state, watching the Senator shake hands and kiss babies,” he muttered.
“Rourke’s idea of a rest.”
“I guess it beats staking out your average murder suspect,” Capo said philosophically.
“We’ll meet a better class of people on this tour,” Martin said with a wry smile.
“Oh, I don’t know. Remember that baroness who poisoned her husband with prussic acid in his tea? She was pretty classy.”
Martin laughed.
“And the Senator’s politics are just a little to the left of ‘Yippie! Hooray!’ Maybe some of the opposition richies will get stirred up enough to make things colorful.”
“Not too colorful, I hope,” Martin said fervently.
“What time are they going out tonight?”
“Eight.”
“Come on. We’re off duty until then. Let’s go get some lunch. The restaurant downstairs is supposed to be the best in town.”
Martin rose and followed Capo into the hall.
Chapter 2
THAT NIGHT, as Ashley dressed, she tried to imagine what the evening would be like with the constant presence of the policemen. She wondered which one would go with her, and how Jim would react to him.
She smoothed the hem of her black crepe sheath and tried on two pairs of heels, one open at the toe and the other closed pumps. She settled on the pumps and added a string of mobe pearls with a diamond-and-sapphire clasp. She studied the effect, and then tried on the matching earrings, wondering if it was too much. She decided it wasn’t, and looked around for her makeup case to select the right shade of powder and lipstick.
Her mind was occupied as she went about her toilette. She hadn’t seen Jim in a couple of weeks; he’d been busy at the firm and unable to get away, even for a quick trip on the shuttle. Dillon and Hunley was one of the most prosperous commercial firms in Washington, where there were quite a few, and Jim was the heir apparent. He had been courting Ashley since their final days at Georgetown Law School. Five years later, she still hadn’t agreed to marry him.
He was nothing if not persistent. She’d turned down an offer from D & H to take the Justice Department job when she graduated, but that had not discouraged him. He pursued her relentlessly, and they were now an item on the D.C. social scene, drifting along in a quasi-engaged status that she was somehow too enervated to disturb. Jim offered social protection, he was an acceptable escort, he knew all the same people, and she needed someone to accompany her through the campaign. She kept telling herself that she would do something definitive after the election. That was far enough off not to be an immediate concern.
She traced her lips with vivid red, studied the effect, and then wiped them clean with a tissue. That shade, combined with her white skin, always made her look like a performer in Kabuki theater. She settled on a pinker tone and then brushed her hair briskly, her thoughts returning to Jim.
He said he loved her, and she believed that he thought he did. She was afraid, however, that what he really loved was the image: an attractive, educated Senator’s —perhaps President’s—daughter to pose before the family hearth with the next generation for the Christmas cards. Raised in a political family, she was very aware of appearances, and she could understand why he wanted her so badly. But she always had the feeling that anyone else with her background would have done as well; he had settled on her because she was the one he happened to meet. He was ardent and dutiful and even endearing in his way, but for her there was no fire.
Was she wrong to miss it, to want it so? Was she selfish to look for more, when she already had so much? Was there really anything else out there, or had she just seen Wuthering Heights too many times?
She didn’t have the answers to these questions.
She put down her hairbrush and transferred her wallet and cosmetics to a beaded black evening bag, picking up a silk knit shawl from the back of a
“Rourke’s idea of a rest.”
“I guess it beats staking out your average murder suspect,” Capo said philosophically.
“We’ll meet a better class of people on this tour,” Martin said with a wry smile.
“Oh, I don’t know. Remember that baroness who poisoned her husband with prussic acid in his tea? She was pretty classy.”
Martin laughed.
“And the Senator’s politics are just a little to the left of ‘Yippie! Hooray!’ Maybe some of the opposition richies will get stirred up enough to make things colorful.”
“Not too colorful, I hope,” Martin said fervently.
“What time are they going out tonight?”
“Eight.”
“Come on. We’re off duty until then. Let’s go get some lunch. The restaurant downstairs is supposed to be the best in town.”
Martin rose and followed Capo into the hall.
Chapter 2
THAT NIGHT, as Ashley dressed, she tried to imagine what the evening would be like with the constant presence of the policemen. She wondered which one would go with her, and how Jim would react to him.
She smoothed the hem of her black crepe sheath and tried on two pairs of heels, one open at the toe and the other closed pumps. She settled on the pumps and added a string of mobe pearls with a diamond-and-sapphire clasp. She studied the effect, and then tried on the matching earrings, wondering if it was too much. She decided it wasn’t, and looked around for her makeup case to select the right shade of powder and lipstick.
Her mind was occupied as she went about her toilette. She hadn’t seen Jim in a couple of weeks; he’d been busy at the firm and unable to get away, even for a quick trip on the shuttle. Dillon and Hunley was one of the most prosperous commercial firms in Washington, where there were quite a few, and Jim was the heir apparent. He had been courting Ashley since their final days at Georgetown Law School. Five years later, she still hadn’t agreed to marry him.
He was nothing if not persistent. She’d turned down an offer from D & H to take the Justice Department job when she graduated, but that had not discouraged him. He pursued her relentlessly, and they were now an item on the D.C. social scene, drifting along in a quasi-engaged status that she was somehow too enervated to disturb. Jim offered social protection, he was an acceptable escort, he knew all the same people, and she needed someone to accompany her through the campaign. She kept telling herself that she would do something definitive after the election. That was far enough off not to be an immediate concern.
She traced her lips with vivid red, studied the effect, and then wiped them clean with a tissue. That shade, combined with her white skin, always made her look like a performer in Kabuki theater. She settled on a pinker tone and then brushed her hair briskly, her thoughts returning to Jim.
He said he loved her, and she believed that he thought he did. She was afraid, however, that what he really loved was the image: an attractive, educated Senator’s —perhaps President’s—daughter to pose before the family hearth with the next generation for the Christmas cards. Raised in a political family, she was very aware of appearances, and she could understand why he wanted her so badly. But she always had the feeling that anyone else with her background would have done as well; he had settled on her because she was the one he happened to meet. He was ardent and dutiful and even endearing in his way, but for her there was no fire.
Was she wrong to miss it, to want it so? Was she selfish to look for more, when she already had so much? Was there really anything else out there, or had she just seen Wuthering Heights too many times?
She didn’t have the answers to these questions.
She put down her hairbrush and transferred her wallet and cosmetics to a beaded black evening bag, picking up a silk knit shawl from the back of a
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