As soon as he finished eating lunch, Matt headed outside. The weather hadn’t improved any, but he found himself in need of some fresh air.
Matt was standing in the parking lot, looking up at the cloudy sky and thinking that he ought to hit the library before the afternoon nailed him, too, when Andy Moore appeared at his elbow.
“Hunter, you sly devil, you,” Andy said in admiring tones. “You didn’t tell us you’d made a new conquest.”
“What are you talking about?” Matt snapped, not in the mood for his friend’s clowning.
“Your new girlfriend stopped by in her car.” Andy jerked his head in the direction of the street, where a small knot of guys clustered around a gleaming double-parked car. “She specifically asked for Matt Hunter — hey! I heard her!” he protested as Matt swung on him.
“If this is some stupid prank—” Matt began as he headed for the group, Andy trailing behind.
“If it is, it’s not one of mine,” Andy assured him. “I just wish I’d thought of it,” he added in an undertone.
Gritting his teeth, Matt reached the group around the car. Then he saw why so many people were there, gawking. It was a brand-new bronze Dodge concept car, one that looked as if it had just rolled out of the pages of the latest car netzine. Half of the guys were checking out the car. The rest were staring in disbelief at the driver.
She wore a denim jacket, the kind that came lined with an old horse blanket. Matt could tell, because it was way too large on her, and she’d rolled back the sleeves. A bilious green scarf was wound around her neck and up to her chin, and the hat she wore defied all attempts at classification. It was hand-knitted and shapeless, covering all of her hair. The color was somewhere between brown and orange, and the knitter had tried to end up with a flower at the top, but had failed and turned it into a sort of blobby pom-pom.
In spite of the clouds the girl wore sunglasses. Matt’s grandmother once had a pair like them — they were built to go on over regular eyeglasses, and they hid the top third of her face as effectively as a mask.
Matt looked hard at what little of the girl’s face that remained uncovered, trying to find some feature he could recognize.
Unable to come up with an answer, and positive this was about to blow up in his face, Matt pushed forward. “I’m Matt Hunter,” he said. “Who are you?”
The girl didn’t answer, but for a brief second, she raised the sunglasses from her face. Behind the big, clumsy lenses were a pair of beautiful eyes so blue they were almost violet.
Matt remembered Leif describing eyes like that — and on whom. Without another word, he got into the car.
Nikki Callivant started the engine and pulled away down the street. “It seems I need to talk to you,” she said in a toneless voice.
“Not for too long, I hope,” Matt said, glancing at his watch. “I need to be back in class in about twenty minutes.”
“Is there someplace nearby where we can stop?”
“Rock Creek Park isn’t too far away,” Matt replied. “We could probably find a place to pull up and not even have to leave the car.”
She nodded and began steering the car, following Matt’s directions.
“I guess I have to congratulate you on your — um — disguise,” Matt said as they parked.
“It’s something my mother taught me. It distracts people from noticing one’s face — especially the press. Your hat can never be too ugly.” She gave him a smug smile. “I picked this stuff up at a resale shop.”
Matt glanced again at her crowning glory. “I hope they — er — fumigated it before they put it out for sale.”
Instantly Nikki tore off the knitted monstrosity. Her light-brown hair flew around her face, and the sunglasses tumbled into her lap.
“Well, there was an honest reaction, at least,” Matt said. “What do you need to speak to me about?”
“I met a friend of yours last night,” the girl replied. “She said you were in trouble with my family. Something about a mystery — and an old family problem.”
“Please understand, I didn’t set out to get in trouble with your family,” Matt began. “Nor did any of my friends. We were just playing a game. This fellow developed a new mystery sim, but he based it on an old case.”
Nikki made a face. “I can guess. The situation in Haddington, all those years ago. I don’t know why we didn’t just close down the house there. Some adviser or other probably thought it would look bad. A tacit admission of responsibility.”
The girl’s delicate features froze into an even more bitter expression. “As children, we were coached to stay well away from poor, half-crazy Mrs. Hadding. The police and publie prosecutor won’t talk to her anymore. If the media even discuss what happened, they call it a ‘cold case.’ More advisers at work. Public relations. No one can disgrace the Callivant name.”
She shook her head. “Even with the assassinations, there are four generations of Callivants in our house. Maybe that’s too many. It’s made us — well, I don’t know what it’s made us.”
“I know what some people would say,” Matt said.
“People!” Nikki scoffed. “They say that public service is my family’s business. But if it is, it’s only true for the boys. I thought things might have changed when my father didn’t run for office. But, of course, he went to work for the government.”
“What
“National security,” Nikki replied. “Threat analysis, covert this, international that
“He’s a what — a spy?” Matt couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“According to my dad, he drives a desk and spends a lot of time worrying about budgets.”
So did Captain Winters, Matt suddenly thought. Although sometimes his days got a bit more exciting.
“Whatever your father does, it sounds like another road to power,” he finally said.
“Some power.” Nikki’s lips tightened. “Dad might have escaped some of the family traditions, but he expects me to follow right in line — making the perfect appearances at the right parties with a smile plastered on my face and lots of Callivant charm.”
She thumped her chest. “I want to be the Callivant woman who runs for something instead of standing gracefully at somebody else’s campaign kickoff. I’ve got girl cousins who could do just as good a job as the guys in the family. But you’ll never hear about them. No public arguments. Family solidarity.” She nearly spat the words. “Nobody dares disgrace the Callivant name.”
“Or gets away with it?” Matt asked.
She didn’t reply to that comment, confusion all too evident in her blue eyes.
Matt went on to describe the strange deaths of Ed Saunders and Harry Knox.
Nikki Callivant shrank away from him in her seat, those strange blue eyes growing wider. “That’s crazy,” she said. “My family uses lawyers, P.R. people — sometimes strings are pulled. But you’re suggesting—”
“I’m just asking if you don’t think it’s a strange coincidence that two people connected to a small sim based on your family scandal died within a week of each other,” Matt cut in. He shook his head. “I’m not accusing your family of anything. But I don’t know what’s going on, and it makes me edgy. Maybe they were accidents. If so, I’m sorry I disturbed you with this. I suppose I should be glad you went out of your way to talk to me, even if I may be saying things you don’t want to hear.”
“I’ve been getting a bit of that lately,” Nikki ruefully admitted. “Most of it from friends of yours. But it comes along at a time when I’ve been asking a lot of questions about my family — I guess I’ll just have to add these questions in with my own.”
She reached under the denim jacket. “I really wish you hadn’t used that fumigation line. Now I’m itching like crazy.” Still scratching, she pulled out of the parking place and headed back to the school.
At least, Matt thought, she didn’t lose control of the car while she drove him back to school one-handed.
Matt was in his room, working on his homework, when the chimes of an incoming call rang out. He closed out
