Chapter 46

My detail chief was waiting for me when I finally walked into the Oval Office. He had news. I could tell. When you’ve seen that look as many times as I had, you knew.

“Mr. President. We are all over the death of former Justice Roberts. What we already know is that he was demonstrably upset after receiving a phone call on his private line about two-thirty yesterday afternoon. His state of mind has been described as angry enough to throw things at the wall in his office. Whatever set him off had to be connected to his apparent suicide, today.”

I waited for more.

Nothing was forthcoming.

Mulling wasn’t in the cards in this job, so Jim Bell’s example aside, I needed to give some orders. “Curtis. I want the Service back track the movements and conversations of Justice Roberts for the last few weeks. Something, or someone seems to have driven him to suicide. I’m not saying I believe it has to do with President Brownbock’s sudden retirement, or my moving into his office, but it most likely has some connective tissue.

“If someone wanted Roberts to commit some crime, or if he was being blackmailed into committing a crime, we need to know. If he was being blackmailed, strong armed, or intimidated we need to know that, too. Put the best people on it and wind them up and turn them loose until we have some reasonable answers. If there is a plot to hurt Sam Brownbock, or me, I want to know all about it and get in front so we can put a stop to it.”

When he was gone, I called over to Treasury and spoke to the Secretary, confirming my discussion with Curtis Johnson. After I hung up, it occurred to me that we shouldn’t overlook the possibility that another Secretary might be involved in the evolving conspiracy. It felt likely that finding the truth about Roberts’ death would lead to the core of yet another conspiracy.

Unless it was all connected, somehow.

Conspiracy, or not, the day was filled with an unending line of critical decisions, signatures needed, people to meet and things to do. It was well past dinner when I dragged myself up to the Quarters and flopped down on the nearest couch. Jennifer spoke quietly to a servant and dinner magically appeared.

“How is my Honey?” I crooned, sweeping her onto my lap and enjoying a little slap and tickle before supper.

Jennifer giggled and then frowned. “If you are going to work long hours all the time, I’ve got to get out and do something, or go stir crazy.” She sounded frustrated, but that was a good thing.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you get some staff to help you put together a coalition of concerned Americans and go after big picture items like quality health care for children and veterans, support for the terminally ill and their close family members and maybe personal responsibility for teenagers? We can give you all the media attention you could ever want and you’d be doing something great for the country and the people.” She was going to need time to sort out her feelings on that subject, so I knew she wouldn’t give me any kind of an immediate answer, but I least I put it out there.

Jennifer has two sexy looks. One is what I’ve come to refer to as, ‘I Am VERY Aroused and You Need to Take Me to Bed, Right Now.’ The other is more of a, ‘Do I Look Sexy to You? Then Why Don’t You Come Up Here and Do Something About It?’ The two looks are very different and it took me some time to dope out the difference in them.

Jennifer was definitely giving me the, “Do I Look Sexy,’ look and I had to make a choice. It was going to either supper or sex ... One or the other ... Jennifer’s buttocks were alternately squeezing Mr. Johnson as she squirmed around on my lap. Her attentions brought on his elongating shape and that was just what she wanted to see. Supper could wait. It was time to remind my wife that I had the power to erase her memories...

For an hour we romped on the gigantic bed in our quarters. Jennifer was very prepared to keep it up all night but I had to get some sleep. We’d played until the wee hours the night before and I was feeling it.

Having screwed me into submission, Jennifer wanted to talk about the coalition idea. “How does that kind of thing work? Where do I start? Who would be willing to help? Where would I find money to make it happen? Do you think anyone would care about something I was doing?”

She hammered me with her doubts, so I challenged her with her sympathetic heart and organized mind. “My baby ... You are not only beautiful and smart, but also enormously talented and driven. People would sell their houses just to be seen working with you because of what that would do for their image. And – you are the First Lady! Everybody always loves the First Lady, even when they hate the President.

“I’m serious.

“They really love you just because you’re you. If you gently ask the wives of some junior Cabinet officers, you will find that they might be just as bored as you and literally praying that someone will ask them to do something significant.

“And helping our veterans and poor children get and keep quality health care is about as significant as anyone could ever hope for. Imagine how your work could motivate others to take the terminally ill as their personal mission project?” She was hooked without knowing it, yet. Jennifer would be truly amazing as soon as she decides what and who she wanted to help.

I couldn’t wait to see where she takes her passion and how it changes lives.

Dinner was waiting when we came out and as I dug in, Jennifer went to her computer in her own study, and got to work researching needy children, terminally ill patients and our veterans.

Over the next few days the investigation into the so-called suicide of John Roberts continued to bear fruit. His computer and phones offered up a series of text and phone messages that were inconsistent with his lifestyle. Once those numbers were tracked and surveilled, a better picture began to come into focus.

Blackmailers must be rather dull witted if they think that their attempts to remain anonymous would protect them from a full scale Federal investigation. The other option was much darker. They might not care if we know, because their next move is so high profile that they have nothing to lose. Very quickly several material witnesses were hauled in and under fierce questioning, became prime suspects in a larger conspiracy.

As facts emerged from the interrogations and follow up, it began to look like John Roberts was the victim of an extensive extortion scheme that would have ended with him bankrupt and the blackmailers in possession of a great deal of power held by the court. John Roberts likely committed suicide to end the blackmail, which caused the investigation that brought down the blackmailers.