Flashpoint

Five

Because I’d slept in the guest room a number of times, I knew where I was going. I took the steps of the winding staircase two at a time and when I reached the landing on the second floor I saw Maddy already pounding on the door of the master bedroom. She’d just started shouting to be let in. ‘Mom! Please let me in!’

As I ran toward her, her voice got even more urgent and her fist against the door louder. When I finally got a glimpse of her face, the shock and dismay she’d kept hidden downstairs — I’d admired how coolly she’d handled the news about her father; perhaps because she understood she’d needed to hold it together so she could help her mother — were clear on her pretty features now. She was frantic, fearing that her mother might be dead.

When I reached her she said, ‘It’s locked, Dev! It’s locked!’ She stepped aside. She wanted me to be the magic man, to fix this. I wished I could.

I tried the fancy filigreed doorknob knowing it would be no use. Then my voice joined Maddy’s in calling out for Elise to let us in.

‘Kick the door in! Kick the door in! Hurry, Dev!’

Thanks to the movies and television — not to mention at least a century of fiction — people have the impression that a kick or two will pop a door open in under a minute. And true, there are some old doors that probably wouldn’t put up much resistance. But any reasonably well-made door in any reasonably well-made frame requires energy and a little time. Especially if the door resides inside a home as expensive as this one.

So while Maddy continued to scream I set about throwing myself against the door a few times, then slamming my foot into a space just under the doorknob.

Then a funny thing happened. It shouldn’t have been funny — after all, we might find a dead woman in the room, and maybe it was only funny to me anyway — but just as I raised my leg and leaned forward to assault said door again it was opened from inside and I went stumbling head-first across the threshold, then slammed drunken-moose style into Elise and ended up sprawled across the floor.

‘Oh, God, Dev, I’m so sorry.’

So she wasn’t dead. Or wounded.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘What the hell happened?’

Maddy was already holding her mother, which was fine with me. That way they were too busy to watch me scramble to my feet. I do, after all, have my dignity. I’ll always be the seventh-grader who lives in fear of being humiliated in front of girls. Who gives a shit what boys think of you.

Elise had started to cry again. ‘I tried to kill myself, Maddy. Or that’s what I thought I was doing. I put the gun to my temple but at the last minute I jerked it away and the bullet just went into the wall. I’m so sorry. Then I was too ashamed to come to the door!’

Her arms dangled over Maddy’s shoulders. Neither of them appeared to realize that Elise still held a Smith & Wesson .45 in her right hand. She didn’t even seem to realize when I slipped it from her fingers.

By now Mrs Weiderman had reached us. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Logan!’

‘Oh, Mrs Weiderman, I did such a stupid thing!’

‘You did no such thing, Mrs Logan. Now I’m going to take you into the guest room and turn the covers back for you and you’re going to lie down and relax while I bring you some hot cocoa with those little marshmallows you like so much. Isn’t that right, Maddy?’

But Maddy was too distracted to respond. Her mother had fainted dead in her arms.

Six

When I reached the desk at Linton’s only decent hotel — and the only likely place where Tracy Cabot would stay — I joined a group of four men and one woman who were doing everything except climbing over the registration desk and throttling the nervous-looking young man who was spit-and-polish enough to pass the meanest corporate test.

The reporters were local. They had no idea who I was, which was to my advantage. A Chicago man or woman might recognize me because I’d been around so long.

The clerk said, ‘This gentleman would like to get through. I’d appreciate it if you’d stand down the counter, please.’

They were not happy, the dears. I was interrupting the fun they were having tormenting the kid.

‘Welcome to the Regency. May I help you, sir?’

‘Thanks. I’ll need a single for a few days.’ By tomorrow morning there would be no rooms to let.

I’d brought a suitcase with two changes of clothes and balled-up underwear and socks. After signing my credit card slip, I carried the suitcase over by the elevators where a bellman who appeared to be in his sixties watched me suspiciously. He was a sharp and cynical sixty and he probably watched everybody suspiciously. He’d seen it all and maybe done it all and he knew that we’ve all got it in us.

‘You want some help, sir?’

His jacket was ruby red with gold-sprayed buttons and epaulets that looked in danger of slipping off. His tan trousers were as faded as his blue eyes.

‘Not with my bag.’ I set the suitcase down and said, ‘But I do need to ask you about a woman.’

‘You mean to hook up with?’

Nice to know I looked like the kind of guy desperate enough to have to pay for sex. ‘No. Somebody who might be staying here.’

‘Oh. Good. Because I could lose my job otherwise. So who’s the lady?’

I described her.

‘Sounds like the Cabot woman. That’s why all those reporters are over there. A cop said somebody killed her out at the senator’s cabin.’

Amazing how quickly and how much the press had already picked up on. Amazing and terrifying for us.

‘So she’s been staying here?’

‘Oh, yeah. I’d have to check to be sure but I’d say four, five nights offhand.’

The Regency would probably get a B rating in one of those travel guides. It had a kind of worn opulence like a grand dame on her uppers. The other bellmen I’d seen were much younger than this guy and much more clean-cut. I suppose every hotel needs a crafty old bastard. He would know where all the bodies were buried, sometimes literally.

‘She get many visitors?’

‘Lots of guys around the restaurant and bar who wanted to be visitors, if you know what I mean.’

‘How about anybody who actually got into her room?’

‘One. This little bastard. Thought he was pretty important. Like they say, you can tell a lot about a guy by the way he treats the help.’

‘He have a name?’

‘She called him Howie.’

‘Howie? Howie Ruskin?’

‘Oh, yeah. Come to think of it, that’s what that candy-ass desk clerk called him. Mr Ruskin. He some kind of big deal?’

He obviously didn’t understand the implication of what he’d just told me.

Ruskin. Howie Ruskin. I’d never met him, but I’d heard way too much about him. In college he’d been a supporter of our party. Then, or so the story goes, he switched parties because a girl he loved dumped him. She’d been on our side. In revenge he spent his years as a political saboteur doing everything he could to demolish us. He was especially good at opposition research and at using the press to spread rumors. He was equally good at setting up traps for unwary politicians. His specialty was using women (or men on a few occasions) to seduce said politician and then outing the relationship. This had worked at least nine times in critical elections. It had brought down six of the nine, which was a damned good record. Throughout this time he’d paid a ghostwriter to concoct three bestsellers for him.

Then there was Howie himself. Good Catholic boy/man in his late-thirties now. He was five-four and weighed around two hundred pounds. He was losing his hair and insisted on fitting his ball-like body with the latest fashions, said fashions being designed for teen-gaunt bodies. Once or twice a year you could see him on TMZ or in one of the supermarket rags on the arm of a model or a starlet. A publicist had always set it up for him. I was told that, pathetically, Ruskin had convinced himself these women actually wanted to go out with him.

My favorite Ruskin story involved Mensa, the organization for people whose IQ registers in the top two percent of all humanity. He qualified as brilliant; the problem was he also qualified as one of the most obnoxious self-promoters the group had ever had to deal with. There were so many stories about his jerk-off behavior at various functions that his publicist had pulled him out of the organization.

Among his other problems was his gambling addiction. By all accounts he was a terrible poker player but insisted on spending hours with some of the pros. He’d lost a lot of money — he’d also tried to welsh by claiming he’d been cheated. One of the pros, obviously a man of little sensitivity, sent a goon after Howie baby and gave him a black eye. Another apparently suggested he might meet with a fatal accident if he didn’t pay up within twenty-four hours. It was whispered that at any given time somebody in Vegas had it in for him.

The one thing his publicist hadn’t been able to do was disarm him. Because of his connection to the other side and its connection with judges all over the country, Ruskin was always armed with a Glock, insisting that ‘they’ (meaning us) were out to get him. Any time he got hassled by law enforcement he just made a call, and whoever he talked to made a call and Ruskin went back to spending his time wooing fabulous babes — another one of his problems.

‘Is he staying in the hotel?’

‘Four thirty-eight.’

‘How many times did you see them together?’

‘I work four to midnight. The last week I’d say I saw them together every night around dinner time. And a couple of times in the bar.’

Howie Ruskin. I was going to meet the bastard.

‘You see her with anybody else?’

‘Hey, seems you’re getting a lot of talk for nothing. I’m a working man.’

I eased my wallet out of my back pocket and laid a fifty across his open palm.

‘I’ve seen her with about a couple dozen guys since she was here who tried to pick her up.’ The grin gave him a satanic look. ‘She’s probably the most beautiful woman who’s ever been in this town, if you want to put it that way.’

‘Any of them succeed?’

‘I don’t think so. She got rid of them pretty fast. She wasn’t much of a flirt. She’d shut them down fast. She wasn’t mean or anything; she just wasn’t interested.’

This was the woman who’d come on to Robert so openly and seductively. But that had been her job. Robert’s mind had gotten caught in his zipper and he hadn’t figured it out until it was too late, despite my warning.

‘Did you ever see the senator in the hotel?’

The grin again. ‘Talk about somebody whose ass is in a sling, huh?’

‘So did you ever see him here?’

‘No.’

‘Was she ever involved in any kind of incident?’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Any kind of trouble or anything. Did she just have a nice, quiet stay?’

‘Quiet except for everybody who wanted to sniff her panties.’

‘How about her room? Have the police been up there yet?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Could you get me in if they haven’t?’

He took a deep breath. ‘That’d get me fired for sure.’ He was working both sides of the street. He was genuinely worried about losing his job while setting me up for a big raise in pay. ‘You’d really have to pay me.’

‘How much?’

‘Three hundred.’

‘Two.’

‘Two seventy-five.’

‘Two-fifty.’

‘Hell, I guess I might as well take it.’

After I paid him all I had was a five and two ones in my wallet.

‘How about putting my suitcase in my room after?’ I was still lugging it along.

‘Oh. Yeah. Right.’

He took it and surprised me by not asking for more money.

Except for a maid in a light-blue uniform pushing her cart down the hall, this end of the fourth floor was quiet. I could see from here that the room had not been sealed, though likely it would be very soon. In the elevator Earl Leonard — he’d finally told me his name and it hadn’t cost me a cent — had begun breathing in tight little spurts. There was the gleam of sweat on his wolf face. He really was worried.

‘I’m going to make this easy for you, Earl,’ I said now. ‘You let me in and then you take off. If I get nailed I’ll say that I was able to open the lock.’

‘You know how?’

‘Maybe.’ I was good but not great.

‘I’d appreciate it. And you won’t mention me?’

‘Not to anybody.’

So now we stood at the door. He looked both ways, advertising that we shouldn’t be doing what we were doing. When he got it open he pushed it in and said, ‘It’s all yours, man.’

Then he was double-timing it to the elevator. What he hadn’t remembered and what I hadn’t wanted to bring up was that the hall was undoubtedly on security cameras. But I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. There’d be no reason for anybody to check the tape. I expected to stay no longer than a few minutes in her room.

The room was done in contrasting blues. Twin beds, an open closet area packed solid with clothes and at least a dozen pairs of shoes below. Cosmetics and perfumes clouded the air with intoxicating aromas and dresses and blouses were strewn across one of the beds.

The phone rang once and scared the hell out of me. It was as loud as a shriek in the hotel room.

I needed thirty seconds to relax and then I went back to work, conscious of needing to get the hell out of there.

I quickly went through both the desk drawers and the closet and didn’t find anything useful. The small blue carry-on piece of luggage shoved under the same bed as the clothes was another matter.

I counted fourteen articles from various Internet sources about Senator Robert Logan. Long articles that went into his entire life; one article was an interview with some friends of his from high school. Then there were overviews of his time as a wealthy businessman and finally his decision to enter politics and how this led all the way to the United States Senate. She had taken her masters in the subject of Senator Logan.

In the manila envelope I found a dozen photos of her and the senator. All but one of them was staged at his rallies. Each of them gave the unmistakable impression that she and the senator were more than what you might call mere acquaintances. She made sure of that by looking as though she was about to go down on him. She knew what she was doing. And he stood there looking smitten like a horny tenth-grader.

In another drawer I found a white number-ten envelope with photographs of Tracy Cabot at various ages. The photos spanned maybe twenty years from her teens — fourteen or fifteen — to the present. She’d always been a heartbreaker.

Male voices in the hall. They startled me even more than the phone had. If the cops were going to search the room they’d come up in a team of some kind.

I stood absolutely still. Listening as they got nearer, louder, until they started laughing and passed on down the hall. Flop sweat in my armpits and on my back. I took a deep, deep breath and went back to work.

By my watch I’d been in here six minutes. Way too long. When I eventually reached the elevator, my old buddy Earl Leonard appeared from around the corner. ‘How’d it go, man?’

‘Pretty good.’

‘I won’t rat you out, man.’

‘No more money, Earl.’

‘I wasn’t asking for any more.’ He sounded hurt.

‘I know how bad you want to keep your job, Earl, so you won’t rat me out, because if you do I’ll say that this was your idea and then you’ll not only lose your job, you’ll be doing time in the same joint I am.’

‘This is pretty bad shit, huh?’

‘Real bad shit.’ I stepped into the elevator and faced him. ‘And you’re right in the middle of it, Earl. Just like me.’

The doors closed. I actually liked Earl all right; I just didn’t want him confiding anything to any of his friends after he’d had a few drinks. I had to scare him a little.

Seven

I spent the next half hour in my room with my laptop. Despite the world of Senator Logan collapsing into scandal, I had to check with my various campaign runners to see how their own work was doing. They filed email reports constantly through the days. Every internal poll I saw looked decent; even the ones that had been lagging were now closing slightly. There was still time to win the election.

Then I went to the websites of all the networks and cable news shows. As expected, the Logan story was getting the kind of play that Jack the Ripper would have gotten following those bloody long-ago nights in Whitechapel. All the sites except for Empire News showed at least some restraint. Not enough was known yet to come right out and say that Senator Logan had smashed the skull of his bimbo honey. Empire News had already placed him on the gurney where he would receive the injection that would take him to the depths of hell. They went heavy on his liberal politics and quoted one of their familiar talking heads, a so-called professor at a Christian college that had a white supremacist on the staff. He said, ‘If you want to understand how liberalism corrupts all those who promote it, look at Senator Logan. He might have been a decent man at one time in his life. But if these charges are true — and I must say, things don’t look good for the man — then his decadence speaks for itself.’ This was the same man who reported sightings of Jesus even more often than a certain type of person reports seeing Big Foot eating French fries at McDonald’s.

I had no doubt that if a polling company started questioning people the results would show that the majority would be certain that the senator was guilty. And the story was only a few hours old.

I found the number for the police station and called it.

