listening to Holland’s speech. Also, it would provide too many chances for people to note me as the last man seen with a soon-to-be missing person.

Scanning the hallway for passersby who might interrupt my scheming, I noticed the blinking red light of a security camera.

I muttered a curse and shoved away from the wall. Maximus might have been in the know about my “extracurricular activities,” but I couldn’t guarantee the night guard assigned to monitoring the feed would be as understanding.

I squinted at the closed door through which Daddy Longlegs had disappeared. He’d beenin there longer than a quick piss, which meant the abundance of shrimp skewers must have run right through him.

It was just as well since I could guarantee no cameras oversaw the goings on inside the restroom’s bland stalls. My victim had incidentally given me the exact cover I needed.

Barging into the bathroom, I almost pumped my fist at what I found on the far wall. A window; the kind high schools had for the seemingly sole purpose of helping delinquents hide their cigarette habit. On top of that, we were on the side of the building closest to the parking lot. For once, fortune smiled on me.

The bathroom, like the atrium—and Maximus’s home, now that I thought of it—was a study in opulence. Marble floors and counters with gold-framed mirrors over sinks with gilded swan faucets. There were no urinals and five stalls, the doors of which were open save for the one at the end of the line, reserved for the handicapped.

A quick stoop found Daddy Longlegs’s striped pants piled around his ankles. Tighty whities, too. To avoid suspicion, I needed to get back to the table before Holland finished her speech. Unless Preston had written a whopper of a monologue, fitting this escapade into that time frame seemed unlikely.

I thanked my lucky stars for good ventilation as Daddy Longlegs ripped one; the grand finale to his performance. When the toilet flushed, I moved over to the bay of sinks and turned toward the mirror, checking a spot on my chin I’d nicked while shaving. The reflection provided a view of the stalls behind me, and the door that opened as DaddyLonglegs stepped out.

He tugged up his zipper, then fiddled with his belt while heading for the exit.

Before he reached for the handle, I snagged him with a thought like a rope around his torso and turned him back my way.

“Not gonna wash your hands?” I asked.

His eyes stretched wide, and his jaw fell slack as he found my face in the mirror.

“Oh, M-Marionette,” he stammered. “Didn’t see you there.”

We’d been introduced. I hadn’t bothered to remember his name, and he didn’t need a new one for me with my media moniker so firmly in his mind.

I tipped my head toward the sink beside me. “Wash up,” I told him. “For my sake.”

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