Her forehead furrowed as if she were organizing a summary. “Frank was a good Catholic boy. We were classmates in law school. He was very smart and very serious. I thought we would do well together. But when we got married, he reverted to type. I was going to stay home and have children.” Her tone turned dry around the edges. “He told me that I could ‘use my education in the home.’ I guess he thought that I was going to sit around with beet stains on my blouse and pablum in my hair, lecturing infants on Constitutional law. I told him that idea had gone out with hula hoops. And that’s where it started.”
“I take it you never got around to mothering Frank, Jr.?”
She shook her head. “I never even got around to mothering Frank.”
“Where did it finish?”
“When we started to hassle, everything else seemed to go bad. I couldn’t talk to him about my career, so I stopped talking to him about a lot of things. I developed a very rich interior life,” her voice was ironic, “which didn’t include Frank. And every time he wanted me, I could hear imaginary children scampering under the bed.” She paused. “You know that you’re a sort of voyeur, only the listening kind. Is that why you like your job?”
“Who said I like my job?”
“You did. By hassling with me about it.”
We ordered a second round and looked out at the fading light. I turned back to Mary. “Let’s put it this way. I like some parts of my job.”
She shot me an amused look. “You and McGuire seem to have a nice relationship.”
“Yes, it’s very warm. He thinks of me as the son he never had.” I saw my chance. “Which reminds me. I was talking to Joe this afternoon about sending out a subpoena for Lasko Devices’ financial records. I thought it should be cleared by Chairman Woods first.” More like revived. I didn’t bother to mention that McGuire would sooner have me keelhauled than send the subpoena.
“Why don’t you talk with him about it tomorrow?”
It was a subject I’d hoped to avoid. “I can’t. I’ll be in Boston tomorrow.”
“On this case?”
I tried to throw my brain into overdrive. “Yes, I’m meeting a lawyer there tomorrow who says he has information about the case. A man named Gubner.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice suddenly cooled.
“I just did. Gubner only called today. I don’t know what he knows, but I’ll tell you when I do.” Maybe.
“Where are you going to meet him?”
“Our Boston office seems like the logical place.” I decided to keep the conversation moving. “I’m really a little mystified by the whole thing.”
“Why do you want to subpoena Lasko’s books?”
“It’s a hunch, really. I think we should clear up all these areas at once and move on, if there’s nothing there.”
She nodded. “I’ll talk to Jack Woods in the morning.”
We finished the drinks and left for dinner. On the way to the car, I felt a light touch on my elbow-Mary’s fingertips. She turned to me as we got into the car.
“You’ve asked me about Frank. Were you ever married?”
“No.” It was true, as far as it went.
“Ever close?”
“I suppose everyone’s been close.”
“Do you conceal your height and weight, too?”
I smiled. “I should just send you my resume. Actually, the Army told me that I’m about six feet, one- seventy.” I pulled the car out onto Pennsylvania.
“You were in the Army?” She sounded surprised.
“Yeah. I was an infantry lieutenant. I had a low lottery number and had to hop into ROTC in law school to beat the draft. Fortunately, when I got out I was a trained killer with no one to kill. So they kept me at Fort Benning three months and let me go.”
“What was it like?”
“I’ve repressed most of it. My only clear memory is of one poor bastard dying of heatstroke in the chow line at noon, waiting for some stew that looked like strained dog-shit. I always wanted to see the letter they sent his parents.”
“Are you serious?”
“About the heatstroke? Absolutely.”
“I’ve never been able to cope with death.” Her voice had an odd, cold tenor, as if she coped by not thinking about it.
“I imagine everyone has trouble.” What I was having trouble with was integrating her personality. The self- control had eased into ironic candor. The cutting edge of perception was the only constant.
We stopped at a carry-out on Connecticut and grabbed an eight-pack of beer, which I said was to impress her. Then we drove to the restaurant. The Bangkok Room was stark and brightly lit, with a few booths and a couple of formica tables in the corners. The food ranged from good to great. And it was spicy and cheap. I explained that to Mary while I ceremoniously yanked the flip-tops off two beer cans, adding that the Bangkok Room didn’t have a liquor license. She took the can and tilted it to her lips.
“You’re laughing,” she said.
“If you must know, I’m laughing because very few girls could look so stylish drinking out of a beer can. You know, you never told me what you were doing before you worked for Woods.” Which was true; Robinson had told me. “Were you living in wedded bliss with Frank, ironing his shirts?”
She gave me a mildly hostile look. “You know, you find Frank a little funnier than I do. I was on the staff of the Senate Commerce Committee, mostly drafting legislation.” And collecting scalps, I remembered. “That was my first job. I came straight from there.”
“Did you go to school in town?” I didn’t really like this part. I told myself that I was a secret agent for the Civil Service Commission, checking the accuracy of their records.
“No. Chicago.”
“How did you get here?”
She hunched her shoulders. “I was interested in politics. Why did you come here?”
I considered what level of truth to give her and selected medium. “I thought I could do some good. Fight white collar crime and all that.”
“Were you ever interested in politics?”
“I was. I stopped.”
“When?” It was her eyes which told me that the question was important; they were back on the job, probing.
“About 1968. Do you still think it’s important?”
“Do I think what’s important?”
“Politics.”
“Yes, very.”
“Why?”
Her answer was impatient. “Because government matters, more and more. And who controls the government determines how people are going to live their lives. You need the right people directing it. And a lot of other people pushing to make sure they get there and stay there.”
Her eyes snapped; the careful voice was low and intense. I decided to skip finding out what the “right people” were going to determine about my life. The talk needed leavening. “I apologize for joking about Frank. He should have been named Lance or Errol, something like that. Anyhow, I should just feel lucky I don’t have an ex- wife.”
The topic of politics had flushed out the stern Aztec look. It lingered there, then abruptly vanished. She replaced it with a bright, distracted smile, which looked as if it had been thrown on. The voice was better, light and ironic. “You’re right. You’ve probably been spoiled by the women you’ve known.”
Dinner arrived. “Watch it, Mary. It’s hot.” I handed her another beer.
“Have you?” she insisted.
