Blackfoot Affair

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “Oh, he won’t get away with that. He’s just buying time. You’ll straighten it out in the end. You’ll see.”

  “I’d better, or I’ll be lining up at the unemployment office.” Marisa sat down hard and stared at the carpet fixedly without replying.

  “That’s not the worst of it, is it?” Tracy murmured.

  Marisa raised her eyes. “Tracy, Jack wouldn’t even listen to me,” she said softly.

  “He’s just hurt, Marisa. Once he calms down he’ll think better of it and call you. I know it.”

  Marisa shook her head. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see his face.” She threw up her hands. “How could he take the word of that snake from the Bureau over mine?”

  “He’s not in love with Block. He’s in love with you.”

  “Oh, what does that mean?” Marisa moaned.

  “It means he’s proud and sensitive and taking a big chance on you, right? Even the suggestion that you might not feel the same way about him, that you might have had ulterior motives for your relationship with him, is bound to drive him wild.”

  “But it isn’t true!”

  “He’ll see that eventually.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Why don’t you give him a day or two to cool down and then go and see him?”

  “Assuming he doesn’t shoot me on sight.”

  “He’ll calm down.”

  “I wish I could be sure of that. He was wild, Tracy. I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “But you knew that potential was there,” Tracy replied.

  Marisa looked at her.

  “That’s part of what attracted you to him so strongly, isn’t it?” Tracy said sagely.

  “I’ve never analyzed it,” Marisa said.

  “I have.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s the attraction of opposites. There’s a lake of fire smoldering beneath that polished surface of Jack’s, and you’ve always known that, haven’t you?”

  “I didn’t expect it to burn me!” Marisa protested. “He was so unreasonable. Nothing I said had the slightest impact on him .”

  “What did you think would happen?”

  “I thought he would have some faith in me!”

  “Maybe he’s more insecure than he seems,” Tracy observed.

  Marisa snorted.

  “I mean it. Look at his background, look where he comes from. He must have had some dreadful experiences while he was growing up.”

  “He won’t talk about it much, but I think you’re right.”

  “So there! You must seem like a goddess to him.”

  “Please,” Marisa said disgustedly.

  “Think about it. Sure, he’s gorgeous. Sure, he’s been around quite a bit, but has he ever had a serious adult relationship with somebody like you? I doubt it. Is it any wonder that he’s vulnerable to the suggestion that you were manipulating him?”

  “But what do I have to do to convince him otherwise? He’s turned into a madman!”

  “Wait it out, as I said. He’ll come around. In the meantime, let’s see if we can unearth Randall Block.”

  “And I’d better call Charlie at the firm right now and tell him what’s happened,” Marisa said resignedly.

  “Don’t you think you should alert his cardiac specialist first?” Tracy said dryly.

  “If he thinks I was in on the bribe I’ll kill myself.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Charlie. He’s got a high tech computer ticking away in his chest. He’s never allowed an emotion to cloud his judgment in his life.”

  Marisa nodded and picked up the phone.

  * * *

  Jack shut down the word processing program in disgust and threw his notes in the trash. It was impossible to work. He couldn’t think straight enough to count to ten. His manuscript would be late, his editor would go crazy, and the NFN case against the government was stalled indefinitely while Lasky tried to decide who was lying about what. His life was in a shambles, all because he was stupid enough to fall for a regal blonde with an innocent manner and a heart of stone.

  He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was not crying; his eyes were tearing from fatigue. He blinked until he had himself under control and then rose to get a drink.

  In the kitchen he fumbled around for the bottle of whiskey at the back of the cabinet. When he located it he splashed several fingers of the amber liquid into a glass and drank it neat. He gasped as it hit his stomach and the fire spread through his belly. It didn’t help much, but a little. Any relief was welcome.

  He couldn’t wait to wrap up this case and leave Florida forever. All it meant to him now was bittersweet memories he wished he could erase from his brain. It was no fun recalling what an idiot he had been, and a change of scenery might make it easier to forget. He was sorely tempted to jump on a plane and let Brady wrap up the case alone, but that was a little too much like flight, and he was damned if he was going to run. He would face her down and show her up for the rotten little deceiver she was.

  Jack looked at the bottle and then resolutely put it away. His father had been an alcoholic, and he was not heading down that road. He had been through many painful episodes before and had survived them. He would survive this, even though it didn’t seem like it at the moment.

  He couldn’t forget Block’s smug expression as the agent told him how Marisa had come to him with her clever plan to put an end to the NFN case. The warning signs had been there all along, of course, but Jack had been too much in love to heed them. Marisa’s career was very important to her. She prided herself on her win record, and she especially wanted to beat that overblown gas bag Ben Brady. She couldn’t lose, that was all, and when she saw that she was going to do just that she pulled a last rabbit out of the hat to try to save the situation. And her relationship with Jack had been a ploy to keep him off guard and maybe get some inside information while she worked the angles. He was a jerk, all right, a prize bull led to the slaughter by the delicate scent of perfume.

