Fair Game (25 page)

“Capo,” he said tersely. “I’m needed downstairs.”

Ashley sagged visibly in frustration.

“I’ll go,” Martin said, picking up his shirt from the floor and shrugging into it. He buttoned it rapidly, but Ashley noticed he was not as controlled as he seemed; his fingers were having a lot of trouble.

“Don’t go,” she moaned.

“Have to. You slip out after I’m gone.” He made for the door.

“Is that all?” Ashley demanded, bewildered. “You have nothing else to say to me?”

“If you don’t know how I feel by now, you never will,” he replied, and left.

Ashley went over to the bed and sagged onto its edge. Slowly, she put her blouse back on and straightened her clothes, absorbed in thought.

He had made himself clear, and the next move was hers.

After a while, she got up and went back to the suite. Meg arrived shortly after she did and strolled into the room.

She took one look at Ashley’s expression and said, “What?”

“Come inside with me,” Ashley replied quickly, and fled into her bedroom.

Meg followed Ashley into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“What was that all about?” Meg asked.

“I’ve just been with Martin. We were... uh... if the phone hadn’t rung, we’d be in bed together right now.”

Meg looked stunned. “He’s on duty,” was all she could say.

“We were... I don’t know what we were,” Ashley said, hardly listening. “We were talking beforehand, and we made... a confession? An admission? Can’t I express myself in anything but legal terms? Meg, I’m very confused about this.”

“That much I gathered,” Meg said flatly.

“Oh, God, what am I going to do?” Ashley moaned.

“I want him so much I have to restrain myself every minute from following him around in a trance. It can’t work, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Why doesn’t that seem to matter?”

“All right, calm down,” Meg said, glancing at the door as if wondering if they could be overheard.

“He’s only a little less conservative than Birch Bayh and thinks my job puts lifelong felons back on the streets to continue their criminal careers,” Ashley went on. “He has a fine disdain for my family and friends and would probably be happiest going back in time to the Eisenhower administration. How can I possibly become involved with somebody like that?”

“Because you’re crazy about him,” Meg said.

“I did leave out that one point,” Ashley agreed miserably.

“It’s an important one.”

“I spend almost all of my free time fantasizing about him making love to me.”

“I see.”

“Do you think it could be just a superficial physical attraction?” Ashley asked, almost hopefully.

“I seriously doubt it, Ash. You’re not the superficial type, and neither is he.”

“But every time I see him I want to take him by the hand and lead him to the nearest bed. That doesn’t strike me as a particularly mature attitude.”

“You’re just in love, Ash. That’s the way it feels.”

“Did you ever notice his hands?” Ashley asked dreamily.

“No.”
 

“The backs of his hands have these big veins, and there’s downy black hair on his wrists.”

“Oh.”

“I keep picturing those hands all over me.”

“I don’t know if I’m old enough to listen to this,” Meg said jokingly, raising her brows.

“And did you ever see anyone look sexier smoking a cigarette?”

“Keith Carradine in Choose Me Meg suggested.

Ashley wasn’t listening. “I don’t like cigarettes,” she ranted. “I hate smoking. I never would go into a restaurant unless it had a nonsmoking area. Now I don’t even care. In fact, I’m growing fond of that tobacco smell because it reminds me of him.”

“Humphrey Bogart in Key Largo,” Meg said.

“What?”

“Somebody who looked sexier smoking a cigarette.”

“I thought you were going to take this seriously.”

“Well, you asked.” Meg thought a moment and added, “Harrison Ford in Hanover Street.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up. With your encyclopedic knowledge of movies, we could be here all day.” She paused and said thoughtfully, “Do you know what the worst part of it is?”

“What’s the worst part?” Meg asked sympathetically, sitting next to Ashley on the bed.

“Despite his infuriating attitudes, I need him desperately, and I know that if I were ever in trouble, he’d be there for me. That quiet strength of his is very reassuring.”
 

Meg nodded.

“But I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m usually not combative, but I’ve been so edgy lately, first fighting with Jim and now this… I wanted to punch Tim when he walked out on me just now. The frustration was incredible.”

“If you’re getting emotional, it’s probably a good sign,” Meg interrupted her. “You were always too restrained, Ashley. This man is finally shaking you up.”

“This man is driving me insane.”

“I think I know what your problem is,” Meg said. “You’ve led a very sheltered life and have never really gotten to know anyone outside your own rarefied circle. Now you find yourself falling for a very different kind of man, and it’s unsettling.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You have a choice, you know. You can let him go back to Philadelphia when he’s finished here and end the relationship before anything really happens.”

Ashley put both hands over her mouth and shook her head, her eyes wide.

“Then you’d better learn to accept him,” Meg said.

“It’s not a question of accepting him. I do. His values are sound, and I understand why he feels the way he does. I’m actually proud of his convictions. But he’s so rigid.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I introduced him to Carlo on the yacht the night of the auction. And I know if Carlo hadn’t left as quickly as he did, Tim would have been horribly rude to him.”

“That’s not so surprising. I’ve come close to being horribly rude to Carlo myself. What happened, did Carlo make a pass at him?”

“Not exactly. He made some remark about Tim being attractive or something. You should have seen the look on Tim’s face.”

“I can imagine. But did you really think that somebody like Tim would take that sort of thing easily?”

“I guess I thought that he would be sophisticated enough to laugh it off.”

