Smoke and Mirrors (35 page)

"They're still talking," Erin said. (And what about the innumerable combinations of people? Kay and Laurence, Jeff and Kay . . . Stop it, she told herself.) "Now she's handing him something. . . . The headwaiter is bringing the check. . . . Laurence is smiling in that patronizing way of his. . . . He's signing the check. Didn't even look at it.

"Adding up the bill is uncouth," Nick remarked. "Remind me not. . . . Now what?"

"Don't turn around! She's coming this way."

Kay's face was darkly shadowed by the drooping hat brim but a vagrant ray of light reflected from her eyeballs so that she seemed to be peering slyly out at them like a fox from its lair. Even her voice echoed oddly. "I didn't expect to see you two."

Nick had risen, napkin in hand. "Didn't Erin tell you I was going to show her the sights?"

"Oh, yes. It slipped my mind, I guess. Well—enjoy yourselves. "

She walked toward the door, where Laurence was waiting.

"That was short and sweet," Nick said, sitting down and reaching for his wineglass. "I was too well-mannered to say so, but I wasn't expecting to see her either. I thought she was going to Norfolk with Rosemary."

"I'd love to have overheard that conversation, ' Erin said, watching Laurence gallantly usher Kay out the door.

"You wouldn't have heard anything interesting. If they have secrets to exchange they'll do it in Laurence's car, or on a park bench. Lunching together in a public place, openly and innocently, could be a cover-up for the real reason why they had to meet. But Kay sure as hell didn't think she would run into us. I'll bet she'd have tried to sneak out without speaking if Laurence hadn't convinced her she was bound to be recognized—"

"Stop it." Erin put her hands over her ears. "I feel as if I've wandered into a scenario about secret agents and the CIA. Their reason for meeting was probably quite innocent. I wouldn't be too surprised to learn that they had had an affair once upon a time, and perhaps the old flame still smolders. . . . Oh, damn. What's the use of speculating when we don't know what we're talking about?"

"That's all we can do—speculate. Hmmmm. That's an interesting idea. It hadn't occurred to me; but then I lack your fine insight into romantic matters. Laurence used to have something of
a reputation along those lines. Seems to have reformed lately. AIDS has affected a lot of life-styles."

"It doesn't seem to have inhibited Senator Bennett. "

"I refuse to discuss AIDS or Buzz Bennett," Nick declared. "Or anything else that might upset my stomach. Have some more wine."

By the time they finished the prolonged and expensive meal, they had to hurry in order to meet Jeff. Nick had consumed most of the bottle of wine—"I'm not driving, and at these prices I'll be damned if I send any of it back "—and he called for the check with a flourish whose insouciance undoubtedly owed something to the alcohol. The waiter bent down and murmured something in his ear. The change in Nick's expression verged on the ludicrous.

"What is it?" Erin asked apprehensively, as the waiter glided away. "I've got some money, if there's any problem—"

Nick had to swallow twice before he could speak. "No problem. None at all. That bastard Laurence already paid it. Can you believe the chutzpah of that—"

"It was a nice gesture."

"Nice? Why is it that when Laurence offers me something, I want to snap at his hand like a mad dog?" Nick's lowering brows lifted and the corners of his mouth twitched. "If I'd known he was going to pick up the check I'd have had dessert."

A faint autumnal haze hung over the city, mellowing the afternoon sun. Nick sniffed the air appreciatively. "I suppose it's loaded with ozone and other yucky substances, but it smells good, doesn't it?"

"I keep thinking I smell smoke," Erin said.

Nick gave her a sharp look. "You do. Everybody's burning leaves this time of year. Don't let it get to you, Erin."

He left her no breath to answer, but took her arm and hurried her along. Even at the best pace they could set, they were a few minutes late. Jeff was waiting for them. He didn't look pleased.

"You know what the traffic on the bridge is like. I want to get the hell out of town before it starts."

"We were only three minutes late," Nick protested. "For me that's damned good. I wouldn't have done it for anybody but you, pal."

