already been done, and everything was in apple-pie order.”
“Apple pie can be messy,” the senator replied.
“Not our apple pie,” Fair said.
“Oh, that’s right,” the senator said. “Will Lee is notoriously proper about budgets.”
“And notoriously transparent, too,” Fair responded.
“No skeletons in that closet, then,” the senator admitted.
“Well,” said the columnist, “not the budgetary closet, anyway. There are, of course, other closets, and upright, dull Brix was, apparently, occupying a crowded one.”
That got a laugh from the table.
“I should think,” the senator’s wife said, “that that would make Brix neither upright nor dull. I can’t imagine how a man of his age could manage so well.” She shot a meaningful glance at her husband across the table, and he looked uncomfortable.
“Someone has pointed out to me,” Stone said, “that, at fifty-one, Brix’s age, half of American males are experiencing erectile dysfunction. Has it occurred to anyone that Brix might be among the other half? Or perhaps among an even smaller percentage who are raging bulls at that age?”
“Hugh Hefner is in his eighties,” Fair said, “and he seems to be holding up well.”
The senator snorted. “All that guy has to do is lie still,” he said, “and they do it for him.”
The anchorman laughed. “I hope I can lie that still when I’m his age.”
“I hope so, too, dear,” his wife said.
Shelley spoke up. “Would anyone care to hazard a guess as to who else is on Milly Hart’s preferred list?”
“At least one senator, I hear,” the columnist said, raising his eyebrows in the direction of the senator present.
iv>
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the senator said. “And even if I did, senate cloakroom gossip is privileged.”
“Only if we can’t pry it out of you,” Fair said.
Everybody laughed.
“He’s apparently right,” his wife said. “He won’t even tell me what’s said in that cloakroom.”
“I recall,” the columnist said, “that Warren G. Harding, when he was a senator, is alleged to have impregnated a young woman on a sofa in that cloakroom.”
“That the young woman was impregnated by Warren G. is not in doubt, though the geography in question is a little hazy. I think that information,” the senator said, “was traced to the young woman herself, though she may have embroidered her story for effect. It did not come from one of Senator Harding’s colleagues, though.”
Everyone moved back to the living room for coffee, and Stone asked Fair for the powder room.
“I believe it’s occupied,” Fair said, “but use my bathroom.” She pointed to a door.
Stone opened it and found himself in a very feminine bedroom. He crossed it and found the bath, and while he stood at the toilet, he could not keep himself from opening the medicine chest on the wall before his nose. He found prescription bottles for a painkiller, a sleeping pill, and a couple he did not recognize.
Also, he was intrigued to find a clear plastic case containing four lipsticks, the same brand that he had been told about by Shelley, apparently part of a promotion, none of which was Pagan Spring. There was, however, an empty space in the case. One lipstick had been removed.
He stopped by her dressing table on his way back to the living room, but found no Pagan Spring there, either. He was, he reflected, going to have to make a trip to a drugstore.
23
TEDDY FAY HAD FINISHED BRINGING HIS HANGAR APARTMENT up to his standard of living, and now he sat at his work table, putting the final touches on a peeler/slicer combination for his usual client. He prepared it for sending to a mail drop in Missouri that would, in turn, forward it to the addressee. In due course, if his client found it acceptable, and Teddy was certain he would, funds would be wired to a numbered account in the Cayman Islands, making Teddy awash in cash. Royalties from later sales would keep the stream
“Apple pie can be messy,” the senator replied.
“Not our apple pie,” Fair said.
“Oh, that’s right,” the senator said. “Will Lee is notoriously proper about budgets.”
“And notoriously transparent, too,” Fair responded.
“No skeletons in that closet, then,” the senator admitted.
“Well,” said the columnist, “not the budgetary closet, anyway. There are, of course, other closets, and upright, dull Brix was, apparently, occupying a crowded one.”
That got a laugh from the table.
“I should think,” the senator’s wife said, “that that would make Brix neither upright nor dull. I can’t imagine how a man of his age could manage so well.” She shot a meaningful glance at her husband across the table, and he looked uncomfortable.
“Someone has pointed out to me,” Stone said, “that, at fifty-one, Brix’s age, half of American males are experiencing erectile dysfunction. Has it occurred to anyone that Brix might be among the other half? Or perhaps among an even smaller percentage who are raging bulls at that age?”
“Hugh Hefner is in his eighties,” Fair said, “and he seems to be holding up well.”
The senator snorted. “All that guy has to do is lie still,” he said, “and they do it for him.”
The anchorman laughed. “I hope I can lie that still when I’m his age.”
“I hope so, too, dear,” his wife said.
Shelley spoke up. “Would anyone care to hazard a guess as to who else is on Milly Hart’s preferred list?”
“At least one senator, I hear,” the columnist said, raising his eyebrows in the direction of the senator present.
iv>
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the senator said. “And even if I did, senate cloakroom gossip is privileged.”
“Only if we can’t pry it out of you,” Fair said.
Everybody laughed.
“He’s apparently right,” his wife said. “He won’t even tell me what’s said in that cloakroom.”
“I recall,” the columnist said, “that Warren G. Harding, when he was a senator, is alleged to have impregnated a young woman on a sofa in that cloakroom.”
“That the young woman was impregnated by Warren G. is not in doubt, though the geography in question is a little hazy. I think that information,” the senator said, “was traced to the young woman herself, though she may have embroidered her story for effect. It did not come from one of Senator Harding’s colleagues, though.”
Everyone moved back to the living room for coffee, and Stone asked Fair for the powder room.
“I believe it’s occupied,” Fair said, “but use my bathroom.” She pointed to a door.
Stone opened it and found himself in a very feminine bedroom. He crossed it and found the bath, and while he stood at the toilet, he could not keep himself from opening the medicine chest on the wall before his nose. He found prescription bottles for a painkiller, a sleeping pill, and a couple he did not recognize.
Also, he was intrigued to find a clear plastic case containing four lipsticks, the same brand that he had been told about by Shelley, apparently part of a promotion, none of which was Pagan Spring. There was, however, an empty space in the case. One lipstick had been removed.
He stopped by her dressing table on his way back to the living room, but found no Pagan Spring there, either. He was, he reflected, going to have to make a trip to a drugstore.
23
TEDDY FAY HAD FINISHED BRINGING HIS HANGAR APARTMENT up to his standard of living, and now he sat at his work table, putting the final touches on a peeler/slicer combination for his usual client. He prepared it for sending to a mail drop in Missouri that would, in turn, forward it to the addressee. In due course, if his client found it acceptable, and Teddy was certain he would, funds would be wired to a numbered account in the Cayman Islands, making Teddy awash in cash. Royalties from later sales would keep the stream
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