Meg shook her head. “You don’t want ‘sophisticated,’ Ash. You’ve been drowning in sophisticated all your life. Tim is straightforward and solid and decent, and if you’re honest with yourself you’ll admit that’s a large part of what you find so compelling about him. Aside from his hands, of course.”

“But if he can’t deal with Carlo, how can he possibly be with me? You know what my life is like. Carlo is the least of it. How could Tim handle the people I meet in my career, the clients I represent?”

‘‘Are you sure you’re giving him enough credit? I suspect he’s capable of compromise, and if he wants you, as I think he does, he’ll meet you somewhere in the middle.”

“And what about my family? Can you imagine Sylvia’s reaction to all of this?”

“Since when have you ever cared what Sylvia thought?”

“My father cares what she thinks. I really don’t want to cause an uproar.”

“You may have to do just that. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped playing good little Ashley and did something you wanted to do, did something for yourself, regardless of your image or what the rest of the world might say?”

Ashley sat thinking for a long moment, and then said, as a slow smile spread across her face, “Maybe you’re right.”

“What are you going to tell Tim?”

“Nothing, for the moment. I need time to think about how to handle things with Jim, my family, everyone.”

“Why don’t you just get Jim on the phone and tell him you’re throwing him over for Tim Martin because Tim has sexier hands? It makes sense to me.”

Ashley smiled thinly. “Very funny. Jim is not so easy to get rid of, as you may have noticed in the past. He’s mad right now, but he’ll get over it and turn up again. He won’t want to miss out on the publicity connected with the rest of the campaign, and he knows Tim’s assignment will be over soon.” She sighed and surveyed Meg objectively. “Now that I’ve bored you with my problems, how are you? I must say you’re looking very chipper this morning.”

“I am chipper. Peter stayed with me last night.”

“You mean here?”

“Yup.”

“And I missed him!”

“He left very early this morning for a meeting.”

“Was it wonderful?”

“It was.”

“Well, I’m very happy for you.”

“You don’t look very happy for me.”

“That’s because I just remembered that luncheon this afternoon. Could we say I came down with something rather suddenly? Something serious.”

“Whooping cough?”

“Only kids get that.”
 

“Oh. Diphtheria?”

“There’s a vaccine for that now.”

‘Then I guess you’ll have to go.”

Ashley nodded glumly and stood, stretching.

“What should I say to Tim on my way out?” Meg asked.

‘“Bye, Tim.’”

“Okay,” Meg agreed, smiling. “It’s all up to you.” She left the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind her.

* * * *

Ransom studied the diagrams on the computer screen before him and took a final drag on his cigarette. Then he shut off the machine and stubbed out the smoke in the same motion, relaxing back into the cushions of the sofa in his apartment.

It had to be Millvale, which was only a few days away. He had examined and discarded the other possibilities for various reasons. Fair’s murder would take place in the Millvale Hotel ballroom.

Ransom was satisfied; it was the best choice. He’d analyzed the detailed architectural plans of the hotel and the structures on either side of it, which included all passageways, fire exits, and utility doors. There was an apartment building next to the hotel, which made access easy. He was an expert at slipping past doormen. Once inside, he could take the staircase to the roof, cross onto the hotel’s fire escape, and break in through a window leading to a service hallway on the second floor.

It was all there in the information he’d pirated from Meg’s computer. Lucky for him she was so thorough.

It should be a snap, he thought; he’d gone through similar scenarios dozens of times, with less preparation. Meg was making it very easy for him.

Meg. He didn’t want to think about her, but she kept creeping into his consciousness, disturbing his concentration. He’d told her he was going away on a business trip to leave himself open for the hit, but she didn’t think he was departing until the next morning.

He sat up suddenly and sneezed loudly, his eyes watering. He went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of tablets with a glass of water. Goddamn cold. He had no tolerance for illness, especially his own. He was accustomed to his body’s perfect obedience, and when it revolted he felt like killing it. He would have done so if it hadn’t meant killing himself in the process.

* * * *

The doorbell rang, and he glanced toward the computer immediately. There was only one person it could be. With the hit so close, he couldn’t afford another visit to Meg’s room, so he had brought her to the apartment a couple of times. Now she knew where he lived.

Better that it was ending soon. This was getting out of hand.

“Just a minute,” he called as he unplugged the computer and lugged it to his bedroom closet, where he dropped it into its original packing box and closed the lid. He returned to the living room and grabbed the software, tossing it all on the closet floor and kicking it behind his row of shoes, under a folded blanket. He slammed the door closed and parked a straight chair directly in front of it, on which he piled his briefcase and coat.

If she tried to get into the closet, he would have enough warning to intervene and stop her.

He ran to the door and opened it to find Meg standing on the threshold, holding a covered cardboard container.

“Surprise,” she said. “What took you so long?”

“I was in the bathroom.”

She brushed past him into the living room. “I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I thought you might like this for lunch.”

“What is it?” he asked, viewing her present suspiciously.

“Chicken soup.” She took off the cover, and the pungent aroma escaped into the room.

“Why?”

She turned to stare at him. “Hasn’t anyone ever brought you chicken soup when you were sick?”

“No,” he replied honestly.

Her brows knit as she went into the kitchen and dished up the steaming soup. “What about your mother when you were a little kid?” she asked.

He sighed. “There was no mother when I was a little kid.”

“What do you mean? You told me your parents were dead, but they must have been alive once. Did your mother die when you were born, or very young?”