‘Police station.’

‘My name is Dev Conrad. I’m Senator Logan’s campaign consultant. I’d like to know if the senator is still there?’

‘I’m going to connect you with Detective Roberts.’

‘Thank you.’

A minute-long wait. ‘Detective Roberts.’

I went through my introduction again.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Conrad?’

‘I’d like to know if Senator Logan is still there and if so when you expect him to be released.’

‘He’s still here but I can’t tell you anything about when he’ll be leaving. Detective Hammell is in charge of the investigation. That’ll be up to him.’

‘So I assume Jane Tyler is still there, too.’

‘She’s with Detective Hammell and Senator Logan, yes.’

‘I’d appreciate it if you could give her my phone number and ask her to call me.’

‘I’ll do what I can. I’m plenty busy myself.’

‘I understand.’ I gave him the number of my cell. ‘I appreciate your help, Detective.’

‘If you’re thinking of coming here, I’d recommend against it. The place is a zoo. We’ve never seen this many reporters.’

‘I appreciate the tip. And I won’t be coming. Thanks again.’

Just as I was hanging up my room phone rang. I was sure I knew who it would be. Somebody from Washington. I wondered why they hadn’t called sooner. They were past masters at panicking and for once this was a time for it.

‘Our phone here might be bugged. We haven’t swept this room for two days. I just ducked in here because I don’t want anybody eavesdropping.’

Both parties have what functions as a headquarters. Ours is a conduit for everything from gossip about an opponent to getting emergency campaign cash. The man on the line had been a congressman many years earlier but had stayed in Washington because he liked the nightlife there, as all of his wives would attest to. Some people disintegrate when they panic; he was the type who just got real pissed off when things went bad all of a sudden. The way he was clipping his words off I could tell he was pissed right now. I should also mention that we weren’t what you call fond of each other. I thought he was smug and he thought I was ungrateful. We’d never actually met and that was, I suspected, a good thing.

‘Did he or didn’t he?’

‘No.’

‘A setup?’

‘Yes. Howie Ruskin’s out here.’

A pause. ‘You sure of that?’

‘Yes. As soon as we hang up I’m going to start looking for him.’

‘We’ve probably lost the seat no matter what now.’

‘Maybe.’

He had a nice, mellow whiskey laugh. A Jack Daniel’s black label laugh. ‘For such a cynical bastard, Dev, you’re always surprisingly optimistic.’ Then, ‘This is such a mess I can’t believe it.’ He’d controlled his rage and now had let it dissipate. ‘I’m getting calls from campaigns all over the country. They’re afraid this’ll hurt their candidates.’

‘Poor babies.’

‘It just might.’

‘Maybe. But since we’re still not four hours out I’d give it a little time.’

‘There’s supposed to be a big fundraiser tonight. This’ll put a pall on it.’

‘I wish you could see the tears in my eyes. I’m sorry but I couldn’t give a shit about a fundraiser right now. I’ve got other things to worry about.’

‘You think you and I will ever like each other?’

‘Probably not.’

This time the Jack-blacked throat emitted a laugh. ‘Me neither.’

I called Lee Sullivan in Chicago. He’d been a homicide detective who’d gone private and then started doing a lot of work for me and our candidates. He had a computer-wizard son who was also excellent at opposition research. Jason had picked up two opponent scandals that a big opposition firm had missed.

As soon as Lee came on the line, he said, ‘It’s all anybody’s talking about.’

He didn’t have to include a subject in that sentence. ‘It’s going to get a lot worse.’

‘You have an opinion yet?’

‘I believe he’s innocent. I think he was set up by forces unknown. The woman’s been hanging around his events for a while. She was a stunner. She was also a trap that he was stupid enough to walk into.’

‘Pols should be eunuchs.’

‘I’ll pass that along.’ Then, ‘I need everything you and Jason can find on a woman called Tracy Cabot. And emphasize everything.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m sure she was tracking Senator Logan on someone else’s dime.’

‘We’ll start right away.’

‘I’ve got some interesting news for you, Lee.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Howie Ruskin’s out here.’

‘Wow. Now this is getting really interesting.’

‘She may have been working directly with him. Or maybe she was hired separately and the third party put them together.’

‘It figures that Ruskin would end up with a murder rap. He’s such a creepy little bastard.’

‘I thought about that, too, Lee. But as much as I hate Ruskin that’s a real big step. Ruskin’s never even gotten close to violence before.’

‘OK, maybe not murder, but there’s always a first time when the stakes are so high. By the way — and I hope this doesn’t piss you off — you sure Logan didn’t kill her?’

‘I asked him and he said no. I have to believe him, Lee, because if I didn’t I’d resign.’

‘Yeah. I can see that all right.’

My only problem is that I still had to allow for the possibility that Robert had been lying his ass off.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Lee said just before we hung up, ‘Jason says he’s working on something hot for you. You know how superstitious he is, though. He won’t even give me a hint till he’s sure of it. Say your prayers, Dev.’

But I was way ahead of him on that one. Political consultants pray every waking moment.

When I walked into the Linton campaign headquarters the bright, ambitious volunteer staff I’d been told about had been reduced to two college-age girls in jeans and red and blue sweaters respectively, sitting at a table piled high with circulars to be delivered throughout the city.

I introduced myself and got a suspicious glance. The one who wore the Wendy name tag said, ‘You’re not another reporter, are you?’

From the back of a room packed with faxes and computers and two different phone banks a voice said, ‘Hi, Dev.’

Connie Taylor had been recommended to me by another client. She’d run his hometown campaign office without a hitch, he’d said, and so I’d hired her for here. She was an African-American woman of thirty-two who was finishing her dissertation on the subject of unions in American politics. She was an attractive woman with a smile that was a boon no matter what kind of mood you were in. But there was no smile tonight. She couldn’t summon it, and it wouldn’t have helped me anyway.

She wore a russet-brown dress with a wide, dark brown belt and sensible heels. Running a campaign office for a senatorial election is a bitch. If you factored in sex and murder, the job got many times worse.

She had a dry, businesslike shake and signaled with a nod for us to walk to the back. Behind us, Wendy said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know who you were.’

‘No problem.’

‘They’re hard workers. Or were until about four hours ago. As soon as the news came on TV all the volunteers started drifting away. I imagine a lot of them are drunk by now.’

‘I don’t blame them, Connie.’

‘Neither do I.’

There was a refreshment table with several kinds of nuts and candies and popcorn. A bubbling coffeepot and a Coke machine stood to the left of the table. She had coffee; I had a Diet Coke.

‘Is there anything new, Dev?’

I’d been prepared to address as many as twenty or thirty people. Reassure them as much as I could. But I was glad I didn’t have to do it. It would have all been bullshit and they would have known by the time I’d finished my second sentence.

‘I’m waiting to hear from Jane Tyler. She’s with the senator at the police station.’

‘Jane’s a good woman. She spends a lot of time working with us on the campaign.’

Maybe Connie knew. ‘I was at the cabin talking to a Detective Hammell when she pulled up. They have some strange kind of animosity toward each other. She tries to be civil but he can’t quite make himself be decent. You have any idea what that’s all about?’

She had small hands. She made one into a brown fist and shook it. ‘She was married to his son for three years. A very angry and jealous guy, as it turned out. He threatened her quite a bit and twice he beat her up. To his credit, Hammell tried to help her — his son’s a cop, too, and he’s warned him that he’ll kick him off the force if he breaks the restraining order Jane got. But it’s put a strain on his relationship with Jane and sometimes he takes it out on her.’ Then, ‘I need your advice, Dev. I don’t know what to tell our volunteers. Should we be out on the street handing out information?’

They’d be facing at best curious citizens; at worst, hostility and angry humor. ‘Just freeze everything until mid-morning tomorrow. This is too crazy right now.’

My cell phone chimed. ‘Excuse me, Connie. I’d better take this.’

‘I need to go back to my office anyway.’ She nodded to a stairway leading to the second floor. ‘There are a few people I should call to tell them what you said. They can help me spread the word to the other volunteers.’

Jane Tyler was the name on the display.

‘Hello.’

‘I’m sitting in the parking lot of the police station. James has just picked up his brother and they’re headed back home. I’m going out there, too. James’ orders.’

‘I take it you’re not a fan?’

‘Is anybody? James has given his brother bad advice for years and unfortunately Robert has taken some of it. He’s jealous of Robert even though he’s let him fund three failed businesses for him. He’s into him for well over two million dollars that Robert will never see. Now all of a sudden he’s his big brother’s protector. I wanted to drive Robert out there myself so I could talk to him in private. He didn’t do well.’ Jane sighed. ‘Hammell’s a pretty good interrogator. He tripped Robert up time and again and made him look bad. I had to keep interrupting and telling him not to answer. I don’t know what he said to you but with Hammell I knew he was lying. He’s holding something back.’

‘And Hammell knew that, too?’

‘Of course. He’s not stupid. You can bet that right now Hammell’s on the phone with the county attorney and they’re setting up the inquest and a grand jury. This’ll be a huge “get” for both of them. With all the media out here, they’ll become celebrities. They’ll be on all the cable news shows.’

I wasn’t sure that somebody like Hammell would get his head turned by cooing news talkers but from what I knew about the county attorney — a shiny young man who peddled piety — this would be the official start of his run for governor. You’d begin hearing his name in the Chicago press more and more often now as a serious candidate. He’d be the latest version of Eliot Ness, crimebuster.

‘I need you to talk to Robert alone tonight, Dev — if I may call you Dev.’

‘Of course.’

‘Hammell will drag him back in the morning and I don’t want to sit through another session with Robert lying.’

‘You’re going out there right now?’

‘Yes. Where are you?’

I told her.

‘We could get there about the same time. I’m sure it won’t be pleasant. I like Elise very much but sometimes she gets on my nerves. And I’m sure this has devastated her.’

I decided against telling her what Elise had done earlier. Jane had enough problems.

‘I’ll see you there,’ I said.

Eight

When I got on the country road I wanted to keep driving. There was a gaudy gold full moon and with the radio off and the window partially down the air was sweet and the voices of owls and horses and night birds caught me up in a daydream of driving for a long time to a place where everybody was guaranteed a fair shake and there were no politics. And where the woman I’d been looking for would step up and claim me.

There were so many media trucks on the perimeter of the Logan estate it looked as if an army had amassed for an invasion. Dozens of lights of different sizes cast the night into a troubled brightness, that taint of emergency that so often meant death. At the gate to the property were two men in brown security uniforms with shotguns and mean faces. Three more of them were patrolling the ten-foot-high black iron security fence. These three had nightsticks and looked as if they were eager to use them. As I pulled up to the two with shotguns several reporters started shouting at me. By what right should I try to get past the two guards when they’d had no luck?

I stopped five feet away from them and put the car in neutral. One of the security guards stepped up. The night was cold enough for his breath to be silver. I put my window down. He stuck a middle-aged hard-ass face in and said, ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Dev Conrad.’

He walked back to the other man. They had two chairs there, apparently in hopes that they could rest at some point. Unlikely. He picked up a clipboard and held the top page up to the light. He scanned it and then set it down.

‘I need to see your license,’ he said when he came back.

I was ready for him and handed it over.

He examined it with a flashlight he wore on his chock-full belt. Then he handed it back.

‘Has a Jane Tyler been here yet?’

‘I passed her through about five minutes ago.’

My daydreaming had slowed me down. ‘Thanks.’

Windows on the ground floor gleamed in the cold night; the upstairs was dark. I pulled in next to where five other cars were parked and when I stopped and killed the engine I saw Jane Tyler step out of hers and walk toward me. She wore a flattering black double-breasted coat. With the collar up the pretty woman looked a bit glamorous.

‘Hammell called me on my cell while I was driving out here. He wants the senator back in his office at nine o’clock.’

‘Relentless.’

We started up the flat stone walk past the mullioned windows. ‘This is my first experience with the big-time press.’ She nodded to the army of lights, technology and people ranged across the line of iron fence. ‘It’s scary. I don’t like them. And I’m supposed to be a liberal.’

Mrs Weiderman answered the door, looming in silhouette in the lighted vestibule. She was solemn instead of cordial. The day had worn even her down.

‘Good evening. They’re all in the living room, including Mr Zuckerman.’

‘How bad is it?’ I said softly as we followed her inside. She took our coats.

‘Elise’s doctor was here and sedated her just a little. She’s sitting up but she mostly just stares into space. She refuses to lie down in the master bedroom.’

Before we reached the living room I could hear James Logan intoning.

‘Uncle James, will you please sit down and shut up.’

‘My favorite niece,’ he said just as we entered the room.

‘Your only niece,’ Maddy said. ‘You’re not helping anybody and you’re completely wrong about...’

She froze when she saw me. So I’d been the subject of conversation.

‘Here he is now,’ James said to Robert, Elise and Maddy on the couch, ‘and what’s he been doing? Escorting your Ms Tyler around.’

‘More than you can say, James,’ Jane snapped. ‘Since I’d never go out with you.’

Maddy laughed sharply. James glared at her. The way his body lurched I could tell he was well along with his drinks.

He was duded up tonight — jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket and enough mousse in his dark hair to give him the look of the oldest-living lounge lizard. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Conrad, the press is killing us.’

I ignored him. ‘Hi, Robert. Is Ben here yet?’

‘Bathroom,’ Robert said.

‘Did you hear what I said? What the hell are you doing about the press?’

Ben Zuckerman came through the door, scowling. ‘James, I thought I told you to sit down and shut up or get the hell out of here.’ Ben was a short, tightly-wound man who did not suffer idiots well. He was by most accounts the single best criminal attorney in the Midwest. The number and variety of cases he’d won was astounding. He’d boxed in college and was now an amateur handball champion. His small, classic features gave him the mien of a gentle man. They were misleading.

‘Who the hell d’you think you’re talking to?’ James said.

‘Robert,’ Ben said. ‘He goes or I go.’

Robert nodded and stood up. He quickstepped to his brother, ripped the drink from his hand and then took him by the arm. ‘You need to lie down, James.’

‘Zuckerman and Conrad are friends, Robert. They’re both incompetent. You need to talk to that lawyer I know in Saint Louis.’

But Robert wasn’t letting go of his arm or slowing their progress toward the hall. He’d set the drink down on an end table and was now prepared for anything James might do.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Logan,’ Ben said to Elise.

Mrs Weiderman hadn’t been exaggerating. Elise, clothed tonight in a mauve robe over a purple pajama set with matching purple slippers, glanced up at the mention of her name. But it was easy to see that she did not comprehend what Ben had just said to her. Maddy slid even closer. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mr Zuckerman—’

‘Ben.’

