Will stared at the message, and a flood of memories came back. He remembered defending her boyfriend, one Larry Eugene Moody, against charges of rape and murder in a trial that fell in the middle of his first campaign for the Senate; he remembered losing the trial; and, most of all, he remembered a hot summer’s afternoon spent, naked, with the beautiful Charlene in the little lake beside his cottage and in his bed. He and Kate had not yet been married, or even engaged, and they had been estranged at the moment when Charlene turned up at the cottage. He remembered the flurry that the brief affair had caused in his campaign, and how it had probably worked out to his benefit in the election. But most of all, he remembered Charlene, naked, uninhibited, and imaginative. He felt a married man’s guilt for the stirring that came with the memory.
After a moment’s thought, he dialed the number.
“Hello?” she said after the fourth ring. Her voice was sleepy, husky.
“Charlene? It’s Will Lee.”
“Will? How are you?” She was suddenly wide-awake.
“I’m very well. I’m sorry to call so early; I forgot about the time difference between here and L.A.”
“It’s all right; I’ve got a ten o’clock call today; I’d have to get up anyway.”
“I saw one of your movies on TV not long ago — the one about the singer.”
“Country Blues? Oh, yeah; I got a nomination for that.”
“I thought you were terrific; I’m glad about the way your career has worked out.”
“Thank you, Will; that’s nice to hear.”
“You’re living in L.A. all the time, then?”
“In Malibu; that’s where I am now. Keep the number, so if you’re out here, maybe we can get together.”
Will didn’t want to reply to that. “What are you doing next?”
“I’ve just signed to do a film with Vance Calder next summer,” she said.
“Movie stars don’t get any bigger than that,” he said.
“It’s a wonderful script; my agent thinks it’s going to do a lot for me. I’ll be doing an English accent, if you can believe that.”
“I think you can do anything you want to.” He stopped talking; it was time to find out why she had called.
“Ah, Will,” she said, somewhat hesitantly, “the reason I called is about Larry Moody.”
The mention of the name soured Will’s stomach. “What about him?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m going to finance an appeal for Larry; I’d hoped you might represent him again.”
Will resisted the temptation to respond with anger. “Charlene, I’ve been in the Senate for nine years now; I don’t try cases anymore, and I was never an appeals lawyer.”
“I just thought that since you originally represented him, you might consider it.”
“The only conceivable grounds for appeal I can think of is that he was inadequately represented by his lawyer, and you can hardly expect me to argue that before an appeals court.”
“Oh, well, I just wish you would represent him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Can you recommend somebody?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m so outside the loop on appeals of criminal cases that I couldn’t even do that. Do you have an L.A. attorney?”
“Yes, but he’s an entertainment lawyer.”
“He’ll have some networking connection with a good appeals man. Talk to him and get him to research it for you.”
“All right, I’ll do that.”
“Charlene, hasn’t Larry already been through the appeals process?”
“Yes, but he wants to try again. He’s looking at the electric chair, you know, and sooner rather than later.”
“I know.” He was silent again.
“Well, I won’t keep you, Will. I really would love to see you, though; it’s lovely out here in Malibu, the beach and all.” She paused. “We’d be discreet, of course,” she breathed.
“Thanks, Charlene, but I rarely get to L.A. I’ll look forward to the new film with Vance Calder, though. What’s the title?”
“It’s called Spin; it’s a political thriller.”
“I can’t wait. You take care of yourself, now.”
“You too, Will. And I hope you’ll call.”
“Bye.” He hung up, and he was sweating a little. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up. “Yes?”
“Tom Black is on the line for you,” Betty, the office manager said. “Will you speak to him?”
“Yes,” Will said, but he paused a moment before pushing the button. Tom Black was the political consultant who had run both of Will’s Senate campaigns. When he was ready to announce for the presidency, Tom would be the first person he would call, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He wondered why Tom would be calling at this time, when they hadn’t spoken for months. He pressed the button. “Tom?”
“Will, how are you?”
“I’m extremely well; and you?”
“Just great. And Kate?”
“She’s wonderful; what are you up to?”
“Oh, I’m just getting some ducks in a row for next year,” Tom said. “I’m afraid Joe Adams’s candidacy has squelched a lot of others. Nobody wants to oppose him for the nomination, and that’s not good for my business.”
“You’ll stay busy, Tom; I’m sure you’ve already got half a dozen congressional and Senate candidates lined up.” Black’s business was big now.
“Oh, we’ll be well represented next fall, I guess. I wish you were running.”
“One of these days,” Will replied. He was on thin ice here, and he wanted to head off any direct questions from Tom.
“Will,” Tom said, “I’m trying to set my house in order for 2000, and I want to ask you a question.”
Will winced. How could he head this off? “As long as you don’t expect an honest answer,” he said. Would Tom get that?
He got it. “Let’s make this a purely hypothetical question,” he said.
“Okay, hypothetical is all right, I suppose.”
“Okay, here it is: Will, if Joe Adams, for some hypothetical reason, decided to pull out of the race, would you, hypothetically, consider a run?”
Will phrased his answer as slowly and carefully as he could. “Well, hypothetically speaking, if Joe were, hypothetically, out of it, I might consider a purely hypothetical run. You understand, don’t you, Tom, that right now, my first obligation is to Joe, and that I would never oppose him? That, apart from my friendship with Joe, I would be cutting my own throat in the party if I opposed him?”
“I understand that completely, Will, and I agree with you. You certainly should not oppose Joe.”
“I’m glad you grasp that, Tom.”
“One more question, then I’ll let you off the hook.”
“A hypothetical question?”
“Absolutely.”
“Shoot.”
“If you should make this hypothetical run, would you want me in on it?”
“Hypothetically? You bet your ass, I would.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Who else would put up with me?”
Tom laughed. He seemed about to say something, then stopped.
“You have a great holiday, Tom,” Will said.
“Sure, Will; you too. We’ll talk again after New Year’s?”
“I’m sure we will, Tom. Good-bye.” He hung up.
Tom Black knew something, Will was sure of that. But what did he know? And who else knew?