me. Our gazes met with a little spark of recognition and he smiled.
Subsequently, the hipless woman took over his job and he came my way, wiping his hands on a napkin.
“Christina.” He smiled. The expression was still top shelf, a little self-deprecating, a little flirty, as effective hereas at any lavish banquet in Pasadena. His handshake, however, was the real showstopper. Warm and personal, squeezing my fingers intimately between his slightly calloused palms. “What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?”
Excellent question. “My secretary gave me your message, but when I called I got this number.”
He shook his head and looked embarrassed. “I must have given her the wrong number. How foolish of me. But you needn't have come all this way. I only called to …” He sighed mournfully. “To apologize. Both for my behavior and for my son's. We were…” Another head shake, accompanied by a vague scowl. “What is the word?”
“There are a lot of them,” I said, remembering the stunning stupidity of the other night. He looked at me and laughed.
“You see, this is why I like you so very much, Christina,” he said. “You do not stand on ceremony. In fact, that is why I stopped by. I knew you would have the integrity and intellect to get to the bottom of this.”
“The bottom of what, exactly?”
He gave me a curious glance. “The cause of Ms. Baltimore's death, of course.”
“Uh-huh.” Two days and a conversation with Laney had stirred up a few doubts about the good senator. “If you don't mind me asking,” I said, “why do you care?”
“Despite the troubles between Gerald and myself, I am still his father and I still wish to protect him.”
I was only more confused. “And you think he's in danger because …”
“I am beginning to suspect that you are not a great believer in premonitions and dreams, Christina.”
I shrugged, feeling a little guilty for my lack of faith. “I don't think I would bet a new septic system on either.”
He laughed. “Perhaps it is my heritage that makes me more prone to believe. Or perhaps it is my age. In my many years I have seen a great deal that cannot be explained.”
“Like your dream.”
“Yes.”
“About that—how did you know who the victim was when you saw her in your dream?”
“I did not,” he said, and motioned toward the back. I moved in that direction.
“Then why—”
“As it happened, I read an article regarding her death just after…” He shuddered. “After that horrible dream.”
“An article?”
“Online.”
“And it had a picture of her?”
“Taken just weeks before her demise.”
I nodded. I could hardly disprove it. One could find anything online. “Okay,” I said, deciding to let that go for a minute. “But why not hire a professional if you're so set on investigating?”
He sobered handsomely. “May I be honest with you?”
“Does this suggest that you haven't been in the past?”
He laughed again. “As you know, I was in the political arena for a long while. Indeed, I may yet be again.”
I stared at him, not sure where he was going or how long it would take him to get there.
“Having the media connect me with an unsolved death would do me no good,” he added.
Something knotted in my stomach.
“Are
you connected?”
He shook his head like a sad warrior, wearied by the world. “The truth rarely has any bearing in matters such as these. Once the paparazzi learn I have paid to have a death investigated, they will insist on knowing why.”
“Why not tell them about your dream?”
His smile suggested I might be kind of naive. “The citizens of this great country are wonderful people, Christina. Strong. Resourceful. But they—like you, perhaps—do not set a great deal of store in things they cannot touch. Cannot prove. You see, I have no desire to make my constituents believe I am easily spooked. Neither did I wish for my son to think less of me. I was certain I could trust
you
to
Subsequently, the hipless woman took over his job and he came my way, wiping his hands on a napkin.
“Christina.” He smiled. The expression was still top shelf, a little self-deprecating, a little flirty, as effective hereas at any lavish banquet in Pasadena. His handshake, however, was the real showstopper. Warm and personal, squeezing my fingers intimately between his slightly calloused palms. “What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?”
Excellent question. “My secretary gave me your message, but when I called I got this number.”
He shook his head and looked embarrassed. “I must have given her the wrong number. How foolish of me. But you needn't have come all this way. I only called to …” He sighed mournfully. “To apologize. Both for my behavior and for my son's. We were…” Another head shake, accompanied by a vague scowl. “What is the word?”
“There are a lot of them,” I said, remembering the stunning stupidity of the other night. He looked at me and laughed.
“You see, this is why I like you so very much, Christina,” he said. “You do not stand on ceremony. In fact, that is why I stopped by. I knew you would have the integrity and intellect to get to the bottom of this.”
“The bottom of what, exactly?”
He gave me a curious glance. “The cause of Ms. Baltimore's death, of course.”
“Uh-huh.” Two days and a conversation with Laney had stirred up a few doubts about the good senator. “If you don't mind me asking,” I said, “why do you care?”
“Despite the troubles between Gerald and myself, I am still his father and I still wish to protect him.”
I was only more confused. “And you think he's in danger because …”
“I am beginning to suspect that you are not a great believer in premonitions and dreams, Christina.”
I shrugged, feeling a little guilty for my lack of faith. “I don't think I would bet a new septic system on either.”
He laughed. “Perhaps it is my heritage that makes me more prone to believe. Or perhaps it is my age. In my many years I have seen a great deal that cannot be explained.”
“Like your dream.”
“Yes.”
“About that—how did you know who the victim was when you saw her in your dream?”
“I did not,” he said, and motioned toward the back. I moved in that direction.
“Then why—”
“As it happened, I read an article regarding her death just after…” He shuddered. “After that horrible dream.”
“An article?”
“Online.”
“And it had a picture of her?”
“Taken just weeks before her demise.”
I nodded. I could hardly disprove it. One could find anything online. “Okay,” I said, deciding to let that go for a minute. “But why not hire a professional if you're so set on investigating?”
He sobered handsomely. “May I be honest with you?”
“Does this suggest that you haven't been in the past?”
He laughed again. “As you know, I was in the political arena for a long while. Indeed, I may yet be again.”
I stared at him, not sure where he was going or how long it would take him to get there.
“Having the media connect me with an unsolved death would do me no good,” he added.
Something knotted in my stomach.
“Are
you connected?”
He shook his head like a sad warrior, wearied by the world. “The truth rarely has any bearing in matters such as these. Once the paparazzi learn I have paid to have a death investigated, they will insist on knowing why.”
“Why not tell them about your dream?”
His smile suggested I might be kind of naive. “The citizens of this great country are wonderful people, Christina. Strong. Resourceful. But they—like you, perhaps—do not set a great deal of store in things they cannot touch. Cannot prove. You see, I have no desire to make my constituents believe I am easily spooked. Neither did I wish for my son to think less of me. I was certain I could trust
you
to
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