MaxAllan Collins - Quarry's vote

She sipped her martini.

“But he’s serious about you,” I said.

She nodded. “I know now that he only gave me that job to be close to me.”

“Afraid if you tell him you’re not interested in him you’ll lose your job?”

“That’s not it, exactly. I’m good at what I do. I sell a lot of cars. I could go elsewhere, I really could. I was a good student, you know-or I was till my senior year, when dad died. I got pregnant in junior college, and was already involved with that Born Again bull, and my life sort of got away from me. Then working for Preston Freed I realized I still had brains, that I could go out in the business world and make something of myself, without Bob’s help, screw him if he doesn’t want to help his own kids… well, one of ’em’s his, anyway.”

“Then what’s the big deal with telling Lonny how you feel? You’re not afraid for your job, after all.”

“I know,” she said, rim of the martini glass near her lower lip, “but I like him. He’s been sweet. I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“You afraid of hurting your ex-husband, too?”

“Bob? Why, what do you mean?”

“If he isn’t paying his child support and alimony, throw his butt in jail.”

She shook her head wearily. “It isn’t that simple. Bob… that’s something else that’s been a little rough on me lately. Sorry if I sound like I’m feeling sorry for myself…”

“It’s okay. Bob.”

“Bob,” she said. “You see, he wants me back. He says he’s not going to run around anymore. Learned his lesson and all that garbage. He apologized for that time he didn’t buy what I said about, you know, Freed getting ‘friendly.’ He… he wants his family back.”

“Do you want him back?”

“No. I loved him once, but he’s too smothering. He’d never let me work; this house was my world. And since the split I found out I like to work. Anyway, he’s been coming around a lot… it’s hard, it really is. See, he’s holding back on what he’s supposed to pay, knowing that for me to do anything about it I have to take him to court.”

“Have you done that?”

“Yes. I saw an attorney six months ago. And faced with that, Bob paid up, four months worth. Now he’s pulled the same thing-three months behind. I’ll have to go through the same damn rigmarole.”

“Unless you take him back.”

“Unless I take him back.”

“Which is in the no-way-in-hell category, I’d guess.”

“Sure is. Even though he’s trying to work on me through the girls.”

She stopped, something catching in her throat; she had tears in her eyes. She finished the martini and got up and got herself another one. I sat up and poked at the fire while she did that.

Then she settled herself on the cushion again, on her stomach, ankles crossed behind her, white dress hiked up, and said, “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“I’m interested in you.”

“Why?”

“You got a nice smile.”

“Is that all?”

“You got nice just about everything.”

She gave me a kiss; even the alcohol on her breath didn’t take anything away from it. Slow, kind of wet, very sweet. I liked it.

“You don’t know me,” I warned her, wondering why I was warning her.

“I don’t want to know anybody right now,” she said, smiled and sipped her martini. “Just want some company. Okay? Just be company.”

“Fine.”

We listened to the fire crackle.

Then I said, “Somehow I can’t picture you getting caught up with this Freed character.”

“Then you’ve never heard him speak. He’s something. Those eyes really hold you. Charmed the pants off many a girl.”

“You said as much earlier. He really fools around with a lot of those pretty young things on his staff?”

“He sure does. I was almost one of ’em, remember? But you know what I heard?”

“What did you hear?”

Giggled, sipped her martini. “I heard the damnedest rumor. Thing of it is, I think I believe it.”

“Which is?”

“Well, you know he has this TV ‘news’ show, told you about. In fact, I used to be sort of involved with it-if you call carting-the-tape-every-Monday-night-to-the-little-cable- outfit-that-does-his-uplinks being involved. He has a small but pretty elaborate studio at his house. Actually it’s more than a house, it’s kind of a mansion. Anyway, he tapes his weekly show right there.”

“Yeah. So?”

“They say that’s not all he tapes there. They say he’s got a video-tape library, of all his ‘conquests.’”

“You mean, his sexual conquests?”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s this mirror over his bed, they say, and there’s a camera behind it. He tapes himself doing it with these girls.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I heard it on good authority. From a girl who found out and was pissed off, man, really pissed.”

“So he doesn’t tell them, then?”

“Hell, no! He just takes ’em into his bedroom and has his way with ’em and watches the replays to his heart’s content.”

There was a mirror over Freed’s bed. And the bedroom had been well lit. And the candidate was a narcissistic son-of-a-bitch. It made a perverse sort of sense.

“And none of these girls knew, at the time at least, they were on camera. Can you imagine?”

If the Democrat Action party’s presidential candidate had been taping tonight, I’d been on camera, too. Stunning the stunning behind of Freed’s latest conquest. I didn’t like the thought of that. Leaving my image on tape, no, that I couldn’t allow. I’d have to check this out.

“Angela, what’s the deal with Best and Freed? Why did Best drop out of the party? Did he get fed up with Freed’s excesses-political and/or sexual?”

“Hey, this home porno-movie deal isn’t well known, not at all. I don’t think Lonny or anybody knows. I shouldn’t have told you. If I wasn’t who-knows-how-many- sheets-to-the-wind, I wouldn’t’ve.”

“So it was a political rift, then?”

“What?”

“That split up Best and Freed.”

“I don’t think so. Frankly, I think Lonny still believes in what Freed stands for. But as a businessman, visible in the community, Lonny doesn’t want to be associated with somebody controversial like Freed.”

“Well, is Lonny active with any other political group?”

“He’s a Republican. He gives ’em some money.”

“But he’s never been really active in politics since splitting with Freed.”

“No. Not nearly. Why are you so interested in this?”

I’d gone too far with my questions. Time for a strategy shift.

I leaned close to her. “Well, frankly… can you keep a secret?”

She grinned, very crinkly. “Judging by the way I’ve been spilling things tonight, no. But I’m willing to try to learn.”

“Good. I’m not really in the auto parts business. I’m in security work.”

“You mean you’re a detective?”

“No. Security. I was approached by Preston Freed to help him train and prepare his security team for the upcoming primary campaign.”

That perked her up. “Oh, yeah?”

“I haven’t taken the job yet. I knew Freed was something of a nut, and I didn’t know if I wanted to get involved with him, professionally speaking. So I needed to check him and some of his friends out.”

“Is that why you hit on me?”

There was no expression in her face. Her eyes, deep blue, were unreadable as they fixed upon me.

“Yes,” I said.

She smiled sadly, looked into her martini.

“That,” I said, “and your smile, and I wasn’t lying about liking you.”

“You came to the car lot looking for me, then?”

“No! That was a coincidence.”

“A coincidence?”