Senator Love

by Warren Adler

  31

  WOULD SHE have, really?

  Perhaps it was instinct. But if, at precisely that moment, she had not contacted the eggplant, would she have really gone ahead with it?

  "Where the hell have you been?" the eggplant shouted.

  His urgent scratchy macho voice pulled her back from the edge of the abyss. She did not have time to answer. His next question, which should have been his first, came too fast: "Are you okay?"

  "She had us going. It wasn't Bunkie."

  "Did she try to do you?"

  "Bungled it. She was waiting for me in my back seat. Amateur job. I got her trussed up and raving in the back of the car. I'll fill you in."

  "You should have called in," he said, but there was no bite to his rebuke.

  "Bitch kept me busy. Took me more time to get what we needed," she told him. Later, she would use that explanation to absolve herself of the guilt of intention. "I got it all, even a little extra." Got more than I bargained for, she thought.

  "Our boy has bit the bullet," the eggplant said.

  The words panicked her. Our boy? Sam?

  "He killed himself?" The question rushed out of her before she could stop it.

  "Killed his political career. Held this press conference couple of hours ago. He's not going to go for President and he's not going to run for the Senate after his term is over."

  "It's a trick," Frances screeched from the back seat. She had heard it all.

  "What was that?" the eggplant asked.

  "Lady Macbeth without the guilt," Fiona said.

  "Smart move on his part," the eggplant said. "No matter what. The shit would slop onto him. Better to leave with dignity at the top of his form. Can't say we didn't try to protect the son-of-a-bitch."

  "We tried, all right." Harder than you think.

  "Kind of a classy thing to do on his part," the eggplant said. "Said he wanted to spend more time with his family. Of course, he had no choice."

  "Almost did," Fiona whispered.

  "Didn't hear you," the eggplant said.

  "Wasn't important." She cleared her throat. "But I quite agree. He is a classy guy." In her heart she said good-bye. All in all, she told herself, smiling, it was worth it, every bit of it.

  She turned again to look at Frances, a sad sight, a mind obliterated by hate, committed to vengeance, an ugly and obscene woman. They would put her away in some hospital. Perhaps someday she would walk the streets again. Fiona felt her insides congeal.

  "So bring home the bacon," the eggplant said.

  "Cates must be pissed."

  "He's sitting right here. Followed Bunkie right back to the office. Man was loyal to the end. Stood behind his man at the press conference."

  "Say Hi," Fiona said, feeling suddenly cleansed as she turned the car and headed toward police headquarters.

  "Had you going," Frances said from the back seat.

  "No way," Fiona said, suddenly thinking of her old man. "We FitzGeralds always wind up doing the right thing."