Power Play
Page 62
Barnaby sighed. “He’s very upset, Perry.”
“Well, so are we all, and that’s why Agent Sullivan is here.”
Barnaby opened his mouth, then closed it, and Perry realized it wasn’t his sister Uncle Milt was upset about. She searched Barnaby’s ascetic face for a clue, didn’t see any. On the other hand, Barnaby rarely gave anything away.
“Please fetch him, Mr. Eagan,” Davis said again.
Davis and Perry were left to admire the lovely Lincoln Suite living room, all blue and gold, with beautiful striped wallpaper on one wall, and blue draperies open to the courtyard below. Davis wondered how much Milton dropped per night on this awesome place to lay his head.
“Perry.”
They turned to see Uncle Milton standing in the doorway, looking like a proper Boston Brahmin. His brilliant red hair with threads of white was elegantly styled. He was wearing sharp black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and black leather loafers on his long, narrow feet. He didn’t look at all like he’d been having a nice lie-down. He looked, Davis thought, like he’d made up his mind about something, like a man to lead a mission. Or was this all a part of his professional politician’s bag of tricks?
“Uncle Milton. This is Davis Sullivan. He’s—”
Uncle Milt nodded to the man at his side. “Barnaby said he was an FBI agent, but this is the man who was hanging all over your mother at Arliss’s party Tuesday night, dancing with her like they were lovers. I thought they were outrageous—”
“Actually, sir, I was protecting Ambassador Black.”
That gave Milton pause, but for only a moment. He shrugged. “I see. Surprising the FBI would condone such behavior, but be that as it may—and I’m sorry to say this, Perry—it would have been more dignified of Natalie to identify him as such at the party rather than give everyone the impression he was something else entirely. But then Natalie loves to take center court.”
Davis said, “So you don’t believe your sister’s life is in danger, Mr. Holmes?”
“I don’t think she’s lying precisely about what happened to her in England, no, but I think she might well be exaggerating it. She was very upset about George McCallum’s suicide, of course, and she was being blamed for it. It’s likely she misinterpreted the accident as an attempt on her life, don’t you think? I’m not surprised the press didn’t believe her. At any rate, this has all been very upsetting. To Natalie, to me, to my parents—” By the end of this extraordinary monologue, his Boston accent was flying high.
Perry interrupted him, her voice sharp, “Of course you’re right, Uncle Milton, my grandparents are very upset because they’re afraid for my mother. They believe her, Uncle Milton. What I don’t understand is why you don’t.”
Milton ignored this, waved a vague hand around him. “Arliss called me this morning, asked me to convince your mother to resign her post. That is hardly a surprise. Hard as this is for all of us, I do have my own future to think of.” As if realizing how self-serving that sounded, he cleared his throat, backed up, tried for a deprecating smile. “Look, I’m up for reelection, and this sort of scandal—well, it could bury me. It’s best that Natalie resign, Perry, as soon as possible, best for all of us who have supported her. It will give the voters time to forget about all that happened in England before the fall elections.”
Perry said, “So she should move to Florida, wear sunglasses so the tourists don’t recognize her? Maybe paint caricatures on the beach, or take up windsurfing?”
There was no humor in Milton Holmes’s eyes as he looked at her. Perry’s sarcasm floated unappreciated and unanswered in the room. She’d brought Milton to a dead stop. So this, Davis thought, was what it was like for a politician to have his guns spiked.
He said, “Since you mentioned your future in politics, sir, you should know that Scotland Yard has identified the car used to attack Ambassador Black in England. They have the owner in custody. Your voters may soon be seeing your sister as a victim when that crime is solved. So it may be advantageous to you to make a show of acting as the loyal brother supporting his sister through all her travails, always brave and stalwart, always at her back, rather than being seen as the jealous half-brother throwing his half-sister under the bus to protect his own hide.”
Milton couldn’t seem to take this in. He looked over at Barnaby, who was blinking rapidly, his eyes going from Davis back to his boss. Davis saw the instant Uncle Milt was ready to put him in his place. He drew himself up, pretty impressive, really. “Who cares what the police are doing in England? About what they’re saying, about what they’re now claiming? We’re here, and this mess is here since Natalie brought it all back with her.”
