When I was within ten feet of him, I knew who he was. And given who he was, I guessed he was probably right holding a meeting the way spies did in the James Bond novels.
“I’m sorry for all this,” Senator Lloyd Williams said.
He made no move to take off the hat or the shades.
We were screened by a dense run of pine trees behind us. Safe.
“My opponent hires operatives to follow me around.”
“Of course you’d never do anything like that.”
“I do it only because the other side does it.”
“Of course.”
“You always were a sarcastic bastard.”
“Are we here to run each other down, Senator, because if we are, I want to remind you what a chickenshit you were in sticking up for Senator McCarthy. Not to mention all the bullshit laws you’ve introduced to hurt poor people.”
I’d forgotten what a cranky bastard I could be in the morning when somebody irritated me.
“I can see I’ve made a mistake.”
He turned to go, the long body buried in a long tan trench coat whose collar ran all the way up under the back of his hat.
“Look, Senator, you got me out of bed this early, so I deserve at least the courtesy of an explanation.”
He turned back toward me. “You don’t like me and I don’t like you. That’s hardly the basis for a good working relationship.”
I’m rarely shocked these days. I was shocked. “You want to hire me?”
He was silent for a time. Those big, dark plastic bug eyes staring at me. “I wanted to hire you because I believe you’re as good as your word.”
“I like to think I am. I try to be. Sometimes things go wrong, of course. Beyond my control.”
“But you wouldn’t blackmail me. You’d do the job I hired you to do and that would be that.”
“You’re talking about Richie Neville.”
“Yes.”
“And him having photos of David Leeds and your daughter.”
“No.”
This time I think I actually flinched when he answered me.
No? Not his white daughter going out with a black man? What else would he hire me for?
“We need to make a deal right now. Before you say anything more.”
He nodded. “All right. I do want to hire you, then. But given your situation with the judge, can I be assured that you won’t share any information you gather with anybody else?”
“I’ll give you my word as long as the information I gather doesn’t cover up a crime.”
“Not a crime — a stupid—” He touched long fingers to his cheek. “I’m so exhausted from worrying about this that I can’t even think clearly.” Then: “Indiscretion. A stupid indiscretion.” Then: “A local woman. A prominent woman. Her brother has a fishing cabin. A very nice one. He’s been in Europe for the past few years. That’s where we — she and I — got together. And that’s where Richie Neville took photographs of us.”
“Marsha Lane.”
“My God, how did you know?”
“Prominent woman. Brother in Europe. Nice fishing cabin. You forget I work downtown. Had to be Marsha Lane.” Then: “I can see what you’re up against. First Lucy and David Leeds. And now Marsha Lane. Your campaign’s going to be a nightmare.”
He leaned back against the concession stand. He took out a pack of Chesterfields and lighted one with a Zippo. He hadn’t relaxed; he’d damned near collapsed. Even his voice was weaker. “I’ve thought of announcing that I wasn’t going to run again. But my family — if I announced that, the press would be all over. They’d know I was hiding something.” Then: “Ironically, I think I can weather Lucy and her young gentleman. But with Marsha added to it—” He threw his cigarette away. “It’s funny you’re the only one I can trust. But who knows what you’re getting when you hire one of those Chicago agencies. They could be just as mercenary as Neville.” Then: “What a great fix this is, huh? Somebody like you is my only hope.”
I didn’t like him. He brought out all my class anger. He’d been an overindulged preppy who’d come back here summers to tell everybody of his manly conquests back East. He’d never carried this county because so many people in their forties remembered him all too well.
But what he was talking about was a principle. Whatever I thought of him, he didn’t deserve to be blackmailed.
“I’ll tell you what, Senator. I won’t make any kind of deal with you except to say that whatever I find, I’ll turn over to you. I want to see you defeated but not because of some pictures. You don’t pay me anything, I don’t tell anybody about this, and whatever I find is yours.”
“I’m sorry I shot off my mouth and called you a name.”
My laugh was harsh. “That was a moment of truth, Senator. We basically hate each other. And a moment of truth coming from a politician is something to be happy about.”
I started to turn away from him. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Can’t I at least say thank you?”
This time I was the one who regretted being a bit nasty. I turned back to him and stuck out my hand. We shook.
“Thanks, McCain.”
I walked back to my ragtop.
17
Dear Mr Ssampson
Please remit your bill, which is attached. This is the third time we’ve have sent it.
Sincerely,
Then, in light penciclass="underline" Needs your cig here, Mr. C.
“Cig” meaning signature.
“Think you could run this through the typewriter one more time, Jamie?”
“Was there something wrong with it?”
“Just a few things.”
“I really took my time with that one, too, Mr. C.”
“I just made little marks on it.”
I placed it on the edge of my desk for her to pick up. She wore a tight mauve blouse and a short tan skirt. She also smelled great. In the face of such things, what are a few typos?
The phone rang. I grabbed it.
No greetings and salutations. “Since you’re on salary, would it be too much to ask that you stop by my office?”
“I’d be honored to.”
“And I mean now.”
“Delighted to. Five minutes?”
“How about three? You’re not that far away.”
Just as I hung up, the mailman came through the door. His name was Henry Woolsey and he was an unabashed admirer of Jamie’s, fifty-some years notwithstanding.
“’Morning, Jamie.”
“’Morning, Henry. I see you broke out your shorts already.”
“Plenty warm for them. Too bad Sam won’t let you wear shorts.”
“Why don’t I just let her wear one of those French bikinis, Henry? Would that be good enough for you?”
Henry’s furiously flushed face contrasted vividly with his white hair.
“He’s always kidding around like that, Henry,” Jamie said. “He wouldn’t actually let me wear anything like that to the office.”
Henry started dealing out the pieces of mail as if they were cards and we were playing poker. I immediately saw what all the envelopes had in common. She just looked so innocent poised on the edge of her chair, I had to say it gently: “Gee, I guess I must have forgotten to put stamps on all these envelopes last night. Would you do that for me, Jamie?”
I was already late for the judge. Three minutes can go by awfully fast.
“I’ll probably be back in an hour or so,” I said.
Henry, the lecher, was already helping himself to the coffee. Young women like Jamie were in need of protection, no doubt, and Henry was only too eager to lend a hand.
He winked at me. “I like that idea you have for a French bikini, Sam.”
After I brought her up to date, she said, “My spies tell me you spent some time with Jane Sykes.”