‘Ben, then. There really is nothing to be sorry for. My uncle is a horse’s ass. Usually I’d be more polite but under the circumstances I don’t care.’

Again, Elise’s face showed no emotion.

‘Ben, this is Jane Tyler,’ I said.

He was a courtly man and he greeted Jane with a handshake and a warm smile. ‘Robert’s told me all about you. He said you did a great job at the police station. I hope you’ll continue working with us.’

Ben Zuckerman, no less, was asking a local lawyer to assist in the defense. This happened most of the time but not always, and when it didn’t it was a snub everybody — including the press — noticed.

Jane’s smile made me smile. ‘I’m very flattered, Mr Zuckerman.’

‘I’m Ben and you’re Jane, if that’s all right.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘Now, Mrs Weiderman said that you and I can use the study for as long as we need it, so why don’t we fix ourselves a drink and carry them in there, and you can bring me up to date.’

‘Sounds great.’

Ben went over to the dry bar. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Bourbon and 7UP, if they’ve got it.’

‘They do.’

As Ben fixed the drinks, he looked at me. ‘Do you like the hotel you’re staying in, Dev?’

‘Not bad at all.’

‘Any kind of gym?’

‘A small one.’

‘That’ll work for me.’

Ben brought the drinks over. ‘Did you two come in separate cars?’

‘Yes,’ Jane said.

‘We may be here a long time. You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to, Dev.’

‘I need to talk to Robert, then I’ll head back.’

Ben tilted his head in the direction of the hall and followed Jane out of the room.

By now Elise’s face had a porcelain sheen. She surprised me. ‘Stop looking at me like that, Dev. You’re making me feel like a freak.’

‘I apologize, Elise. I’m just worried about you.’

‘Robert’s the one you should be worried about.’

‘Believe me, I am.’

‘He doesn’t deserve this.’

‘I know he doesn’t.’

‘The second I saw that woman—’ She didn’t finish.

Maddy patted her mother’s folded hands. ‘You’re exhausted, Mom. I can hear it in your voice.’

I heard the same thing. Maybe she’d be able to fight the sedative her doctor had given her but only for a time. Even when her words were emotional her voice was a monotone.

A long, weary sigh. ‘I guess you’re right, honey.’ And then to me: ‘I’m sorry James was such an ass, Dev. He thinks he’s an expert on everything.’

‘That’s all right. Just about every candidate has a naysayer in his or her group. Somebody who thinks they know a better consultant or a better way to win the election. And sometimes they’re even right. Nobody in my business has a perfect track record by a long shot. James probably thinks he’s protecting his brother.’

‘He’s an asshole,’ Maddy said. ‘I hate him.’

‘Honey, he’s family.’

‘You don’t have to remind me, Mom. I never liked him, even when I was small. He was condescending even back then. Now, c’mon, let’s go upstairs.’

Maddy was as careful with her mother as a nurse would be with a drastically sick patient. And Elise was uncertain on her feet, nearly falling back on the couch before Maddy and I grabbed her.

‘’Night, Dev. I guess I’ll go to bed, too. I think I’ll watch some lame movie with a happy ending. Maybe I can forget about everything for a while.’

‘I hope it works,’ I said.

‘Thank you, Dev,’ Elise said.

‘Get some sleep, Elise. Hopefully things will be a little better in the morning.’

One of those lies that are embarrassing when you think about them. Things would be better in the morning? Really? How?

I walked over to the dry bar and opened the door of the small refrigerator hidden from sight. I found three Heinekens inside and took one. I’d just popped the cap when Robert came rushing into the room.

‘I wrestled James upstairs and threw him on the bed in one of the guest rooms. Sorry he was such a dick. I didn’t want to be here with Elise. Maddy told me she calms down when I’m not around. I don’t know how the hell she can even function with the sedatives the doc gave her. But I suppose since she’s had so many kinds of antidepressants over the years she’s built up a resistance. Anyway, the best thing I can do is leave her alone.’ He nodded to my beer. ‘I’d take one of those.’

I dug one out and handed it to him.

‘I won’t even look out of any of the northern windows. This looks like the Michael Jackson trial. Or OJ. All these reporters from all over the world. I’m waiting for them to just overrun us and drag me away and lynch me. And I’m only half kidding. I tried to take a little nap a while ago to calm down and I had a dream of something like that.’

‘Jane tells me you were holding something back from Hammell?’

Since he had a mouthful of beer he could have done a spit take and made both of us laugh. Instead the eyes bulged a little and color came up in the cheeks. ‘She gave me the same bullshit in the station parking lot. I like Jane but she’s wrong as hell about me holding something back.’

‘You said she was a good lawyer. And a good lawyer learns how to read clients.’

‘You can be good without being invincible.’

‘She’s trying to help you and so am I. And so is Ben.’

‘What’m I supposed to do? Make things up to satisfy you three? I told you the absolute truth.’

‘Hammell may request a lie detector test.’

The gaze narrowed; a tooth bit the edge of an upper lip. In poker that would have been called a ‘tell.’ A hint of deception.

‘So? I’m not worried about a lie detector.’

But he was and so much so that he turned away from me and walked back across the living room and sat in an armchair. He needed time to compose himself again. Maybe he hadn’t even thought of a lie detector test until I’d brought it up. I sat down across from him.

‘Did you hear what Shay had to say about it all?’

‘I’ve been busy, Robert.’

‘Enough to make you sick to your stomach. Such a goddamned Good Samaritan. A Chicago station had him in the studio and our worthy opponent claimed to be very sad for me and my family and that he was sure everything would turn out all right for me because I was a decent man and then we could get back to campaigning and talking about why it was a good thing that one percent of our population controlled eighty percent of the wealth. Some goddamned consultant wrote it for him, you can bet on that.’

I appreciated anything that made me laugh. ‘I’m some goddamned consultant, Robert.’

‘Oh, right. Sorry.’

‘And I would’ve told him to say exactly what he said. Let everybody else play the bad guy. Make sure you look reasonable and civil — that’s all that matters.’

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, the green bottle hanging from his folded hands. ‘Say we wrap this thing up in a week or so. What’re my chances of pulling it off — the election, I mean?’

I could have reminded him of how bad things were for him right now. I could have told him he was worrying for nothing because we were likely all done. I could have told him that the affair alone, in a tight race, could be fatal. But he was a politician — a good one and a major one — and they really don’t think like you and me. They make moral compromises most people couldn’t bring themselves to make and they almost never let go of the idea that somehow, some way they will be re-elected, even if they are caught in bed with a thirteen-year-old girl they’ve just given heroin to. If you don’t believe me consider the true story of a well-known US politician. A tabloid breaks the story that a) he has a mistress, b) his cancer-dying wife knows about his mistress and is crushed and c) his mistress is now pregnant. His presidential aspirations have crashed completely but he still calls the president elect’s people and offers himself as attorney general material. This is being disconnected from reality on a cosmic level. It’s a drug, this sense of entitlement. I stayed silent.

When he sat back and focused on me I knew what was coming. He was going to lay a brother James on me. I was about to become the boogeyman. ‘So what exactly are you doing to help me?’

‘I’ve got the best private investigator and his oppo researcher son finding out everything they can about Tracy Cabot.’

‘That’s all?’

‘And I brought Ben Zuckerman in.’

‘I could have done that myself.’

‘Yes, you could’ve. But you didn’t.’

‘In other words you’re sitting here wasting time.’

‘I’m sitting here because I wanted to see Ben.’

‘And Jane. I saw the way you two looked at each other. If you want to get laid, Dev, do it on your own time.’

‘Like you, you mean?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? I told you we didn’t have sex.’

‘I’ve decided I don’t believe you.’ If he wanted pissy, pissy he’d get.

‘So now I’m a liar?’

‘So now you’re cleaning up your story. There’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘I could fire you right now and bring in James’ man.’

‘Be my guest. I can see the story on the news. Senator is person of interest in a murder with a sexy woman he might have been having an affair with — and his campaign consultant quits. Kind of a double whammy, Robert.’

‘Ah, shit.’ And he waved the subject off. And set his head back and closed his eyes.

‘You all right, Robert?’ I said after a time.

‘Just ducky.’

‘I wish you’d think over what I said.’

‘About what?’

‘About telling Ben and Hammell everything.’

‘I already have.’

I set my beer on the coffee table and stood up. ‘I’m going now.’

Still with his head back, eyes closed. ‘What’re you going to do?’

‘Get some hookers up to my room and have a party.’

‘Fuck yourself.’

‘I’m working on something but I’m afraid to tell you because you’ll have to give a live statement sometime and I don’t want you blurting it out.’

Head up, eyes opened. ‘You have a lot of faith in me.’

‘Actually, I do, Robert. But I’d blurt it out, too, because this could turn the story in a whole new direction.’

‘What the hell are you talking about, Dev?’

‘Howie Ruskin’s been in town for a while.’

There was a pause, then he said, ‘Ruskin’s behind this, he must be. Wait... Ruskin and Tracy worked together?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Ruskin killed her!’

He was up on his feet like a man who’d just been saved at a religious event. He was even waving his hands in the air. He had seen the truth and the truth went by the name of Howie Ruskin. ‘How the hell can you just stand there so calmly, Dev? This is the whole nine yards. That prick set me up with Tracy and then killed her to make it look as if I’d done it.’ I sensed the kind of relief that comes to those whom the Lord has singled out for salvation; the salvation only a grifter peddling solace from the ugliness of an unforgiving world can inspire. In my fantasy revolution I hang all TV ministers and ministerettes. Right after the deserving Wall Streeters.

‘Proof, Robert. Proof. We don’t have any as yet. But he’s staying at the same hotel that I am and I’ve paid a bellman there to let me know the moment he sees him. The man’s name is Earl and he’s got my cell number.’

‘You’re awfully goddamned calm about this, Dev.’

‘Maybe we should get James back down here and let him handle it.’

He made a face at me but then his entire body settled. The high had left him. ‘Yeah, you’re right. We don’t have jack yet, do we?’

‘No.’

‘But I’d bet anything he’s involved.’

‘So would I.’

A half-smile. ‘Well, my well-paid consultant finally agrees with me on something.’

‘Ass-kissers charge even more.’

His long hands went to his face. He reminded me of Elise doing the same thing. ‘God, I just can’t believe this has happened to me. It’s so insane.’ The hands came down. He stared out the window. ‘I can hear them down there. They’ll all be filing story after story, even though there’s nothing new to report.’

‘Some of them have probably been in town interviewing people.’

‘Oh, sure. “I always figured that Logan for an ax-murderer. You know how those socialists are.”’

I was walking to the vestibule where Mrs Weiderman had hung my coat. ‘I’m going to look up Earl when I get back to my hotel. If I get any news I’ll call you right away.’

‘I’m sorry for dumping on you.’

‘I’d be just as upset as you are, Robert. You got set up and I’m pretty sure we’re both right about who’s involved.’

The temperature had to be in the low forties when I walked outside. Maybe the high thirties. But the weather hadn’t deterred the press. As I neared the checkpoint more than a dozen people with cameras and microphones ran toward the guards with the shotguns. A car leaving the Logan home? Maybe there was a story in it.

The guards watched me approach and had opened the gate by the time I reached them so I could drive straight through. The reporters screamed at me as if I were a rock star.

Nine

Halfway back to town — I knew it was halfway because I remembered an ancient abandoned school being roughly midway — my cell phone rang. I pulled over.

‘It’s me, Earl.’

‘You got something?’

‘Yeah. Strange. I had to help set up for this big event tonight because there’s flu going around and we’re short on people. So while I was doing that, this Ruskin guy calls in and says he’s sending his assistant over to pay his bill and pick up his stuff. The kid at the desk told me she came in about five minutes after Ruskin called. She was real nervous and seemed scared, he said. Said she was kind of dumpy and looked sorta like a hippie. One of the other bellmen took her up to the room, she packed everything up and then left. The desk kid had his hour dinner break and the girl running the desk didn’t know anything about it. She told me that she hadn’t seen Ruskin so I assumed there was no problem. I got busy so I didn’t get a chance to ask this kid until a few minutes ago.’

‘What time does the kid get off?’

‘Eleven.’

It was eight thirty-six.

‘And there’s somebody else here looking for Ruskin, too. And he’s also looking for you.’

‘Did you talk to him?’

‘No, but the kid did. He said that right now the guy is in the hotel bar.’

‘I should be there in fifteen minutes.’

‘Sorry I wasn’t more on top of things.’

‘You did fine, Earl. I appreciate it.’

The sensible — or maybe the word should be lazy — reporters were hanging out in the hotel lobby. They stood around with drinks in their hands laughing and greeting new arrivals with shouts and verbal jabs. This had to be the second string. The ones freezing their asses off out at Robert’s place were the ones who mattered. These knew they weren’t important and were taking advantage of that fact.

A few of them eyed me with whiskey scorn. I was, after all, not one of Them. The first thing I did was check for messages. There were none. The ‘kid’ as Earl called him — his name was Kevin, according to his name tag — said, ‘This is like Chicago tonight.’ He was stoned on the excitement. ‘Late in the afternoon four reporters I see on the evening news all the time checked in, all in less than an hour. I was going to ask for an autograph but I thought maybe I’d get in trouble.’ I guessed Earl was right to call him the kid.

‘Somebody told me that Mr Ruskin checked out and a woman picked up all his stuff for him.’

He allowed himself a moment of surprise and then said, ‘Gosh, word sure does get around. But that’s right. A woman did pick up his things.’

‘Can you describe her?’

‘Describe her?’

‘Yes. Describe her.’

‘Oh.’ Suspicion played across his bland face. ‘Is something going on in the hotel I should know about, Mr Conrad?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Pretty dumpy. Hippie-like. She looks real young until you see her close up.’

‘So you took her up to his room?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Did you go in with her?’

‘Uh-huh. She had me put all his stuff in garment bags and put them on the cart.’

‘She say anything while you were helping her?’

‘She just told me what to do and then she just sort of ignored me.’

Behind us the reporters started applauding for somebody or something.

‘They like to have fun, don’t they? I recognized one of them from Channel Eight from downstate. That’s where I grew up.’

I was about five steps from the check-in when I saw Earl waving at me. He stood to the side of the door leading into the bar.

‘This place is a zoo,’ he said when I got to him. ‘We should have murders more often. No offense, but I’m getting rich tonight.’

Earl didn’t have much of a future in public relations. Good for him he was getting rich tonight. A man innocent of murder was getting lynched in the media and I was losing a vital campaign. But I needed Earl. ‘I’ll see what I can do for you. Pick out a couple of people and I’ll off them for you. I mean, since murders are so good for your business.’