“Well, so are we all, and that’s why Agent Sullivan is here.”
Barnaby opened his mouth, then closed it, and Perry realized it wasn’t his sister Uncle Milt was upset about. She searched Barnaby’s ascetic face for a clue, didn’t see any. On the other hand, Barnaby rarely gave anything away.
“Please fetch him, Mr. Eagan,” Davis said again.
Davis and Perry were left to admire the lovely Lincoln Suite living room, all blue and gold, with beautiful striped wallpaper on one wall, and blue draperies open to the courtyard below. Davis wondered how much Milton dropped per night on this awesome place to lay his head.
“Perry.”
They turned to see Uncle Milton standing in the doorway, looking like a proper Boston Brahmin. His brilliant red hair with threads of white was elegantly styled. He was wearing sharp black trousers, a crisp white shirt, and black leather loafers on his long, narrow feet. He didn’t look at all like he’d been having a nice lie-down. He looked, Davis thought, like he’d made up his mind about something, like a man to lead a mission. Or was this all a part of his professional politician’s bag of tricks?
“Uncle Milton. This is Davis Sullivan. He’s—”
Uncle Milt nodded to the man at his side. “Barnaby said he was an FBI agent, but this is the man who was hanging all over your mother at Arliss’s party Tuesday night, dancing with her like they were lovers. I thought they were outrageous—”
“Actually, sir, I was protecting Ambassador Black.”
That gave Milton pause, but for only a moment. He shrugged. “I see. Surprising the FBI would condone such behavior, but be that as it may—and I’m sorry to say this, Perry—it would have been more dignified of Natalie to identify him as such at the party rather than give everyone the impression he was something else entirely. But then Natalie loves to take center court.”
Davis said, “So you don’t believe your sister’s life is in danger, Mr. Holmes?”
“I don’t think she’s lying precisely about what happened to her in England, no, but I think she might well be exaggerating it. She was very upset about George McCallum’s suicide, of course, and she was being blamed for it. It’s likely she misinterpreted the accident as an attempt on her life, don’t you think? I’m not surprised the press didn’t believe her. At any rate, this has all been very upsetting. To Natalie, to me, to my parents—” By the end of this extraordinary monologue, his Boston accent was flying high.
Perry interrupted him, her voice sharp, “Of course you’re right, Uncle Milton, my grandparents are very upset because they’re afraid for my mother. They believe her, Uncle Milton. What I don’t understand is why you don’t.”
Milton ignored this, waved a vague hand around him. “Arliss called me this morning, asked me to convince your mother to resign her post. That is hardly a surprise. Hard as this is for all of us, I do have my own future to think of.” As if realizing how self-serving that sounded, he cleared his throat, backed up, tried for a deprecating smile. “Look, I’m up for reelection, and this sort of scandal—well, it could bury me. It’s best that Natalie resign, Perry, as soon as possible, best for all of us who have supported her. It will give the voters time to forget about all that happened in England before the fall elections.”
Perry said, “So she should move to Florida, wear sunglasses so the tourists don’t recognize her? Maybe paint caricatures on the beach, or take up windsurfing?”
There was no humor in Milton Holmes’s eyes as he looked at her. Perry’s sarcasm floated unappreciated and unanswered in the room. She’d brought Milton to a dead stop. So this, Davis thought, was what it was like for a politician to have his guns spiked.
He said, “Since you mentioned your future in politics, sir, you should know that Scotland Yard has identified the car used to attack Ambassador Black in England. They have the owner in custody. Your voters may soon be seeing your sister as a victim when that crime is solved. So it may be advantageous to you to make a show of acting as the loyal brother supporting his sister through all her travails, always brave and stalwart, always at her back, rather than being seen as the jealous half-brother throwing his half-sister under the bus to protect his own hide.”
Milton couldn’t seem to take this in. He looked over at Barnaby, who was blinking rapidly, his eyes going from Davis back to his boss. Davis saw the instant Uncle Milt was ready to put him in his place. He drew himself up, pretty impressive, really. “Who cares what the police are doing in England? About what they’re saying, about what they’re now claiming? We’re here, and this mess is here since Natalie brought it all back with her.”
