{"product_id":"capitol-murder-isbn-9780345451507","title":"Capitol Murder","description":"William Bernhardt’s bestselling novels featuring Oklahoma defense attorney Ben Kincaid capture the bare-knuckles reality of high-stakes criminal defense, as lofty ideals of justice clash with power, corruption, and wealth. In Capitol Murder, Bernhardt’s hard-charging hero takes on his most shocking, headline-making case yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKincaid’s legal success has earned him a dubious reward: a journey through the looking glass into the Beltway. Here, in the heart of the nation’s capital, a powerful U.S. senator has been caught first in a sordid sex scandal, then in a case of murder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSenate aide Veronica Cooper was found in a secret Senate office beneath the Capitol building, on Senator Todd Glancy’s favorite couch, blood pouring from the knife wound in her throat. The young woman’s death comes on the heels of the release of a sordid videotape depicting her and Senator Glancy in compromising positions. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith the senator’s reputation in tatters, the evidence against him–as a sexual predator and possibly a killer–mounts. By the time a nationally televised murder trial begins, Kincaid and his team know they’re facing the challenge of a lifetime. According to public opinion, and even in Kincaid’s most private thoughts, Glancy is one more politician who cannot admit his own culpability.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut while a dramatic trial unfolds in the courtroom–loaded with pitfalls, traps, and an astounding betrayal–another trial is taking place on the mean streets of D.C., as Kincaid’s investigator pursues a young woman who was a friend of Veronica Cooper’s, plunging Kincaid into a bizarre world of Goths, sadomasochists, and a community of self-proclaimed vampires. Somewhere in this violent underworld lies the secret behind Veronica Cooper’s demise . . . and the crux of Senator Glancy’s innocence or guilt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn a case that pits Kincaid and his freewheeling partner Christina McCall against the brutal machinery of Washington politics, the answers they seek are hidden in a murderous maze of lies and hidden motives. And in William Bernhardt’s best novel yet, getting to the truth is an unparalleled experience in pure, satisfying suspense.Praise for Dark Eye\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Bernhardt keeps his foot flat on the accelerator, producing action at every turn of the page.”\u003cbr\u003e–Orlando Sentinel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Murder in Sin City, as investigated by a tough woman cop and her incomparably gifted young associate–Bernhardt and Vegas go together like fire and gasoline.”\u003cbr\u003e–Stephen Coonts, author of Liars \u0026amp; Thieves\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A Silence of the Lambs meets Rain Man thriller that will chill you while its two unique and endearing protagonists steal your heart.”\u003cbr\u003e–Lisa Scottoline, author of Killer Smile\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Cliff-hanging suspense . . .  a macabre detective story.”\u003cbr\u003e–The Roanoke TimesWilliam Bernhardt is the author of many novels, including Primary Justice, Murder One, Criminal Intent, Death Row, Hate Crime, and Dark Eye. He has twice won the Oklahoma Book Award for Best Fiction, and in 2000 he was presented the H. Louise Cobb Distinguished Author Award “in recognition of an outstanding body of work in which we understand ourselves and American society at large.” A former trial attorney, Bernhardt has received several awards for his public service. He lives in Tulsa, and readers can e-mail him at WB@williambernhardt.com or visit his website at www.williambernhardt.com.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Tulsa, Oklahoma\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      As Ben Kincaid peered at his client through the acrylic screen, he   was startled by how appealing, how downright cute she still looked.   Usually, the first few weeks behind bars took a terrible toll on   first-time inmates. The lack of sunlight, the coarseness of the   company, the absence of hair care and beauty products, the low-watt   institutional lighting, the inevitable depression--all conspired to   make the newly incarcerated appear as if they had emerged from the   ninth circle of hell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    But not Candy Warren. Somehow Candy had managed to retain her   fresh-faced charm. When her father first introduced her to Ben, he   had compared his daughter to Lizzie McGuire--perky, effervescent,   goofy but lovable. Two weeks in the slammer and a switch from Gap   jeans to TCPD orange coveralls hadn't changed any of that. She was   still adorable. She even had her hair up in pigtails.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"So you've talked to my daddy?\" she asked, speaking into the   telephone receiver that allowed them to communicate.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes,\" Ben answered. \"He's worried about you, of course. But I   assured him we would do everything we could. And I got him the   present you wanted to send. The Hilary Duff poster.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Oh, that's wonderful.\" Ben loved the way her nose crinkled when she   laughed. \"Can you believe it? The man is in his sixties, and he's   crazy about this girl who's barely a teenager. Isn't that wild?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben could think of a different word for it, but never mind that.   Always refreshing to have a client who still cared about her parents.   \"I have some good news for you. To my utter surprise, DA Canelli has   made an offer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"An offer?\" She lifted her chin, giving those pigtails an endearing   bounce. \"What kind of offer?