Page 81 of Hello, Summer
Vanessa turned her engagement ring so that the stone was facing the palm of her hand. “He’s been very ill.” Her large brown eyes filled with tears. “We thought we’d have more time together. Time to plan things out. He was diagnosed in September. The doctors were cautiously optimistic.”
“What kind of illness?” Conley asked.
“Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.” She twisted the ring around and around.
“You never made his condition public?”
Her head snapped up. “Why would we do that? This was a private family matter.”
“Because he was an elected member of Congress? Don’t the voters here in the district have a right to know—”
“No. They don’t,” she said flatly. “Symmes was treated at Walter Reed and got right back to work. He never missed an important vote or committee meeting. Even with the chemo. It was brutal, but he was determined to keep going. Most men his age would have given up, but most men weren’t like my husband.”
Conley thought back to the previous week. “Isn’t the House currently in session?”
Vanessa glared at her. “He had business back here. Look. I’ve tried to be helpful, because after all, this was Symmes’s hometown paper, but I won’t continue to be treated in this unprofessional, disrespectful manner.”
For a moment, Conley felt like a preschooler who’d just been given a demerit for biting or hair pulling.
Vanessa stood up and smoothed the fabric of her slacks. “I’d hoped that if we chatted in person, you’d understand the enormity of my husband’s legacy to this community. All the things he achieved. The VA clinic, highway improvements, his work on elder abuse…”
“Of course I’ll be writing about all that,” Conley said.
“Symmes did so much good for the people here,” Vanessa said, tearing up again. “You have no idea of his commitment. He had a brilliant legal career before he was asked to run. He could have gone into practice anywhere—in New York, or Miami, or LA. Instead, he chose to go to Washington, to fight for his people back home.”
“You met while you were working as an aide in his office, is that right?” Conley asked.
“That’s right. I was young and just starting out. Symmes was so kind and generous. He was always one to encourage young people.”
“And he was married at the time, right?”
Vanessa’s tears vanished. “Technically, yes. If you can call what they had a marriage. It had been over for years. His alleged wife wouldn’t step foot in D.C. He was lonely and so unhappy. He’d been asking for adivorce for years, but she refused because she liked the prestige of being married to a congressman, that’s all. It was always about the money with her. He made her a very generous settlement offer because of the children.”
“And also because you were pregnant?” Conley asked.
“We’ve never made a secret of that,” Vanessa said. Her voice was calm, but her cheeks flared red. “This isn’t the Victorian era. Most people didn’t give it a second thought.” She headed for the door. “I really have to go. There are arrangements to be made. My husband’s service in D.C. is tomorrow.”
“One more question, please.” Conley followed her to the door. “The obituary that you submitted through the funeral home? There was no mention in the list of survivors of your husband’s ex-wife or their two children.”
Vanessa raised her chin. “Damn straight I left them out. They weren’t mentioned because they weren’t a part of Symmes’s life. You know what? I don’t even know their names. I doubt my husband could remember them either.That’show estranged he was from all of them.”
“And yet,” Conley said, “he deeded over the title to Oak Springs to Toddie the week before he died.”
Vanessa had her hand on the door but stopped and turned to stare at Conley. “What did you just say?”
“I said he deeded over the title to a farmhouse and eight hundred acres of land in Bronson County to his first wife, Emma Todd Sanderson—that would be Toddie, right?”
“That’s not possible,” Vanessa said, shaking her head. “He’s allowed her to live there for years now, rent-free, out of the goodness of his heart, but he would never deed that property to her. I don’t know what that woman has told you, but it’s impossible. Symmes would never have done something like that.”
“Toddie refused to discuss it with me. I found the notice of deed transfer in the county tax records,” Conley said. “For the sum of one dollar and other considerations.”
“If he did do something like that—and I’m not saying he did—it was the chemo. He hadn’t been himself lately. That’s why he was home,because I wanted him to get some rest. But he was confused and disoriented.Chemo brain,the doctors called it. He’d get up in the middle of the night and just drive around for hours. It was terrifying.”
“Do you think that’s what happened the night he died?” Conley asked.
Vanessa shook her head violently like a mule shaking off a pesky fly. “If you have any more questions, I suggest you call my lawyer.” Her eyes narrowed. “Charlie tells me there’s some sort of bad blood between the two of you. So if this rag of yours prints one derogatory word about my late husband, I will personally make sure that you come to regret that decision.”
She brushed past Lillian King as she was hurrying through the office, jostling the office manager as she went, causing her to drop a handful of papers. “Excuse me,” Vanessa said with a curt nod.
