Before She Dies
Page 27
Sofia nodded, and Estelle said seriously, “It’s not such an easy decision to make, I’ve discovered.”
“Well,” I said, and Estelle looked up expectantly. She looked younger than my youngest daughter. “I’m probably the wrong person to ask, sweetheart. If you lose the election, you’ll be disappointed, of course. And I don’t know if Marty Holman has a vindictive streak. And if he loses the election…” I hesitated and then grinned. “Then I lose a decent administrator on the one hand and my chief of detectives on the other. You’re the one then who would always be tied up in endless county commission meetings.” I held up my hands. “Lose, lose. It’s a tough choice.”
I knew it wasn’t the answer that Estelle had wanted to hear, but that was politics. I turned to Sofia Tournál. “Have you had dinner out since you arrived here? I mean, other than in fits and snatches, or out of a bag?”
She looked mildly surprised. “No. I haven’t.”
“Well, then,” I said, “how would you like to have dinner with me this evening, just you and me, and we will discuss this young lady’s political future. No interruptions. No telephones. No radios. No fried chicken in a cardboard box. And no baby-sitting.”
“Sir…” Estelle said.
“About seven?” I asked, and Sofia nodded demurely.
Estelle took a deep breath and then let it out slowly as she broke into a grin. I turned to go and gestured at the two-column list. “Keep working,” I said.
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