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"A plea bargain. A chance to avoid trial.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Assuming I plead guilty.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"To a lesser charge. Yes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Candy kneaded her hands. Ben noticed that her fingernails were   painted electric pink. \"But what will my daddy say?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"What will he say if this goes to trial?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Aren't I entitled to my day in court?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes. But that day is fraught with risk. Canelli is offering you a sure thing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She sat up straight, throwing her shoulders back. \"I can't do it. I   can't take the easy way out. I owe that much to my daddy. And while   we're talking about this, Ben, I want you to do something about those   newspapers.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben didn't follow. \"Which newspapers?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"All of them. Have you read the articles they've been printing?\"   Creases flanked the bridge of her nose. \"File some kind of lawsuit   against them.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"On what grounds?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"What grounds?\" she said with great indignity. \"They've been saying   horrible things about me. They're libeling my reputation! Destroying   my good name!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben shook his head. \"Candy . . . you're--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Ben, don't. You know I have labeling issues.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Nonetheless--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Ben, I don't want to hear--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Candy . . .\" Ben cleared his throat. \"You're a hit man.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She gave him a stern look. \"Excuse me?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Sorry. Hit person.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Better.\" Her face hardened; the adorable factor vanished. In the   space of a second, she went from Lizzie McGuire to Lizzie Borden.   \"Now, what are you going to do about those goddamn newspapers?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben drew in his breath. \"Nothing. A libel suit would be frivolous,   given the circumstances, detrimental to your criminal case, and so   utterly stupid that if you really want to do it, you're going to have   to find yourself another lawyer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She glared back at him with eyes like Uzis. \"Then what do you suggest?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I suggest you take the DA's deal.\" He hung the phone receiver back   in its cradle. \"Be seeing you, Candy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christina McCall sailed through the front doors of her law office   with an air of insouciance, bouncing with each step, whistling as she   walked. Jones, the office manager and part-time oracle, did his best   to interpret the signs. He could tell she was in a merry mood, not   only from the whistling, but also because she was dressed less like   an attorney and more like, well, Christina. She was wearing a short,   pleated skirt, knee-high boots, and a clinging sweater ornamented   with irregular patches of fake fur.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I'm guessing you didn't get that outfit at Saks,\" Jones commented.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Dear Jones,\" she said smiling, \"Don't you know? This is all the rage   amongst the jeunesse doree.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Jones didn't know what that meant and wasn't interested enough to   ask. \"Is there a reason why we're whistling this morning?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christina beamed. \"Because it gives me a happy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Uh-huh. May I assume from this unsuppressed display of jocularity   that you must've beaten Ben at Scrabble last night?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She stopped at his desk in the lobby and snatched the pink message   slips from her spindle. \"Jones, Jones--you're so passe. We're long   past the Scrabble stage.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"'Zat a fact,\" he said dubiously. \"Might I have the temerity to   suggest the possibility that he actually . . . kissed you good night?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Jones, Jones, Jones!\" She leaned across his desk, still grinning.   \"You are such a busybody.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I'm just trying to stay up-to-date on this putative romance.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"And I'd love to continue this delightful raillery, but--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Look, I'm trying to run an office,\" Jones said, raising his chin.   \"It's my job to know if anything insalubrious to the firm is   developing. So I'm naturally concerned when the firm's two attorneys   make the incredibly boneheaded decision to start dating each other.   But if you don't want to tell me anything, fine. I don't care.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A few seconds of silence passed. Christina stared at him. Jones   drummed his fingers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"All right, so I do care. Don't make me grovel. Tell me already.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Christina fluttered her eyelashes. \"Dear sweet Jones. Don't work   yourself into a swivet. I'll tell all. Ben and I are so past the good   night kiss stage.\" She gave him a pronounced wink. \"Way way past.   What a libido that man has.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Really. I thought Ben was more glibido.