Paper Doll

chapter forty-five

THEY CAME. NOBODY seemed very pleased about it, but Farrell got them there. The three Tripps came together, and Stratton came with two guys in London Fog raincoats who waited in the corridor outside my office, and looked intrepid.

Stratton looked at neither Farrell, nor at me. He shook hands with Loudon Tripp and put a hand on his shoulder while he did it. Unspoken condolence. Then Stratton shook Chip’s hand and they gave each other a manly hug and clap on the back.

“Great to see you, Bob,” Chip said. He wasn’t very old and you could tell he liked calling a U.S. Senator by his first name.

We got arranged. Stratton and Loudon Tripp in the two client chairs. Farrell leaning on the wall to my left. The two Tripp children to my right, a little back from the group. Chip looking aggressive, ready to slap a half nelson on someone, Meredith looking passively at the floor.

“Okay, gentlemen,” Stratton said. He smiled at Meredith, who made no eye contact. “And lady. Let’s get to it. You called us together, Officer. What have you got?”

Stratton looked tanned and healthy. His hair was perfectly trimmed and trying its best to look plentiful. His pinstripe suit was well cut. His white shirt crisp and new. He still wore his trench coat, unbuttoned, the belt tucked into the pockets. All in all he was direct, competent, square dealing, straight shooting, judicious, and nice.

Farrell looked edgy and tired.

“Spenser here came to me with some allegations which I thought we’d best confront privately, Senator.”

Stratton’s glance shifted to me. The pale blue eyes as hard as chrome.

“Allegations?”

“Involving the Tripps,” Farrell said.

Stratton continued to stare at me.

“You are becoming something of a pain in the butt,” he said, “Maybe I should have put you out of business a while ago.”

“Being a pain in the butt is my profession,” I said. “What’s the first word that comes to mind when I say The Better Government Coalition?”

Stratton’s eyes became more opaque.

“The American Democratic Imperative?” I said.

Stratton didn’t speak.

“Mal Chapin?”

Stratton stood up.

“That is just about enough of that,” he said. “I am not going to sit here and listen to some cheap private eye trolling for some way to make a name for himself at my expense.”

“I’m cheaper than you think,” I said. “The only check I got for this job bounced.”

Stratton turned toward the door. Farrell went and leaned against it.

“Why not hear him out, Senator, in front of witnesses. Maybe he’ll do something actionable.”

“You get out of my way,” Stratton said.

Farrell’s voice was soft. He was standing face-to-face with Stratton.

“Sit down,” he said.

“Who in hell do you think…?” Stratton started.

“Now.”

Stratton stepped back from the force of the single word.

“I’m sick of you, Stratton,” Farrell said. “I’m sick of the phony macho. I’m sick of the self-importance. I’m sick of the way you comb your hair over your goddamned bald spot. Sit and listen or I’ll bust your stupid senatorial ass.”

“What charge?” Stratton said.

But it was weak. The game was over the moment Stratton stepped back.

“Violation of no-dork zoning regulations,” Farrell said. “Sit down.”

Stratton sat.

“What’s the first word that comes to mind,” I said, “when I say The Better Government Coalition? The American Democratic Imperative? Mal Chapin?”

“Mal works for me,” Stratton said. His voice shook a little. “In my office. I don’t know those other things.”

“Mal work for you full-time?” I said.

“Yes. He’s my chief of staff.”

“Hard job?”

“Hard.” Stratton began to make a comeback. He was on familiar ground. “And thankless. We are involved in very many crucial national and international issues. Mal works ten, fifteen hours a day.”

“Not much time for another job,” I said.

Stratton realized he’d been led down the path. He tried to backtrack.

“Certainly he works hard, but what he does in his off-hours…” Stratton shrugged and spread his hands.

“He’s listed as the President of The American Democratic Imperative,” I said. “A charitable organization based in Washington.”

Stratton shook his head in silence.

“Before her death, Olivia Nelson regularly made large contributions to The Better Government Coalition, in Cambridge. The Better Government Coalition is listed as a subsidiary of The American Democratic Imperative, which is headed by your chief of staff.” Stratton stared straight ahead.

“And you have told me directly that you were intimate with Olivia Nelson,” I said.

The words hung in the room, drifting like the dust of ruination.

Then Loudon Tripp said, “Enough. I’ll hear no more, Spenser. I’m responsible for all of this. I hired you. I brought you and your dirty mind and your gutter morals into all of this. And now you contrive to dirty my dead wife and my friend with one lie.”

“He’s not your friend, Mr. Tripp,” I said. “He slept with your wife. He stole your money.”

“No,” Tripp said. “I’ll hear no more.”

He stood up. Chip stepped in beside him.

“You can’t stop me,” he said to Farrell. “Come on, kids.”

“Last chance,” I said to Tripp. “For all of you. You’ve got to look at this. You’ve got to stop pretending.”

“Get out of my way,” Tripp said again. His voice sounded strangled. “Not my wife, not with my friend.”

He moved past Farrell toward the door. Chip went with him, knotted with excitement, frantic to explode. Meredith stared at him with her mouth half open, motionless.

“Come along, Meredith,” Tripp said. Except that his voice was strangled, he spoke to her as if she were dawdling by a toy store.

“He’s… not… your… friend,” Meredith said.

“Meredith,” Tripp said. The squeezed-out voice was parental-exasperated, long-suffering-but not unloving.

“For crissake, Mere,” Chip said.

“He… was… fucking her,” Meredith said.

Tripp flinched. Chip’s face reddened.

“He was fucking me,” she said in a rush. “Since I was fourteen and he came in my room at one of those big parties.”

The silence in the room was stifling. No one moved. Meredith was rigid, her hands at her sides, a look of shock on her face.

“Jesus,” Chip said. “Mere, why didn’t you…?”

“Dr. Faye says I was getting even with Mommy, and I wanted Daddy to…” She put both her hands suddenly over her mouth and pressed them, palm open, hard against her face, and slowly slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her legs splayed in front of her. Chip looked at his father, who seemed frozen in time, then he went suddenly to his knees beside his sister and put his arms around her and pressed her head against his chest. She let him hold her there.

Loudon Tripp stared for a moment at both of them, and then, without looking at anyone else, he walked across my office and out the door and down the corridor past the two guys in their London Fogs. They looked in the office uncertainly. Farrell shook his head at them and they stepped away from the door.

Stratton continued to sit in his chair with his head down, staring at the floor, contemplating his ruin.

Human voices wake us, and we drown.