"I believe that." Jeff shifted into drive and slid the car deftly into the traffic. "But only because you know I won't wait for you. Punctuality isn't just a virtue, you know, it's a necessity in this business, especially for small-fry like you and me. One of these days you're going to cook your goose keeping some big shot
waiting—"

"Okay, okay. " Nick, in the back seat, stretched his legs out and relaxed. "What are you so grumpy about these days? Is something bugging you?"

"What's not to bug me? The polls are slipping, the paperwork is piling up, the flyer that should have gone out last week is still on your desk—"

"That's because the printer screwed up," Nick retorted. "Did you want me to send out the first lot, the ones that called Rosemary the candidate of the asses?"

"That's a rotten phrase anyway. Sounds like the Communist Manifesto."

Nick sat up. If looks could have killed, the glare he directed at the back of Jeff's neck would have felled him on the spot. "Oh, yeah? Well, for your information—"

"Boys, boys, don't fight." Erin mimicked Kay's prim voice. "We must all pull together and overcome these little difficulties."

The only response she got was a pair of grunts, one tenor and one baritone, but Nick leaned back and the tight line of Jeff's lips relaxed. In an effort to find a noncontroversial subject, Erin said, "I see you're using your new key case, Jeff. It's really good-looking."

"Yes." After a moment Jeff said awkwardly, "I—uh—I enjoyed the party. It was nice of you. Thanks."

"But you never wear your bee-you-tiful wig," Nick complained.

His high-pitched, whiny falsetto won a reluctant smile from Jeff. "I'm saving it for election day," he said.

Good. We'll have a big drunken bash. We are going to win, you know."

"Yes," Jeff said. "We are."

13

Kay did not
refer to their meeting in town. In fact, if Erin had not known she was suffering from a tendency to find undercurrents where there were none, she would have suspected Kay deliberately kept her hopping from one task to another so she wouldn't have an opportunity to talk with anyone. It was almost eleven before Kay finally dismissed her. By that time the others had left. Rosemary was not expected back that night. She had gone directly to Charlottesville, where she was to make several appearances the following day.

Erin waited until Kay had gone upstairs before she headed for the commons room and the telephone. She didn't place the call until she had looked into every corner to make sure Will was not lurking.

Her mother was delighted to hear her voice, and brushed aside her apologies for calling so late. "It's cheaper after eleven, darling; there's no need to run up Rosemary's phone bill."

Getting her mother to talk about the good old days at U. Va. wasn't difficult. The hard part was turning the flood of nostalgia in the direction she wanted it to go. She listened patiently to a long, rambling description of Rosemary's first meeting with the man she was to marry—a story she had heard dozens of times.

"She looked so sweet in that blue dress I loaned her. Her family was dirt-poor, you know, the poor girl didn't have hardly a stitch of decent clothes. Fortunately we wore the same size. She was a tiny little thing—Well, I was too, if you can believe it! She was going with some other boy, and I had a hard time persuading her to double-date with Edward and your daddy and me, but I
knew she wouldn't be able to resist him. He had everything—good looks, money, a fine old family name. And he fell for her like a ton of bricks, if you know what I mean. Your daddy and Edward were fraternity brothers. ..."

"Yes, I know. It's a pity you had to move away and break up a friendship. And a partnership—weren't Dad and Mr. Marshall partners?"

"Oh, no, honey, they were never in business together. Your daddy did some legal work for him, that was all. Yes, it was too bad, I hated to leave Richmond, but by that time Rosemary and Edward were living at Fairweather, and the offer was one your daddy just couldn't refuse. He never regretted it, I know. He was so happy in Indianapolis. We were both so happy. ..."

Tears choked her voice; in the background Erin heard another voice, that of her aunt, demanding to know what Erin had said to make her poor mother cry.

She managed to get in one more question. Desperation made her frame it less subtly than she would have liked, but the word "fire" obviously struck no nerve with her mother. "Fire? At Fairweather? Oh, no, honey, there wasn't any such thing, not that I knew about. Nor at our house, I'd certainly remember that! Where did you get the idea? . . ."

"I must have got it wrong," Erin said quickly. "Mother, how are you feeling? Is your leg better?"

