portrayed himself to be. Nobody could be that charming, that boyish.
"I'd like some answers." I tried kindness. "Please."
"About what?"
"About Sandowski's Farm. About what's been happening there."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
I stood. I didn't like him staring down at me.
"No?" I queried, arching an eyebrow. My meter was working on overdrive.
"No."
"What about Joe Sandowski's death?"
He scratched his chin. "What could I possibly have to do with his death?"
"I would think a murder investigation linking a congressman to a run-down farm would spark your constituent's interest, don't you? Enough bad PR and your next election is shot."
In a graceful move, he sat in his chair behind his desk. He leaned forward and folded his hands on top of each other.
"So maybe," I said, "you'd like to keep it all quiet, cover up Joe's murder as quickly as possible."
A hint of a smile played on his rose red lips. "I'm sure I have no idea of what you're speaking. I'd like to help you, Ms. Quinn, but I think you ought to go now."
"Are you trying to tell me that you don't want Mrs. Sandowski to sell?"
"I didn't say anything of the sort. I would love her to sell."
"Aha!"
His eyes widened into an amused expression. "I said sell, Ms. Quinn."
"And how far would you go, Congressman Chanson?"
"She'll sell eventually. Money always wins."
I scratched the back of my leg with my foot. I was beyond pretenses. "And if it doesn't?"
"It will."
He tapped my business card on the desktop. "I trust if you need to speak to me again, you'll know how to contact me." He slid my card across the desk, making his point clear. He wouldn't speak to me about this again unless I agreed to a TBS makeover for his wife.
I left the card on the edge of the desk. "Bribery, Congressman?"
Sparkling white teeth flashed in a wide smile. "It is the American way, Ms. Quinn." Pulling out a stack of papers I suspected were left on his desk as a diversionary tactic, he said, "Now if you don't mind, I'm a busy man."
Ana shrieked. "Are you out of your ever-loving mind?"
I sat across from her in a booth at the front of Gus's. We'd been sitting there since eleven, ordered at eleven thirty, and now it was twelve and we still hadn't been served. I'd just told her about my meeting with Bridget.
I winced. "Probably."
"This is serious. Joe Sandowski was murdered. This isn't some game of Clue."
"Hey, I was always good at Clue."
She dropped her head in her hands. "I don't like this. Not one bit. What's Bridget have to say about it?"
Ana and Bridget had met a few times over the years, at barbecues and the like. "About the same as you."
"Do you see a trend?"
"I've always been a rule breaker."
"I don't like it, Nina. Tell Kevin."
I pulled a face. "No."
She sighed. "I'm not gonna convince you to change your mind, am I?"
Thinking of Farmer Joe, I shook my head.
"Then I suggest we change the subject before I'm forced to smack some sense into you."
"Bridget's pregnant," I said.
Ana smiled, wide and bright. "Good for her. I know how bad she wanted a baby." She picked at the edge of the table, not quite looking me in the eye. "Does that, uh, mean Tim's not free yet?"
I placed a napkin on my lap—wishful thinking—and looked around for Gertie. "I really hope you're not holding out for him."
"A girl can dream."
"It's been way too long since you've had a date."
"Tell me about it." Her eyebrows dipped. "This single life is seriously getting old."
"It's not as if people don't ask you."
"I'm a probation officer, Nina. Cons will say anything."
I swiped at the table, brushing stale crumbs to the floor. "Even still."
Ana leaned back, her eyes wide. "I'm not that desperate. Yet. You think Tim has a brother?"
"He doesn't."
"Damn."
"I'm having dinner with Bridget and Tim on Friday night—wanna come?" It'd been a long time since I'd felt like a fifth wheel.
"Oh no. Not me."
"Why not?"
Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm sure I have something to do."
"Like
"I'd like some answers." I tried kindness. "Please."
"About what?"
"About Sandowski's Farm. About what's been happening there."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
I stood. I didn't like him staring down at me.
"No?" I queried, arching an eyebrow. My meter was working on overdrive.
"No."
"What about Joe Sandowski's death?"
He scratched his chin. "What could I possibly have to do with his death?"
"I would think a murder investigation linking a congressman to a run-down farm would spark your constituent's interest, don't you? Enough bad PR and your next election is shot."
In a graceful move, he sat in his chair behind his desk. He leaned forward and folded his hands on top of each other.
"So maybe," I said, "you'd like to keep it all quiet, cover up Joe's murder as quickly as possible."
A hint of a smile played on his rose red lips. "I'm sure I have no idea of what you're speaking. I'd like to help you, Ms. Quinn, but I think you ought to go now."
"Are you trying to tell me that you don't want Mrs. Sandowski to sell?"
"I didn't say anything of the sort. I would love her to sell."
"Aha!"
His eyes widened into an amused expression. "I said sell, Ms. Quinn."
"And how far would you go, Congressman Chanson?"
"She'll sell eventually. Money always wins."
I scratched the back of my leg with my foot. I was beyond pretenses. "And if it doesn't?"
"It will."
He tapped my business card on the desktop. "I trust if you need to speak to me again, you'll know how to contact me." He slid my card across the desk, making his point clear. He wouldn't speak to me about this again unless I agreed to a TBS makeover for his wife.
I left the card on the edge of the desk. "Bribery, Congressman?"
Sparkling white teeth flashed in a wide smile. "It is the American way, Ms. Quinn." Pulling out a stack of papers I suspected were left on his desk as a diversionary tactic, he said, "Now if you don't mind, I'm a busy man."
Ana shrieked. "Are you out of your ever-loving mind?"
I sat across from her in a booth at the front of Gus's. We'd been sitting there since eleven, ordered at eleven thirty, and now it was twelve and we still hadn't been served. I'd just told her about my meeting with Bridget.
I winced. "Probably."
"This is serious. Joe Sandowski was murdered. This isn't some game of Clue."
"Hey, I was always good at Clue."
She dropped her head in her hands. "I don't like this. Not one bit. What's Bridget have to say about it?"
Ana and Bridget had met a few times over the years, at barbecues and the like. "About the same as you."
"Do you see a trend?"
"I've always been a rule breaker."
"I don't like it, Nina. Tell Kevin."
I pulled a face. "No."
She sighed. "I'm not gonna convince you to change your mind, am I?"
Thinking of Farmer Joe, I shook my head.
"Then I suggest we change the subject before I'm forced to smack some sense into you."
"Bridget's pregnant," I said.
Ana smiled, wide and bright. "Good for her. I know how bad she wanted a baby." She picked at the edge of the table, not quite looking me in the eye. "Does that, uh, mean Tim's not free yet?"
I placed a napkin on my lap—wishful thinking—and looked around for Gertie. "I really hope you're not holding out for him."
"A girl can dream."
"It's been way too long since you've had a date."
"Tell me about it." Her eyebrows dipped. "This single life is seriously getting old."
"It's not as if people don't ask you."
"I'm a probation officer, Nina. Cons will say anything."
I swiped at the table, brushing stale crumbs to the floor. "Even still."
Ana leaned back, her eyes wide. "I'm not that desperate. Yet. You think Tim has a brother?"
"He doesn't."
"Damn."
"I'm having dinner with Bridget and Tim on Friday night—wanna come?" It'd been a long time since I'd felt like a fifth wheel.
"Oh no. Not me."
"Why not?"
Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm sure I have something to do."
"Like
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