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Huh?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"All talk and no action.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Well, you are . . . totally wrong.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Glad to hear it. I guess.\" As Christina bounced toward her office,   he added, \"But I notice there's no ring on your finger.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Her neck stiffened first; the rest of her body soon followed. She   slowly pivoted on one heel. \"That . . . doesn't mean . . . anything.   We haven't been dating all that long.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Oh? Seems to me it's been . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Just a little over a year.\" She paused. \"With, like, ten years of   foreplay. Look, he's a typical nineties male. Afraid of commitment.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Wake up and smell the calendar, Chris. The nineties were over a long   time ago. Your boy is stalling.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"He isn't stalling. He's just . . . Ben.\" Her fingers fluttered   through the air. \"You know how hard he was hit by that Ellen mess,   how she betrayed him. That's how he sees it, anyway. And that   business with Belinda Hamilton didn't help any, either.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"And Keri Kilcannon.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Ugh.\" Christina's face twisted into a grimace. \"Did you have to   bring her up?\" She sighed. \"I keep telling myself this so-called   romance isn't hopeless, that eventually we'll take the next step. But   how long can I wait for this man to come to his senses?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Hearing that old biological clock ticking?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yeah. The one that tells me I probably won't live past one hundred   and ten. And that may not be long enough.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I feel for you. Truly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"What would you know about it? You and Paula fell in love right off the bat.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"We didn't get married right off the bat.\" Jones's eyes twinkled.   \"But I knew it was going to happen. Knew the first moment I laid eyes   on her.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"And you've been happily married ever since. How did you know? How   could you be sure? Give me a test.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"That's easy enough. Has he ever told you he loves you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She frowned, then stomped across the lobby to her office.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Jones leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. \"That's what I thought.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben crept into the lobby, carefully opening and releasing the door so   the automatic chime would not sound. When was he going to have that   private-access elevator to his office installed? Answer: probably   sometime after he actually made some money, a goal that perpetually   eluded him. And it wasn't because of his profligate ways, either. In   all his years as a lawyer, he'd tried dozens of cases, mostly with   some degree of success, settled a multimillion-dollar tort case,   written two books, inherited a boardinghouse, and rarely spent a dime   on himself. But he still only barely managed to keep the firm afloat.   And for the most part, it was his own fault. And he knew it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Which was why he was tiptoeing past his office manager's desk, hoping   Jones kept his attention fixed on his computer screen. He felt   certain that Candy Warren would take the DA's offer. He also felt   certain that as soon as her father found out about it, he would   refuse to pay Ben a dime, which would make her the third no-pay in a   month. The only check he remembered seeing recently had come from the   government for a court-appointed representation, and that hadn't   amounted to enough to take his staff to the Golden Arches for a   burger and fries. No, he definitely didn't need to have a   confrontation with Jones this early in the morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As he turned stealthily down the corridor to the private offices, he   saw that Christina was already in. His spirits got an instantaneous   lift, as they always did when he saw her. He almost said hello--then   thought better of it and returned to stealth mode. They'd had a   wonderful time together the night before, absolutely blissful:   takeout from Right Wing, a new episode of Says You! on the radio, and   some extremely gratifying snuggling. But when the evening came to an   end, and they stood at the door together, and he'd given her one last   goodbye kiss about as many times as was possible without it becoming   ridiculous, she paused, held him at arm's length, and waited.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He knew what she was waiting for. And the pathetic thing was, he   wanted to comply. But he couldn't make himself do it. No matter how   hard he tried. So he bumbled something inane about what a \"swell   girl\" she was, and she left.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Yes, he was definitely tiptoeing past her door, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He slid into his desk chair and thumbed through the mail Jones had   left. Bills, bills, and more bills. A possible case in Creek County   against a crop-dusting school. A small-time Internet florist that   wanted to sue its fulfillment service. Nothing remotely interesting.   Nothing likely to make him rich overnight. And nothing that was ever   going to help him work up the nerve to do right by--\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Christina!