“And you could’ve told me the answer. Yes! He probably was! Just like me! Instead, you left me to rot!”
“How dare you say that? I’ve been by your side since the moment this thing started!”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about what happened with Inez?”
“Because I didn’t want you to know!” she yells, her voice booming through the office. “There! Is that what you want? I was mortified when it happened-sick to my stomach. Then, as if the act alone weren’t bad enough, Caroline took my worst moment and humiliated me with it. You of all people should understand-dirty laundry’s better kept in the closet.”
“It still doesn’t-”
“That’s the only thing I hid from you, Michael. My own personal black eye. Everything else, I told the truth. And if you didn’t guess blackmail on your own, I would’ve pushed you there myself.”
“You still sicced Inez on me.”
“You don’t believe that for a second.”
She’s right. I was bluffing to see her reaction. Near as I can tell, she passes. “So you’ve never spoken to Inez about this?”
“She called me the day after it happened. I told her even less than I told the FBI. Trust me, if I wanted to screw you over, I would’ve done the easiest thing of all.”
“And what’s that?”
She looks me dead in the eye. “I would’ve told them about you. And the money. And Nora. I could’ve made at least twenty grand on that one.” There it is. Guerrilla honesty. If it weren’t so disconcerting, I’d probably laugh.
“So you never knew it was Caroline demanding the money?” I ask again.
“I don’t think anyone did. Walk through it-why else would Simon drop that money in the woods? If he knew it was Caroline, he could’ve paid her face-to-face.”
It’s not a bad theory. “Maybe that’s why he killed her. When he went to tell her his bullshit side of the story, she made some snide comment and he realized she was Miss Moneypenny.”
“But to kill her for that? No offense, but, so what? She knows he’s gay. Who cares?”
“Certainly not Simon. If he did, he never would’ve shown up undisguised at a gay bar. Which is why I think it’s more than just the gay part-don’t forget, Simon’s got a wife and three kids. Whatever you think, that’s still a life-wrecker.”
We both sit in silence, nodding in agreement. Eventually, Pam says, “I still think Caroline knew something about Nora.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She pauses a second. “And if she weren’t dead, I bet she would’ve blackmailed you. That’s why she had your file.”
“We’ll never know,” I say, glad to change the subject. “That’s her secret.”
“Speaking of secrets, what about mine?” Pam asks, leaping at her own segue. “You plan on turning me in?”
“You’re the new Queen of Ethics. You plan on ratting out my dad?”
We look at each other for a long moment and then dip our heads in an awkwardly relieved bow.
“Can I ask you one last question,” I add as she turns to leave. “What ever happened with Vaughn’s FBI file? You said you were going to get it for us.”
“I thought you got it from Lamb.”
“I did. I just want to know why I didn’t get it from you.”
Just like that, her smile’s gone. Her eyebrows tighten and her mouth sags open in pain. No, not pain. Sadness. Disappointment. “You still think I… After all we just… ” Her voice once again trails off.
“What? What’d I say?”
She’s done giving me answers. Rushing toward the main door of the office, she covers her mouth with her hand and fights back tears. “I tried my best, Michael.”
I’m about to follow when I’m interrupted by the ringing of my phone. The ring echoes simultaneously from my office and out here in the anteroom. I check out the caller ID. Outside Call. A few feet away, Pam grabs the door and pulls it open. In a second, she’ll be gone. It’s a hard one, but I make my choice.
“This is Michael,” I say as I pick up the phone.
As Pam leaves, the door slams with a thunderclap. I shut my eyes tight to avoid the noise.
“Ready to put on the fear face?” an excited voice asks on the other line.
I recognize it instantly. Vaughn. “Are you crazy?” I shout. “They could be-”
“Takes ’em eighty seconds ta trace a phone call. They’re not gonna find nothin’.”
“This better be good.”
“Would I be botherin’ you if it weren’t?”
I ignore the question. “Twenty seconds.”
He gets right into it. “So I started askin’ my boys ’bout your li’l lady friend-y’know, with the powerful daddy?”
“I got it,” I snap.
“Found a couple people who know her. Seems that she’s still got a little bit of an ear, nose, and throat problem-emphasis on the nose. And when it comes to Special K? She’s buyin’ like it’s double coupon days-buddy of my buddy Pryce says that’s their favorite.”
“Their? Who’s they?”
“See, that’s where the shoe pinches,” he says as his voice gets serious. “She’s too smart to buy her candy herself, so she sends her boyfriend out for it.”
“Her boyfriend?”
“That’s why I wanted to call. I’m thinkin’ you got a little suckered that night in the bar. Accordin’ to my best source out here-and he swears on his cousin’s life it’s the truth… ”
“Tell me who it is,” I demand.
He throws it right at my gut. “No easy way to say it, Michael. She’s sleeping with the old man. Your favorite boss.”
Simon. I don’t… He can’t… The wind’s knocked out of me so fast, I almost drop the phone. My arm goes numb and slides down the side of my chest. It can’t be.
“I know,” Vaughn says. “Makes you want to reach for the Charmin, don’t it?” Before I can answer, he adds, “My boy said when they first met him, he thought he was all sly-like we don’t watch CNN or nothin’. Anyway, they staked him out-worried he was bein’ followed. When the deal’s done, he goes back to his car-and one of my boys who’s lurkin’-he swears he sees Nora hidin’ in the front seat. Big kiss on the lips when Sugar Daddy comes home-she was all over him. And when they climb in the back-Action Jackson, baby. He does her right there-up against the side window. My boy says she’s wild too. Likes to take it in the-”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but if she’s tuggin’ your ya-ya, you gotta know where she’s goin’ with it. Which means we better make some time to get together.”
“What about Si-”
“Ten seconds,” he interrupts. “Write this down. A week from Friday. Seven at night. Woodley Park Marriott-Warren Room. Ya got it?”
“Yeah, I-”
“Five seconds. Plenty to spare.”
“But we-”
“See you next Friday, Mikey. It’ll be worth it.” With a click, he’s gone.
Alone in the anteroom, I’m pounded by silence. It doesn’t make any sense. If she… she can’t. There’s no way. With a tight fist, I tap my knuckles against the desk. It can’t be. I hit a little harder. And harder. And harder. I hammer the desk until my knuckles are raw. The middle one’s starting to bleed. Just like Nora’s nose.
Searching for answers, I reread the note I jotted for myself. A week from Friday. Seven P.M. Woodley Park Marriott. Warren Room. I still can’t shake the nausea that’s choking me, but I remember what he told me right before we split up in the movie theater. Always subtract seven. Seven days, seven hours. In the blink of an eye, seven P.M. becomes twelve noon. A week from Friday becomes this Friday. Tomorrow. Noon tomorrow at the Woodley Park Marriott.