ction of what Tate has done.” It was little wonder to her that he had been so tired when she arrived in Fort Worth the evening before. Yet in front of every crowd he had to appear fresh and enthusiastic.

This was the last appearance of the day. Even though the banquet was officially over, the dais was thronged with people who had cheered his speech and now wanted to meet him personally. She commiserated with the demands being placed on him after such a long day, but she was glad for the opportunity to slip away and seek out Van.

“Heard he fired those buzzards from Wakely and Foster.”

“News travels fast.”

“Paschal already released a statement to that effect. If you ask me, Rutledge didn’t oust them a minute too soon. They made it almost impossible to get close to him. It was like screwing with a steel belted radial on your dick instead of a regular rubber.”

Avery hoped no one nearby had overheard the simile. It was one he would use with a co-worker, but hardly one suitable for the ears of a congressional candidate’s wife. She hurriedly switched subjects. “The commercials you taped at the ranch are running on TV now.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Excellent photography, Mr. Lovejoy.”

His crooked teeth showed when he smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Rutledge.”

“Have you seen anyone here that you recognize?” she asked, casually scanning the milling crowd.

“Not tonight.” His emphasis on the second word brought her eyes snapping back to his. “There were some familiar faces in the crowd this afternoon.”

“Oh?” She had monitored the crowds carefully, but to her vast relief, hadn’t spotted Gray Hair. Obviously Van had. “Where? Here in the hotel?”

“At General Dynamics and again at Carswell Air Force Base.”

“I see,” she said shakily. “Is that the first time this trip?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding his head yes. “Well, you must excuse me, Mrs. Rutledge. Duty calls. The reporter’s signaling me, so I gotta split.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I detained you, Mr. Lovejoy.”

“No problem. Glad to oblige.” He took several steps away from her, then turned back. “Mrs. Rutledge, did you ever stop to think that someone’s here to see you and not, uh, your husband?”

“Me?”

“Just a thought. But worth considering.” Van’s eyes telegraphed a warning. Moments later he was sucked into the ebb and flow of people.

Avery stood very still and rolled the chilling theory over and over in her mind. She was impervious to the motion of the crowd, to the noise and commotion, and oblivious to someone watching her from across the room and wondering what she and the disheveled television cameraman had found to talk about for so long.

* * *

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you notice my new hairdo?”

Dorothy Rae was admiring her reflection for the first time in so long she couldn’t even remember. In her youth, when she’d been the most popular girl at Lampasas High School, primping had been her number-one pastime. But for years there had been little to admire when she looked into a mirror.

Jack, reclining on the hotel room bed reading the newspaper, answered mechanically. “It looks nice.”

“Today Fancy and I walked past this trendy beauty parlor in the mall. You know, the kind of place where all the stylists are dressed in black and have several earrings in each ear.” Jack grunted. “On impulse, I said, ‘Fancy, I’m gonna have a make-over.’ So we went in and one of the girls did my hair and makeup and nails.”

“Hmm.”

She gazed into the mirror, turning her head to one side, then the other. “Fancy said that I should lighten my hair just a bit, right here around my face. She said it would give me a lift and take years off. What do you think?”

“I think I’d be wary of any advice coming from Fancy.”

Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery
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