Fair Game (21 page)

“I wouldn’t pay that for the house it sat in,” Martin answered dryly.

Capo shook his head. “I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter,” he announced. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Martin nodded.

The show went on, through the Louis Quinze chairs and the Regency toilette tables, the rustic American Colonial pines and maples, catalogued by period and country of origin, until Martin’s attention was drifting in a fog of boredom. He was standing with his back against the tent wall, his gaze straight ahead and his arms folded, when a loud report sounded in the room, like the sharp crack of a gunshot.

Ashley leaped to her feet, and Martin was at her side in an instant, his gun drawn, forgetting that his primary responsibility was the Senator. She turned to him, and his arm came around her waist.

“Are you all right?” he said to her.

She nodded shakily, and her head rested on his shoulder for a second before he released her, reassured.

Dillon watched the scene with a fixed, grim expression.

Capo materialized next to the Senator, who was also unharmed. The two cops then ran to the front of the tent, trying to determine what was going on as the crowd panicked around them.

“You handle them. I’m going backstage,” Martin barked to Capo.

The sergeant leaped to the podium, grabbing the mike from the stunned auctioneer, and said into it, “Calm down, folks. Everybody’s all right, nobody’s hurt. We’re investigating the disturbance, and we would appreciate your cooperation. Please return to your seats and remain there until we can determine the source of the problem.”

Martin threw back the canvas flaps that concealed the backstage area and almost stumbled over the pile of paintings at his feet. Someone had lined them up next to one another, and when one fell they all did, like dominoes, causing the last one to hit the floor with a bang and create the noise they’d heard. Tremendously relieved, he exhaled heavily, then went out front to take the mike from Capo.

“It’s all right, folks. There was an accident backstage that accounts for the noise,” he announced. “There’s nothing wrong. Let’s all settle down and get on with the show.”

They obeyed him, but the rest of the evening had an air of anticlimax, and the auctioneer wrapped things up in a hurry. Ashley avoided Martin’s eyes as she went back to the yacht with Dillon, and he followed with Capo, taking up their watch at the entrance to the boat. The family was staying aboard for the night, and then the campaign was moving on to Carbondale and the coal district in the morning.

“So, a little excitement at last,” Capo said to Martin as they lounged against the railing up top, smoking.

“I’m glad it turned out to be a false alarm,” Martin replied.

“I saw what happened with the girl.”

“It was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. Maybe there’s hope for you.”

Martin was silent, and Capo changed the subject. “Where are we bunking tonight?” he asked.

“There’s a guest cabin below,” Martin answered.

“With Ashley and loverboy right down the hall?” Capo inquired. “That will be a little tough on you, won’t it?”

“He won’t stay aboard the yacht when her father is here,” Martin replied shortly.

Capo received that in silence, then said, “You’ve made quite a study of her behavior.”

“I haven’t had much else to do,” Martin replied.

“I’ve been around too, and I can’t predict her every move. But then, I’m not obsessed with her, and you are.”

“Be quiet, will you?” Martin murmured, nodding toward the harbor policeman, who was still lingering on the dock.

Capo subsided, and they both fell to smoking silently, lost in their own thoughts. Neither had any idea of the conversation about to take place below decks, in Ashley’s cabin.

James Dillon, of Dillon and Hunley, was not happy. He was pacing, waiting for Ashley to come out of the adjoining lavatory. He was thinking about that moment of intimacy between Ashley and the cop when the artwork fell. It was frozen in his mind like a tableau. Martin had rushed to her side as if she were the most important thing in the world to him and her safety mattered above all else. And she had turned into his arms as if to a haven, all pretense of polite distance gone.

What the hell was going on? As far as he knew, Ashley had done little more than exchange pleasantries with the guy, but there was no mistaking the tone of that encounter. Dillon had the gut instinct of a seasoned but unsuccessful campaigner, and he sensed that the tall, pale-eyed cop was touching Ashley where he never had, and never could.

      
Ashley entered the room wearing her Chinese robe and carrying her dress over her arm.

“Jim, are you still here?” she greeted him. “I thought you’d gone home.” She hung up her dress and began to brush her hair.

“Ashley, I want to talk to you.”

“Jim, can’t it wait? I’m tired, and I’d like to get to bed.”

“It can’t wait.”

“All right, I’m listening.” She was examining her hair length in the mirror.

“Look at me.”

She turned and faced him, surprised at his imperious tone. “What is it?” she asked.

“I want to know what’s going on between you and that cop.”

“Which cop?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ashley, it’s out of character. How many cops do you have hanging around all the time?”

“You mean Lieutenant Martin or Sergeant Capo, I take it.”

“Martin, the quiet one. What are you up to with him?”

Her expression changed. “Up to?”
 

“I saw you with him when the paintings fell backstage.”

Her gaze shifted away from his. “So?”

“That’s all you have to say about it? ‘So’?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me about the relationship you have obviously been developing with him behind my back. When that noise sounded, he went for you like a greyhound at the gate. I thought he was supposed to be protecting your father”.

“The policemen are for both of us,” she replied coolly. “You know that.”

“He seemed to be solely interested in you.”

“He was just doing his job, Jim.”

“He’s been doing a lot more than his job. You’ve been spending time alone with him, haven’t you?”

“Jim, I don’t want to be interrogated about this right now,” she said. “I would like to get some sleep, and I suggest you go home and do the same.”

“I deserve an explanation, Ashley,” he said quietly.

Ashley hesitated. Perhaps he did.