  Jack swallowed the rest of his drink abruptly, hoping that if he got semi-sloshed he’d be able to sleep. Then he felt his way upstairs in the dark and fell into bed.

  * * *

  Marisa took Tracy’s advice and waited three days before she went to see Jack. She didn’t call first because she knew he would refuse to see her. She drove her hired car out to his isolated house just after sunset and knocked on his door with her heart banging in her chest. When he appeared seconds later she blurted out, “Don’t throw me out, Jack, please give me a chance to talk to you.”

  Jack studied her for a long moment in silence and then stepped aside, allowing her to precede him into the house.

  “I really don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” he observed neutrally.

  “How can you just dismiss me?” she demanded. “Isn’t there any chance I could be telling the truth?”

  “No,” he said flatly.

  “Why?” Marisa countered, trying very hard to stay calm.

  “I knew you were too good to be true, and I was right. I just wish I had realized it before I made a fool of myself.”

  “It’s very important for you to hurt me now, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

  “Why not? Turnabout is fair play.”

  “You never believed I loved you, did you?” she said miserably.

  “I believe you wanted to sleep with me. Even you are not that good an actress. As an amusement, I’m sure I was satisfactory. I’ve never had any complaints in that direction. And all that business about keeping the relationship going after the case was over, that was just a red herring to throw me off the track. Can’t have the pigeon catching on before the trap is sprung, right?”

  “Once I get Randall Block into court I’ll force him to tell the truth, and then you’ll see,” she said desperately.

  “Save your breath. He’s already telling the truth.”

  “He got a federal judge to issue a restraining order against
me,” Marisa said.

  “Smart guy.”

  “He knew he could dodge my calls only so long before I showed up in person.”

  “Terrifying prospect. What were you going to do, bludgeon him with your briefcase?” he said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know,” Marisa said in a small voice.

  “Why don’t you try sleeping with him? That seems to work very well for you.”

  Marisa gasped, staring at him, unable to reply.

  “Maybe you could try the virgin routine with him too. No, I guess that only works once. Well, you’re an inventive lady. Never fear, you’ll think of something.”

  “You louse,” Marisa whispered.

  “That makes two of us. Will there be anything else?” He motioned toward the door.

  “Yes,” Marisa said hoarsely. “I have something else to say.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “You are going to regret this,” she began.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Oh, I know you don’t believe it now, but you will remember this day and the things you said to me and realize what a mistake you made.”

  He glared back at her stonily.

  “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re throwing me away because you’re so insecure and cynical and just plain stupid…”

  “Watch it,” he said tightly.

  “What are you going to do, big man?” she said, fighting tears. “Punch me, the way you punched that kid at the Seminole gallery? That’s your standard method of solving problems, isn’t it?”

  “Get the hell out of here.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong!” Marisa burst out, suddenly overwhelmed by the unfairness of it. “I didn’t attempt to bribe anybody. I knew nothing about what Block was doing until I heard about it in court. But if this is what it took to show me what a narrow, limited, prejudiced person you really are...”

  “Prejudiced!” he said disbelievingly.

  “You heard me,” Marisa said, crying openly now. “You think I’m just like that girlfriend you had when you were in high school, too Waspy, too white bread...”

  “I think that you’re a liar,” he said tonelessly. “They come in all colors.”

  “Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I’m leaving.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll never forget you,” she sobbed, running headlong for the front door.

  “I’ll try to forget you,” he called after her.

  Marisa burst out onto the porch, blinded by tears. She dashed to the car and sat on the front seat for a couple of minutes, waiting for her vision to clear, watching the door through a mist to see if Jack would follow her.

  When he didn’t, she drove back to her hotel in town and went straight to bed.

  * * *

  “What’s this?” Tracy asked, when she came in from shopping an hour later and found Marisa already huddled under the covers, clutching a box of tissues.

  “It’s over,” Marisa said.

  “What’s over?”

  “The World’s Fair, what do you think? I took your advice and went to see Jack tonight. He was the same as before—a stone wall. Worse. He was mean and nasty and insulting and... I give up,” she said, dissolving into tears again.

  Tracy dropped her bags on the floor and sat down.

  “Maybe it was too soon,” she said lamely.

  “Will you please stop making excuses for him?” Marisa said in irritation, pausing to blow her nose.

  “He’ll find out eventually that you didn’t know what Block was going to do,” Tracy said reasonably.

  “What does that matter? This episode has shown me what he really thinks of me, and that isn’t good.”

  “When you see him in court again...” Tracy began.

  “I doubt we’ll be going back to court,” Marisa interrupted, tossing a wadded tissue into the trash bin next to the bed!

  “Why not?”

  “Lasky will probably declare a mistrial and the feds will tell me to fold my tent and go home.”

  “And leave the cemetery to the Seminoles.”

  “Which is what they should have done in the first place,” Marisa concluded.

  “So it looks like we’ll be out of here in short order,” Tracy said, measuring Marisa with a glance.