I’d tried keeping my irritation out of my little joke but he picked up on my anger.

‘Hey, I said no offense, man. It was just a stupid joke, all right?’

‘All right. Now tell me about the man in the bar.’

Basically he went through what he’d told me on the phone. But this time he added, ‘He’s an official of some kind.’

‘How do you know?’

He touched his nose. ‘I can smell them. Cops, politicians, narcs. You can’t catch bells all the years I have and not be able to pick them off. All the guys can who’ve been at it for a while.’

‘And you’re sure he’s still in there?’

‘Unless he went out the back door, which almost nobody ever does.’

‘How about you point him out to me?’

‘Sure. And listen, it really was a joke I made.’

‘I know, Earl. Believe it or not, I can be an asshole sometimes.’

He handled it just right. He did a fake double take and said, ‘You be an asshole? I never woulda guessed.’

Earl was all right; he could put you down and make you smile about it.

We stood in the dark doorway of the crowded bar while he scanned the room. I didn’t see how he could find anybody in the packed drunken crowd. But then he said: ‘There. The tall guy talking to the little redhead.’ Almost as soon as he said it the redhead disappeared behind a surge of bigger people. But the tall man with the rimless glasses and the gaunt face could still be seen. He must have been six-five, at least.

‘He says his name is Michael Hawkins.’

‘Thanks again, Earl.’

For the next three minutes I pushed, twisted and sidestepped my way through a crowd of resistant bodies that smelled of perfume, aftershave, sweat, cigarettes and most especially alcohol. Hawkins loomed like a lighthouse above this wreckage, almost serene in his indifference to all the clamor of the people who were talking at him. He was just taking it in, like a recorder. Some kind of law, he had to be.

He didn’t hear me at first because I had to shout over the din. The third or fourth time I shouted, the green eyes behind the rimless glasses narrowed and then the gaze ran down his long, thin nose and settled on me. The briefest smile. He managed to say: ‘The coffee shop. Five minutes.’

Grateful we weren’t going to stay here, I turned and plowed and muscled my way back to the lobby. Earl wasn’t anywhere in sight.

The coffee shop had red leather booths and a small spray of fresh flowers on every table. The food and the coffee smelled warm and inviting. I took a booth next to the window. I ordered coffee and a tuna sandwich and sat watching people stream from the parking lot into the hotel. The wind was knocking them around; a few of the slighter women resembled toys being scrambled by the invisible hand of a girl playing dolls.

‘That bar is one hell of a place, isn’t it?’

Hawkins seated himself in parts; he was that tall. Now that I got a good look at him I saw he was in his forties, graying of hair and decent-looking in a stern, Latin teacher way. He wore businesslike blue pinstripes. He had that kind of quiet authority the good ones have.

The waitress came so quickly I didn’t even get a chance to tell him that I agreed — that the bar was indeed one hell of a place. He ordered coffee and a steak sandwich.

Long fingers then went inside his suit coat and retrieved the kind of small brown leather holder that contains badges. ‘Just so you know who you’re talking to, Mr Conrad. My name is Michael Hawkins and I’m an investigator for the US Attorney in this district.’

He showed me the badge and then the ID on the facing side. Since the ID contained not only his name but also his photograph, I had no doubt that he was who he said.

‘I was looking for you because I’m trying to locate a man named Howard Ruskin. I’ve never worked a political case like this one before but I do read the newspapers. Ruskin has quite a reputation.’

‘I’m not sure why you’d think I could help you locate him. I work the other side of the street politically.’

‘We have a warrant out for his arrest. We believe he’s been in our jurisdiction for over a month now but I haven’t been able to find him. This morning our office got a tip that Ruskin was spotted in town here. I was on my way before anything about this murder broke.’

‘Senator Logan did not murder her.’

He leaned back. ‘Believe it or not, Mr Conrad, I’m only interested in Senator Logan’s case as a spectator. I’m after Ruskin. I assumed that you might be assuming that Ruskin might be involved in your case in some way. I checked you out. Army intel and you’ve worked on criminal cases for a couple of your clients.’

Pretty impressive. He would assume that I would assume Ruskin was behind the murder — maybe even committed it himself — so I would be trying to track him down. So why not tap me for any information I’d already been able to pick up and save himself some time in trying to nail Ruskin?

‘If I had anything, I’d share it with you. I want to catch up with the bastard as badly as you do.’

He kept his elbow on the table until the waitress brought his coffee. The longer I watched, the more I saw a professor under the investigator. He was judicious in his words, almost ruminative. ‘I can’t tell you much about why we want him but I can say that it involves extortion.’

‘I’m surprised that it took till now to catch him at it. He’s made a lot of money and I always assumed he was shaking people down. But I still don’t know why you’d think I’d know where he is.’

‘As you say, Mr Conrad, you work a different side of the street. You may hear something I wouldn’t be privy to. So I’d appreciate you sharing anything you have with me.’

‘Of course. I want him caught.’

‘Then we’re on the same team.’

Our food arrived at the same time. Occasionally I glanced out the window at the men and women battling the invisible force of the wind, nearly getting knocked on their dressed-up asses for doing so.

The dialogue got rote — a little politics, a little sports and a little rote remorse about how pols so often went bad these days though, as I had to point out, we were living in a second Gilded Age and the first one had become the textbook the current plutocrats still used. In the 1880s and 1890s senators were so openly crooked some newspapers didn’t identify them by state; instead, they said, ‘The Senator from Oil’ and ‘The Senator from Railroads.’ These days we had public relations agencies working for senators to make them more palatable to the public.

Yes, Senator Gleason did indeed drunkenly run over an eighty-six-year-old woman in the crosswalk, but he was on his way to a cancer fundraiser. What a guy.

Toward the end of our conversation, he said, ‘I try to stay as apolitical as I can in my job. You know the US Attorneys took a hit a while back when they fired some lawyers for political reasons. I don’t want politics to get in the way.’

The Bush administration had fired a number of sitting US Attorneys because they wouldn’t carry out his political schemes. They had mostly been replaced by young graduates of Holy Shit University who came on with not only a political agenda but a religious one as well. They pretty much destroyed the integrity of the whole operation. I wasn’t the only one who was still skeptical. I wondered how many of them had actually been driven out.

‘I appreciate that, Mr Hawkins.’

He nodded as he wiped his mouth with the paper napkin. The way he set the napkin down signaled that our meeting was over. He put a long hand across the table and we shook the way two guys do in used-car commercials where the sucker grins his pleasure at now owning a car that had been driven off a cliff six months earlier.

He picked up the tab and left a handsome tip for the waitress, and we walked back to the lobby together. He nodded to all the reporters who had divided up into small groups. Two or three of the better-looking female reporters were surrounded by eager collections of horny boozed-up admirers and seemed to be enjoying it.

‘I would appreciate having your cell number, Mr Conrad. I’d be happy to give you mine.’

When we finished punching the numbers into our respective phones, he said, ‘Good luck to both of us.’

Ten

In my room I dumped my clothes so I could sit in my shorts and T-shirt with a Blue Moon beer next to my laptop and get to work. The first thing I did was log on to the US Attorneys website and make sure Hawkins was legit.

It took a few minutes but finally there he was. He was so gaunt in his official photo he resembled one of those early New Englanders who enjoyed burning witches. DePaul University graduate, Cincinnati homicide detective five years and five years at Global, a giant security company that was as insular and mysterious as the Vatican. Four years working as an investigator for the Illinois Attorney General’s office. This was his third year with the US Attorney’s office in this jurisdiction. He was official all right.

I consulted the sacred Rolodex I had on my computer. I remembered an attorney I knew from the Chicago Democratic machine. Decent guy. He’d invited me and my woman of the moment to a party at his house a few years back. Tom Neil. I dialed his number and asked the young girl — maybe eight or nine — if her father was home. ‘Yes, he is. May I tell him who’s calling, please?’

I smiled and thought of my own daughter at that age. All the times I’d been on the road and her only contact with me was phone calls from afar. The kind of memory you hate yourself for till the day they plant you.

‘My name’s Dev Conrad.’

‘Thank you.’

When he came on the phone, he said, ‘This is a pleasant surprise, Dev. Great to hear from you. We never did have that drink. I’m sorry I had to cancel that time. A hysterical client, as I recall.’

‘Happens all the time. No problem, Tom.’

He got quieter. ‘I can’t believe what’s happening with Senator Logan.’

‘I don’t have any choice. I have to believe it.’

‘They’ve already got him in the execution chamber.’

‘That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. There’s a guy up here from your office. I just met him and I wanted your opinion of him.’

He hesitated. ‘Everything is between us, of course. And I’m pretty sure you’re talking about Michael Hawkins. One of the best. I hope that makes you feel better.’

‘It does. And I apologize for calling. I just like to know who I’m dealing with. And Google doesn’t tell you if he’d leak things to the press or anything like that.’

‘Not Michael. On the contrary, he’s very competitive. Likes to take credit for everything. So he keeps everything close till he’s ready to attack.’

‘Good. He can have all the credit he wants if he can help us get the senator out of this disaster.’

‘Think it’s all over for Logan no matter what happens?’

‘Fifty-fifty.’

‘How about sixty-forty in favor of Empire News?’

‘I try not to watch those bastards but every once in a while I’ll catch a link and I can’t resist.’

‘This is like the biggest sexual thrill in recorded history for them. One of the bimbos hinted that Logan should do the honorable thing and eat a gun.’

‘Yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t offer to buy him the gun.’

‘That’ll be later tonight.’

‘Well, thanks, Tom. Good to know about Hawkins.’

‘I wish I was a praying man. I’d say a few for you and the senator. And let’s have that drink sometime.’

After the call I opened up all the computer material from the Sullivans.

Tracy Cabot — real name Louise Tracy Cabot. Daughter of noted fanatical right-wing New England newspaper publisher. In constant trouble at Smith for interrupting her professors to imply they were Communists. Became icon of campus conservative movement. After graduation — 3.1 grade point — went to work for a shadowy ultra-reactionary think tank. Then for a few years she was listed as a ‘political consultant.’ But there was no record of a client. Surfaced on her twenty-ninth birthday as the woman Senator Peter Boggs, Democrat, was videotaped leaving a motel room with. In a tight race Boggs lost. Two years later she was revealed to be the paramour of a Dem congressman who went on to lose a third term. At this point a left-wing blogger named Daniel Marlowe, who had been tracking her, learned she worked for a virtually invisible group called The Alliance for Liberty. It was during this time that she began working with Howie Ruskin for the other side on everything from voter suppression to funneling illegal money to candidates.

Her taste in men seemed limited to a roster of married conservative movers and shakers. If she and Ruskin had ever been lovers that part of their relationship had been short-lived, because both of them were linked to numerous partners during their tenure as political saboteurs.

There was a page of thumbnail photos of her. Babe-o-Rama. Not difficult to understand how she had her way with so many men. Not one of them showed her in any kind of reflective mood. The images left the impression that she was always at her alluring best even when she was — as in one shot — standing in some kind of religious shrine. But always upper crust. Nothing downscale about her. You knew she didn’t know how to sweat.

And Robert had gone for her.

All of it was useful information, but hardly the kind of bombshell we needed.

I had just about finished my beer — I’d been at it long enough for the bottle to be warm — when my cell phone rang. I was happy to hear Jane Tyler’s voice.

‘You missed the excitement.’

‘Do I want to hear this?’

She laughed. ‘Probably not. But I’m going to tell you anyway. James woke up and came back downstairs and started hassling Ben. And Ben knocked him out with one punch.’

Now I was the one laughing. ‘I was hoping I’d get first crack at him. Ben’s a pretty controlled guy. James must’ve pissed him off big time.’

‘Ben was very controlled. He just kind of blew off all the insults until James grabbed him and that was that. Ben didn’t even get a clear shot at him. But he knocked him out. Then Ben grabbed him and dragged him to the couch. He pulled over an ottoman and sat there until James came back and then he apologized for hitting him.’

‘How’d James take it?’

‘He was the perfect gentleman, of course. He started shouting that he was going to sue Ben for so much money Ben’d be declaring bankruptcy. I tried to help calm him down but then he started on me. He called me a whore and said that everybody knew that was why my husband beat me up.’

‘I’m sorry you had to put up with that.’

‘Robert had been on the phone the whole time. He came in on the end of it and got so mad that he tried to punch James himself. And then he said, “You can forget about me bailing you out this time.” I don’t know what he was talking about but it certainly calmed James down all of a sudden. He got all apologetic to everybody and begged — and I’m not exaggerating when I say begged — Robert to go to the study and talk to him.’

They must have been arguing about that damn loan, I thought. ‘I’ve wanted to tell Robert to dump his brother but that’s easy for me to say. Blood’s blood.’

‘I know. I still feel guilty about leaving my husband and I shouldn’t. I used to feel superior to all those women who put up with abusive spouses. I didn’t put up with it for long but I still think about the days when it was good.’

‘You have a history with him. That’ll be with you a long time. Maybe for life.’

‘You sound as if you know what you’re talking about.’

‘I do. I was a terrible husband. I didn’t abuse her physically or anything like that but I was always on the road as a consultant so in a real sense I deserted her. By the end she was a stranger to me. I’d forced her to be one. There’s a part of me that can’t let go of that. Can’t ever forgive myself.’

‘Are you in touch with her?’

‘We have a beautiful daughter in common who lives in Boston and is about to marry the intern she’s lived with the past few years.’

A yawn. ‘Sorry.’

‘Was that a comment on my life story?’

A giggle this time. ‘Hardly. But aren’t you as exhausted as I am?’

‘Yeah. In fact, I’m probably going to hit the bed as soon as we hang up. And as soon as you agree to have dinner with me tomorrow.’

‘I’d like that. Thanks. And by the way, Ben’s press conference will be in front of the county courthouse at nine tomorrow. He said he likes early ones because the reporters are hungover and not as sharp as they’ll be later in the day.’

‘Ben’s a genius.’

‘And a very nice man. I like him.’ Another yawn. ‘God. Sorry.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

For once the demons didn’t come to wake me up. Usually I go through a list of those I’d done wrong and a list of those who’d wronged me. Sleep is at a premium on those nights.

Tonight I dropped off quickly.

Eleven

Ben Zuckerman appeared on TV promptly at nine a.m. looking well-rested, relaxed and well turned out in a boardroom gray suit. He wore a stony expression. Don’t fuck with me, buddy, or you’ll regret it. He stood in front of the courthouse without notes of any kind.