“The night you canceled to go to the opera, he rode in the car with me,” she said wearily, “and I... talked to him. And once we went out for a sandwich. That’s all. Basically.”

“You went out for a sandwich? When? I don’t remember that.”

“It was late. You had gone home. I was hungry and I couldn’t sleep and...”

“Couldn’t sleep? You’re having midnight snacks with this guy?”

“Don’t make it sound so...”

“Intimate? Apparently it was. I can see what’s happening, Ash. Despite what seems to be your low opinion of my perceptual capacity, I can see it all very well.”

“Jim, don’t you think you’re making a pretty big deal out of one incident?”

“It’s not one incident; I’ve been subliminally aware of it all along. I see you talking to him, the way he is around you. I just didn’t think it merited comment until now. But I should make it clear that I don’t want you getting close to this man.”

His commanding attitude irritated her. “Jim, you can’t tell me how to choose my friends.”

“Friends! He wants more than friendship from you.”

“I’m going to ignore that,” she said frostily.

“All right, all right,” Dillon said, sensing that he had gone too far. “Let’s assume he wants to be ‘friends.’ What do you have in common with him? For God’s sake, Ashley, he does shift work for a Philadelphia precinct! He hangs out with his flatfoot buddies and drinks beer and watches the Super Bowl on the station-house TV.”

“All criminal pursuits, certainly,” she murmured sarcastically.

“You know what I mean.”

“And you don’t know him!” she flared back defiantly. “Maybe I’m not the snob you are, Jim, did you ever consider that? Maybe I find beer and football and working two jobs to get through college a refreshing change from overindulged dilettantes and homosexual designers. Did that ever occur to you?”

Her defense of Martin infuriated him. “Oh, I see.

You’ll be giving your money away to charity next and going to live with him in some crummy apartment?”

“I am not going to continue this ridiculous conversation,” she said haughtily. “Good night.”

“Don’t pull that princess act on me. I’m not as easily impressed with it as he is. I’ve seen it before, remember?”

Ashley said nothing, trying to hold her temper in check.

“This is the real reason you wouldn’t sleep with me the other night,” he said accusingly. “You weren’t tired, or sick, or any other damn thing. You’ve got the hots for that pop!”

Ashley dug her nails into her palms. What could she say?

“I want you to get rid of him,” Dillon said definitively. “Call the Philadelphia police and tell them to assign someone else.”

“I will not!” Ashley replied, shocked.

“Yes, you will.”

“I am not going to jeopardize that man’s career by asking for a replacement,” she said in an outraged tone.

“Career! Will you listen to yourself? He’s a cop, for God’s sake. Wake up. Are you planning to attend the Policemen’s Ball with him, you in a Giancarlo and he in a bargain-basement suit? Accessorized with his shield, of course.”
 

“I will not dignify that with a reply.” She whirled, turning her back on him.

“Maybe you’d like to go to that first night next week by yourself?” he said childishly over her shoulder.

“I can handle it,” Ashley answered coolly.

“And don’t call me at the last minute, either. I’ll be busy.” Dillon stormed out of the cabin, up the stairs, and almost into the two policemen on deck. He shot Martin one murderous glance and then hurried off the boat, vanishing into the night.

“Uh-oh. Looks like a tiff with Lady Ashley. He must have noticed you making time with his girlfriend tonight,” Capo said.

Martin made no reply, looking in the direction of Dillon’s disappearance.

“I’m not knocking it, of course. If I weren’t...”

“... happily married,” Martin supplied for him.

“Right. I might be making a play for the dainty, diligent Miss Drummond.”

Martin started to laugh. “Are you kidding? She scares me to death. If Fair is elected, the woman will be running the country. Besides, haven’t you seen all the flowers and gifts she’s been getting? Somebody’s hot on the trail, boy.” He grinned. “Somebody braver than you or me.”

“Speak for yourself. Did you see her in that red dress the other night? Not half bad.” He leaned in closer. “I think she’s getting to like me,” he confided. “As a friend, of course,” he added quickly.

“How did you come to that startling conclusion?” Martin asked, amused, shaking his head.

“I can just sense these things.”

“Tony, you’re delusional. You try your macho routine with her and she’ll land you a karate chop that’ll send you into next week. You’ll wind up out cold on the floor with her sitting on you.”

“She takes karate lessons?” Capo said, horrified.

“I heard her talking about it.”

“Geez.”

“Bear it in mind.”

Their voices drifted out over the water as Ashley, still shaking from the loathsome scene with Dillon, fell exhausted into bed.

* * * *

The next morning, Ransom strolled into a store called Computers Unlimited and asked for an Apple II.

“We have a demonstration model right over here,” the salesman said, indicating an ivory box with a printer attached on one side and a disk drive on the other.

“How do you use it?” Ransom asked.

The man stared at him. “You’ve never used one?”

“I’ve never used any computer.”

The salesman looked dismayed.

“Look,” Ransom said to revive his flagging interest, “I have to buy a whole fleet of personal computers to outfit my business, but I want to try one model first and see how I like it. This one was recommended by a friend, and I thought you could demonstrate it for me, give me some pointers to get me started.”

“Certainly, sir,” the clerk said, his attitude becoming more cooperative as he envisioned a large commission. “Just sit here in front of the console, and I’ll be right with you.”

The frustrated but patient salesman wound up demonstrating the computer’s use, on and off between serving other customers, for about two hours. By then, Ransom was confident of his ability to run the machine, and bought it, promising to return for “the rest” when he was more efficient with his initial purchase.