Smoke and Mirrors (32 page)

"But you are an experienced driver," Erin said slowly. "If I had been alone ..."

"Don't think about it," Nick said gruffly.

"We have to think about it. What's the worst that could have happened?"

"The damned car could have blown up, that's the worst that could have happened!" Nick shouted. They walked on in silence for a while, and then Nick said in a calmer voice, "But not right away; long before that happened, even a moron would have taken alarm, and backed away. If you're thinking attempted murder, forget it. Not only was the method inefficient, but the perpetrator couldn't have known who would drive the car next. Up until this morning, Kay's hand was improving—"

"She did drive it," Erin said. "Yesterday."

"You've driven it recently," Nick pointed out. "So has Jeff. She'd lend it to Rosemary, I suppose."

"Or Will?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Joe?"

"He's the last person she'd allow behind the wheel of her precious," Nick said. "Next to last, I should say; I'm the ultimate. No, it has to be a piece of random malice, Erin, like all the others. Ask Kay if you can take tomorrow off."

The fire had shaken her nerve more than she had realized. At first she didn't understand what he was driving at. "Why?"

"You haven't had a day off since you started work, have you?"

"No, but I can hardly complain. Here I am mixing with the glamour guys and gals of politics, studying the inner workings of the greatest game on earth. It's all so—so stimulating."

"Isn't it, though. Nothing like being scorched periodically to add zest to life. . . . You've never visited the Hill, or had a power lunch. Yeah. That should work just fine. I think it's time our hardworking little novice got shown the sights of Washington. Duke Zeibert's for lunch, maybe."

"Nick—"

"Or The Monocle. It's not far from the Library of Congress."

Kay didn't faint
when they told her what had happened, but for a few alarmed seconds Erin thought she was going to. Her face turned a sickly shade of greenish white, and Nick had to help her into a chair. Her first coherent words were, "How bad is it?"

Nick crossed his fingers and lied like a rug. "Not bad, Kay. Really. It could have been a lot worse."

"Oh my God." Kay hid her face in her hands.

"It would have been a lot worse if Nick hadn't risked himself to put the fire out," Erin said. Kay hadn't even had the decency to ask if either of them had been hurt.

"I wasn't referring to the car," Kay said in a shaking voice. "Are you all right, Erin? When I think what could have happened ..."

"Nothing happened," Erin said quickly, regretting her first assumption. "I'm fine."

"I have a blister on my thumb," Nick whined, holding the digit in question out for inspection. "Kiss it and make it well."

Kay's lips quivered; for a moment it was questionable as to whether she would laugh or cry, but Nick's foolery had the desired effect. "Well, thank goodness that's all," she said. "What were you doing with Erin, Nick? I am glad you were with her, and I'm very grateful to you for your quick thinking, but ..."

I hitched a ride, " Nick said, looking as innocent as any saint.

"I see. Well, I'm grateful you did. I should never have asked Erin to drive that car."

"It wouldn't have mattered who was driving," Nick said. "It could have been you. Or me."

Kay shook her head. "That will be the day, young man. There aren't many people I'd trust with that car. ..." Her voice trailed off and her face took on the blank, listening look of someone considering a new and not too pleasant idea. "Never mind. The important thing is that no one was hurt."

Nick went off to borrow the pickup and make arrangements for the Mercedes to be towed to a garage. He offered to do the errands while he was in town; when Erin handed over the list, he twisted his face into such hideous contortions she thought he was having a fit, until it dawned on her he was reminding her of what they had discussed earlier.

The color had returned to Kay's face, but she sat where Nick had placed her, hands limp and eyes abstracted. When Erin asked if she could take the next day off, Kay nodded. "Yes, that will be quite all right."

Erin couldn't believe she had heard correctly. No argument, no discussion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, why not? You deserve it; you've worked very hard and you've just had a very unpleasant experience. Run along now; I have things to do."

