Silent Fall

televising inflammatory news reports and fabricating my stories. I didn’t, by the way. I got a lot of hate mail right after his arrest." Dylan sat down in the chair. "The man is not only a senator; he’s also a philanthropist -- oh, yeah, and a murderer."
    "That’s an odd combination."
    "Not if you consider that they’re all roles involving power. He’s an interesting man, Ravino. He started a cutting-edge software company about fifteen years ago, made a bundle in the stock market. Then he married into blue blood. His wife Deborah’s family could trace their roots back to the Mayflower. Her family was also twice as rich as Ravino was. The two became a power couple. They were on every society guest list. And once Ravino became a state senator, his personality and his ego got even bigger. I think he began to believe in his own invincibility. He didn’t think anyone could touch him. He could have everything exactly the way he wanted."
    "Why would he risk it all by killing his wife?"
    "For money, perhaps. Ravino’s financial holdings took a hit when the stock market collapsed, so he needed Deborah’s money, as well as her wifely support for his political goals. Maybe she threatened to divorce him.
    She knew about his affairs. She had photographic evidence of the senator and Erica together, and she told Erica she would use it if she had to. She had the weapons to destroy his career. He couldn’t let that happen."
    "Wouldn’t she also destroy herself in the process?"
    "Not if she intended to use her weapons only to keep him in the marriage. She might not have anticipated that he would try to kill her."
    "Back up a little and tell me more about the murder case," Catherine said as she crossed the room to sit down on a corner of the bed near the desk. "How did you first get involved in it? And what were the details?"
    "About a year ago Deborah Ravino was found dead in her very expensive home on Nob Hill in San Francisco. It was believed at first that she accidentally killed herself by quadrupling her Botox injections, which caused muscle paralysis not only in her face but also in her respiratory system. She basically suffocated herself."
    "Death by Botox?" Catherine asked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Tell me that wasn’t your lead."
    "It was," he admitted. "It was too juicy to resist."
    "Why would a doctor allow her to have too many injections?"
    "Her doctor didn’t. Apparently Mrs. Ravino was buying self-injection kits off the Internet because her doctor refused to give her any more, and she was obsessed with her looks."
    "It wasn’t her who bought the kit, but the senator," Catherine guessed. "Right?"
    "That has not yet been proven. Her credit card was used for the purchase. And the only fingerprints found on the syringe were Deborah’s. The senator gave a painfully touching interview about his wife’s obsession with her looks, remarking how he had always loved her for more than her beauty. I didn’t buy the accidental-death explanation, so I looked deeper."
    "So you started digging in someone else’s sandbox and pissed everyone off. Why am I not surprised?"
    He tipped his head in acknowledgment of her point. "That’s my job. It doesn’t always make me popular, but it does make me good."
    "Go on with the story."
    "Senator Ravino played the grieving widower very well. He was photographed going to church every Sunday with his elderly parents and his sister and brother-in-law and their kids. He was also seen down at a homeless shelter, serving up soup to the poor. There was something about the guy that didn’t feel right to me. He was too good to be true, you know what I mean?"
    "I think I do."
    "So I started looking into everything about him. I checked out the Metro Club, where he allegedly spent the evening while his wife was killing herself with Botox. The Metro Club is an exclusive and very private men’s club in San Francisco that has been around since the early nineteen hundreds, a place where men can be men, discuss politics, et cetera. The club also has a back room where the gentlemen, as they like to call themselves, can spend some time with some very attractive female hostesses. I knew I had to get in there and see what it was all about. Unfortunately you have to be a member to gain access, and I wasn’t."
    "So what did you do?"
    "I used the one connection I had -- my father. Although he didn’t know I was using him. I