himself with a hand on the green wrought-iron table, and sat heavily. “Sorry,” he said. “Lost my balance.”
A little unbalanced by bourbon,
the others thought.
“Clarise is generous to a fault,” Crowley said, downing some of the shimmering amber liquid in his glass.
“How so?” Mac asked.
“Keeping someone like Sydney on the payroll. It seems to me that the only contribution he makes is trouble.”
“Oh, Bernard,” Clarise said, like a teacher to a child. To Mac and Annabel: “Bernard is always keeping his eye on the bottom line. That’s good. But he sometimes doesn’t appreciate the more subtle aspects of fund-raising. Sydney is a valuable commodity to me. His prior fame as an actor has opened many doors, behind which have lurked generous contributors. Sydney may be difficult at times, even outrageously so on occasion, but he fulfills an important function.”
“And drives everyone crazy,” Crowley said.
“He always had a reputation as a prima donna,” Annabel said, referring to the British Bancroft’s earlier time as a stage and film actor, particularly a series of successes years ago performing Shakespeare with the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford-upon-Avon. “He is prickly, I must say, but he can be charming, too.”
“Hardly a word I’d use,” said Crowley.
Mac ignored Crowley’s comment and asked Clarise what Bancroft had had to say about the murder that morning.
“I haven’t talked with him,” she said. “He’s out of town, I think. I was annoyed this morning. Sydney evidently called a meeting on the teen show knowing he couldn’t be there. That’s why there was a stage crew so early. They weren’t happy.”
Mac excused himself to assume the role of chef. Annabel had prepared a large salad and a rice dish; Mac’s task was to pop flounder stuffed with crabmeat into the oven.
“Let’s talk about more pleasant things,” Annabel said. “All set for your confirmation hearing?”
Clarise frowned. “That is coming up soon, isn’t it? I’ve been making the requisite tour of Senate committee members, making nice, putting them at ease that I won’t allow the NEA to support what the senators consider blasphemous or pornographic.”
“Succeeding?” Annabel asked.
Clarise laughed. “Who knows? It’s obvious which committee members are for me, and which ones aren’t. You can put Topper Sybers at the head of the latter group.”
“Good ol’ Senator Sybers, champion of virtue, protector of women and children, and hypocrite nonpareil,” Crowley said.
“Actually, he was endearing when I visited him. We chatted for over an hour.”
“Wrapped the old reprobate around your little finger, huh, Clarise?” said Crowley, his words slightly slurred.
“I have no illusions. Being courteous to me informally doesn’t necessarily translate into his vote. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Dinner is served!”
Later, after coffee, fresh fruit, and slivers of chocolate truffle cake from Watergate Bakery, Crowley excused himself. “I don’t think I realized what an impact Nadia’s murder has had on me,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Annabel offered.
After Crowley had departed, Mac, Annabel, and Clarise, accompanied by Rufus, returned to the terrace for a taste of rare port that Mac had recently purchased at a wine auction.
“He’s such a delight,” Clarise said, referring to Ford’s Theatre’s controller with theatrical overstatement.
“He’s obviously shaken by this morning’s events,” Mac said.
“He’s not alone,” said Clarise. “I dread tomorrow. The press will be camped at the door, and I’m due to have another series of briefings for the confirmation hearings. You can’t believe the possible questions my so-called handlers come up with. I’m tempted to withdraw, leave the theatre, and buy a cabin in the Maine woods.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Mac said. “Within a month you’d be thinking up ways to
A little unbalanced by bourbon,
the others thought.
“Clarise is generous to a fault,” Crowley said, downing some of the shimmering amber liquid in his glass.
“How so?” Mac asked.
“Keeping someone like Sydney on the payroll. It seems to me that the only contribution he makes is trouble.”
“Oh, Bernard,” Clarise said, like a teacher to a child. To Mac and Annabel: “Bernard is always keeping his eye on the bottom line. That’s good. But he sometimes doesn’t appreciate the more subtle aspects of fund-raising. Sydney is a valuable commodity to me. His prior fame as an actor has opened many doors, behind which have lurked generous contributors. Sydney may be difficult at times, even outrageously so on occasion, but he fulfills an important function.”
“And drives everyone crazy,” Crowley said.
“He always had a reputation as a prima donna,” Annabel said, referring to the British Bancroft’s earlier time as a stage and film actor, particularly a series of successes years ago performing Shakespeare with the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford-upon-Avon. “He is prickly, I must say, but he can be charming, too.”
“Hardly a word I’d use,” said Crowley.
Mac ignored Crowley’s comment and asked Clarise what Bancroft had had to say about the murder that morning.
“I haven’t talked with him,” she said. “He’s out of town, I think. I was annoyed this morning. Sydney evidently called a meeting on the teen show knowing he couldn’t be there. That’s why there was a stage crew so early. They weren’t happy.”
Mac excused himself to assume the role of chef. Annabel had prepared a large salad and a rice dish; Mac’s task was to pop flounder stuffed with crabmeat into the oven.
“Let’s talk about more pleasant things,” Annabel said. “All set for your confirmation hearing?”
Clarise frowned. “That is coming up soon, isn’t it? I’ve been making the requisite tour of Senate committee members, making nice, putting them at ease that I won’t allow the NEA to support what the senators consider blasphemous or pornographic.”
“Succeeding?” Annabel asked.
Clarise laughed. “Who knows? It’s obvious which committee members are for me, and which ones aren’t. You can put Topper Sybers at the head of the latter group.”
“Good ol’ Senator Sybers, champion of virtue, protector of women and children, and hypocrite nonpareil,” Crowley said.
“Actually, he was endearing when I visited him. We chatted for over an hour.”
“Wrapped the old reprobate around your little finger, huh, Clarise?” said Crowley, his words slightly slurred.
“I have no illusions. Being courteous to me informally doesn’t necessarily translate into his vote. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Dinner is served!”
Later, after coffee, fresh fruit, and slivers of chocolate truffle cake from Watergate Bakery, Crowley excused himself. “I don’t think I realized what an impact Nadia’s murder has had on me,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Annabel offered.
After Crowley had departed, Mac, Annabel, and Clarise, accompanied by Rufus, returned to the terrace for a taste of rare port that Mac had recently purchased at a wine auction.
“He’s such a delight,” Clarise said, referring to Ford’s Theatre’s controller with theatrical overstatement.
“He’s obviously shaken by this morning’s events,” Mac said.
“He’s not alone,” said Clarise. “I dread tomorrow. The press will be camped at the door, and I’m due to have another series of briefings for the confirmation hearings. You can’t believe the possible questions my so-called handlers come up with. I’m tempted to withdraw, leave the theatre, and buy a cabin in the Maine woods.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Mac said. “Within a month you’d be thinking up ways to
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