There were at least fifteen upright microphones in front of him and at least twice as many hand mikes being pointed at him. As the camera panned the press, familiar faces were seen. Network faces and recognizable ones. This was the big time. A US senator involved in the murder of a beautiful woman.

‘I know we’re all busy here so I’ll keep my remarks brief and allow only five minutes for questions. I would ask you to remember that this situation is less than twenty-four hours old so despite all the rampant speculation nobody — and I repeat — nobody knows anything for certain yet. With one exception. Senator Robert Logan, my client, categorically denies having anything to do with the death of Tracy Cabot. And I emphasize the word “categorically.” He is innocent of the charges some of the media have accused him of. I would ask the press to do their job responsibly. The senator and I are well aware of why this story has dominated every news cycle. But we do ask for you to be fair and wait for solid facts before making any implications about his role in this tragic event. Now I’ll take questions.’

Then came the deluge.

Was Tracy Cabot his mistress? How long had the senator known her? Why would she be at his cabin if the senator didn’t know about it? Did the senator have an alibi for the time of her death? How about the reports that the senator had a long-standing reputation as a womanizer? Had the senator taken a lie detector test? Would the senator step down in light of the suspicions the press had about him?

Ben answered each question forcefully but quickly. Yes and no were his favorite responses but when he had to go into detail, as in his answer to the query about the senator’s rep as a chaser, he used his words to chide the press. ‘I’ve known Senator Logan for ten years, going back to the time he was in the state legislature. In all that time I never once heard anyone refer to him as being any kind of ladies’ man — which he definitely is not. This charge surfaced last night on the network whose sole purpose is to destroy every single member of my party. And their weapon of choice is always character assassination. When you make a habit of cheating on your spouse — and this goes for men and women both — people eventually know about it. And talk about it. Ask anybody who’s known Senator Logan for any length of time and they’ll tell you that that charge is ludicrous and false.’

He’d needed to vent and by God he’d vented.

‘Now let’s let the police do their work and I’m confident that they’ll find that Senator Logan is innocent of all these suspicions. Thank you very much for your time.’

‘He’s really good,’ Jane Tyler said.

We were sitting in the small conference room of her small office building that had room for Jane and three other lawyers. The walls were covered with historical photos of the area at the turn of the last century and the walnut conference table itself also seemed to be historical. Only the chairs and the dark blue carpeting and the plasma TV mounted on the east wall were recent. She aimed the remote dagger-like at the screen and it died.

‘He’s very good but he knows that what he said won’t make any difference to most people. If you polled across the country now at least fifty percent of people would say he was guilty.’

‘Have you ever considered the possibility that he is guilty?’

‘Of course. But it’s extremely unlikely.’

‘He was definitely involved with her.’

‘That we can’t deny.’

‘I mean, maybe more than he’s letting on.’

She wore a burnished-yellow silk blouse and a black skirt revealing fetching legs and ankles. Her dark hair was slightly mussed from the rush we’d made from the car into the Hardee’s where we’d grabbed our breakfast and dragged it to her office. I’d called her from my hotel room and asked if we could have breakfast and watch Ben together.

Now, the Hardee’s sacks in front of us, she said, ‘I called a friend of mine at the police department.’

‘Hammell will probably fire whoever it is if he finds out you’ve got a confidant inside.’

‘It’s the one and only female patrol officer who’s unhappy with how the boys’ network treats her.’

‘And she says what?’

‘She says that when she signed in this morning the county attorney was just pulling into the lot and Hammell and his number one were standing outside to meet him. And then they all shook hands and hurried into the building. She said it was like watching a TV show. You know, everything so urgent and everything.’

‘But she doesn’t know what it’s all about?’

‘No. She says it always takes a while for news to filter down to her level. It doesn’t sound good.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

She sat down, finally, across the table from me. ‘I need to get hold of Ben and tell him about this.’

A knock on the door. A middle-aged man peeked in and said, ‘I just saw Mrs Havers’ car in the parking lot.’

‘Bob Raimi, this is Dev Conrad.’

‘Nice to meet you, Dev. Want me to cover it for you?’

‘No. She’s eighty-two years old. She has her grandson drive her into town. That’s a forty-mile trip one way. She’s used to seeing me.’

‘All right, then. Nice to meet you, Dev.’

When the door closed, she said, ‘He’s the first partner. A very nice guy.’ Then, ‘I hate to chase you out, Dev, but I need to get ready for this client. She’s an old sweetie and I’m really trying to help her.’

As I was getting out of my chair she said, ‘I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything from my friend in the department. This has me worried.’

‘Me, too. I just wish that Robert had been honest with us.’

A wry smile. ‘You’re trying to help them and they still lie. I’ve never understood that. Sometimes I feel that I’m the prosecutor when I talk to clients. I have to drag every bit of information out of them kicking and screaming. A few of them, anyway. Thank God most of them come in and lay everything out for you.’

I was on my feet and bagging up the debris from our breakfasts. ‘You mean I forgot to mention running over those three nuns that time? I guess I thought you already knew about that.’

‘God, you probably get it much worse than we do. All the lies.’ She swooped up her papers, her glasses and her coffee cup. ‘I’m sure we’ll talk sometime today. Thanks again for breakfast.’

She was gone before I got to the door.

The day was Midwestern gorgeous and cold as hell. Maybe high thirties. As I was climbing into my Jeep my cell phone rang and as I slid behind the wheel I punched in the call.

‘Dev, this is Jackie.’

Our office receptionist. She only called when it was important.

‘We watched Ben. Everybody in the office. He did a great job but that isn’t why I’m calling. A woman who won’t identify herself has called here twice this morning insisting that she needs to contact you right away.’

‘Did she say what she wants?’

‘She says she can put you in contact with Howard Ruskin.’

‘It could be some kind of a prank.’

‘I don’t think so. And I don’t think you would either if you heard her voice. She sounds terrified of something.’

‘Is she going to call back?’

‘No, the second time she called I asked for her number so you could call her.’

‘All right.’

‘But it isn’t really her number.’

‘What?’

‘You’re supposed to call this number and leave your number and whoever answers will call her with your number.’

‘This is crazy.’

‘She may be crazy, Dev, but I think she really believes she can put you in touch with Ruskin. That would be a pretty strange delusion for a crazy person to have.’

‘I guess. You may as well give me her number.’

‘I hope this amounts to something.’

‘So do I.’

I wrote down the number she gave me.

‘How is the senator holding up? It must be terrible for his family.’

‘It is.’

‘His wife is so... fragile.’

‘She is at that.’ But I didn’t have time to go on like this. ‘Thanks, Jackie.’

I sat in the parking lot staring at my cell phone as if it might explode and envelop me in a glow that would imbue me with peace of mind and ultimate truth and more youthful stamina when younger ladies allowed me into their boudoirs.

Then I punched in the number and began what turned out to be the complicated process of talking to Howie Ruskin’s lover.

Twelve

The call I made to the mystery number where I was to leave my number turned out to be an auto repair shop. The man who answered had one of those cigarette rasps that should have scared the hell out of him but probably didn’t.

‘My name is Dev Conrad. I’m supposed to leave my cell phone number with a guy named Pop.’

‘Pop ain’t here. He had to step out. I’m Pop, Junior. But he told me to take the number.’

‘I’d like to know something about who I’m dealing with.’

‘My real name’s Verne Andrews, Junior at Andrews’ Auto Repair.’

‘Sorry, I meant I’d like to know something about the woman who wants my number.’

‘Pop said I wasn’t to answer any questions in case you asked some. I’m just supposed to take the number down. And look, we’re really stacked up here. I gotta go.’

I’d been in enough auto repair shops to know that when they were busy — or just working at all — there was considerable noise. Except for a muffled conversation somewhere behind him the place was quiet.

The too-busy-to-talk always worked. You couldn’t call him a liar because you couldn’t prove he wasn’t busy. I’d once seen a woman who was not unduly fond of me in a supermarket. When I approached her and started a conversation she said, ‘I hate to run, Dev, but I left a repairman at my house working on my sink. You know how it is with them. You can’t trust them. Sorry I can’t talk more.’ Really stunning bullshit and completely successful. He wasn’t in her league but he did get my number so he was the winner of our little game.

Twenty minutes later I was on the road leading to Robert’s cabin. I hadn’t spent any time scouting the area itself. Autumn was having its way with the woods, the colors vivid in the cold sunlight. In a few places you could even see morning frost still bearding the ground. Frantic squirrels were everywhere shopping for the winter that would be here all too soon.

I was doing what the police would normally have done if they hadn’t already decided that Robert was their man. They would say otherwise, of course — that they were considering all the possibilities — but we all knew that was just a press release to satisfy the public.

A bungalow of the Craftsman style was partially hidden by pine trees. I pulled into the gravel drive. The house was wood and stone with a low-pitched roof and stone porch supports. Vines crawled over much of the house, lending it both a venerable aspect and to my eye a somewhat sinister one, as if the house itself held a terrible secret. It stood no more than thirty yards from the turn-off to Robert’s cabin.

I stood outside the car listening to the natural sounds of the day: birds, dogs, a tan plump cat on the side of the house mewling at an escaping rabbit. The stuff of children’s books I dimly recalled from ages three or four.

As I approached the house I saw, in the window to the right of the door, the face of what I guessed was a white-haired woman. I say guessed because she was only a flicker and then gone. I hadn’t even reached the steps before she came out on to the porch, all five-two of her in a faded rose-patterned housedress. She’d been pretty a long time ago but age had not been kind; her head kept twitching and so did her arthritic right hand. What troubled me about the hand was that it held the kind of .45 used in World War Two.

And what surprised me, the closer I got, was that she wasn’t as old as I’d first thought. Probably no more than late sixties.

‘No need for a gun.’

‘Don’t tell me what I need and what I don’t. And I’ve got a permit to carry this, don’t worry. I inherited the gun and the permit when my husband Stan passed away seven years ago.’

I could have argued the point that while you might legally inherit a gun you could not legally inherit a permit to carry. But the way her hand jerked about so violently I decided it was best to let her have her fantasy.

‘Who are you, anyway?’

Just then a breeze redolent of fall and pumpkins and Halloween stirred both the heavy piles of tumbled leaves and my own memory as well. At age nine I would have known enough not to pester this old lady for treats.

‘My name is Dev Conrad. I work with Senator Logan.’

Her smile was so malicious it deserved scientific study. How could a smile convey this much hatred? ‘So he finally got it, huh?’

‘If you mean all the rumors—’

‘Rumors my eye. Him and all his taxes and his apologizing to other countries — and saying it’s all right for two men to get married. Maybe he didn’t believe in God until yesterday but you can bet he does today. He knows that the Good Lord takes care of those that don’t take care of Him.’

With no warning at all she raised her fragile head the way some breeds of hunting dogs do and then began sniffing at the autumn winds. ‘She was back again last night.’

‘Who was?’ The chill I felt had nothing to do with the temperature; she was playing out a mad scene.

‘Who? That harlot he married. I can still smell her perfume on him sometimes.’ Then her blue eyes fixed on mine; she was terrifying. ‘She told him once she was afraid I’d kill her some night when she was asleep. She was right.’

He came around the west side of the house, a large, square, middle-aged man wearing a flannel shirt and jeans with a green John Deere cap stuck on his head. He limped so badly on his right leg that his entire body jerked when he moved. He didn’t speak, just assessed me as he came close. I got the feeling he wasn’t going to give me a very good review.

When he came even with the porch and glanced at the woman, he smiled. ‘Mom, you don’t need that gun.’

‘What’ll you do when the federal troops come to arrest us?’

He looked back at me. Embarrassment on his face.

After turning back to her, and in a gentle voice, he said, ‘I wish you wouldn’t listen to those radio shows, Mom. They put all that stuff in your head.’

Even as he put his arm around her, she said, ‘I never thought my own son would be afraid to hear the truth. Your father wasn’t afraid of it.’

‘He didn’t believe any of that stuff, Mom. And you didn’t either until—’ The gentle tone had become a sad one. He stood aside and held the door for her. ‘You need to go lie down, Mom. You know what Doctor Williams said about getting too excited.’

‘I told Doctor Williams about President Bush being behind 9/11 and he just smiled at me. He’s afraid of the truth, too.’

He was tall enough that he had to half bow to reach the top of her head. ‘Now you go lie down, Mom. I love you.’

She glanced all the way up at him. ‘Mark, if you’d sit down and listen to my shows with me you’d change your mind. I guarantee it.’

‘I’ll give it a try, Mom. Sometime.’

I was surprised by how mollified she sounded. ‘Good. We’ll have a nice lunch and I’ll turn on the radio. Just don’t try to take my gun from me.’

She shuffled her way inside and he closed the door quietly, then made his pained way across the porch to talk to me.

‘That probably scared the hell out of you and I apologize. It’s not loaded anyway. My dad died seven years ago and she had a stroke. She’s never been the same since. A form of dementia. I’ve got this uncle who got her to listen to all these crazy right-wing talk shows. He’s a big conspiracy nut. And he’s the one who gave her this gun.’ He started down the stairs, then winced. ‘I had enough guns in Iraq. That’s where I got shot and got the misery.’ He tapped his hip.

When he was on the ground he put out his hand. He could have crushed a ball bat with his grip. ‘Mark Coleman’s my name.’

‘Dev Conrad. I work with Senator Logan.’

‘You tell my mom that?’ He was grinning.

‘I did.’

‘And I bet she gave you a speech.’

‘Pretty much.’ I smiled. ‘I got the impression we couldn’t count on her vote.’

He shook his head and glanced back at the house. ‘The doc wants me to put her in a nursing home but every one I looked at... I wouldn’t do that to her. You walk in the door and they smell. I’m not even sure what it is. A mixture of things. But the stench is terrible. And half the people sit around tables all drugged up. I just couldn’t do that to her.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ He was an admirable guy. ‘I’m trying to help Senator Logan.’

‘Yeah, he needs some help. I voted for him, by the way. I’m pretty much an independent — but all these right-wingers... My dad was a union man. He could never figure out why all his friends voted for the other side and neither could I. Which makes it so weird to me with my mother and all. If it wasn’t so sad it’d be funny. Bush was behind 9/11. She really believes that.’

I wondered how often he went to the city. He had the lonely man’s need to talk to somebody.

‘You spend a lot of time on the yard lately?’ I asked because of the rake that leaned against a plastic bag full of what appeared to be leaves. There were three bulky bags, in fact.

‘Yeah. I keep busy. Since the wife left two years ago I’ve been remodeling the whole house inside. She used to like to work outside but after she left—’ Unfinished sentences were often more eloquent than finished ones. ‘Well, I do all the yard work myself now.’

