«Ask him about Arthur Bradford.» The smile of a mongoose gnawing on a neck. «Ask him about me.»
Icy water flooded Myron’s chest. «What does my father have to do with any of this?»
But Skinny was not about to answer. «Hurry now,» he said. «The next governor of New Jersey is waiting for you.»
22
Myron put a call into Win. He quickly told him what’d happened.
«Wasteful,» Win agreed.
«He hit a woman.»
«Then shoot him in the knee. Permanently injure him. A kick in the scrotum is wasteful.»
Proper Payback Etiquette by Windsor Home Lock-wood III. «I’m going to leave the cellular on. Can you get down here?»
«But of course. Please refrain from further violence until I am present.»
In other words: Save some for me.
The guard at Bradford Farms was surprised to see Myron alone. The gate was open, probably in expectation of a threesome. Myron did not hesitate. He drove through without stopping. The guard panicked. He jumped out of his booth. Myron gave him a little finger wave, like Oliver Hardy used to do. He even scrunched up his face into that same Hardy smile. Heck, if he had a bowler, he would have gotten that into the act too.
By the time Myron parked at the front entrance, the old butler was already standing in the doorway. He bowed slightly.
«Please follow me, Mr. Bolitar.»
They headed down a long corridor. Lots of oils on the walls, mostly of men on horses. There was one nude. A woman, of course. No horse in this one. Catherine the Great was truly dead. The butler made a right at the hallway. They entered a glass corridor that resembled a passageway in the Biosphere or maybe Epcot Center. Myron figured that they must have traveled close to fifty yards already.
The manservant stopped and opened a door. His face was perfect butler deadpan.
«Please enter, sir.»
Myron smelled the chlorine before he heard the tiny splashes.
The manservant waited.
«I didn’t bring my bathing suit,» Myron said.
The manservant looked at him blankly.
«I usually wear a thong,» Myron said. «Though I can make do with bikini mesh.»
The manservant blinked.
«I can borrow yours,» Myron continued, «if you have an extra.»
«Please enter, sir.»
«Right, well, let’s stay in touch.»
The butler or whatever left. Myron went inside. The room had that indoor-pool mustiness. Everything was done in marble. Lots of plant life. There were statues of some goddess at each corner of the pool. What goddess, Myron did not know. The goddess of indoor pools, he surmised. The pool’s sole occupant sliced through the water with nary a ripple. Arthur Bradford swam with easy, almost lazy movements. He reached the edge of the pool near Myron and stopped. He was wearing swimming goggles with dark blue lenses. He took them off and ran his hand across his scalp.
«What happened to Sam and Mario?» Bradford asked.
«Mario.» Myron nodded. «That has to be the big guy, right?»
«Sam and Mario were supposed to escort you here.»
«I’m a big boy, Artie. I don’t need an escort.» Bradford had of course sent them to intimidate; Myron needed to show him that the move had not produced the desired effect.
«Fine then,» Bradford replied, his voice crisp. «I have six more laps to go. Do you mind?»
Myron waved a dismissal. «Hey,» he said. «Please go ahead. I can think of nothing that would give me greater pleasure than watching another man swim. Hey, here’s an idea. Why not film a commercial here? Slogan: Vote for Art, He’s Got an Indoor Pool.»
Bradford almost smiled. «Fair enough.» He pushed himself out of the pool in one lax motion. His body was long and lean and looked sleek when wet. He grabbed a towel and signaled to two chaise longues. Myron sat in one but did not lean back. Arthur Bradford did likewise.
«It’s been a long day,» Arthur said. «I’ve already made four campaign stops, and I have three more this afternoon.»
Myron nodded through the small talk, encouraging Bradford to move on. Bradford picked up the hint. He slapped his thighs with his palms. «Well, then, you’re a busy man. I’m a busy man. Shall we get to it?»
«Sure.»
Bradford leaned in a bit. «I wanted to talk to you about your previous visit here.»
Myron tried to keep his face blank.
«You’ll agree, will you not, that it was all rather bizarre?»
Myron made a noise. Sort of like «Uh-huh» but more neutral.
«Put simply, I’d like to know what you and Win were up to.»
«I wanted the answers to some questions,» Myron said.
«Yes, I realize that. My question is, why?»
«Why what?»
«Why were you asking about a woman who hasn’t been in my employ for twenty years?»
«What’s the difference? You barely remember her, right?»
Arthur Bradford smiled. The smile said that they both knew better. «I would like to help you,» Bradford said. «But I must first question your motives.» He opened his arms. «This is, after all, a major election.»
«You think I’m working for Davison?»
«You and Windsor come to my home under false pretenses. You start asking bizarre questions about my past. You pay off a police officer to steal a file on my wife’s death. You are connected with a man who recently tried to blackmail me. And you’ve been seen conversing with known criminal associates of Davi-son’s.» He gave the political smile, the one that couldn’t help being a touch condescending. «If you were I, what would you think?»
«Back up,» Myron said. «One, I didn’t pay off anybody to steal a file.»
«Officer Francine Neagly. Do you deny meeting with her at the Ritz Diner?»
«No.» Too long to explain the truth, and what was the point? «Okay, forget that one for now. Who tried to blackmail you?»
The manservant entered the room. «Iced tea, sir?»
Bradford thought it over. «Lemonade, Mattius. Some lemonade would be divine.»
«Very well, sir. Mr. Bolitar?»
Myron doubted that Bradford stocked much Yoo-Hoo. «Same here, Mattius. But make mine extra divine.»
Mattius the Manservant nodded. «Very well, sir.» He slid back out the door.
Arthur Bradford wrapped a towel around his shoulders. Then he lay back on the chaise. They were long so that his legs would not hang over the ends. He closed his eyes. «We both know that I remember Anita Slaughter. As you implied, a man does not forget the name of the person who found his wife’s body.»
«That the only reason?»
Bradford opened one eye. «Excuse me?»
«I’ve seen pictures of her,» Myron said simply. «Hard to forget a woman who looked like that.»
Bradford reclosed the eye. For a moment he did not speak. «There are plenty of attractive women in the world.»
«Uh-huh.»
«You think I had a relationship with her?»