Nick returned with the cleaning and Kay's medicine, but without a battery. As he described it, the machine had emitted strident jeers of laughter when his credit card was inserted.

"I think mine might run to a battery," Erin offered. "Just as a loan, of course. "

She wasn't sure how Nick would take the offer, and his first reaction was to stiffen and look haughty. Then he grinned sheepishly. "Save it. We may need it for something else." "How are we going to get into town tomorrow?" Nick waved an airy hand. "I'll think of something." They ended up riding in with Joe, who had spent the night, as he was doing with increasing frequency. He and Rosemary had taken to working late; but according to Nick, fatigue wasn't the primary reason why Rosemary insisted on his staying over.

"Why, then?" Erin asked. "Do he and Rosemary have something going?"

Nick's brows drew together. "Have you got some kind of hang-up about Rosemary's sexual activities? First you had her hopping into bed with Laurence, now you're suggesting she and

Joe—"

"Why, Nick, you're blushing," Erin said maliciously. "I didn't mean to shock you."

"I am not blushing!"

"But you're shocked. Yes, you are! Talk about hang-ups—you have a blind spot where Rosemary is concerned, and you're not the only one—you all do it, treat her like a piece of damp clay you can pummel into any shape you want. " A poignant memory of Rosemary's lament on the night of her granddaughter's birthday came back to her, and she added with equal vehemence, "She's not a series of platitudes and a two-dimensional campaign poster, she's a human being, with human needs and, I daresay, a few human weaknesses."

"Okay, okay." Nick considered the idea. "So maybe you have a point. But Joe . . . He's not her type."

"How do you know?"

"I don't." Nick smiled reluctantly. "There's no accounting for tastes, as the old lady said when she kissed the pig."

"Cow."

"What?"

"When she kissed the . . . Oh, never mind, I don't think the comparison is very nice either way. Rosemary's private life is none of our business, so long as she's discreet about it. She seems to have been very discreet indeed, or you wouldn't be hanging on to this fantasy that she's as pure as Caesar's wife. You're probably right about one thing, though; she wouldn't carry on an affair with Joe here in her own house, under Kay's very nose."

"Kay's the worst offender, in your terms," Nick said. "She'd throw a fit if she thought Rosemary were betraying the sacred memory of Edward Marshall."

"So why does Rosemary insist Joe stay overnight?"

"What? Oh, that. It's just that Joe's drinking is getting a little heavy. She doesn't want him to have an accident, or get picked up
for DWI. Listen, you're here at night, have you ever noticed—"

"Oh, grow up," Erin exclaimed.

Joe showed no ill effects when he appeared for breakfast. In fact, he was turned out with unusual smartness; suit pressed, shoes shined, shirt spotless. When Erin complimented him on his appearance he tugged self-consciously at his tie, a conservative paisley print on a dark background.

"Is this tie okay, do you think? Rosemary gave it to me; she says my others look like I'd closed my eyes and picked 'em off a rack at a discount outlet."

"It's perfect," Erin said. She caught Nick's eye. He blushed.

Joe dropped them at the Capitol. "How are you going to get home?" he asked, leaning across Erin to open the door for her—a mark of distinguished favor.

"Jeff said he'd pick us up at three, if we could be here on the dot," Nick answered.

"You'd damned well better be here on the dot. When Jeff says three, he means three, not three-oh-five or even three-oh-one."

Nick grimaced. "I know. He's in a foul mood lately, isn't he? Almost bit my head off when I asked him for a lift."

"Wait a minute." Joe fumbled for his wallet. "You better pick up a battery for that wreck of yours. Get Jeff to stop someplace on the way home."

Nick stepped back, his hands behind him. "No, thanks," he said stiffly.

"Don't be a goddamn jerk," Joe shouted. "We need more vehicles. I'm renting yours for the campaign, okay? It's perfect for our humble, lower-middle-class image. So take the money and shut up."

He dropped the bill at Nick's feet, slammed the car door and took off. Erin jumped on the money and caught it as it started to flutter away. It was a hundred-dollar bill.

