"Oh, yes. Losing the election is only a formality. We weren't positive when we took you on, and we never put the lid on until we are positive. Fortunately for you, and a lot of others."
I said, "Well-"
"We're the largest of all the departments; we have the most jobs. That enables us-the top handful-to perpetuate ourselves. If we see a likely looking candidate we may start handing him patronage, even though the election is a year off. When we see a man on the downgrade we shake him. We kick his jobholders out. We lick him with his own people, and let the new man in. We've shaken Burkman."
"And you're… kicking his people out?"
"We've kicked them out. All except you. I thought we might make a trade with you."
"What kind of a trade?" I said.
"A job for some information."
"I don't have any information you could use."
"I'm probably a better judge of that than you are. We're curious. We think there may be straws in the wind that we can't see. Doc's taken a lot of trouble with you. He's pretty good at playing both ends against the middle, himself. What's the answer?"
I shook my head; I hardly knew her. This was going too far too fast.
"I don't know the answer," I said. "And I couldn't tell you if I did. Doc took me out of Sandstone."
"And he could send you back?"
"Yes. But I don't need threats to keep me from double-crossing my friends."
She nodded, smiling a little, as if she'd expected me to say that.
"I think a stretch in the penitentiary might do a lot of my acquaintances some good, Pat. Well, you can have the job, anyway. Another drink?"
"No, thanks," I said. "And perhaps you'd better not let me keep the job."
"Nonsense," she said. "You're being melodramatic; if you can pick up any valuable information around there, I'll split the proceeds with you. No. The only way you'll be able to help Doc is to give him part of your salary."
"I'll be glad to do that," I said.
"You're planning to stay with us, then. I wondered. You see, we watch car transfers very closely. I thought you might be going away."
"No, ma'am," I said. "It's an old car. I just bought it to knock around in."
"Oh? I understood that you were keeping the state car after hours."
"I am," I said. "What I'll probably do is fix up the one I bought in my spare time, and resell it."
"I see."
"I couldn't leave, Miss Kennedy. I'd be breaking my parole."
"So I understood," she said. "I wondered if you did. You'd have a great deal to lose by leaving, Pat. What would you gain?"
"Nothing. I'm not leaving."
She smiled, shaking her gray head slightly.
"Have you read a book called Sappho, Pat?"
"No-yes. Alphonse Daudet, wasn't it?"
"The hero had strong obligations too, if you remember. A career, a proud family. And all he had to gain was a harlot. An unusually lovely harlot-but aren't they all when a man falls in love with them?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"I'm talking about Mrs. Luther."
I said, "Oh," and I think I sighed inwardly with relief.
"It would be very easy for you to be in love with her. I wouldn't blame you at all."
"But I'm not." She couldn't have heard anything. If there was that much talk, if it had already got to her…
"What would you do if I called you a liar?"
"Well," I smiled. "From you, I'd take it."
"Consider it said, then. You're the worst possible kind of liar."
"All right," I said.
"If I were you I'd do a great deal of thinking. Doc has never made any impression upon me except in a slippery sort of way, but he's gone through a lot for that wife of his and he won't give her up easily. There's a blind spot in every man; there's something he'd kill for. Leave Mrs. Luther alone. Don't have anything to do with her, and don't let her have anything to do with you."
"Maybe-" I hesitated, "maybe I don't see what you're driving at, Miss Kennedy. Mrs. Luther is inclined a little to make up to a man, whether the man is interested or not-"
"That isn't what I mean."
"Well-"
"Will you have another drink? I'm going to have to start dressing in about five minutes."
"No, thank you." I got up. "I appreciate your talking to me, Miss Kennedy," I said. "But you seem to have heard something that just isn't true. Someone's been misrepresenting me to you," I said.
"No one misrepresents anything to me."
"Well, I don't blame you for not wanting to stick your neck out. But if there's talk going around-"
"Goodnight, Pat. This conversation was strictly between us. You don't need to worry about that."
"What do I need to worry about?"
"Goodnight."
She smiled, but she sounded angry; or, rather, disgusted. It was almost as if she said, "Good God!"
I rode back downstairs and jumped in the car, slamming the door after me. It was late, now, and the rain made the night darker. I didn't know he was there until he spoke-until a match flared and raised up to a face beneath a slouch-brimmed hat.
19
I recognized him just in time to keep from swinging. Or rather to stop the swing I'd started.
"That," I said, settling back on the seat, "is a good way of getting killed, Mr. Eggleston."
"There is no good way of getting killed, Mr. Cosgrove. I see your point, though. I didn't realize I was quite so invisible."
"How did you find me?"
"Find you? You mean you're trying to avoid discovery?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yes. Well, it wasn't a task that strained my professional capabilities. Whoever got your parole would have strong political connections. Those connections would almost certainly be used in getting you a job. A few hours of observation, a few discreet inquiries-and here I am."
"You followed me from the capitol."
"So. I thought it would be better, say, than calling you at Dr. Luther's."
I turned the switch key, and stepped on the starter. His cigarette arced down to the floor, and I heard his heel grind it out. I heard something else, too.
"Going some place, Mr. Cosgrove?"
"I thought I'd drive some place where we could talk," I said.
"We can talk very well here. But drive on, if you like. I only hope you will do nothing that will make it necessary for me to shoot you."
"Hell," I laughed, and I shut off the motor. "Why would I do anything like that?"
"Because you might feel I was dangerous to you, whereas I'm actually your buckler and your shield. I have much more to sell you than silence. Something even more golden, from any standpoint."
"Let's hear it," I said.
"A question or two, first. And please, for your own sake, be very accurate with your answers. Number one: What prompted Dr. Luther to get your parole? Did you talk with him while he was visiting Sandstone, or-"