age. I’d nearly forgotten you are some kind of cross between an octopus and a pit bull. Got feelers out all over hell and back, and when you get hold of something, you never let go of it. Now you listen to me, you insufferable pen pusher. I invite you out to my home, go to some trouble cookin’ you and your friend a damn fine dinner, out of respect for a great President, a decent newspaper, and a man I thought was a reasonably bright young writer, and you up and ask me a whole bunch of nonsensical questions. All right, so be it. This is off the record now. Back then, the country needed a hero in the worst way. Besides, old Barney Quinn was all set to buy the presidency. You must remember that. He was buyin’ up newspapers, radio and television stations like Monopoly properties, and he had more money than Bill Gates and Buffett put together. Made poor old Ross Perot seem like a penniless choirboy. If it hadn’t been for me and a few friends of mine, he might have got away with it, too.”
What he said was certainly no lie. “True, and whoever was responsible for talking Helene Fordham into switching parties and running with Tyndall was a stroke of political genius.”
“Hellfire, I think Buck would have beaten Quinn even with Ronald MacDonald as a runnin’ mate. Anyway, what’s the use of bringing up those old days? Over and done with. Closed book.”
“Fine. What about now? What about your new commission? Off the record, do you personally think there was a conspiracy behind Tyndall’s murder?”
“You’re gettin’ awfully close to pissin’ me off now, son. What the hell are you tryin’ to get at? Do you think there was?”
It was time for my bluff. I kept my face straight as I could. “I’m sure there was.”
“Why?”
“Because I have the diaries.”
“What diaries?”
“The same ones that told me about you and your dwarfs. Robert McCarty’s personal diaries. They’re very revealing. Judge Koontz, is there anything else you’d like to tell me, off the record?”
I watched his face. If I’d managed to scare him, he didn’t show it. He smiled at me, like a player with a winning hand, then called and raised. “Sure, I do. You don’t have jack shit, Willard. And I’ll tell you something else. This interview is over. You have disappointed me mighty bad here tonight. First thing I’m gonna do Monday mornin’, I’m gonna call that asshole editor, Latham, and if you or he print one word of what we talked about tonight, I’ll break your balls. Both of you. And I can do it, too. I know the law better’n you know your alphabet. Now, call that photographer back up here and get the hell out of my house. You’ve given me a bad case of indigestion.”
Walt was hardly in condition to drive back to Washington, so I took the wheel. Five minutes out of Vienna, he said, “Some dinner. Did you get enough material?”
I stopped whistling long enough to say, “Oh, yeah. I got everything I wanted, and then some.”
Around midnight, I was in the shower and didn’t hear Liz let herself in with the extra room key I’d given her. I didn’t hear her open the bathroom door, either. The only thing I remember hearing, when she pulled the shower curtain back, naked as me, was, “You’re not married or anything, are you?”
Half an hour later, the dilemma of who was going to sleep where was solved. I had no problem with the “not married” part of her question, but the “or anything” part bothered me a little. Just a little. Certainly not enough to stop.
Chapter 7
Sunday was no day of rest. I would have liked nothing more than to have spent the whole of it in bed with Liz, but I knew if I did, I’d never be able to shove her out of my mind—or my sight—and I had work to do. When I gently explained my plan to her, she didn’t argue, although I couldn’t tell if her tears were caused by gratitude or something else. I gave her time to get packed by going to Cal’s room,
What he said was certainly no lie. “True, and whoever was responsible for talking Helene Fordham into switching parties and running with Tyndall was a stroke of political genius.”
“Hellfire, I think Buck would have beaten Quinn even with Ronald MacDonald as a runnin’ mate. Anyway, what’s the use of bringing up those old days? Over and done with. Closed book.”
“Fine. What about now? What about your new commission? Off the record, do you personally think there was a conspiracy behind Tyndall’s murder?”
“You’re gettin’ awfully close to pissin’ me off now, son. What the hell are you tryin’ to get at? Do you think there was?”
It was time for my bluff. I kept my face straight as I could. “I’m sure there was.”
“Why?”
“Because I have the diaries.”
“What diaries?”
“The same ones that told me about you and your dwarfs. Robert McCarty’s personal diaries. They’re very revealing. Judge Koontz, is there anything else you’d like to tell me, off the record?”
I watched his face. If I’d managed to scare him, he didn’t show it. He smiled at me, like a player with a winning hand, then called and raised. “Sure, I do. You don’t have jack shit, Willard. And I’ll tell you something else. This interview is over. You have disappointed me mighty bad here tonight. First thing I’m gonna do Monday mornin’, I’m gonna call that asshole editor, Latham, and if you or he print one word of what we talked about tonight, I’ll break your balls. Both of you. And I can do it, too. I know the law better’n you know your alphabet. Now, call that photographer back up here and get the hell out of my house. You’ve given me a bad case of indigestion.”
Walt was hardly in condition to drive back to Washington, so I took the wheel. Five minutes out of Vienna, he said, “Some dinner. Did you get enough material?”
I stopped whistling long enough to say, “Oh, yeah. I got everything I wanted, and then some.”
Around midnight, I was in the shower and didn’t hear Liz let herself in with the extra room key I’d given her. I didn’t hear her open the bathroom door, either. The only thing I remember hearing, when she pulled the shower curtain back, naked as me, was, “You’re not married or anything, are you?”
Half an hour later, the dilemma of who was going to sleep where was solved. I had no problem with the “not married” part of her question, but the “or anything” part bothered me a little. Just a little. Certainly not enough to stop.
Chapter 7
Sunday was no day of rest. I would have liked nothing more than to have spent the whole of it in bed with Liz, but I knew if I did, I’d never be able to shove her out of my mind—or my sight—and I had work to do. When I gently explained my plan to her, she didn’t argue, although I couldn’t tell if her tears were caused by gratitude or something else. I gave her time to get packed by going to Cal’s room,
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