‘I ask because from your yard you can see the turnoff that leads to the senator’s cabin.’

‘Oh, sure. In fact, every once in a while, especially during the summer, I’d see him and he’d honk and I’d wave.’

‘Have you seen the senator around here in the last couple days?’

‘No, I guess I haven’t.’

‘Or how about anybody making that turn?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Hmm. I guess I’d have to think about it.’

‘But you have been out in the yard.’

‘Oh, sure.’

‘You ever walk down by the river?’

‘Sometimes. When the weather’s nice.’

‘How about the last few days?’

‘Don’t think so. It rained a lot.’ Then, ‘Wait. I think I did see somebody.’ His forehead was rutted in thought. ‘Well, I heard them, I guess. Didn’t see them. When I walk down the slope in back I get pretty close to the Logan cabin if I follow the river. I heard two voices. They were pretty mad. Two women, from what I heard.’

‘Two women?’

‘Right.’

‘No men at all?’

‘None I could hear. I was looking for a stray kitten. Our black one on the back porch had a litter a while back and the little ones are just learning to get around for themselves. The one I called Tootsie disappeared couple of days ago. Something’s probably grabbed her and killed her by now but I keep looking for her anyway.’ I wondered if he’d said something like this right after his wife left him.

‘Could you tell anything about the two women?’

He had a wholesome big boy grin. ‘You sound like a cop.’

‘I was an army investigator. I had to ask a lot of questions.’

‘Well, I’ll be glad to help the senator any way I can.’

‘Did either of these women call the other by a name?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Any guess as to their ages?’

‘No. Not really. Just two women.’

‘Think about it. Younger or older?’

‘There was this music playing. Some kind of rock — the new stuff. I hate it. Anyway, it was just loud enough so all I could tell was that they were mad at each other.’

To my right I heard the front door open and I looked in time to see his mother’s return to the stage. ‘That man has a gun, honey. You be careful of him.’

‘He’s fine, Mom. Nothing to worry about.’

‘One of my programs said that a federal man would come on my property with a gun and take me away.’

‘Not today, Mom.’

‘You’re young, honey. You don’t know how the world works. Your dad didn’t either. If you’d start listening to my programs I wouldn’t have to worry about you so much.’

‘You don’t have to worry about me at all, Mom. Now you go back inside and sit down, and I’ll come right in and fix you a cup of tea.’

His patience and tenderness made me wonder what had gone wrong with his marriage. But maybe he’d been shorn of both patience and tenderness in the days of his return from Iraq. At the rate troops were committing suicide, home was as frightening as the war had been. Maybe even more frightening.

He offered his hand and we shook. ‘I better get inside.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate your time.’

She was still on the porch waiting for him. He turned around and headed back into his more recent tour of duty.

I was a hundred yards from the green and white City Limits sign when I saw the unmarked black car behind me. Police. The landscape here was mostly light manufacturing or the remnants thereof. You had metal buildings but you didn’t have people walking among the metal buildings. Instead you had large forbidding padlocks on gates and CLOSED signs on the perimeter fencing.

He gave me a burst of siren that had the proper effect on my heart rate and mind. I drove another hundred yards until I found a place wide enough to accommodate both cars. Then I sat there the way he wanted me to do. He sat there, too, letting me sweat it out some. At least, hoping I was sweating it out. Now that the annoyance of being pulled over had passed, all I was concerned about was how long he’d been following me. He knew the turf. He could make himself invisible.

From what I could see of him in my rearview he was a young-looking black man in a gray suit, white shirt and blue-and-red rep tie. A Gentleman’s Quarterly cop? He was talking on his phone and I had no doubt he was talking about me. Hammell had set him on me for sure and now he was coordinating with Hammell just how hard he was to lean on me.

He was maybe six feet and slim and he walked with military crispness up to my car window. I hit the window button then handed him my wallet with the driver’s license facing him.

‘Thank you, Mr Conrad. That isn’t necessary.’ He wasn’t going to play any games. He was here to deliver a message. He showed me his badge and ID. Detective William Farnsworth.

I withdrew the wallet.

‘You are performing the activities of a licensed private investigator but as far as the police department can find, you don’t have any license.’ His short dark hair had touches of gray, Obama-style.

‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’

The smile was patronizing. ‘Then you’re good friends with the man you just visited?’

‘Is that any of your business?’

‘You were asking him questions because you’re working for Senator Logan. And you’re not working as a consultant. You’re working as a detective. You have a good record as an army investigator but that doesn’t give you any authority to work as an investigator out here.’

They’d spent some time on Google.

‘Detective Hammell would like you to limit your work here to your work as a consultant.’ He had leaned in a little closer to talk to me. His aftershave had a spicy scent. ‘I really need your word that you’ll cooperate.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t give you my word.’

He stood up. His face disappeared. Cars passed by in opposing lanes. Gawkers gawked.

His hand came down with a business card in it. Followed by his head. ‘Take this.’

‘What is it?’

‘The name and number of a reputable local investigator. Detective Hammell would like you to use him. That way you won’t get into trouble.’

‘That’s not exactly a recommendation.’

‘What’s not?’

‘That Hammell recommends him.’

‘Detective Hammell is trying to do you a favor.’ For the first time anger flashed through his words. The suit and button-down shirt and carefully cut hair might say corporate but the words were now pure cop.

‘I’ll take the card but I doubt I’ll call him. And I suppose that means that you’ll keep following me around.’

‘Me or somebody else.’

‘I have a right to—’

‘You have no right. So give it a rest. You understand?’

I’d pressed the wrong button.

‘Get out of the car.’

‘Hey, shit, c’mon.’

‘Out. Now.’

When I was standing next to the open door he said, ‘You carrying a gun?’

‘Not carrying. It’s in the glove compartment.’

‘Let’s see it.’

‘It’s a Glock. You probably know what a Glock looks like.’

He held out his hand, palm up. ‘The Glock. Now.’

So I leaned in and across to the glove compartment, dragged out the Glock and handed it to him.

‘Let’s see the permit to carry.’

‘It’s in my wallet.’

‘Let’s see the wallet.’

He watched me as if half expecting I was going to pull a second gun on him. I opened the wallet so the permit was visible and held it up for him to see.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘That enough for you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’d like to go.’

‘So would I, actually. But I have to keep tailing you. And the next time I think you’re asking questions only a licensed investigator should ask, I’m going to arrest you.’

‘Bullshit. I have a right to talk to anybody I want to. A legal right.’

‘Maybe and maybe not. But I’m going to arrest you. You’ve got the big fancy lawyer. If he’s such a hotshot he’ll probably be able to help you get out of our jail.’

A teenage boy in a passing car shouted something and then flipped us the bird. I flipped it right back.

‘Very mature, Conrad.’

He pretty much had a good point.

‘I’m going to make this official, Conrad. Detective Hammell, my immediate superior, wants to find the person who killed the Cabot woman. The medical examiner says she was killed around ten last night, by the way. Finding the killer is Hammell’s only interest. He’s an honest man. If Jane Tyler has told you otherwise then she’s telling you lies. The problem they have is strictly personal and doesn’t get in the way of the investigation. Detective Hammell is interested in Senator Logan for several obvious reasons. He knew the woman and she was found dead in his cabin. That’s for starters. So don’t think there’s any kind of vendetta going on here. You can believe this or not, but both Detective Hammell and I voted for Senator Logan because the douche bag who ran against him wanted to cut the budget so much we’d have to lay off a third of the force. I want to make all this clear.’

He returned gun and wallet. ‘I’m not harassing you. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble with the police. I’m doing you a favor.’

His buffed and shined black shoes kicked up some dust as he turned and started back toward his car, but then he stopped and walked back to me. ‘You may not know this yet, but a woman came to the police station last night and testified that the night before the Cabot woman died she saw her having a very angry argument with a man she says was Senator Logan. This took place in the parking lot of the Regency hotel around midnight. The woman works in the kitchen of the hotel. If I were you I’d think about hiring a professional investigator.’

I sat in my Jeep for a long minute absorbing what he’d told me. He followed me all the way into the city and right up to the parking lot of Jane’s office.

A woman testified that Robert and Tracy Cabot had been in an argument in the parking lot of the Regency.

What the hell else was Robert keeping from me?

Thirteen

‘Did he give you his name?’

‘Farnsworth.’

‘Bill Farnsworth. Right. Great guy and very good cop.’

‘I was hoping you’d tell me he was running drugs and pimping ten-year-olds.’

‘Sorry, I can’t help you there,’ Jane said. ‘He’s a good man. Despite my argument with Hammell, most of his people are good. The chief here is mostly a figurehead. Country club connections. In fact, he and Hammell argue a lot about sending officers to night school to study criminology and keep up on the technology. Hammell knows how important that is. We had a very corrupt and stupid police force here for years. And I knew that firsthand. I had a somewhat wild older brother and one night when he was sixteen they caught him drinking a beer behind the fence at a football game. And they beat him up so badly they broke his nose and two of his ribs. The bastard who did the beating was later arrested for trying to run his wife down with the family car and burglarizing several stores. A real sweetie. Hammell’s changed all that.’

‘All right, you’ve convinced me Hammell’s a good cop. But what if his son goes crazy some night and really tries to hurt you?’

‘That’s why I got my carry permit. He’ll be sorry.’

We were in her private office. More historical photographs on the wall, an area with two bookcases filled with bulging legal tomes. And a desk as empty as George W. Bush’s brain. The large window behind the desk overlooked a lovely asphalt parking lot where two men were unloading a furniture truck and eyeing the building next door — a medical supply house, according to the sign.

‘Ben called me about fifteen minutes ago. He’d like you and I to go out to Senator Logan’s place. He said he needs our support.’

‘For what?’

‘He wouldn’t say but he sounded pretty upset.’

‘This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?’

‘Losing faith?’

‘Not faith,’ I said. ‘Time. I don’t believe Robert killed Tracy Cabot. But one other name keeps coming to mind as a possibility. The guy who set all this in motion.’

‘You mean Howard Ruskin?’

‘Yes.’ Then I told her about Ruskin’s lady friend trying to contact me.

‘Why would she call you?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s afraid of him now.’

‘Of him?’

‘I guess. Maybe he went crazy after he killed Tracy and he’s coming unglued. Even for him, though, killing somebody is really a stretch.’

‘Why wouldn’t she just run away?’

Her phone buzzed. She picked up. ‘I won’t be available the rest of the day. Please apologize for me and see if we can reschedule.’ After hanging up, she said, ‘It’s easy to forget there’s a world out there that isn’t all tied up with Senator Logan’s problem.’

‘What time are we supposed to be there?’

‘Half an hour ago.’

‘You want to ride with me?’

‘Sure. Your Jeep looks pretty cool.’

I smiled. ‘How old did you say you were?’

When Mrs Weiderman opened the door I saw how much Robert’s troubles had damaged her usual indomitable spirit. The harsh circles under the eyes, the gray color of the face itself and the flat sound of the voice. ‘They’re all in the living room. It’s a terrible day.’

As she stood back to let us pass I saw that Jane took the woman’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Mrs Weiderman nodded in gratitude. She would usually lead us into the house but this time she disappeared somewhere behind us as we walked toward the living room.

And there they were. The colors of fall — trees, grass, small piles of leaves — were a seasonal portrait in the enormous window behind the grand piano. But the humans were the same zombie gray as Mrs Weiderman. Even brother James was restrained, sitting slouched in one of the comfortable armchairs with his eyes downcast and — for once — saying absolutely nothing. Of course, in his case it might be more to do with his hangover than Robert’s dilemma.

Elise and Maddy sat almost exactly as they had yesterday. Both were dressed in sweaters and jeans. Ben and Robert stood next to the dry bar. Robert had a drink in his hand. Ben was too smart for that.

They gaped at us as if they didn’t quite know who we were. No doubt they’d been going through some kind of psychodrama and were still trapped in its spider webs.

Finally Ben said, ‘You can try and talk sense to him, Dev. I’m worn out.’ Rarely did you hear Ben Zuckerman this frustrated.

Then the others awoke from their pod-people daze.

Maddy said, ‘Daddy. Listen to Ben.’

James said, ‘You’re letting the media get to you, Robert.’

Elise said, ‘Please listen to them, Robert.’

By now I knew what Robert wanted to do. Or thought he wanted to do. Or threatened to do.

‘The worst thing you could do right now, Robert,’ I said, ‘is resign.’

‘Damned right,’ Ben said, finding his passion again. ‘Dev’s saying just what I did. Resignation now is as good as admitting you killed that woman.’

‘I hate to agree with Dev,’ James said, ‘but listen to him, Robert.’

Robert wore a blue crew-neck sweater, jeans and a pair of tan moccasin slippers, no socks. When he raised the clear glass to his mouth I could see that he’d poured himself a mind-number. Not a good sign at this time of day.

He lurched away from the dry bar and walked quickly to the center of the room. Maybe we’d been summoned here for a recital and he was going to play his viola now.

‘I’m here with the two women I love most in the world and with my brother and my other friends. I can’t tell you what this means to me.’

The stilted language indicated he’d slipped into pol mode. He was going to give us a speech. I wondered if he’d had some kind of mental collapse. Or maybe when all politicians see the end is near they automatically start to declaim.

‘And for all the tribulation we’re experiencing, friendship is what matters most and—’

‘Damn it, Robert. Did you tell these people you’re planning to resign?’

His face showed not anger but pain. There was a hint of tears in his voice now. ‘I was thanking my friends — and I include you in that, Dev — thanking them and—’

But he stopped. Dropped his head. Stood unmoving. Then a sob. And the glass slipped from his hand.

Maddy rushed across the room to him. ‘Oh, Daddy, Daddy.’

We all watched silently as she led him like a child to an empty chair. The way she led her mother — also like a child — upstairs last night. She seated him with grave delicacy, as if he might shatter. Then he did what Elise had done yesterday. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

I went over and picked up the glass and carried it to the dry bar. Ben still stood there. His grimace told me that he was as scared as I was. Our candidate was coming apart and we needed him to make a live statement in front of reporters.

Ben said, ‘Dev and Jane and I will be in the study, Elise.’

All Elise did was nod; she kept her eyes on the chair with Maddy and Robert.

The study was sunny and smelled of furniture polish. The Persian rugs, the large antique desk with elaborate scrollwork and the walls of books invited an introspective mood, but we had no time for introspection.

Two brown leather armchairs faced a brown leather couch in front of a small brick fireplace. An elderly gray tomcat sat on the mantel watching us with cosmic indifference. Ben and Jane took the couch. I took one of the chairs.

