“I can’t talk about my relationship with Andre. I just can’t. It— I—Andre made me promise—”
“We could do this as a formal statement at police headquarters.” Galiano’s voice was a wee bit harsher.
Pera did another sweep. Galiano. Ryan. Me. Again, she chose the girl.
“Promise that you will never tell?” A child, bursting with a secret.
“We will do our best to protect your confidentiality.” Galiano.
The Bambi eyes cut to Galiano, came back to me.
“Andre and I are going to be married.”
25
GALIANO GLANCED AT ME. TAKE IT AWAY.
“How long have you been seeing the ambassador?” I asked.
“Six months.”
“Are you lovers?”
She nodded, looked at the floor.
“I know you think I’m too young for Andre. I’m not. I love him and he loves me and nothing else matters.”
“Do his wife and daughter matter?” I asked.
“Andre is very unhappy. He plans to leave his wife as soon as he can.”
Don’t they all.
“How old are you, Aida?”
“Eighteen.”
My anger was building.
“When?”
She looked up. “When what?”
“When is the wedding?”
“Well, we don’t have a date. But soon.” She looked to Galiano and Ryan for support. “As soon as Andre can, you know, arrange things without jeopardizing his position.”
“And then?”
“We’ll go away. He’ll be posted somewhere neat. Paris, maybe. Or Rome or Madrid. I’ll be his wife and travel with him, and go to all the parties.”
And Saddam Hussein will convert to Christianity and conduct baptisms.
“Has the ambassador ever talked about former mistresses?”
“You don’t understand. Andre’s not like that.”
She looked at Galiano. She looked at Ryan. She looked at me. She had that right. We didn’t understand.
“Has he ever hurt you?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Shaken you, struck you, forced you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
“Never.” Breathy. “Andre’s a kind, gentle, wonderful man.”
“Who cheats on his wife.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
It was exactly what I was thinking, the cradle-robbing bastard.
“Do you know a young woman named Patricia Eduardo?”
She gave a small shake of her head.
“Claudia de la Alda?”
“No.” Her eyes were growing red around the rims.
“Will you be seeing Mr. Specter in the near future?”
“It’s hard to make plans. Andre calls when he’s able to get free.”
And you wait by the phone. Bastard.
“Does he usually come here?” Galiano asked.
“If my cousin isn’t home.” Her nose was now as red as her eyes, and she’d begun to sniffle. “Sometimes we go out.”
