“You don’t like,” Richard completed her sentence. “Jimmy asked me to question you. This was not my idea. He helped make up the list of questions.”
If he had hoped to mollify her, he hadn’t succeeded.
“Look, Mr. Urbano,” Aggie flared.
“Calm down,” Richard interrupted.
“I’m about this close,” she continued as she stood and pinched her thumb and index finger together, “to calling off the whole contract.”
Suddenly the path cleared in front of Richard. He played his hunch.
“I’ll tell you what the problem is, Aggie,” he had decided to tell her the straight truth. “Jimmy said you were a different person last night. He was attracted to you at lunch. He thought you were in his words, ‘hot’. Then last night he thought you were, again in his words, ‘cool’. So what’s going on, are you two people, or did something happen between three and six o’clock last night?”
Aggie sat back abruptly in her chair. She sagged down, deflating like a spent balloon.
“Tell me what’s going on, Aggie.” Richard tried to make his voice as friendly and persuasive as he could.
“I can’t,” she defied him.
“Why not?” He stood and leaned both fist on the desk; time for the tough cop.
“I can’t tell you,” Aggie repeated.
“Do you want to call off the contract?” Richard asked, his voice harsh.
“No.” Aggie’s eyes were moist though no tears escaped. “Look, Mr. Urbano. Something did happen yesterday, but I can’t tell you what. I’m ready to see Jimmy tonight. We’ll do whatever he wants.”
“He doesn’t want to see you,” Richard began. A tear spilled out of Aggie’s eye. He remembered that this woman was Jimmy’s inexplicable choice. His voice softened. “He said you bewitched him at lunch yesterday.”
Richard was rewarded with a small smile that tugged up the corner of Aggie’s mouth.
“You don’t like me, do you?” Aggie asked.
“Actually,” Richard admitted, “I do. But you’re lying about something. Jimmy wants me to ask you these questions, to be sure you really are who you say, that you’re on the level.”
“Does he want to end the contract?” Aggie asked.
“No,” Richard smiled. “I think he wants the lunch time Aggie back.”
“I’m here.”
“Then can I ask you these questions?”
“Go ahead.”
Women, any women, but most particularly this woman, baffled Richard. He was troubled by the diminished Aggie that sat across the desk from him. He agreed with Jimmy; he liked her better fiery and arguing. Still, Jimmy would see the transformation on the videotape. Maybe it would help him understand her. He asked the rest of his questions about Cincinnati and Aggie answered in a monotone. She didn’t know everything about the city, but that would have been suspicious too. She admitted readily to the information she didn’t know, like any honest person.
Richard started in then on the details of running a library. Jimmy had suggested that he talk to someone at the Vancouver Public Library, and he had.
“The primary system used in Canada isn’t the same as the main one used in the United States,” Aggie offered after the first question. “I studied the Canadian system briefly in a college course once, but I don’t remember much.”
The fact that she had recognized his ignorance of the national differences from his first question impressed Richard. More and more, he was convinced she was telling the truth, at least about her identity. She was from Cincinnati and she was a librarian. Maybe her personal life held a clue to the mystery of her identity.
“Where did you grow up, Aggie?”
She seemed startled and possibly upset by the question. Could she have had a difficult childhood? Was that the source of her seeming dual personalities?
“In Auburn, Alabama.”
The answer came reluctantly.
“I’ve never been to Alabama,” Richard offered, trying to warm her up. “Tell me about it.”
“Auburn is pretty. It’s a university town.”
“Auburn University,” Richard nodded. “A good school.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Everyone thought I was crazy to move to Cincinnati.”
“Why did you?”
Aggie’s hesitation was visible. Was there a rape or a teenage pregnancy in her past?
“I wanted to get away,” she admitted.
“From what?” Richard probed.
“From my father.” The admission came from between tight lips. “He drinks.”
Richard blanched. Her words bound him in instant sympathy. He carried his own alcohol-induced wounds. Still, this was information that might help Jimmy.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized inadequately. He turned to a more neutral topic. “What made you decide to become a librarian?”
“I love books,” Aggie answered simply. Richard nodded and she continued. “I love the feel of them and the smell of them and the look of them. Most of all, I love the contents. The written word is the best guarantee of freedom, Mr. Urbano.”
Passion shone is Aggie’s voice and the lawyer felt her bewitching spell.
“Richard,” he reminded her absently.
“Ever since I was a child,” she continued, “I’ve loved books more than anything. My mother used to laugh when I made my Christmas list because all that was on it were book titles.”
“Do your parents still live in Auburn?”
“My mother died.” Aggie’s face stilled.
“Jimmy has a lot of books,” Richard commented, hoping to return her to her precious enthusiasm. His comment worked.
“I know,” Aggie’s eyes lit up. “His library is wonderful. He has a great book on Modigliani.”
“You like art?” Richard’s interest piqued. Where Jimmy was a book lover, his own taste ran to paintings.
“Of course, who doesn’t?”
The commonplace answer didn’t convey boundless enthusiasm. Like Jimmy, Aggie obviously preferred books.
“I’d like to see Jimmy now,” Aggie interrupted his thoughts politely.
“He doesn’t want to see you tonight.” Richard spread his hands apologetically. He didn’t understand what Jimmy’s problem was. Richard didn’t feel bewitched. He was sure Aggie was on the level. He would try to persuade Jimmy to proceed with the contract. Despite all the odds to the contrary, he sensed that Aggie and Jimmy were a good match. Then Aggie blew up.
She stood up calmly enough, then she smashed her fist down on the desktop.
“You can tell your fucking Mr. Jimmy Buko just where he can put his fucking cock!”
Her angry voice bellowed rather than screamed and was more effective for its low timbre. Richard’s mind flashed to Jimmy. He had heard him rant similarly, though without the profanity, only that morning. He smiled. His expression must have annoyed Aggie.
“What are you smirking at, you pimping whoreson lawyer?”
“Whoreson?” Richard echoed, puzzled.
“It’s Elizabethan,” Aggie stated calmly, then began to giggle. “Sorry.”
Her giggles threatened to become hysteria.
“The Elizabethans knew how to swear,” she gasped.
Richard handed her a tissue.
“Thanks.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m sorry I blew up. I have a hot temper.”
Richard puffed out a breath and shook his fingers in the familiar gesture. “Whew!”
“Yeah,” Aggie admitted. “Don’t tell Jimmy, okay?”
Richard considered admitting to the videotape, then decided that discretion was the better route. Let Jimmy deal with the hot temper, not him.
“I’ll call you a cab,” Richard offered.
“He really doesn’t want to see me tonight?” Aggie asked. “After I got all dressed up?”
Richard shook his head. His instructions had been explicit. Ask her the questions and put her in a cab. And arrange for a tail. Minutes after he escorted Aggie down the elevator and into the waiting cab, he was upstairs at the entrance to Jimmy’s private suite. The two men watched the beginning of the videotape in silence. The camera picked up their entrance into the office and Richard helping Aggie out of her coat. When he saw her outfit, Jimmy groaned.