to play environmental consultant
to any PAC that could afford him. He had given Bobby Marvel enough money to be invited regularly to the White House and had
been Aurilla’s Svengali since her first day in the Senate. Age fifty-three, two grown children, no known wife. Fausto had
said they were old college friends: which college? I cruised through the Harvard file: nothing. The Royal College of Music
wasn’t even in Maxine’s database so I switched to e-mail, asking if Bendix Kaar had ever graced their hallowed halls. That
answer might take weeks, so I moved on to superwidow AURILLA PERLE.
Born in Chicago, full scholarship to Princeton. She had tied the knot with a family of meat packers who supplied the entire
Northeast with pastrami. Hubby appeared fairly masculine in the early photos; then, as Aurilla’s smile inflated from shy to
imperial, he began to age drastically, as if she were sucking his blood. His death in a plane crash had had no effect on her
mouth. Gretchen, three days old, appeared in only one photo; even at that tender age, the child had impressive fists and a
face ready to explode. Aurilla’s political record, like her smile, was mathematically perfect.
I snuggled the cassette from Barnard’s answering machine into the tape recorder. My breathing paused as her sultry voice,
now forever silent, filled the headphones. “Sorry, darling. Let me know you called.”
“Darling,” Fausto mimicked acidly. “We missed you last night. Naughty naughty.”
I played the next message several times just to kill my doubts. “The ice-cream man will see you at midnight. Don’t be late”:
Justine Cortot speaking. Should have recognized those overworked
t
’s the moment I heard her voice at Ford’s Theatre.
I phoned Berlin. “Good morning.”
The Queen would have gone to bed only two hours ago. “What’s up.”
“Barnard and Marvel were for real.” I told her about my little palaver in the president’s limousine. “He’s most upset at losing
her.”
Maxine laughed huskily: join the crowd. “How’d you learn that?”
“Aurilla Perle invited me to her house to hear her daughter play the violin. Marvel happened to drop by.”
“Her idea or his?”
“Couldn’t tell you. Aurilla had already bugged me about her daughter the night I played at the White House. Bobby’s been eyeballing
me since Ford’s Theatre. And it could have been an accident. None of this would have happened if Aurilla hadn’t caught me
at Fausto’s.”
“You don’t run into the president of the United States by accident,” Maxine yawned. “Sorry.”
“There were two messages on Barnard’s answering machine,” I continued. “One was from Fausto telling Barnard she had misbehaved.”
“Eh? How did Barnard know Fausto?”
“Didn’t she tell you anything?” I snapped. Of course not. Damn. “The last message was from Justine Cortot, arranging a tryst
with Marvel.”
“Cortot’s in on the act? Have we got two pimps here?”
“Maybe she handles scheduling after the first date.” I sighed. “Bendix Kaar happened to be playing Scrabble with Fausto as
I rehearsed there this afternoon.”
“People do lots of things in the afternoon. How was breakfast, by the way?”
Insulting. “Fausto wants me to practice at his place. He loaned me his Corvette. I’d take it out more but I’m being followed.”
“Surprised? You’re screwing around with every heavy in town.”
Beautiful. “I hope Marvel’s discreet. I don’t need his wife coming after me with a two-by-four.”
“Wouldn’t worry about it. Nothing upsets Paula but a dip in her husband’s approval rating. Listen, I got a lab report on Barnard’s
blood. The only compounds we could identify were zonirene and gamma-gafrinol.”
“Okay, I give up.”
“Phytochemicals found only in the rain forest. Not synthesized, not really known outside of the military.”
“Application?”
“Paralytics. Once Barnard took it
to any PAC that could afford him. He had given Bobby Marvel enough money to be invited regularly to the White House and had
been Aurilla’s Svengali since her first day in the Senate. Age fifty-three, two grown children, no known wife. Fausto had
said they were old college friends: which college? I cruised through the Harvard file: nothing. The Royal College of Music
wasn’t even in Maxine’s database so I switched to e-mail, asking if Bendix Kaar had ever graced their hallowed halls. That
answer might take weeks, so I moved on to superwidow AURILLA PERLE.
Born in Chicago, full scholarship to Princeton. She had tied the knot with a family of meat packers who supplied the entire
Northeast with pastrami. Hubby appeared fairly masculine in the early photos; then, as Aurilla’s smile inflated from shy to
imperial, he began to age drastically, as if she were sucking his blood. His death in a plane crash had had no effect on her
mouth. Gretchen, three days old, appeared in only one photo; even at that tender age, the child had impressive fists and a
face ready to explode. Aurilla’s political record, like her smile, was mathematically perfect.
I snuggled the cassette from Barnard’s answering machine into the tape recorder. My breathing paused as her sultry voice,
now forever silent, filled the headphones. “Sorry, darling. Let me know you called.”
“Darling,” Fausto mimicked acidly. “We missed you last night. Naughty naughty.”
I played the next message several times just to kill my doubts. “The ice-cream man will see you at midnight. Don’t be late”:
Justine Cortot speaking. Should have recognized those overworked
t
’s the moment I heard her voice at Ford’s Theatre.
I phoned Berlin. “Good morning.”
The Queen would have gone to bed only two hours ago. “What’s up.”
“Barnard and Marvel were for real.” I told her about my little palaver in the president’s limousine. “He’s most upset at losing
her.”
Maxine laughed huskily: join the crowd. “How’d you learn that?”
“Aurilla Perle invited me to her house to hear her daughter play the violin. Marvel happened to drop by.”
“Her idea or his?”
“Couldn’t tell you. Aurilla had already bugged me about her daughter the night I played at the White House. Bobby’s been eyeballing
me since Ford’s Theatre. And it could have been an accident. None of this would have happened if Aurilla hadn’t caught me
at Fausto’s.”
“You don’t run into the president of the United States by accident,” Maxine yawned. “Sorry.”
“There were two messages on Barnard’s answering machine,” I continued. “One was from Fausto telling Barnard she had misbehaved.”
“Eh? How did Barnard know Fausto?”
“Didn’t she tell you anything?” I snapped. Of course not. Damn. “The last message was from Justine Cortot, arranging a tryst
with Marvel.”
“Cortot’s in on the act? Have we got two pimps here?”
“Maybe she handles scheduling after the first date.” I sighed. “Bendix Kaar happened to be playing Scrabble with Fausto as
I rehearsed there this afternoon.”
“People do lots of things in the afternoon. How was breakfast, by the way?”
Insulting. “Fausto wants me to practice at his place. He loaned me his Corvette. I’d take it out more but I’m being followed.”
“Surprised? You’re screwing around with every heavy in town.”
Beautiful. “I hope Marvel’s discreet. I don’t need his wife coming after me with a two-by-four.”
“Wouldn’t worry about it. Nothing upsets Paula but a dip in her husband’s approval rating. Listen, I got a lab report on Barnard’s
blood. The only compounds we could identify were zonirene and gamma-gafrinol.”
“Okay, I give up.”
“Phytochemicals found only in the rain forest. Not synthesized, not really known outside of the military.”
“Application?”
“Paralytics. Once Barnard took it
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