Girl Three by Tracy March Page B

Muzak.
    Helena waited at a low, square table in the far corner, already halfway through a dirty martini. She sat posed, wearing a look-here, low-cut blouse.
    Jessie took the seat across from her. Thankfully, the table was situated so they both had a view of the room. After thinking she’d been followed, she didn’t want her back to anyone.
    “What did you do to your hand?” Helena asked.
    “Scraped it.” Jessie wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d fallen.
    “Looks like more than a scrape.”
    A fortysomething waitress who looked too tan for January walked over to the table.
    “I’ll have what she’s having,” Jessie said.
    Helena’s eyes shifted to Jessie and narrowed. She took a healthy swallow of her drink.
    Jessie pulled the picture of Helena and Sam from her purse. “Tell me about this.”
    Helena glanced at the photo. She toyed with the toothpick in her glass, poking at an olive that looked twice its size in the murky liquor. “What about it?”
    Jessie tensed. “I’m not in the mood for games. Why did Sam stop working for you?”
    “Why does anyone leave a job?”
    “Lots of reasons,” Jessie said. “What was hers?”
    Helena shrugged lazily. “She was offered another position.”
    Jessie thought Sam had worked for Helena ever since she interned at Alden & Associates while she was in college at Georgetown. “Doing what?”
    “Working on the Hill for Senator Talmont.”
    The senator had always been an ally of Jessie’s father. He still was, if last night was any indication. Jessie had no doubt that Talmont was a fierce opponent of any legislation pushed by Helena’s firm. Considering Sam’s relationship with Helena, it didn’t make sense that she would willingly switch sides and go to work for Talmont.
    “Speaking of Talmont…,” Helena said.
    Jessie followed her line of vision. Talmont had come in with three men about his age, all of them dressed in business suits. They sat at a table near the bar.
    “He’s a regular here,” Helena said, “just like a lot of other senators and congressmen.”
    Jessie found it a little disconcerting that Talmont would show up just as he’d become the topic of conversation—as if he’d entered on cue. As she looked back toward Helena, she scanned the pictures on the walls and realized that most of the photographs, paintings, and drawings were of nude women, in styles ranging from classic to bawdy.
    Helena grinned knowingly. “Some people call this place the Naked Lady Lounge. But that’s not politically correct, now, is it?”
    Jessie had no idea where Helena was trying to lead her, but she had no intention of going there.
    The waitress brought Jessie’s drink.
    “Sam wouldn’t have taken a job with Talmont unless there was more on the table than an attractive offer,” Jessie said after the waitress left.
    “That’s a keen observation, considering how little you knew her.”
    “Give the cheap shots a rest. I wish things had been different. But there were dynamics you couldn’t possibly understand.” It occurred to Jessie that her father had said something similar to her this morning about his relationship with Sam. She took a sip of her martini, and winced at its briny aftertaste. “What else was included in the deal with Talmont, besides a nice salary?”
    Helena made Jessie wait out her calculated silence. “Why are you still in DC?” she finally asked. “You’re meddling in things that weren’t your concern before and they’re none of your business now.” She leaned forward. “Sam had a private life. Show her some respect and leave it that way.”
    “I would,” Jessie said, “if I didn’t have some questions about her death.”
    Helena looked incredulous. “What kind of questions? The poor girl died from a heart attack. It’s dreadfully sad, but not suspicious. For God’s sake, the same thing happened to your mother.”
    Jessie wanted to slap Helena for bringing up the most painful event of her life