Washington. The topic of conversation in the city had changed in the few days Lee had been gone. The shocking news of Senator Warner Millen's tragic death had been replaced by other news. Lee sat the bar of the Madison Hotel sipping a cup of Irish coffee and listening to the talk around him while he waited for his contact, Dan Willis, to join him.
Five minutes later, a smartly dressed gentleman slipped onto the barstool beside him. "Hello, Kincaid."
"Hello, Willis," Lee replied as he motioned the bartender over. "What will you have?"
"Beer."
"Beer for the gentleman," Lee said to the barman, "and another Irish coffee for me." He waited until the bartender moved to the other end of the bar, out of earshot, before he spoke again. "Good to see you again, Willis. What have you learned?"
"Pretty much what you expected," Willis said. "It appears to be harder for a rich prominent man to hide an illegitimate granddaughter than the late Senator Millen bargained for, especially after the senator became involved in some questionable business dealings with some less than honorable men."
Lee smiled. "Someone as well known as Senator Warner Millen would need help concealing his daughter's fall from grace. And that help would have to come from someone he trusted. If the person who helped Millen keep his little secret demanded payment for keeping it, then the distinguished senator would have no choice except pay or be exposed."
"Right," Willis confirmed. "I've been following various members of the late senator's staff, and one of the senator's most trusted staff members has made some very interesting trips since the senator's death."
"Let me guess," Lee said. "James Sarrazin."
"Exactly. The late senator's personal clerk has been a very busy man. He's made two trips to Pennsylvania since you left, and at least one trip to the Millen residence in Georgetown."
"As Milieu's personal secretary, Sarrazin was privy to almost everything that went on around the senator— personal as well as professional," Lee told him. "It's inconceivable to me that Sarrazin didn't know about Lily Catherine's birth. Someone had to arrange a place for Caroline to stay until the baby was born. When Caroline left Washington, Senator Millen mentioned to several of his cronies that his daughter was going to visit relatives in Pennsylvania for the season. Later, Millen announced that Caroline had died suddenly while visiting those same relatives. Did you have any luck questioning them?"
Willis shook his head. "I wasn't able to locate anyone in Philadelphia who saw Caroline Millen during the last year
of her life. As far as I can tell, there isn't any branch of the Millen family or of Mrs. Millen's family, the Gaynors. The Inquirer ran her obituary when she died, but there isn't a single newspaper article to corroborate the Senator's story that his daughter was visiting in Philadelphia—not even on the society pages. And I didn't talk to a single soul who remembered meeting or seeing Caroline Millen at any of the society functions that season. And you would think that someone would remember meeting the daughter of a powerful and influential senator; someone would remember dancing with her or escorting her." Willis finished his beer and motioned for another one.
"Which means the senator lied about his daughter's whereabouts," Lee concluded. "And it doesn't make sense for him to have lied when the facts could easily be checked."
"But," Willis pointed out, "the senator circulated the first story when he sent Caroline away—after he learned of her disgrace. Now, all of Washington knows Millen had a falling out with his attorney, your friend David Alexander, which resulted in David's leaving Washington. But only a handful of people know why the senator took it upon himself to ruin Alexander's promising Washington career." Willis took a breath. "Millen sent his daughter away to avoid a scandal during an election year. In the natural course of things, Caroline Millen would have given birth to her child, the senator would have arranged for someone to take the child and raise it as their own, and Caroline would probably have spent a season in Philadelphia, then returned to Washington as if nothing had happened."
"But Caroline didn't return to Washington," Lee said. "She simply disappeared. And eventually the disappearance of the daughter of a popular United States senator was sure to be noticed by someone." He took a sip of his coffee. "Her disappearance from Washington society had to be explained, and the senator couldn't risk telling the truth. He couldn't announce that his daughter had died delivering his illegitimate grandchild."
"How did David Alexander find out?" Willis asked.
"David returned quietly to Washington several months after the senator and Mrs. Millen sent Caroline away. David demanded to see the senator because he was concerned about Caroline's well-being. That's when the senator informed him that Caroline had died, but that the bastard half-breed child had survived. When David asked about the baby, Senator Millen told him that on her deathbed, Caroline had insisted on naming her daughter Lily Catherine Alexander. The senator and Mrs. Millen granted their daughter's last wish, then promptly sent the child to an orphanage."
The bartender set another mug of beer down on the bar in front of Willis. Willis cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the barstool. "I've confirmed what you said about David Alexander. He isn't Lily Catherine's father. Now that the senator's dead, people have begun talking, mentioning things here and there. And I've learned that there was never any relationship between Alexander and the senator's daughter."
"How did you manage to breach Washington's close-knit society?" Lee asked.
"I've been temporarily assigned to Secretary Fish's staff," Willis told him.
"I'm impressed by your connections," Lee raised an eyebrow at Daniel Willis. Hamilton Fish was President Grant's very capable Secretary of State.
"Not my connections," Willis said. "Pinkerton's. But the job has been an asset. I've been introduced to all the Washington hostesses and I managed to meet Caroline Milieu's closest friend. Her name is Anne Greenberry, and I've been escorting her for two weeks now. Anne told me that Caroline Millen told her that she had only met David Alexander twice—once at her sixteenth birthday party and the night he took her home from the theater." He hefted his beer mug and took a swig before adding. "According to Anne, Caroline was at the theater that night because she had gone to see one of the actors, one of the male leads. Anne also told me that Caroline and the Shakespearean actor had been secretly meeting for weeks and that they had shared several romantic trysts. Apparently Caroline saw herself as a modern day Juliet to the actor's Romeo. They met in secret because Caroline knew her father wouldn't consider an actor as a possible son-in-law: It was out of the question."
"How does Caroline's friend know all of this?" Lee asked.
"Caroline confided in her."
"How does she know Caroline didn't make this up—that it wasn't just the romantic fancy of a sixteen-year-old girl imagining herself in love with a handsome actor?" Lee asked.
Willis grinned. "Caroline kept a journal and she entrusted it to Anne for safekeeping."
"Have you seen the journal?"
"No," Willis said. "But I believe it exists."
"Does anyone else about the journal?"