Mirror Image

“Where the hell did you go?” Tate demanded without preamble.

“To the McDonald’s on the corner. Remember, I didn’t eat much dinner at the banquet. I was hungry. As long as you were with Jack, I thought—”

“Who was the guy?”

She started to play dumb, but thought better of it. He had obviously seen her with Van, but hadn’t recognized him. While she was deliberating on whether to shoot straight or lie, he advanced on her. “Was he a dealer?”

Her jaw went slack with astonishment. “A drug dealer?”

“I know that on occasion you and Fancy have smoked pot. I hope to God that’s all you’ve done, but a senatorial candidate’s wife doesn’t buy grass off the street from an unknown pusher, Carole. For God’s sake, he could have been an undercover—”

“That was Van Lovejoy!” she shouted angrily. Obviously the name didn’t ring any bells. He gave her a blank stare. “The cameraman from KTEX. He shot the video for your TV commercial. Remember?”

She knocked him aside and swept past him, moved to the dresser and began removing her jewelry, dropping the pieces onto the surface with little regard for their value or delicacy.

“What were you doing with him?”

“Walking,” she said flippantly, addressing his reflection behind her own in the mirror. In the dim light he appeared dark and intimidating. She refused to be cowed. “I ran into him at McDonald’s. He and the station’s reporter are staying at the Holiday Inn, I believe he said.” Lying was becoming easier. She was getting lots of practice. “Anyway, he chided me for walking alone and insisted on seeing me back to the hotel.”

“Smart fellow. A hell of a lot smarter than you. What the hell were you thinking of to go out alone at this time of night?”

“I was hungry,” she said, raising her voice.

“Ever think of room service?”

“I needed air.”

“So open a window.”

“What does it matter to you if I went out? You were with Jack. Jack and Eddy. Laurel and Hardy. Tweedledee and Tweedledum.” She wagged her head from side to side in time to her words. “If it’s not one who has something urgent to discuss with you, it’s the other. One of them is always knocking on your door.”

“Don’t get off the subject. We’re talking about you, not Jack or Eddy.”

“What about me?”

“What made you so nervous tonight?”

“I wasn’t nervous.”

She tried to sidestep him again, but he wouldn’t have it. He blocked her path and caught her by the shoulders. “Something’s wrong. I know there is. What have you done this time? You’d better tell me before I find out from somebody else.”

“What makes you think I’ve done something?”

“Because you won’t look me in the eye.”

“I’m avoiding you, yes. But only because I’m mad, not because I’ve committed what you would consider a transgression.”

“That’s been your routine in the past, Carole.”

“Don’t call me—” Avery caught herself just in time.

“Don’t call you what?”

“Nothing.” She hated having him address her as Carole. “Don’t call me a liar,” she amended. Defiantly, she flung her head back. “And just so you’ll know from me before you hear it from somebody else, Van Lovejoy was smoking a joint. He even offered it to me. I refused. Now, do I pass muster, Mr. Senator?”

Tate was furiously rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Don’t wander off by yourself like that again.”

“Don’t put me on a short leash.”