\" He sat upright, startled by her sudden appearance. \"What--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She marched past his desk, grabbed him by the shoulders, raised him   to his feet, and planted a big wet one right on his lips.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Ub--dub--what--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes, yes, I know your rules. No smoochies in the workplace. But   today I think you've earned an exception. I just got word from the   courthouse. Father Beale is going to be released!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"You're kidding!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"You know I wouldn't joke about something like that. He's been   wrongfully incarcerated for far too long. It's an embarrassment to   the entire state.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"So our appeal finally worked.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Appeal, schmiel. It was your book that did it.\" Not long after he   had tried Father Beale's case--and lost--Ben began writing his second   nonfiction book. It had finally been published about a month before,   and the sales had been considerably better than those for his first   book--which meant they were at least in two-digit numbers. Bad Faith   had also generated a fair amount of media attention, especially in   legal circles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"The governor, archconservative that he is, couldn't help but get   involved after you turned up the heat, Ben. People were calling for   Father Beale's release all over the state--heck, all over the nation.   Greta van Susteren devoted an entire hour to the case, for Pete's   sake. Make no mistake, Ben--this had nothing to do with any judge,   jury, or legal argument. You made this happen.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Well . . . I'm glad he's getting out, anyway.\" Which was putting it   mildly. Father Beale had been Ben's childhood priest, a man he loved   dearly for all his faults. Losing his case had been a devastating   blow. \"I want to be there when he's released.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I knew you would. I've made all the arrangements.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Great. That's just . . . great.\" Ben had been trying to avoid her   eyes, but something about Christina made that impossible. Whether he   wanted to or not, his gaze returned to her long strawberry-blond   hair, her freckled nose. She was half a foot shorter than he was, and   yet everything she did, everything she said exuded confidence and   fortitude. \"Look . . . ,\" he stuttered, \"about last night . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Her eyes turned up. \"Yes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"I just--I just wanted you to know that--that--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Yes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben felt beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face. \"That   you were totally robbed by that Says You! fake definition round. I   mean, who on earth would know that babbing was some kind of eel   fishing? Arnie has a way of bluffing that takes everyone in. And--and   you shouldn't feel bad about missing that one.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Her head moved slowly up and down. \"Thanks, Ben. Appreciate that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A large crew-cut head bobbed into the office. \"Hey, you guys got the TV on?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It was Loving, their investigator. A huge man, built like a storage   freezer, but at heart as soft as a new pair of Hush Puppies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"No,\" Ben answered. \"Why? Oprah going to help you find fulfillment by   buying some book?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Nah. Somethin' really excitin'. On C-SPAN.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Something exciting on C-SPAN? Ben thought. That'll be the day. \"What about?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Come see for yourself. It's that Senator Glancy guy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Glancy?\" Christina turned her head. \"Don't you know him, Ben?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He nodded. \"Went to law school with him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Friends?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    He shrugged. \"His family knew my family. Titans of Nichols Hills,   that sort of thing. But no, he and I were never particularly close.   My mother is constantly comparing us, throwing his success in my   face.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Why? Because he was a successful and fabulously wealthy oil magnate   and then got elected to the Senate, and you're a--a--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben waited. \"Ye-es?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"--a . . . increasingly prominent attorney. Let's go see what Loving   is talking about.\" She did a quick about-face and headed out of the   office.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben almost smiled. Smoothly done, Christina. Very smooth indeed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ben and Christina stared at the small television set in the office   lobby, their lips parted. Even in black and white, it was difficult   to believe. Or stomach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"And you say they've been running this all morning?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Oh yeah,\" Loving replied. \"You know how these news guys are.National bestseller; Author of Capitol Threat","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301561094373,"sku":"NP9780345451507","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345451507.jpg?v=1767723367","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/capitol-murder-isbn-9780345451507","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}