‘All right, you’ve convinced me Hammell’s a good cop. But what if his son goes crazy some night and really tries to hurt you?’
‘That’s why I got my carry permit. He’ll be sorry.’
We were in her private office. More historical photographs on the wall, an area with two bookcases filled with bulging legal tomes. And a desk as empty as George W. Bush’s brain. The large window behind the desk overlooked a lovely asphalt parking lot where two men were unloading a furniture truck and eyeing the building next door — a medical supply house, according to the sign.
‘Ben called me about fifteen minutes ago. He’d like you and I to go out to Senator Logan’s place. He said he needs our support.’
‘For what?’
‘He wouldn’t say but he sounded pretty upset.’
‘This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?’
‘Losing faith?’
‘Not faith,’ I said. ‘Time. I don’t believe Robert killed Tracy Cabot. But one other name keeps coming to mind as a possibility. The guy who set all this in motion.’
‘You mean Howard Ruskin?’
‘Yes.’ Then I told her about Ruskin’s lady friend trying to contact me.
‘Why would she call you?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s afraid of him now.’
‘Of him?’
‘I guess. Maybe he went crazy after he killed Tracy and he’s coming unglued. Even for him, though, killing somebody is really a stretch.’
‘Why wouldn’t she just run away?’
Her phone buzzed. She picked up. ‘I won’t be available the rest of the day. Please apologize for me and see if we can reschedule.’ After hanging up, she said, ‘It’s easy to forget there’s a world out there that isn’t all tied up with Senator Logan’s problem.’
‘What time are we supposed to be there?’
‘Half an hour ago.’
‘You want to ride with me?’
‘Sure. Your Jeep looks pretty cool.’
I smiled. ‘How old did you say you were?’
When Mrs Weiderman opened the door I saw how much Robert’s troubles had damaged her usual indomitable spirit. The harsh circles under the eyes, the gray color of the face itself and the flat sound of the voice. ‘They’re all in the living room. It’s a terrible day.’
As she stood back to let us pass I saw that Jane took the woman’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Mrs Weiderman nodded in gratitude. She would usually lead us into the house but this time she disappeared somewhere behind us as we walked toward the living room.
And there they were. The colors of fall — trees, grass, small piles of leaves — were a seasonal portrait in the enormous window behind the grand piano. But the humans were the same zombie gray as Mrs Weiderman. Even brother James was restrained, sitting slouched in one of the comfortable armchairs with his eyes downcast and — for once — saying absolutely nothing. Of course, in his case it might be more to do with his hangover than Robert’s dilemma.
Elise and Maddy sat almost exactly as they had yesterday. Both were dressed in sweaters and jeans. Ben and Robert stood next to the dry bar. Robert had a drink in his hand. Ben was too smart for that.
They gaped at us as if they didn’t quite know who we were. No doubt they’d been going through some kind of psychodrama and were still trapped in its spider webs.
Finally Ben said, ‘You can try and talk sense to him, Dev. I’m worn out.’ Rarely did you hear Ben Zuckerman this frustrated.
Then the others awoke from their pod-people daze.
Maddy said, ‘Daddy. Listen to Ben.’
James said, ‘You’re letting the media get to you, Robert.’
Elise said, ‘Please listen to them, Robert.’
By now I knew what Robert wanted to do. Or thought he wanted to do. Or threatened to do.
‘The worst thing you could do right now, Robert,’ I said, ‘is resign.’
‘Damned right,’ Ben said, finding his passion again. ‘Dev’s saying just what I did. Resignation now is as good as admitting you killed that woman.’
‘I hate to agree with Dev,’ James said, ‘but listen to him, Robert.’
Robert wore a blue crew-neck sweater, jeans and a pair of tan moccasin slippers, no socks. When he raised the clear glass to his mouth I could see that he’d poured himself a mind-number. Not a good sign at this time of day.
He lurched away from the dry bar and walked quickly to the center of the room. Maybe we’d been summoned here for a recital and he was going to play his viola now.
‘I’m here with the two women I love most in the world and with my brother and my other friends. I can’t tell you what this means to me.’
The stilted language indicated he’d slipped into pol mode. He was going to give us a speech. I wondered if he’d had some kind of mental collapse. Or maybe when all politicians see the end is near they automatically start to declaim.
‘And for all the tribulation we’re experiencing, friendship is what matters most and—’
‘Damn it, Robert. Did you tell these people you’re planning to resign?’
His face showed not anger but pain. There was a hint of tears in his voice now. ‘I was thanking my friends — and I include you in that, Dev — thanking them and—’
But he stopped. Dropped his head. Stood unmoving. Then a sob. And the glass slipped from his hand.
Maddy rushed across the room to him. ‘Oh, Daddy, Daddy.’
We all watched silently as she led him like a child to an empty chair. The way she led her mother — also like a child — upstairs last night. She seated him with grave delicacy, as if he might shatter. Then he did what Elise had done yesterday. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.
I went over and picked up the glass and carried it to the dry bar. Ben still stood there. His grimace told me that he was as scared as I was. Our candidate was coming apart and we needed him to make a live statement in front of reporters.
Ben said, ‘Dev and Jane and I will be in the study, Elise.’
All Elise did was nod; she kept her eyes on the chair with Maddy and Robert.
The study was sunny and smelled of furniture polish. The Persian rugs, the large antique desk with elaborate scrollwork and the walls of books invited an introspective mood, but we had no time for introspection.
Two brown leather armchairs faced a brown leather couch in front of a small brick fireplace. An elderly gray tomcat sat on the mantel watching us with cosmic indifference. Ben and Jane took the couch. I took one of the chairs.
The first thing I had to do was tell them both about the call from Ruskin’s woman.
‘Any sense that this might be some kind of trap, Dev?’
‘It’s crossed my mind. But my receptionist said she sounded desperate.’
‘What if she doesn’t call back?’
‘Then she got scared off and backed out.’
‘Leaving us nowhere.’
‘Sure thing.’
‘Shit.’
‘But I have a feeling she’ll call me.’
‘I sure hope so.’
‘Now I need to tell you about the man from the US Attorney’s office.’
Ben liked the fact that Hawkins had a good track record with the US Attorney’s office and had worked in security for private enterprise as well. Despite being a liberal on most issues, Ben, like me and many others, understood that if you succeeded in business there was a good chance you knew what you were doing.