No Corner to Hide (The Max Masterson Series Book 2) Read Free Page A

to be elected to the Senate in the former confederate state, quietly passed away in his sleep at the age of 77. He was
the victim of too many years on the campaign trail, eating fried
food and being waited on hand and foot. He had been a talented
linebacker at Clemson and played for the Chicago Bears for six years
before blowing out both of his knees. Reel footage of the pileup that
ended his professional football career was continually played more
than 50 years later, a painful image of the fragility of a human body
destroyed by a mountain of muscle.
He never exercised again, and the senator’s waist grew ten inches
in the time he held public office. When the senator was in the room,
he occupied more than his share of space, but that worked for him.
He was always the center of attention. At the time of his death,
Senator Parks was morbidly obese, and his doctors had long-since
given up any effort to diminish the acceleration of his demise. The image of a petite, red-haired woman as the successor of the
formidable senator was striking. Scarlett wasted no time in proving
what she was made of, and she took on the Washington political
establishment at its core. The party had appointed her to finish
out the term of her predecessor, but it was a decision that was not
well-received by the men’s club within the United States Senate. No
woman had dared to enter the Washington headquarters of Skull
and Cross or to demand membership, but Scarlett did just that.
She entered the male refuge accompanied by three film crews and
a contingent of woman politicians carrying signs.
The doorman had been trained to deny any female access to the
male sanctuary, and members used their special status to enter the
building from a private underground entrance using an electronic key
that only Senate males possessed. Although a complete investigation
was later conducted by a committee of enraged members during the
year after the “intrusion”, Scarlett’s possession of a duplicate key was
never satisfactorily explained.
“I’m here to apply for membership,” announced Senator Scarlett
Conroy to the desk clerk, who was startled to see a woman inside the
traditionally male refuge, no less the film crew that was memorializing the encounter. While her female followers launched a diversion
from the front of the building, Scarlett had slipped away and gained
access by way of the parking garage next door.
Scarlett’s foray into the exclusive lives of her male counterparts
never resulted in the first female membership in Skull and Cross.
The day after she entered the building, the club filed an action for
an emergency injunction to prevent her from being considered as a
member. Scarlett counter-sued as a matter of principle, but joining a
male club was not a goal. Publicity and fame were her only goals, and
she reveled in the way the public reacted. She now could command
an audience at will, usually just by showing up.
It became sport for her to appear at an event, make a short speech
about the issues of the day, and then do a few press interviews from
prepared statements. These statements were prerecorded and copied
to flash drives, which she would then palm in her hand and deliver
during a handshake. Each evening, her message—misquoted—ran
on every major network, and she soon began to develop a national
persona.
Scarlett’s fellow statesman in Washington was long-time Senator
Hamilton Simpson, the king of Washington earmarks. He had
earned the adoration of fellow South Carolinians by his ability to
bring federal funds and jobs to his home district. He was an old Southern gentleman, and he looked the part. Ham was known as an accomplished orator, and when he spoke, words would slide out
of his mouth like butter on a hot biscuit.
In public, the senator took on the personality of everyone’s jovial
old uncle, telling jokes and amusing stories at every opportunity. He
could work a room like nobody else. In public, Ham referred to his
junior