The first thing I had to do was tell them both about the call from Ruskin’s woman.

‘Any sense that this might be some kind of trap, Dev?’

‘It’s crossed my mind. But my receptionist said she sounded desperate.’

‘What if she doesn’t call back?’

‘Then she got scared off and backed out.’

‘Leaving us nowhere.’

‘Sure thing.’

‘Shit.’

‘But I have a feeling she’ll call me.’

‘I sure hope so.’

‘Now I need to tell you about the man from the US Attorney’s office.’

Ben liked the fact that Hawkins had a good track record with the US Attorney’s office and had worked in security for private enterprise as well. Despite being a liberal on most issues, Ben, like me and many others, understood that if you succeeded in business there was a good chance you knew what you were doing.

‘Sounds like you really checked him out,’ Ben said.

‘On Google. Didn’t Cosmo Kramer on the old Seinfeld show say something about it being true if it’s on the Internet?’

Ben had a laugh like a bark; Jane’s was a half-giggle.

‘Well, if a guy named Cosmo is satisfied then so am I,’ Ben said.

The gag relaxed us briefly.

Ben put his arm along the top of the couch. ‘When I woke up this morning I was thinking that today I’d start to get everything under control. So the first thing I hear is about this kitchen worker who saw Robert and the Cabot woman arguing in the parking lot. I wanted to call a news conference and have Robert speak this afternoon but that’s out of the question now. I’ll have to do it alone but that’ll be suspicious.’ Ben was cracking his knuckles. The sound was sharp in the library-like room. ‘Left field. Totally unexpected. This is the kind of stuff that can kill you. The kitchen worker makes you wonder who else is out there.’

‘Maybe that’s what he was hiding from us,’ Jane said. ‘That he saw Tracy Cabot more than he let on.’

‘Did you get anywhere with him telling you everything?’ I asked Ben.

‘His story is still the same — he didn’t kill her and that’s all that matters. A part of me wants to dump his ass. I won’t, of course, but when you’ve got a client who won’t help you—’ He didn’t have to finish his thought. ‘I need to get back to the hotel and set up a press conference for later this afternoon. The media is killing us.’

He was on his feet, a prowling animal. To Jane, he said, ‘Have you heard anything from your friend in the police department?’

‘Nothing new.’

He prowled some more then turned back and said, ‘Dev, have you thought about telling Detective Hammell about the call you got from Ruskin’s lady friend or whoever the hell she is?’

‘Crossed my mind but I doubt it would do much good at this point. He’s focused on Robert and I can’t say I blame him.’

Ben’s smile was grim. ‘You didn’t have to say that, did you?’

On our way back to the city Jane was quiet. Her fine, small hands were crossed on her lap and with her window partly open her hair was mussed most sweetly. I thought about going to bed with her, of course, but I was also interested in her as a cohort. I sensed a melancholy in her that was not unlike my own.

The kiss on the cheek surprised me and I appreciated the hell out of it. Sweet flesh, perfume, breath and intention. ‘I hope I see you tonight. We deserve a good dinner.’

‘You’re on. I’ll call you after a while.’

I watched her walk into her building. Been a while since I’d connected this way and I liked the feeling. In the past, one-night stands had been able to assuage my loneliness, but as I got older loneliness became preferable to a succession of strange, cold beds.

Twenty minutes later I walked into my hotel room. Three calls waiting on the hotel phone, all from Chicago reporters I knew were here now and hoping for favors. I didn’t return any of the calls.

As much as I didn’t want to, I turned on the big plasma screen, grabbed a diet Pepsi from the refrigerator and sat down to watch the boys and girls of cable news — just as I’d told Tom Neil I wouldn’t — finish off the career of Senator Robert Logan.

Our network wasn’t much better than the right-wing one. A couple of our senators managed to look embarrassed to say even a few supportive words about Robert, even though they were his long-time friends. They were up for re-election, too. And the so-called liberal journalists were saying there was no chance that Robert could win now, however this turned out. Thanks, guys.

Of course, the Empire News channel was unmatched in its virulence. As always they seemed to be parodying themselves with their innuendo, piety and outright lies. This particular panel contained a Southern minister to whom the others had ceded all moral authority. When he suggested that our party was one of ‘atheists and whoremongers’ they nodded in solemn television agreement despite the fact that their side was about eighty percent ahead of us in sex scandals.

But my favorite was a robotic blonde woman whose flesh seemed as lacquered as her hair and whose pitiless gaze would cause a Harlem pimp to wet himself in terror. ‘I’m probably getting ahead of myself a little here but it does look as if Senator Logan is guilty of something. So I’d like to know if anybody on this panel knows if this is the first time in American history that a sitting senator might be found guilty of first-degree murder and possibly be executed?’

‘That’s a very interesting question, Poppy,’ God’s man at the table responded.

‘Extremely interesting,’ said a beefy pontificator. ‘And his party would always be remembered for having a killer sitting in the Senate.’

I turned it off and went to work on my laptop. I checked out the internals on the various races my firm was involved in. There wasn’t much change from yesterday, except for the race where we’d had so much trouble with white working-class men. In American politics that was the greatest of all mysteries. Our party had always championed their various causes and needs yet they voted against us. It’s difficult to respect people who respect people who consider them little more than vermin.

My cell phone burred.

‘Afternoon, Dev. This is Michael Hawkins. You have a few minutes to talk?’

‘Sure. What’s going on?’

‘I managed to get hold of Ruskin’s sister in Cheyenne. At first she told me to talk to her lawyer but I finally managed to convince her that her brother could be in serious trouble and we need to talk to him. I told her about Tracy Cabot being murdered but she already knew about it. I pushed her on that and she admitted that Ruskin had called her last night. She said that he was scared and that that was not like him; that he usually laughed things off. She said that he said, “I’m in over my head this time; I don’t know what to do.” There are a couple ways to interpret that.’

‘That she wasn’t supposed to die and he didn’t have anything to do with her death or—’

‘Or that he killed her.’

‘You leaning one way or another on it?’

‘I’ve been an investigator of one sort or another for a long time and I’ve learned that every time I make a wild guess it’s wrong. So I keep my guesses to myself.’

‘She didn’t know where he was calling from?’

‘If she did I couldn’t get it from her.’

‘I’ve got something, too.’ Then I told him about the call from Ruskin’s lover.

‘You’re thinking it’s for real?’

‘Now that you’ve told me what his sister said — about him being so desperate and everything — yeah, I think it’s for real. He’s in panic mode and scaring the hell out of her — she may be thinking about bailing out.’

‘No offense, Dev. But why would she turn to you?’

‘No idea.’ Then, ‘Hey, Ben Zuckerman’s on TV. I need to watch this, Michael.’

‘I’ll catch a little of it myself. I’ll be in touch later.’

‘Great.’

Fourteen

The suit was a solid blue today. Gray button-down shirt. Dark blue tie. The narrowed eyes showed the stress. If the reporters had been hurling stones instead of questions, Ben would have been dead by now. He held up a hand for silence and did not take it down until most of the questions had stopped. ‘This will be a brief one, ladies and gentlemen.’

Some of the reporters started shouting questions again; Ben’s hand didn’t do much good this time. Other reporters shouted back to their peers, ‘Shut up!’

Ben stood in front of the police station this morning. Bright sunlight played off the front windows; a worker in jeans and a Bears sweatshirt had just stopped mowing the lawn so Ben could speak. ‘I’ve just finished meeting with Detective Hammell. Despite all the nonsense on TV and the Internet, Senator Logan has not been charged with anything. He is free to go about his business.’

‘Can he leave the city?’ a woman reporter shouted.

‘That didn’t come up in my discussion with the detective, who was very cooperative and friendly, I should note. But the senator came home to rest between sessions. This is where he enjoys being and this is where he’ll stay for two more weeks. He has no plans to leave whatsoever.’

More questions but Ben said, ‘I mentioned that this would be brief. I want to stick to a few facts and not add to all the frenzy the press has created over this unfortunate situation. So let me get to my second point. The senator will make a live statement very soon.’ He smiled. ‘I suppose a few of you are interested in that.’

A Saturday afternoon football cheer went up. Ben was good with reporters and they liked him even though he took shots at them.

‘So until then, my friends...’

The scramble. Approximately fifty people began squawking questions at him as he turned from the microphones and began his exit up the steps of the police station behind him.

I clicked the set dark. The same hand I’d used on the remote now hovered over my cell. Then I got to work.

‘Wasn’t Mr Zuckerman wonderful today?’ Mrs Weiderman said after I’d identified myself.

‘He certainly was.’

‘He made me feel much better. This is just so ridiculous. The senator involved in anything like this.’

‘I agree. But we’ve got to face it. And that’s why I’m calling. I need to talk to the senator as soon as I can.’

‘Well, he’s playing tennis right now.’

‘That’s a good sign.’

‘It takes his mind off things. Even if James always beats him. It’s the only thing that James is better at than his older brother.’

‘And Robert doesn’t mind?’

‘No. He told me one time that it’s good for James’ frame of mind to have something he’s better at than Robert. The senator is a very good man.’

‘He is; he really is.’

‘That’s why this is all so stupid.’

‘I’m coming out there right now. How long have they been playing?’

‘Oh, I’d say maybe an hour. They usually play for ninety minutes or so.’

‘Great. I’ll see you soon.’

A fawn crossing the road with its mother was the only hindrance to me setting a speed record on my way to the Logan estate. Whenever I see an animal this delicate and this lovely I wonder why you’d want to kill it. I’ve never understood the thrill that comes from death. For me it’s easier to understand the thrill of killing another human being. There’s often psychosis and madness involved and those elements make the act rewarding for the killer. But killing an innocent animal? The one time I’d been forced to kill in army intelligence I hadn’t felt any thrill at all. Just a kind of disgust with the dead man for forcing me to kill him and disgust with myself for not having figured out a way to take him in without taking his life.

I ran the gauntlet as usual. By now a few small vans from town were out here serving various kinds of food. The number of reporters was half of what it had been last night. Many of them had been in town for Ben’s press conference.

The thwock of the tennis ball brought me around to the side of the formidable house. The double court was located on the west side. And there they were in their whites. Two brothers — Cain and Abel, if you like biblical shorthand. They didn’t see me at first both because I stood far enough away, and because they played furiously. Robert wasn’t giving anything away today. And James knew it, as his loud curses revealed. The reds and greens and golds of the surrounding trees provided a pastoral setting, the same kind of setting the swells of Victorian England would have enjoyed when they played the game on the sides of their castles; the ladies in their finery, the men drinking sherry and smoking cigars and betting on the players.

Robert had nearly put me to sleep one night exulting about his new courts and explaining to me at great labored length about the differences between clay and courts of acrylic and courts of grass. Or some damned thing.

James spotted me first. The way his long body lurched into defensive mode told me that he was, as always, delighted to see me. Then Robert saw me and shouted hello and waved his racket over his head. No problemo here; what murder are you talking about, amigo?

‘Your friend Conrad is here to spoil our fun, I see,’ James said as I approached.

‘Give it a rest, James,’ Robert said. Then, ‘Hey, Dev, I finally beat my younger brother.’

‘It’ll be in all the papers,’ James said. ‘Front page.’ He was all sweat and tiny gasps. Years of carousing had begun to take their toll. The gym had kept his muscles in good shape for his age but alcohol takes your strength and your stamina.

Robert was sweaty, too, but his breathing was back to normal and, even with a small excess of belly and a fleshier face, his body signaled better health.

James touched his racket to his brother’s arm and said, ‘I’m going up to the house to let you two ladies talk.’ He glared at me then brushed on by, ever the asshole.

Robert laughed. ‘I have a feeling that sometime before this is all over you’re going to flatten him.’

‘If Ben doesn’t beat me to it again.’

‘Or even Maddy.’

‘Maddy?’

‘She couldn’t, of course, but she wishes she could. She absolutely hates him.’ He nodded to the house with a head full of graying wet hair. ‘C’mon, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.’ His relaxed manner had started to bother me. I wondered if the family doc had given him some kind of nirvana injection. From hysteria to bliss; we needed him somewhere in the sane middle.

I decided the best way to test his connection to reality was to simply tell him why I was here, but before I could say anything he said, ‘How are you doing with Howie Ruskin? If we can find him we’ve got this whole thing resolved. We could even win the election if we can hang it on him fast enough. And we know he killed her.’

‘Maybe.’

We’d started to walk toward the house but my single word stopped him.

‘Maybe? You mean you can’t find him or you aren’t sure he killed her?’ He was plugged back into reality now all right. He was implicitly accusing me of somehow betraying him.

‘Both. I may have a lead on him and a good one, but I still think you’re keeping something from us and I want to know what it is.’ I hesitated. Then I just dropped it on him. ‘I’m told everybody in the family has a key to the cabin.’

‘Sure. The cabin’s for the whole family.’ It took him maybe four or five seconds. ‘Man, you’re not suggesting that somebody in my family—’

‘Everything has to be considered here, Robert.’

‘I can’t believe that you think somebody in my family might have killed her. Do you know how insulting that is? You know who killed her. Just because Hammell won’t consider anybody else except me is no reason for you to start looking at my family, Dev. For God’s sake, we’re your friends. You know how much Elise and Maddy love you. And I do mean love. You know that. So please keep that in mind.’

‘I do keep it in mind, Robert. But I don’t want to make the same mistake Hammell is. Looking at just one person. Everybody in your family has a key to the cabin. Everybody in your family knows about your affair and is concerned about how Elise would respond to another one. What if one of them found out about Tracy Cabot being at the cabin?’

He took a different approach this time. No hurt feelings and anger again. Oh, no, this time he was going to evade any serious discussion by throwing a sweaty arm around my shoulder and saying, ‘Dev, we’re buddies. Look at all the ups and downs we’ve been through together. I was coming apart yesterday and I apologize for that. I’m sure I scared the shit out of you.’ The arm came down. ‘I’m ready for the battle now. Let’s go have some of Mrs Weiderman’s great coffee and talk about what we do next.’

‘In other words, you’re not going to tell me what you’re hiding.’

He was pretty damned good, I’ll give him that. Following a whoop of a laugh, he said, ‘That’s the Dev I love. One incorrigible sonofabitch!’ Smiling as he said it.

I had not learned one thing.

Fifteen

The call came on my cell as I was nearing the city limits. When I heard the first ring I knew who it would be. Don’t know how. I just knew.

‘Mr Conrad?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m calling from a pay phone so don’t try and have this traced. It won’t do you any good.’