  “If it goes the way I think it will,” Marisa replied, sniffling and rubbing her reddened nose.

  “Can’t be soon enough for you, I guess,” Tracy said darkly.

  “You got that right.”

  Tracy sighed. “Are you sure Charlie won’t blame this debacle on us once we get back home?” she asked.

  “Charlie knows what happened. And if I have to track Randall Block to the limits of civilization he will clear this up before he dies, or I do.”

  “What does Charlie want you to do?”

  “Nothing. Charlie’s main concern is getting the feds to pay up speedily. Losing clients are notoriously less happy about paying their bills than winning clients.”

  “So Charlie thinks it will be over shortly too.”

  “Unless a new world order is established while we sleep and we wake up tomorrow with Randall Block as President.”

  “Now there’s a thought to fill your heart with joy.”

  Marisa closed her eyes. “I wish I had never come here,” she said plaintively.

  “Soon we’ll be back home and you can forget it.”

  “I can never forget it,” Marisa whispered.

  “The pain will fade with time. It always does.”

  “I’ll never meet anybody else like him, Tracy. I know I’ll miss him for the rest of my life.”

  “You’re young. You’ll meet somebody else.”

  Marisa closed her eyes.

  “Please don’t say things like that. You sound like you’re comforting me about not being asked to the senior prom.”

  “I didn’t mean to trivialize it. I know you’re hurting. I just don’t know what to do to make you feel better.”

  “There’s nothing to do.” Marisa got up and set the box of tissues firmly on the nightstand. “And I am through feeling sorry for myself. I have to resurrect my career from the ashes of this firestorm, and that’s going to be my priority from this moment.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Tracy said, brightening.

  “And now I’m going to take a very long, very hot shower,” Marisa announced, marching toward the bathroom.

  “I’m glad to hear that, too,” Tracy added, grinning.

  Marisa threw her a dirty look over her shoulder.

  “Well, water could only cause an improvement,” Tracy said, shrugging.

  Marisa pushed open the bathroom door and glanced in the mirror. “I see what you mean,” she said glumly.

  “I’ll order dinner in the room,” Tracy went on, cheering up at the prospect of food.

  “I couldn’t eat anything,” Marisa said, turning on the taps.

  “Chicken Marsala?” Tracy suggested.

  “Oh, God,” Marisa whispered, leaning against the tiled wall, her gorge rising at the thought of wine sauce.

  “All right,” Tracy said, peeking in the door as steam billowed out of the shower stall. “Bad idea. But you can’t keep on starving yourself. You’re losing weight already and you can’t spare it. How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Marisa said, smiling weakly.

  “And a glass of milk,” Tracy added, as Marisa shut the door firmly in her face.

  Marisa stepped under the streaming water and picked up the bottle of shampoo, wishing that she could wash away her troubles as easily as she washed her hair.

  * * *

  It happened as Marisa had predicted. Judge Lasky declared a mistrial and the Indians kept their land. Marisa was recalled to Maine where she was kept very busy filing papers to answer collusion charges on the attempted bribery. She was placed on suspension and reduced to the status of law clerk while the state bar association awaited the outcome before instituti
ng disbarment proceedings against her. She was miserable, but she had to bide her time until she was able to show that Block was lying.

  About two weeks after Marisa left Florida, Jack flew to Washington and entered the familiar building which housed the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He went up in the elevator and strolled down a corridor lined with offices, looking for a particular cubicle. When he found it he looked up and down the hall to make sure that no one else was around, and then he entered quickly, startling the room’s occupant.

  “Hi, Randall,” Jack said briskly. “Remember me?”

  Block dropped his pencil.

  “We’re going to have another little talk,” Jack announced, and kicked the door shut behind him.

  Chapter 8

  Marisa peered out the window of her house in Maine and gauged the accumulation of snow on the ground. It was enough to cause trouble but not enough to bring traffic to a standstill. She would be able to make it in to work.

  She switched on the radio in the kitchen and was rewarded with the blaring sound of “Deck the Halls,” reminding her that it was Christmas Eve. She turned the knob abruptly, cutting off the sound. She had never felt less festive in her life.

  The coffeepot was disassembled on the drain board, and as she put the pieces together and fitted the filter into the cup she tried to remember whether she had sent her gray wool skirt to the cleaners. The navy shirtwaist was probably clean, but there was a button missing from one of the sleeves.

  She sighed. She would wear whatever was easiest. She didn’t have the heart, or the interest, for a wardrobe analysis. She plugged in the pot and wandered over to the front door to see if the paperboy had left the morning edition on the porch.

  A blast of wintry air greeted her as she opened the door. Icicles were hanging from the eaves and Mr. Henderson across the street was already clearing his property with a roaring snow blower. Marisa regretted not pulling her car into the garage the night before; now she would have to scrape the frost off its windows.

  Marisa looked in the direction of the driveway and froze. There was an object planted in a shallow drift just beyond her porch. Shielding her eyes against the glare, she saw that it was an arrow decked out with colorful feathers.