Fair Game Page 10

  “Did any of them work out?”

  “Some of them, for a while. They weren’t all as bad as the guy in the gorilla suit.”

  Ransom beckoned the waiter closer, leaning forward to say to Meg, “The guy in the gorilla suit?”

  “It was a Halloween party, and...well, it’s a long story.”

  “Something from the bar?” Ransom asked as the waiter appeared at his elbow.

  Meg shook her head. “I have to work this afternoon. Just club soda with a slice of lime, please.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Ransom said to the waiter.

  The man left, and Ransom said to Meg, “Tell me about the Halloween party.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear it?” God, she thought, why had she brought up such an adolescent subject? She must be jumpier than she’d realized.

  He nodded, smiling.

  “Well,” she said, refolding her linen napkin in her lap, “it was October of my sophomore year, and Karen, that’s my roommate, was going to a Halloween party sponsored by her boyfriend Tom’s fraternity. I was just going to stay in the dorm that weekend and catch up on some work, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Tom had a friend, of course, a nice guy, she said, kind of shy but really a wonderful person underneath it all. You know the routine.”

  Ransom smiled again. He didn’t, he’d never had a blind date in his life and very few enlightened ones, but he pretended to go along with her.

  “And so I dressed up as Fay Wray. You know, that lady in the King Kong movie? The ape is carrying her around when the planes are dive-bombing him on the Empire State Building.”

  Ransom nodded. He had seen the film in the army.

  “So my date shows up in the gorilla suit, which I expected. But he’s huge, I mean really big, a linebacker on the football team, six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds. And he can’t talk to me because the head of the suit muffles everything he says, so in order to carry on a conversation he has to take the head off and carry it under his arm like that coach driver in ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.’”

  “I see.” He was, indeed, beginning to get the picture.

  “So there we were, at the dance, and he’s lumbering around in this suit, can’t hear, can’t talk, can hardly see, and is crashing into everything, including me. And I’m trying to communicate with hand gestures and standing next to this human obelisk and wishing I was back in my room reading the last three chapters of Lyndon Baines Johnson: The Exercise of Power, which was my assignment for the weekend.” Please don’t let him be bored with this, Meg thought, wishing she didn’t have to finish the story.

  “And?” he said.

  “That wasn’t the worst of it.”

  “What was the worst of it?”

  “He apparently fancied himself as something of a clown, and every once in a while he would grab me and haul me into the air, literally over his head, and beat his breast with his free hand, making what he imagined to be gorilla noises.”

  “Oh.”

  “He dislocated my wrist.”

  Ransom said nothing, listening in disbelief.

  “So we wound up the festivities in the emergency room of the local hospital, having my wrist put in a cast.” She took a sip of the drink the waiter had just deposited in front of her. “And that was my last blind date.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Karen stopped suggesting them after that.”

  “I’m amazed you left her alive to say anything at all.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t her fault. She was trying to be helpful. She really thought I was missing out on something.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Meg shrugged. “I guess I figured if something was meant to happen, it would.”

  “A fatalist.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So am I. There’s only so much you can control in life. The rest is just chance.”

  “Like flat tires.”

  “Like that.” He fiddled with the salt shaker and asked, “So how did you wind up in your present job? I would think you’d be awfully young for such a responsible position.”

  “Senator Fair likes to project a youthful image.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the only reason.”

  “I’m good at what I do,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve been fascinated by politics all my life. I volunteered to work on the Senator’s state campaigns when I was in college and joined his staff when I graduated. I moved up from there.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t. But it was what I wanted to do. I’ve had to make sacrifices, of course, but you always have to sacrifice to get what you want, no matter what it is.”

  “No regrets, then?”

  “None.”

  “Do you believe in the Senator that much?”

  “I believe in what he stands for, his goals. I couldn’t work for him if I didn’t.”

  The waiter returned and they ordered, spinach salad and quiche for Meg, prosciutto with melon and flounder francaise for Ransom. When the server had taken the menus and gone, Meg said, “Enough about me. Tell me about you. What do you do at Premier Leasing?”

  “I lease office space for business concerns. Larger outfits have their own real-estate people, but smaller businesses don’t have the time or the money to employ a full-time representative. They contact me with their requests and I find the right kind of site for expansion, a warehouse, a factory, whatever they need. I take a percentage of the purchase price or the lease as my fee.” He had actually done just that years ago, so he could speak of it convincingly.

  “I see. Is that interesting work?”

  “No.”

  Meg burst out laughing. “At least you’re honest.”

  He shrugged. “It pays the bills until I can get enough money together to start my own agency.”

  “That’s your plan?”

  He nodded. “There’s a big future in commercial real estate in this area. Many companies in New York and Washington are finding the cost of doing business in the home area too high and are looking to move, not too far, to keep expenses down. Philadelphia is very appealing in that respect; it has a metropolitan environment, but real estate is cheaper than in comparable cities.”

