She moved over to Kate’s delicate Louis Quatorze desk and picked up the telephone. She punched in numbers that she knew by heart and wished she didn’t have to use. But this time she didn’t see any alternative.
“Central Intelligence Agency,” the anonymous voice announced smoothly.
Maggie considered hanging up. But there was no choice—not this time. “Bud Willis, please.”
It was a mercifully short conversation. “Hi there, sweetcakes,” his hatefully familiar voice drawled over the line from Langley. “How’s the black widow doing?”
“Just fine.” She’d inured herself to his jibes years ago. “I need something from you.”
“Listen, any part of me is yours for the asking. I’ve got more than enough to go around.”
“I’m sure you do. What I need is information. I need to know if you have any information on a Francis Ackroyd, or a Stoneham Studios in Chicago.”
“Now why would you want to know that, honeylips? You interested in becoming a movie star like your mama? You don’t have her knockers.”
“Willis, Third World Causes has an agreement with the government, and you’re part of it. You’re supposed to help me—no questions asked—when I need it. I need it, and you can stuff your damned questions.”
“Whatever happened to that sweet, ladylike demeanor?” he drawled back. “Not getting enough lately, that’s your problem. You just take a little trip to my apartment, and I’ll fix you up so you’ll be walking bowlegged for a month.”
“Charm
ing. I’ll leave you my phone number, and I’ll expect to hear from you in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Or what?” Willis taunted.
Maggie nobly controlled the very graphic revenge that immediately formed in her mind. “Or you’ll be sorry, Willis,” she said gently.
“Oooh, I’m frightened. Don’t worry, Mrs. Pulaski,” he said, mocking the married name she’d always been too stubborn to take. “I’ll find out what you need to know. I may even have the information hand-delivered.”
“Willis, I don’t want to see your ugly face—”
“Not me, sweetlips. I’ve got too many things going on. I’ll be in touch.”
The man was pond scum, Maggie thought, stretching out on the sofa and looking at the Chicago skyline. But useful pond scum. She never did understand why he had decided to go back and ally himself with the CIA again, nor did she care. What mattered most was that she could, for some reason, trust what he told her. If Francis Ackroyd were involved in anything, Bud Willis could find out what it was. And Maggie’s oddly reliable instincts told her there was something going on.
“How are you surviving?” Kate’s voice was on the telephone, hours later, and if the edges were a little ragged, only Maggie knew her well enough to recognize it.
“Fine, but I’m not on the front line. How are you doing?”
Kate sighed. “Okay, I guess. Things are absolutely crazy around here—so crazy that no one notices if I’m a little distracted. They probably just figure it’s the court case.”
“What do they think happened to Francis?”
“No one knows. Someone’s been calling his apartment hourly, but of course there’s no answer. To top it off, Alicia Stoneham has shown up with a new investor, and we all have to make nice to him. The studio’s in deep financial trouble, and no one can afford to be rude, but he picked a hell of a time to make a visit.”
“Well, that’s not your concern. How soon can you get home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take your time. Everything’s under control. I’ve called a contact I have in Washington, and he’s promised to look into it and let me know.”
“Look into what? What’s Washington got to do with a murder?” Kate demanded.
“Shhh, darling. No one knows anyone’s been murdered. At least, not yet. And it’s just a hunch I have. If there’s anything to know, Bud Willis can find it out. I’ve also called our dear mother.” Maggie’s voice had the fondly mocking tone it always took on when she referred to Sybil Bennett.
“What for?”
“I thought she might come in handy looking after Chrissie. You know Sybil—she loves to pose with pretty infants, and Chrissie is a very pretty infant. I thought that if things got rough, the baby might stay with her. She’s getting a suite at the Mandrake and bringing her usual retinue, including Queenie. Chrissie couldn’t be in better hands.”