It was and it wasn't. The pills the doctor had prescribed helped some, but it still hurt when she walked too much. Erin listened, making sympathetic comments at appropriate intervals. That was the least she could do, listen sympathetically; but her heart sank as her mother kept referring to Ann's ideas and Ann's opinions and Ann's medical theories. I've got to get her out of there, she thought. But how? I can hardly support myself, much less another person, and I couldn't live with her, we'd drive each other crazy.

Finally her mother remembered Rosemary's phone bill. "It's been wonderful talking to you, darling."

"Me too, Mom. I love you. "

After she had hung up she sat slumped in her chair for a long time, fighting discouragement. It appeared there was nothing she
could do for anyone. She certainly hadn't learned anything that might help Rosemary.

The following day was a torment of mounting frustration. Kay was crankier than ever; the Richmond telephone directory had no listing for a Brown Detective Agency, and neither did the directories for D.C., northern Virginia, or the Maryland suburbs; Nick had left at dawn, to join Rosemary in Charlottesville and escort her through her schedule before driving her home. The idea of calling assorted detective agencies, starting with A-l Investigative Services and going on through the alphabet, was too depressing to consider seriously, even if she had had time and privacy, which Kay made sure she did not. The state offices in Richmond were closed for the weekend, including the Bureau of Vital Statistics.

The appearance of Jeff, late in the afternoon, was a godsend. His affectionate, teasing manner with Kay amused her and distracted her attention from her victim. Joe came in shortly afterward and commandeered Erin's services with a peremptory firmness that left Kay no chance to object. As soon as he got her into his office he told her to sit down and put her feet up and keep quiet. "I figured you'd about had it with poor old Kay, " he explained gruffly. "Read a dirty book or something. Relax."

However, he was unable to supply a dirty book, so Erin had to content herself with Elizabeth Drew's commentary on campaign financing—several years old, but unfortunately still only too apropos. Some of the figures quoted shocked her so much she ventured to disturb Joe with a request for verification.

Joe snorted. "Kiddo, it's worse now. A Senate seat today costs three million bucks, give or take a few hundred thou. That means that if he wants to run again, a Senator has to raise ten thousand a week for six long years. Doesn't leave him much time to do his job, hmmm?"

"The best Congress money can buy," Erin said.

"Hey, that's not bad." Joe reached for a pen.

"It's not original. I read it somewhere. ... In the
Post,
I think."

"So what's a little plagiarism?" Joe tossed the pen aside and picked up a cigar. "As for the cost of a presidential campaign these days ..."

"I don't think I want to hear about it, I'm depressed enough already. It's funny," Erin added, "how little attention I've been paying to the Big One. I know it's more important than a Senate
race, but . . .

"Not to us," Joe said. "Oh, sure, the presidential race does affect others, including ours, but in my not so humble opinion it's a waste of time to worry about it, because the effect is so unpredictable. Local loyalties often supersede party affiliation. Look at Mac Mathias, and that seat in Maryland he owned for so long—a Republican in a solidly Democratic state. And this time we don't have to worry about those long Reagan coattails. George Bush is walking around in a ... what do you call those cute little jackets like bellboys wear?"

"Those cute little jackets like bellboys wear."

"Smart-ass," Joe said, grinning. "You talk too much. I've got work to do."

Erin knew he had enjoyed the discussion. If he hadn't, he would have told her to shut up.

Thanks to Joe and Jeff—and Will, who had oozed imperceptibly into his corner at some point—the evening passed more pleasantly than she would have expected. They were all in the commons room watching the eleven-o'clock news when Rosemary came in, followed by Nick.

"How did it go?" Joe asked alertly.

Rosemary tossed her purse onto the couch and collapsed next to it. "Mediocre. I told you I couldn't compete with a football game, especially U. Va. and Maryland. "

"Students." Joe dismissed the entire student body with a flourish of his cigar. "I didn't expect much from that. Bunch of smug little yuppies."

"Rosemary, you look exhausted," Kay said. "Why don't you get ready for bed and I'll give you a back rub—"

She broke off, with a look of disgust. Rosemary laughed.

"Not one-handed, darling."

"I keep forgetting," Kay muttered. "Erin, could you—" I don't need a back rub," Rosemary said. "Stop fussing, Kay."