  “You seem to know all about it.”

  “I’ve been studying the market for a while.”

  The waiter brought their appetizers, and Ransom cut his ham into several slices as Meg dug into her salad.

  “How did you get into real estate?” she asked.

  Careful. “I was a business major in college, and a friend’s father had a local agency. He just handled residential listings, but it got me started. My friend and I used to work there during the summers, and when I graduated from school I got my license.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “UCLA,” he said promptly. He had actually taken a few courses there, and had a fake diploma from the place, courtesy of a former lover who worked for a lithographer, but if she checked with the registrar’s office he would be in trouble. The trick was to make sure she never got suspicious enough to check.

  “Did you like California?”

  “I liked it well enough. The climate is great, but boring after a while. Sunshine every day. It got to the point where I was praying for a monsoon.” He had lived there when he was discharged from the army at a base near Los Angeles, simply because he didn’t have the money to travel anywhere else.

  “I’ve heard that about the climate. Of course, the earthquakes do provide a change.”

  “We weren’t having any earthquakes when I was there. I missed the change of seasons, so I came back east.”

  “Do you have any family?”

  “All dead,” he said shortly, in a tone that intimated that he did not want to discuss it. He assumed Meg’s good manners would prevent her from pursuing the subject, and he was right.

  “My parents still live in the house where I was raised, in Doylestown,”
she said. “That’s north of here, quite rural. My father has a grain-feed business.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?” One of them might show up and interfere with his plan.

  “I have a younger brother in medical school in Iowa.”

  Good. Medical students tended to be very busy, and Iowa was far away.

  “Why did he go there?” Ransom asked.

  “That’s the only place he got into school. It’s difficult to get admitted. You have to go where they’ll take you.”

  “Your parents must be very proud of both of you.” How well he had assimilated the nuances of polite conversation. He always knew the proper thing to say.

  “Yes, they are,” she replied.

  “Do they come to see you often?”

  “Almost never. My father has to be surgically removed from his office, and my mother doesn’t like to travel. If I want to see them, I have to go there.”

  “You must be different from your mother. Your work involves a lot of travel, doesn’t it?”

  Meg nodded. “Especially now. We’re set to cover the whole state in the next six weeks or so.” She giggled as the waiter removed her salad plate. “They’re even giving us a police escort for the trip.”

  Ransom’s fork paused in the act of carrying the last bit of melon to his mouth. “Police?” he said.

  “Yup. The commissioner assigned them to us himself. Two Philadelphia cops, a sergeant and a lieutenant.”

  Damn. “A lieutenant. I’m surprised they would send someone with that high a rank. Rather a waste, isn’t it, for such a routine duty?”

  “I think the cops feel the same way, but they’re pretty much doing what they’re told. Ashley feels better having them around, though. She wasn’t happy about it in the beginning, but I can see that she’s changing her mind.”

  “The Senator’s daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen her pictures in the papers. Very photogenic.”

  “You could say that. She’s gorgeous.”

  “I haven’t read anything about the police bodyguards.”

  A furrow appeared between Meg’s dark brows. “Would they mention that in the newspapers?”

  “Perhaps not,” Ransom replied hastily, aware that he should change the subject. “Have you been keeping tabs on the Senator’s potential opponent? How is the other side doing?”

  Meg shook her head. “Too early to tell for sure. We’re following the polls, but as we get closer to summer they will become much more important. Right now they’re not as accurate as we’d like; there’s too much time for things to change.”

  “Your man is assumed to be the underdog.”

  “Like Harry Truman after the war?” Meg asked, grinning. “Like John Kennedy in 1960?”

  “I can see that you won’t give up until the swearing-in ceremony.”

  “Not even then. There’s always the future, the next term. Four years isn’t very long when you consider a lifetime or a century.”

  The waiter brought the main course, and Ransom watched Meg remove the bacon bits from her quiche with a single tine of her fork. She looked up and caught him studying her.

  “I don’t like bacon,” she explained sheepishly.

  “Would you prefer something else?” he asked, glancing around for the waiter.

  “Oh, no. This is fine. I’ve mutilated it sufficiently.”

  He smiled. “Your name is Margaret, but you prefer Meg?”

  She nodded.

  “Why? Margaret is such a charming name.”

  “It means ‘a pearl.’ Difficult to live up to, don’t you think? Especially for someone with my coloring.”

  “There are black pearls, just the shade of your hair. They’re far more rare and valuable than the white ones.”

  She looked up at him, and he could see her examining him for sincerity. He marshaled all his resources to project it.

  She looked down again. “‘Margaret’ always makes me feel like I’m back in fourth grade.” She lowered her voice to a male register. “‘Margaret, how do you explain this failing grade in conduct?’” she said, imitating her father.

  “You got poor grades in elementary school?” he asked in surprise.

  “Not in academic subjects. In behavior, deportment.”

  “I can’t believe you misbehaved.”

