Power Play
Page 38
“Teenager? Could Angela describe him?”
“She said he looked Middle Eastern or Mexican. Dark skinned.
“Perry? Is something wrong?”
“Just a moment.” Perry turned to smile at Day, who was looking at her, a dark eyebrow raised.
“I’m fine, Day, nothing’s wrong. I’m speaking to an FBI agent about the graffiti in the men’s room at the Post.” Then she realized she hadn’t told Day about the graffiti. “I’ll tell you all about it. Give me another moment.”
Day stared at her. “What graffiti? Is this about your mom?”
“No, well, I don’t know. Please go back to our table, enjoy your lobster. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Day gave her a long look, then he grinned. “Is that the goofball with your mom last night at my mom’s party?”
“That’s him.”
“I’m not a goofball,” came clearly through Perry’s cell.
“Okay, then, the ambassador’s boy toy.” Day laughed loud enough for Davis to hear him, nodded to Perry, and walked back to their table.
Perry said, “All right, Davis, that’s not enough. Tell me more.”
“Keep the graffiti under your hat, Black. Consider it confidential. Okay, for dinner I had myself delicious lasagna with crispy garlic toast, lots of Parmesan cheese on top, prepared for me by a neighbor, Janice. Unfortunately, she’s a vegetarian, like Savich, so I had to cope with spinach.”
“No, you fool, tell me more about the teenage boy.”
“Angela’s description wasn’t much help, but she remembered he was wearing a green work shirt and khaki pants. We went over the security video in the Post building lobby, and there he was—she confirmed it. I invited Angela over to dinner with me for helping out, but she said her thighs were allergic to lasagna.”
“Angela’s on a low-carb diet, claims she’s lost seven pounds in three weeks. You’re driving me nuts. Come on, Davis, who is he?”
“Don’t know yet. Wow, look at that. Carmelo Anthony shot a three-pointer. Swish.”
He was watching a basketball game with a shaggy dog named Smack on his feet? “So why’d you call me?”
“To see if you like popcorn.”
“I don’t know of a single soul in the universe who doesn’t like popcorn.”
“Well, then. Could you pick some up on your way home?”
“I’m out with Day. Gotta go, Sullivan. Thanks for the report.” She punched off. She was still smiling when she returned to the table, the waiter standing back to hold out her chair for her. She thanked the waiter, took a sip of chardonnay, aware that Day Abbott was looking at her closely; he wasn’t laughing any longer, he looked worried. She said, “You know I was speaking to Agent Sullivan. He told me to keep the graffiti quiet, and keep the details to myself. I’m sorry.”
He cocked his head at her. “But how could that include me? I mean, we’ve known each other forever. You even trust me to drive your Harley.”
“All true. However, when the FBI talks, I listen,” she said, cutting up a cold shrimp and eating it. That had sounded righteous; she wondered if Day would buy it.
At least he smiled. “You told me the guy with your mom last night is an FBI agent, and he was protecting her. My mom told me his boss is Agent Dillon Savich. I’ve always wanted to meet him. Do you remember how he managed to capture Ted Bundy’s crazy daughter? Don’t you think I deserve to know about some graffiti at the Post a guy like Savich is involved in?”
He was right. But still, she shook her head. “I’ll tell you as soon as I’m cleared to, Day.” How had he known Dillon was Davis’s boss? His mother had told him. Aunt Arliss knew all the players. She chewed on a green bean that was as cold as the shrimp.
“Okay, tell me this. Did the graffiti have anything to do with why you were at the Hoover Building this afternoon?”
However did you find out about that? I know, your mom told you. I’m convinced she knows everything about everyone in Washington. Yes, all right, it was about the graffiti.”
“I’m waiting for you to break, Perry. Come on, you’ve never held out on me before.”
She looked at the man she’d known since forever; she remembered his yelling at her when she was six years old when she forgot to wear panties on the seesaw, then saw him red-faced, yelling at her when she’d been a junior in high school and he’d caught her smoking marijuana behind her garage with some girlfriends. She realized he’d never yelled at her since.
