A reporter. Not a murderer.
So-a new house. Somewhere more secure. That would keep Katie busy for a while.
Oh yeah, murderer, right. Where were we on that one? I still had my list. Nathan Kern, too pious. Eric, too ingenuous. Katie, too unimaginative, or at least too mechanically challenged. Fred, too.. . actually, Fred seemed pretty likely.
It was just the list of people I knew, not the list of business rivals and politicians and mobsters the police would have come up with. But if it was someone I didn’t know, I wouldn’t care. Hopefully it would turn out to be a hit man that Governor Bright had hired- not that the police would ever press that charge.
The traffic moved a hundred yards and stopped.
I needed a break. I’d go somewhere for the weekend.
Katie had suggested Europe, but I wouldn’t do that without her, and I wanted to be alone. Then I remembered the townhouse in Washington.
The cars were moving again, and I stuffed the whole murder suitcase into the trunk. I’d get to it later. I had more important things to work out at the moment.
“I have a job for you,” I said to Katie over chicken Marsala. It’s one of Rosita’s best meals.
“What?” Her eyes sparkled. I don’t know how she makes them do that.
“Buy us a new house.”
“A what?” I was glad I could still surprise her.
“You’re right. We need to move.” I didn’t want to make it sound scary. “I want someplace less accessible.”
What she heard was, somewhere exclusive. Which was what I wanted her to hear.
But then she frowned. “By myself?”
“I’m getting real busy.”
“But, Jason… I wanted to look together, with you. It’ll be for both of us.”
“Francine can help.”
“Mother’s leaving for Florida in two weeks.”
“I bet it won’t take that long. When you get it narrowed down, I’ll go.”
That was okay. She smiled. “What should I look for?”
“I don’t think I want it as huge as Angela’s place, or as far from town.”
“All right. How soon would we move?”
“Right away,” I said. This was her dream come true-even if she’d be flying solo. I didn’t want her to faint, so I gave her a few more seconds to recover her equilibrium. Then I said, “And it really doesn’t matter how much it costs.”
10
Thursday dawned bright and clear and I saw it happen. When I got back to the house, huffing and puffing, Katie was up and dressed for lots of walking.
“It’s too late to change your mind,” she said.
“I won’t. Who was the lady we used to get this house?”
“Harriet Postagini. I’m meeting her at noon.”
Noon? “Why wait that long?”
“I told Eric I’d take him shopping this morning.”
“Right. Be real sweet to him. And like I said, we’re paying.”
I was in a better mood that morning. I sat in my office for twenty minutes just being calm. Then it was time for not being calm.
“I’m not happy about this.” It was true: Fred’s voice in the phone was very unhappy.
“I agree,” I said. “But it’s not my fault. Bright started it. Do you have a suggestion for the best way to poke him, or should I think of something?”
“There is no best way.”
“Okay. Is there some way that’s less terrible?”
“Remember, I’m not advising that you follow this plan.”
“I understand.”
“You should be indirect to keep them confused, and to keep your own options open. Don’t talk to Grainger or Bright directly in any way that they can ask you questions, unless you’re willing to deal.”
“I’m not.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not, yet.”
“That’s slightly better. Talk to Stanley Morton. Don’t tell him any more than you need to, but get him to set a reporter on Clinton Grainger. Grainger needs to be asked if he’s worried that Jason Boyer might uncover anything questionable about Melvin Boyer’s dealings with the governor. You understand what I mean.”
“Yes. They shouldn’t ask the governor directly?”
“By asking Grainger, you will be indicating that this is a warning, not yet an actual attack. And who knows what the governor might answer. Also, go through your father’s papers, quickly. You’ll need to be ready for the governor’s response.”
“I’m getting them from his office this afternoon.”
“Good. You should get them into a more secure place, as well.”
“I’m planning to.”
We said our good-byes, and I noticed the time. It had been exactly one week ago that Fred had read us Melvin’s will, and the world had turned upside down.
I took Stan Morton to lunch. Not too direct, not too elusive.
“I’ve got an issue with Governor Bright.”
We were high above the ground, in a very expensive French restaurant, at a table in the corner of two long windowed walls. Stan leaned forward, the better to hear my newsworthy words.
“Oh, do you?”
“I’m not sure the dealings between him and my companies have always been completely legitimate.”
Stan blinked, once, then swallowed. “Of course they haven’t been.” I was really getting to like him.
“I wouldn’t have known. I was never involved.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you’re surprised?”
“Shocked. It’s amazing how innocent I’ve been.”
“I see.” He leaned back. “So what’s your issue with the governor?”
“What I just said, that I’m worried about what might happen to my businesses if anything became public. And I’d be especially worried for him. It might hurt me, but it could really hurt him.”
“Is he worried?”
“I don’t know. I think you should have someone ask him. Or it would be even better to ask Clinton Grainger. Maybe this afternoon, if you could manage it. I could write out the questions for you.”
“My reporters know how to ask their own questions.”
“Sure. It could be something like, ‘Are you worried that Jason Boyer might go public with details of Melvin Boyer’s deals with Governor Bright? The governor would have much more to lose than the Boyers.”’
“I understand. So what’s your real issue with the governor?”
“No comment.”
He smiled. “If you’re trying to send a message, we’ve got a classified section.”
“I’m not sure the governor reads the classifieds. I could call him, but politicians always pay extra attention to reporters.”
“Yeah, I get it. I should charge you for a full page ad.”
“No problem. What does that cost?”
“In this case…” He paused. “I’ll put it on your account and bill you later.”
“Then I want account credit for all the extra newspapers you sell,” I said.
I was again shown into Angela’s parlor. Without Katie, the greeting was much more formal, but I was as respectful as I could be.
“I need to go through Melvin’s office,” I said.
She nodded. “I understand. Will you take anything?”
“Yes. All his papers.”
“I suppose they really are yours,” she said. We were back to the way we’d always been-uncomfortable and softly hostile.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s no matter.”
I could see her getting colder by the moment.
“Is the man you mentioned, Emmanuel, still here?”
“No. He hasn’t been back since the accident.”
I was in the office for two hours, packing and searching. Melvin had never chosen to own a computer, so I didn’t have to deal with that. I wasn’t reading everything, just organizing it in my boxes, but I could already tell the future was dim for Harry Bright.
I took only the state government file; I left the files on the foundation. That would be another day’s job. And I was getting the creeps, too. The room was so much his, I felt like he’d walk in. Then I’d sure be in trouble. But after the last few days, I was mad enough to stand up to him.
I carried the boxes out to my car and looked in to Angela’s parlor to say good-bye, but she was not there. I didn’t look for her. It was only as I was accelerating down the driveway that I saw a brief flash of pink and platinum in a second-floor window.