  “I didn’t misbehave, really, but the school had a demerits system. You lost points if you broke the rules. I didn’t cut class or sass the teachers, but I was always reading novels during arithmetic and doing homework when I finished the test early, that sort of thing. Each incident added up, and the total usually caught up with me at report time.”

  “Sounds like the place I was in,” Ransom said dryly.

  “Where was that?”

  “A boarding school,” he said lightly, surprised at himself for making the admission. Why had he told her that?

  “So you understand what I mean,” she said.

  “Yes, I do, Meg.”

  She smiled. Then she glanced at her watch and said, “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I have to get going, I really lost track of the time.”

  “Can’t you have some dessert, coffee?”

  “Maybe just coffee, but then I have to run.”

  “All right.”

  The waiter cleared the plates, and while they waited for the coffee Ransom said, “I’d like to take you to dinner soon.”

  She hesitated.

  “No gorilla suits, I promise,” he said.

  She smiled. “Okay. I’ll give you the number in New Hope where we’ll be staying. You can call me there.”

  He held her gaze. “Meg, I like you. I like you a lot. Please don’t make me leave here without a firm commitment.”

  “I’m very busy with the campaign,” she said weakly.

  “Saturday night?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, I have a political dinner. There are functions to attend most weekends.”

  “Thursday, then. Is anything happening Thursday night?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll make it an early evening. Where will you be staying?”

  “The Chanticleer Hotel in New Hope.”

  “I’ll pick you up in the lobby at eight. Chez Ondine is only a short distance away, if I remember correctly. Would that be all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll have you back by ten-thirty.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. The waiter poured the coffee, and as she sipped it she checked her watch again.

  “My car is out in the parking lot,” Ransom said, watching her. “I’ll drive you back.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, that’s all the way across town in the midday traffic,” Meg replied firmly. “I’ll go by cab, the way I came.”

  He saw that she would brook no argument, and so he signaled the maitre d’, who was standing at the entrance to the dining room. When the man appeared at his side, Ransom took a folded bill from his wallet and said, “Please call the lady a cab. She’ll need it in ten minutes.”

  “Very good, sir,” the maitre d’ said, and went to the desk to use the telephone.

  “Thank you,” Meg said to Ransom.

  They drank their coffee and made small talk until the maitre d’ returned and said, “The lady’s cab is here.”

  Ransom rose and pulled out Meg’s chair, then walked her to the door. They emerged into the afternoon sunshine and turned to each other to say good-bye.

  The taxi was waiting at the curb.

  “Eight o’clock on Thursday,” Ransom reminded her.

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Until then.”

  Meg nodded and climbed into the cab. Ransom stood on the sidewalk and watched it disappear around the corner, then he turned back into the restaurant and went directly to the bar.

  “Jameson’s straight up, no ice,” he said to the bartender. The barman nodded and went for the bottle while Ransom sat on the leather stool and studied his reflection in the Victorian mirror.

&n
bsp; By all rational standards it had gone very well. She had seemed to enjoy his company and he’d made another date with her. If their relationship continued in this vein, he would be able to accomplish his mission with no problem. Yet he was vaguely uneasy. Why?

  It was Meg, he realized. He really never liked anyone; respect was the closest he could come to affection. But she was attractive and pleasant, witty and bright. Worthy of respect. Why couldn’t she have been the dull, driven career woman he’d expected, a thing, a patsy it would have been easy to use and discard? Instead she was a person, a personality, and he didn’t like that.

  His drink came, and he bolted it, asked for another. Something was off center, he mused, something was wrong with him. He was thinking about vacations, giving away unnecessary information to a mark, considering the feelings of a woman whose trust he was plotting to abuse. How many other people had he violated in the past without even losing his concentration? He must be slipping, getting old.

  Oh, what the hell, he thought. It was probably just starting-gate tension. He had never hit anyone as prominent as Fair before, finding his clientele primarily among businessmen who wanted to eliminate rivals and husbands who wanted to eliminate their wives. He felt different this time because the situation was different.

  His target was a U.S. Senator, and that was bound to generate some jitters. Nothing to worry about, certainly.

  But when the second drink came he bolted that too.

  * * * *

  The next day, Meg glanced up from her computer terminal to find Capo standing three feet away from her, smoking languidly.

  “Sergeant Capo,” she said, “I would appreciate it if you would take that cigarette into the other room. I’m wearing my contact lenses, and the haze bothers my eyes.”

  Capo crushed out the cigarette and came closer, which wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d anticipated.

  “You don’t always wear them, huh?” he said.

  “No, but for prolonged close work they’re helpful.”

  “You can’t see without them?”

  “Not well. I need to wear them or my glasses,” she answered, continuing to type.

  “I’ve got great eyes myself,” Capo volunteered. ‘Twenty-twenty, twenty-fifteen, something like that. I can read billboards, signs on the road, anything.”

  “How fortunate for you,” Meg observed, not looking up.