Nick watched the car weave a path between the concrete barricades that had been set up in the hope of discouraging terrorists. "He's in a
very
cheerful mood this morning, isn't he?"

Erin burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Nick demanded.

"You. Are we going to stand here all morning?"

"Wait till he's out of sight. Turn around, admire the Capitol, and try to look impressed."

That wasn't difficult. Erin had become accustomed to the sight of the massive dome crowning the city, but she had never taken the time to go sightseeing, and she was surprised at how light and well-balanced the building appeared at close range. The capitals of the Corinthian columns looked like frozen lace, and the lofty flights of marble stairs, one on either end and one in the center, raised the eye to the swelling curves of the dome.

"You've been inside, haven't you?" Nick asked.

"No."

"You haven't? I wish we had time for a real sightseeing tour of Washington. If I say it as shouldn't, you won't find a better guide. I'm hooked on this town. I used to spend all my spare time wandering the streets and poking into odd corners. I'll bet I'm one of the few people who can identify every single one of the statues."

"It is a beautiful city," Erin agreed. "Too bad about those barricades; trying to disguise them as planters didn't work very well."

"Life in the twentieth century," Nick said wryly. "Okay, he's gone; we can be on our way."

As they walked, Nick gave her a sample of his talents as a guide. "The Senate side of the Capitol is on the north, and the House is on the south, ahead of us. Those are the House office buildings across the street, facing the House side, as the Senate buildings face the Senate side. There are three House buildings— Cannon, Longworth, and Rayburn, the newest. Rosemary's office is there, in the Longworth Building."

"They're so big," Erin said, studying the long white marble facades that seemed to stretch for blocks.

"Well, there are over four hundred representatives. They all need offices, plus offices for secretaries and staff, meeting rooms, places to eat, restrooms. ... As a matter of fact, this business of staff has gotten out of hand. Did you know that each congressman is allowed up to twenty-two staffers? Senators get more, depending on the population of the states they represent—as high as eighty in some cases. All salaries courtesy of the taxpayers."

"That seems reasonable. The more constituents, the more work, right?"

"It isn't the proportions, it's the sheer numbers. At last count there were 20,000 staffers serving the 535 members of Congress, and that doesn't include the staffs of legislative agencies. It's become a matter of prestige—how big your offices are, how many serfs you have attending upon your needs. Taxpayers' money shouldn't be spent puffing up the egos of their representatives. The worst part of it is, a lot of the work the staffers do is either unnecessary or self-serving. One of the reasons why it has become so difficult to get legislation passed, and accepted by the administration, is that the bills are packed with special-interest provisions cooked up by staff representatives. The process is getting so complicated it can't work."

"Very interesting. "

"Was I lecturing? Sorry, the subject gripes me. Of course," Nick added with a grin, "there has to be room on Rosemary's staff for a few more worthy souls. Next year—God willing and cross your fingers—Rosemary will be moving a couple of blocks north, to one of the Senate office buildings. Now look over there—on the west lawn. See that big oak tree? It's over a hundred years old. You've seen it on television, it's where the correspondents do their stand-ups. One of these days ..."

"This is Nick McDermott, reporting from Capitol Hill."

"Maybe. Or, 'This is Joe Schmoe, speaking with Senator McDermott."

"Is that what you want?"

"I'm not sure what I want right now. Just to be part of this, somehow, some way."

The gleaming white of the buildings, the emerald-green lawns and brilliant fall foliage shone in the sunlight as if freshly painted. But it wasn't only the beauty of the scene, it was what it signified. The reality might be tarnished and stained, but the vision somehow endured.

Nick tugged at her arm. "Hurry up, let's make that light."

"What's that big white building over there with the columns?"

Nick gave her a pitying look. "That's the Supreme Court, you sweet little hick. What have you been doing with your time since you arrived in D.C.?"

"Not sightseeing."

"Why not? People come from all over the country—the world—to see this town."