“Yup. I think you should go for it.”
She’d badly wanted someone to say it, to encourage her. She flashed him a brilliant smile and felt her eyes mist over for a split second. She lowered her lashes and sipped her drink, embarrassed that she’d almost burst into tears at the thought of becoming a lawyer. It was amazing how such a powerful dream could be buried so deep that it had been all but forgotten.
He saw the joy and the emotion and had a hard time not crying along with her. He gave himself a fast lecture on macho behavior, took a hard breath, and steadied his voice.
“Okay, so it’s settled,” he said. “You’re going to be a lawyer. What else is different?”
“I’m more assertive.” She shook her finger at him. “Don’t try to push me around. I won’t stand for it.”
He pretended to be offended.
Louisa ignored him. “I want to be treated like an equal in this pig project.”
“You want to be an equal to Kurt? Honey, even I don’t want to be an equal to Kurt.”
“You know what I mean.”
He knew exactly what she meant. She didn’t want him being overprotective of her. It was an unreasonable demand. He could more easily stop breathing than stop wanting to keep her safe.
“I understand your point of view,” he said. “From now on you’re one of the boys.” It was an outright lie, and he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about making it. There was more to love than truth, he told himself. There was survival.
Chapter 8
Louisa didn’t like working for Stu Maislin. The atmosphere in his suite of offices was oppressive, his administrative assistant looked like a bookie, and she suspected her phone was bugged by both Kurt and Maislin. It was like living in a goldfish bowl filled with piranha.
She was on her third day on the job, and she was still wearing a wire at Pete’s insistence. He was outside, somewhere, listening to her every word. To say she had no secrets was an understatement.
“I wonder if I unplugged the iron?” she said into her chest. “Hope it doesn’t burn the house down. And did you remember to close the front door after you went back in for my briefcase? I bet the house isn’t locked up.”
She smiled, knowing she drove Pete crazy with these mutterings. It was the only fun part of her workday.
“Only kidding,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I unplugged the iron. I don’t think it would burst into flames, anyway, because I had it on a low setting because I was ironing my red silk teddy. You remember that teddy? The one I wore the night before last? The one with the wide, easy-lovin’ legs? I wore that teddy to the office today because I thought I might take an extra long lunch hour and”-she crinkled a paper, simulating static-“and when I was done with you, you’d be sitting funny for the rest of the afternoon.”
She allowed herself another smile and turned to the stack of mail on her desk, thinking he now had something to occupy his mind while she did some work. She was halfway through the mail when a check slipped through her fingers. It had been delivered earlier by a bonded messenger. Not an unusual occurrence. She’d signed for it and placed it in the priority bin. It was to Maislin, personally. And it was against a claim on his homeowner’s insurance, to the tune of slightly less than half a million. She did a silent whistle. It was a lot of money, and it piqued her curiosity.
She copied the claim number, the amount, the name of the adjuster and his phone number, and went down the hall to the public phone. She dialed the adjuster and introduced herself. She was new, she explained. She needed to be brought up to speed on Mr. Maislin’s claim.
Pete was at the water fountain behind her when she hung up. “Well?” he asked.
“Couldn’t wait until I got off work?”
“I was intrigued.”
“Maislin’s house was broken into five days before the pig incident. A very expensive pair of diamond earrings, a choker, and two rings were stolen. The thief also took several stamps which were extremely valuable. They were insured for big bucks.”
“Never found?”
“Never found,” Louisa said.
“You think the pig could have eaten them?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m serious. Years ago, before Reuters sent me to South America, I did an article on insurance fraud. It’s common. If you’re a big roller and times get tough, you fake a burglary. That way you get paid twice. You collect the insurance, and then you turn around and you sell the family jewels under the table. Suppose Maislin needed money. Suppose he had Bucky steal the stuff and Bucky was supposed to feed it to Petunia. Petunia was being shipped to Amsterdam. Maybe there was a contact in Amsterdam, waiting to fence the jewelry and stamps.”
“The pig wouldn’t have any problem with customs.”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds pretty farfetched. How were they supposed to get the jewelry and stamps out of the pig.”
“That’s the beauty of the plan,” Pete said. “The jewelry and stamps would come out all by themselves. In one end, out the other.”
“Ugh.”
“It would have been brilliant if the pig hadn’t wandered off.”
“So now they’re going to try it again,” Louisa said.
“Precisely, Watson.”
“I don’t want to be Watson. Watson was fat and dopey. I want to be Holmes. You can be Watson.”
“You’re never satisfied.”
“This is my new assertive personality,” she said.
“Maybe we could take turns being assertive. You can be assertive on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and alternate Saturdays. I can be assertive on Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday.”
“It’s worth considering. I suppose I need to get back to work and keep my ear to the ground. We don’t want to miss any of this swiney intrigue.”
Pete watched her return to Maislin’s office. Now that the mystery might be solved, he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue. There were worse things in the world than insurance fraud. It was white-collar crime, and no one would be surprised to find Maislin guilty of such a thing. In fact, people sort of expected it of him. It was almost his most outstanding job skill.
Rationalization, Pete admitted. It all came back to Louisa. He didn’t want her involved in a sting operation. Was he willing to let Maislin off the hook to keep Louisa safe? Yes. He was a rotten patriot, but there it was. Louisa was his first priority. Not that it mattered. She’d sunk her teeth into this, and he didn’t think she was going to let go.
They stopped by Kurt’s apartment on the way home from work. They brought a pizza-double cheese with the works-and a six-pack of beer. They filled Kurt in on the insurance claim.
“Hard to believe Maislin needs money,” Louisa said. “He has a big house, expensive cars and clothes, an extensive portfolio. He’s a millionaire several times over.”
“On paper,” Pete said. “I checked him out. He has serious cash-flow problems.”
Kurt chugged a beer. “And an even more serious drug problem. I’ve been picking it up on the tap. He doesn’t get all that aggressive energy from eating a balanced diet. The man runs on speed.” He looked over at Louisa.
“I know what it is. Are you sure?”
Kurt nodded. “He’s made two buys this week alone.”
Louisa felt sick. She might be a little jaded when it came to glorifying a senator or a congressman, but she believed in the American political system. She’d been on the Hill long enough to know the vast majority of the elected officials took their responsibility seriously and worked long and hard. Sometimes a man got carried away with his own importance or succumbed to the pressure of the job, and a scandal ensued. She was always sad to see that happen.
In this case, there was little sadness for Maislin. She’d had a chance to observe him firsthand and had come to thoroughly dislike him and distrust him.
Pete saw the color leave her face. He covered her hand with his. “You okay?”