‘I appreciate the information.’

‘I’m Howard Ruskin’s girlfriend. My name is Sarah Potter. I have some information for you.’

‘Information is always good.’

‘But I’m pretty scared and so is Howard.’

The bellman who’d described her had said that she looked like a hippie. I kept trying to picture her.

‘All right, Sarah.’

‘This is very delicate, what we have to do.’

‘Will Ruskin be joining us?’

‘Not this time, I’m afraid.’

‘Later?’

‘That depends on how this works out. You and I.’

‘So where do you and I meet?’

‘There’s a neighborhood bar named “Rick’s” at 3654 Fulmer Avenue. I’ll be watching you from my car at eight thirty.’ Then, ‘I mean, would that be OK?’

The last line reminded me of my daughter when she’d been ten or so. She’d come over and stand in front of me and make a very adult presentation of what she wanted to do, and then she’d break my heart with, ‘But I don’t want you to be mad or anything.’

I liked this Sarah Potter a whole hell of a lot.

‘That’ll be just fine, Sarah. I’m easy to talk to and easy to deal with.’

The way she exhaled I could tell how tightly wound she was.

‘Oh, God, that sounds so good. I looked you up on YouTube and saw a couple of your interviews. You have very kind eyes. So I was hoping you’d at least listen to me.’

‘It’ll be my pleasure, Sarah.’

Rick’s was three blocks east of a large shopping center. It was painted a dark green with an outsize electrical sign on its roof and another one on its northern side. Both depicted the glowing golden profiles of a man and woman about to kiss. I’m sure somewhere there was a full-size version where they were making electrical love.

Since part of my business is working with both demographics and psychographics, I judged the customer base to be white, thirty to fifty, blue collar. There was a big screen that showed some sporting event — when all else failed there was always the Peruvian marble championship — but Rick or whoever had the grace to keep it low so the customers could shout at each other over the jukebox that played pickup truck music with a vengeance.

I ordered Bud in a bottle and a glass.

When she came in a few of the men along the bar gave her a quick glance then went back to their conversations or the TV set. She was entombed in this heavy, black, winter long coat — ready for a Russian winter — leaving her sweet, small, homely face seeming very small indeed. It was all wrapped up in a blue headscarf. She moved quickly toward me, the blue eyes frightened and fixed on me as if I was the star guiding her through a room full of monsters.

She slid into the booth, leaned toward me and said, ‘I might have been followed.’ Not till then did I realize she was out of breath.

‘Who’d be following you?’

‘That’s just it. I can’t be sure and neither can Howard.’

‘Most people call him “Howie.”’

‘He’s sick of that name. He said it makes him sound like a little boy.’

‘Would you like something to drink?’

‘No, thanks.’

The bartender was watching me. Waiting for an order. I shook my head.

She took her scarf off and let her scruffy blonde hair fall free. She was a tiny thing, a miniature. But the wrinkles spoke of long and troubled years.

‘I know you probably hate Howard, Mr Conrad. I wouldn’t blame you, either.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that I like him a lot.’

She had a tiny laugh that seemed to touch her eyes more than her lips. ‘You’re being kind.’ Then, ‘He needs your help.’

‘Now that’s a surprise. A hell of a surprise.’

She glanced around as if half-a-dozen men in fedoras had suddenly appeared. ‘He said he can’t trust anybody in his party because it’s changed so much. The people he used to work with are out of favor. The new people scare him. They’re so far right they’re off the charts.’

Howard ‘Howie’ Ruskin afraid of his own people. Too good to be true. This could all be some kind of elaborate scam but I needed to follow wherever it led.

‘Why me?’

‘He said he’s been aware of you for years. He says you’re dirty but not dirty enough to be really bad. And that makes you clean enough for him to talk to.’

My laugh was loud enough to win the bartender’s attention. ‘I guess there’s a compliment in there somewhere.’

‘Well, if you knew Howard you’d know he talks like that all the time. So convoluted.’

‘What’s he afraid of?’

I’d flipped a switch. The playfulness of our conversation ended then and there. She pushed her little face toward me and said, ‘I have no idea. But if he’s this afraid — and I’ve never seen him this scared before — then I’m afraid, too, because whoever’s after him will be after me as well. They’ll think that I know something.’

‘And you don’t?’

She sat back. ‘Oh, I know lots of things Howard has done. Fairly recent things. He usually tells me that so-and-so has hired him to do such-and-such. He did some dirty tricks for a few politicians during this past primary season and made a lot of money. But this thing, he’d never talk about it; not from the start and not now. That’s why I’m so worried. He likes to brag about how well he’s doing and most of the time it’s fun to listen to. But it’s only about the usual stuff. The really important stuff he keeps secret from everybody, including me.’

‘When did you get into town?’

‘Three nights ago.’

‘Were you with him yesterday?’

‘In the morning.’

‘When was the next time you saw him?’

‘Just after midnight last night. I knew something was wrong right away.’

‘How?’

‘He seemed upset.’

‘Did you ask him about it?’

‘I always ask him but it rarely does any good. He wouldn’t tell me, of course. After all we’ve been through together. I’m planning to marry him. We’ve talked about it many times. And then he treats me like this. Something bad happened and he won’t tell me what it was.’

Perhaps even for Howard ‘Howie’ Ruskin, killing somebody was too much of a burden. Maybe he was coming apart.

‘What does he want to talk to me about?’

‘I have no idea. He just wants me to set up a time and place to meet. There’s a state park about six miles outside the northern city limits. Washburn is the name of it. He says if you pull in the entrance and then turn your headlights off, he’ll come out. This would be at ten o’clock tonight. All of this — it’s so insane. And he’s so afraid. He’s almost hysterical.’

I tried to puzzle through the setup. I couldn’t see any danger for me. I wasn’t important enough to be a player in Ruskin’s games. I wasn’t significant enough to bother with. But he was obviously in trouble and scared.

And so he wanted me to help him. Not because I mattered at all in the scheme of things, but because I was close by and because I had enough connections that I could lead him to the kind of protection he needed. What needed to be negotiated at this point was how much he was willing to tell me about his whole operation while I recorder-immortalized his every word.

‘Please say you’ll meet him. Please.’

‘All right.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ Her relief brought tears. ‘You don’t know how happy you’ve made me. I am so afraid for him — for us.’

‘Is he armed?’

She sniffled up tears. ‘Yes. He’s always armed. He has a Glock. I don’t know anything about guns — I hate guns — but that’s what he told me it is. But you don’t have any reason to be afraid of him.’

‘Why’s that?’

Without any humor at all, she said, ‘Because he wants something from you. That means he has to be nice.’

Sixteen

I sat in a near-deserted Burger King parking lot and made calls to Jane — who’d been wondering what had happened to our supposed dinner — and to Michael Hawkins. I didn’t tell him much except that I was working on a strong lead and planned to call him with more information later. He suggested that we meet up and work on this lead together. I remembered what Tom Neil had told me: how Hawkins liked to be the star of all investigations. I told him it would go better if I worked alone. He didn’t try very hard to keep the disappointment from his voice.

There wasn’t much traffic on the highway to the state park. On the curves my headlights took snapshots of fall trees and farm fields and a lone isolated convenience store. But on the straight stretches there was just my beams piercing the night.

On the left side of the park entrance was a life-size bronze statue of a Native American and on the right a bronze life-size statue of a man in the uniform of the northern army during the Civil War. A splash of headlights revealed both to be covered heavily with bird shit. Then total darkness, the road into the park dark with only a few signs to guide me. I pulled over to the side and waited.

I unlocked my glove compartment and reached in for my Glock. I kept it in my hand as I sat there. There was no reason for Ruskin to try to hurt me that I could understand. But maybe he had a reason he could understand. And this could be a trap, after all.

I was far enough in that the occasional cars and trucks on the highway sounded remote, far enough in that when I clipped off my headlights and sat in silence the sound of my engine was enormous, as if it had the power of a racing vehicle. I kept checking my rearview as well as left and right windows. I gripped my Glock tighter.

I was impatient so my sense of time passing was exaggerated. I kept checking my watch, certain that ten, even fifteen minutes had passed. No such luck. Five, six, seven minutes only.

I resented being made this vulnerable. Sitting in this deep a darkness anything could come at me from anywhere and surprise me so completely my gun may be useless. Strong wind rattled the leafy trees now and somewhere ahead of me I could hear a car engine. Then I saw headlights through the trees as the vehicle made its way around curves toward me.

The highway patrol car appeared and when it reached me it stopped. Of course. A highway patrol car would check the park at least once a night. The darkness vibrated with the red and blue of his emergency lights.

And just as it did, way back at the entrance, I saw the headlights of another vehicle pull in and then quickly back up and start to disappear. Had that been Ruskin?

The officer, a tall and heavy man, stepped out of his vehicle. Tan uniform, campaign hat. The motor was still running. I’d already pulled my license out.

‘The park is officially closed,’ he said, taking my license. ‘There’s a sign right at the front.’

‘I guess I didn’t see it.’

‘Any special reason you’re sitting in the dark?’

I knew a number of variations on the standard shit-eating smile. I used number six-B. ‘This is kind of embarrassing.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Umm-hmm. I’m, uh, meeting someone here.’

‘A woman?’

‘Yes.’

‘Married?’

‘Do I have to answer that?’

‘No.’

‘Well, what the hell, I’ll tell you. No, she’s not married but she’s got an ex-boyfriend who follows her everywhere she goes.’

‘Tell her about this new invention called a restraining order.’

‘She’s had two of them.’

‘Then somebody should bust his ass.’

‘He’s clever and has a good lawyer.’

‘You’re clever, too, or trying to be. I don’t buy anything you just told me. I’d like you to step out of your vehicle.’

Shit.

He stepped back and to emphasize how serious he was, his left hand dropped to his holster.

Wind and the scent of coming rain. The first thing I did when I got out of the Jeep was look straight back at the highway. All I could do was try to hurry this along.

The first thing he did was shine his light inside the Jeep. ‘That a Glock?’ This close he smelled of pipe tobacco, which always reminds me of my father. Instant image: him sitting in his easy chair with a glass of Burgundy, his pipe and his British detective novels from the forties and fifties. He hated everything that came after that.

‘Yes. A Glock.’

‘You have a permit to carry?’

‘Yes. You have my billfold. Look in where the folding money goes.’

He brought his small but intense light on the wallet and lifted the permit out. He studied it as if he was going to be quizzed on it in the morning. ‘Why would you need to carry?’

‘My business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘I’m a political consultant. Things happen these days. I might have to protect my client.’

‘You call them “clients”?’

‘Yes. That’s what they are. I do work for hire.’

‘Who’s your client around here?’

Here we go, I thought. He’d have a little fun at my expense. ‘Senator Logan.’ But instead of following up he said, ‘Why do you keep looking at the highway?’

‘To see if the woman I’m supposed to meet got here yet.’

‘There is no woman. Not the kind you’re talking about anyway.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He sighed deeply, then put everything back in the wallet and returned it to me. ‘You’re meeting somebody. That I buy. And maybe it’s a woman. But what I don’t buy is that this is about getting laid or anything. As soon as you said Senator Logan I knew this had something to do with politics. And if it’s a woman that’s why she’s coming here. Now I’m ordering you out of this park. You’re breaking the law. Do you understand?’

‘I do, yes.’

‘You pull out. I’ll follow you.’

This was one highway patrolman who really didn’t like Senator Logan.

‘Next time read the sign before you come in here.’

‘Will do.’

‘I’d say the same thing if you were working for the guy I’m voting for.’

‘I’m sure you would.’ I tried to keep sarcasm from my voice. It wasn’t easy.

Behind the wheel of my Jeep I waved to him. He was already in his car, waiting for me. His emergency lights were still on.

I swung the Jeep around and headed back up the road. When you have a law enforcement officer following you it’s impossible to relax. Or to act natural. They can pull you over any time using any excuse they choose. They can even force you to get in the car and take you to the nearest police station. I was happy to see the highway no more than twenty yards ahead. I wasn’t even thinking of Ruskin now. I just wanted to be away from the patrolman and his flashing lights.

But the game wasn’t over. I supposed he would turn right. He was highway patrol, after all, and the greatest stretch of highway was to his right. Left would take him back to the city. But he turned left and for the first couple of hundred yards he kept his emergency lights on.

Irritation, agitation, fantasies of just tearing ass down the road ahead of him — I had to calm myself by force. And now I was back to thinking about Ruskin. What if the car that had pulled into the park entrance had been him? What if it had spooked him so much he’d no longer deal with me?

The highway patrolman took a right when we were about five minutes from town.

I needed coffee so I pulled into a Wendy’s and went through the drive-up. I had a headache. I pulled into a slot on the lot and drank my coffee. I watched the teenage couples with great envy. In memory, lying memory, everything had been so passionate back then. And not just the sex. The feelings, too. It was all like driving a car that went six hundred miles an hour and you had no way to control it. New and startling and dangerous. There were in fact fates worse than death. The girl you loved could fall in love with somebody else. I knew men who never got over their first love; still talked about it even in their forties and fifties and sixties, partly in loss and partly in confusion. Why did they cling to those memories? Why couldn’t they let go of them?

When my cell phone toned and I put it to my ear a male voice said, ‘What the hell was with the highway patrol?’

‘There’s a sign that says you can’t enter the park after ten o’clock. I guess he checks it every night. Or somebody does anyway.’

‘This is Ruskin.’

‘Yeah. I figured.’

‘We still need to talk.’

‘Where?’

‘You know where the college is?’

‘I can find it.’

‘There’s a small park on the west side of it. Twenty minutes.’ He clicked off. It was a good thing I didn’t have any objections.

I found the college and the heavily wooded park. An asphalt road twisted through it. Lights from the dorms pierced the tree tops. They were even stronger than the ornate lights used to illuminate the road here.

When I heard voices I angled around in the seat. Another young couple much like the ones I’d seen in the Wendy’s parking lot. Could anybody possibly be as happy as these laughing people were? I hoped my daughter was, and my ex-wife, for that matter. I couldn’t quite bring myself to extend that much happiness yet to my ex-wife’s new husband. I wanted him to be happy, but exultant happy I reserved for my loved ones. Maybe in a year I would outgrow my pissiness. I’d been promising myself that in general ever since ninth grade.

Headlights filled my rearview mirror. A plain blue Ford pulled into the slot furthest from me. Then a motor died. A car door opened. A man mostly in silhouette emerged from the car and started walking toward me. He was round, walked like a duck and apparently tripped over his own feet because he stumbled as if he was going to go splat on the ground.

That was when the gunshots started.