“She said he looked Middle Eastern or Mexican. Dark skinned.
“Perry? Is something wrong?”
“Just a moment.” Perry turned to smile at Day, who was looking at her, a dark eyebrow raised.
“I’m fine, Day, nothing’s wrong. I’m speaking to an FBI agent about the graffiti in the men’s room at the Post.” Then she realized she hadn’t told Day about the graffiti. “I’ll tell you all about it. Give me another moment.”
Day stared at her. “What graffiti? Is this about your mom?”
“No, well, I don’t know. Please go back to our table, enjoy your lobster. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Day gave her a long look, then he grinned. “Is that the goofball with your mom last night at my mom’s party?”
“That’s him.”
“I’m not a goofball,” came clearly through Perry’s cell.
“Okay, then, the ambassador’s boy toy.” Day laughed loud enough for Davis to hear him, nodded to Perry, and walked back to their table.
Perry said, “All right, Davis, that’s not enough. Tell me more.”
“Keep the graffiti under your hat, Black. Consider it confidential. Okay, for dinner I had myself delicious lasagna with crispy garlic toast, lots of Parmesan cheese on top, prepared for me by a neighbor, Janice. Unfortunately, she’s a vegetarian, like Savich, so I had to cope with spinach.”
“No, you fool, tell me more about the teenage boy.”
“Angela’s description wasn’t much help, but she remembered he was wearing a green work shirt and khaki pants. We went over the security video in the Post building lobby, and there he was—she confirmed it. I invited Angela over to dinner with me for helping out, but she said her thighs were allergic to lasagna.”
“Angela’s on a low-carb diet, claims she’s lost seven pounds in three weeks. You’re driving me nuts. Come on, Davis, who is he?”
“Don’t know yet. Wow, look at that. Carmelo Anthony shot a three-pointer. Swish.”
He was watching a basketball game with a shaggy dog named Smack on his feet? “So why’d you call me?”
“To see if you like popcorn.”
“I don’t know of a single soul in the universe who doesn’t like popcorn.”
“Well, then. Could you pick some up on your way home?”
“I’m out with Day. Gotta go, Sullivan. Thanks for the report.” She punched off. She was still smiling when she returned to the table, the waiter standing back to hold out her chair for her. She thanked the waiter, took a sip of chardonnay, aware that Day Abbott was looking at her closely; he wasn’t laughing any longer, he looked worried. She said, “You know I was speaking to Agent Sullivan. He told me to keep the graffiti quiet, and keep the details to myself. I’m sorry.”
He cocked his head at her. “But how could that include me? I mean, we’ve known each other forever. You even trust me to drive your Harley.”
“All true. However, when the FBI talks, I listen,” she said, cutting up a cold shrimp and eating it. That had sounded righteous; she wondered if Day would buy it.
At least he smiled. “You told me the guy with your mom last night is an FBI agent, and he was protecting her. My mom told me his boss is Agent Dillon Savich. I’ve always wanted to meet him. Do you remember how he managed to capture Ted Bundy’s crazy daughter? Don’t you think I deserve to know about some graffiti at the Post a guy like Savich is involved in?”
He was right. But still, she shook her head. “I’ll tell you as soon as I’m cleared to, Day.” How had he known Dillon was Davis’s boss? His mother had told him. Aunt Arliss knew all the players. She chewed on a green bean that was as cold as the shrimp.
“Okay, tell me this. Did the graffiti have anything to do with why you were at the Hoover Building this afternoon?”
However did you find out about that? I know, your mom told you. I’m convinced she knows everything about everyone in Washington. Yes, all right, it was about the graffiti.”
“I’m waiting for you to break, Perry. Come on, you’ve never held out on me before.”
She looked at the man she’d known since forever; she remembered his yelling at her when she was six years old when she forgot to wear panties on the seesaw, then saw him red-faced, yelling at her when she’d been a junior in high school and he’d caught her smoking marijuana behind her garage with some girlfriends. She realized he’d never yelled at her since.
