Stillwatch (25 page)

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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)

BOOK: Stillwatch
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Pat stared at her untouched brandy. Her mouth suddenly felt dryand brackish. Last week Sam had been worried about
her
because ofthe break-in. Now he was sharing Abigail’s reaction to the publicity.Well, in a way it made things easier. “If this program causes anymore unfavorable publicity to Senator Jennings, could it cost her theVice Presidency?”“Perhaps. No President, particularly one who’s had a spotlessadministration, is going to risk having it tarnished.”“That’s exactly what I was afraid you’d say.” She told him aboutEleanor Brown and Catherine Graney. “I don’t know what to do,” sheconcluded. “Should I warn Luther to keep away from those subjects onthe program? If I do, he’ll have to tell the Senator the reason.”“There’s no way Abigail can take any more aggravation,” Samsaid flatly. “After the others left she was really wired.”“After the others left!” Pat raised an eyebrow. “You mean you stayed?”“She asked me to.”“I see.” She felt her heart sink. It confirmed everything she hadbeen thinking. “Then I shouldn’t tell Luther.”“Try it this way. If that girl . . .”“Eleanor Brown.”“Yes—if she calls you, persuade her to wait until I see if we canplea-bargain on her parole. In that case there’d be no publicity, atleast until the President announces his selection.”“And Catherine Graney.”“Let me look into the records of that crash. She probably doesn’thave a leg to stand on. Do you think either one of these women mighthave made those threats to you?”“I’ve never met Eleanor. I’m sure it wasn’t Catherine Graney. Anddon’t forget it was a man’s voice.”“Of course. He hasn’t called again?”Her eyes fell on the carton under the table. She considered, thenrejected, the idea of showing the Raggedy Ann doll to Sam. She didnot want him concerning himself about her anymore. “No, he hasn’t.”

 

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“That’s good news.” He finished the brandy and set the glass onthe table. “I’d better be on my way. It’s been a long day and you mustbe bushed.”It was the opening she was waiting for. “Sam, on the way homefrom the Senator ’s tonight, I did some hard thinking. Want to hearabout it?”“Certainly.”“I came to Washington with three specific and rather idealisticgoals in mind. I was going to do an Emmy-winning documentary ona wonderful, noble woman. I was going to find an explanation forwhat my father did to my mother and me. And I was going to see youand it would be the reunion of the century. Well, none of these turnedout as I expected. Abigail Jennings is a good politician and a strongleader, but she isn’t a nice person. I was suckered into this programbecause my preconceived notions about Abigail suited Luther Pelham,and whatever reputation I’ve achieved in the industry gives credibilityto what is essentially P.R. fluff. There’s so much about that lady thatdoesn’t hang together that it frightens me.“I’ve also been here long enough to know that my mother wasn’ta saint, as I’d been led to believe, and very possibly goaded my fatherinto some form of temporary insanity that night. That’s not the fullstory—not yet; but it’s close.“And as for us, Sam, I do owe you an apology. I certainly wasterribly naive to think that I was anything more to you than a casualaffair. The fact that you never called me after Janice died should havebeen the tip-off, but I guess I’m not a quick study. You can stopworrying now. I don’t intend to embarrass you with any moredeclarations of love. It’s very clear you’ve got something going withAbigail Jennings.”“I don’t have anything going with Abigail!”“Oh, yes, you do. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you do. Thatlady
wants
you, Sam. Anyone with half an eye can see that. And youdidn’t cut short your vacation and come rushing across the country ather summons without good reason. Just forget about having to let medown easy. Really, Sam, all that talk about being worn out and notable to make decisions isn’t very becoming. You can drop it now.”

 

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“I told you that because it’s
true
.”“Then snap out of it. It doesn’t become you. You’re a handsome,virile man with twenty or thirty good years ahead of you.” Shemanaged a smile. “Maybe the prospect of becoming a grandfather isa little shocking to your ego.”“Are you finished?”“Quite.”“Then if you don’t mind, I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He gotup, his face flushed.She reached out her hand. “There’s no reason not to be friends.Washington is a small town. That is the reason you called me in thefirst place, isn’t it?”He didn’t answer.With a certain degree of satisfaction, Pat heard him slam the frontdoor as he left.

 

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“Senator, they’ll probably want you to be anchorwoman on the
Today
show,” Toby volunteered genially. He glanced into the rearviewmirror to see Abby’s reaction. They were on their way to the office.At 6:30 A.M. on December 26 it was still dark and bone-chilling.“I have no desire to be anchorwoman on the
Today
show or anyother show,” Abigail snapped. “Toby, what the hell do I look like? Inever closed an eye last night. Toby, the President
phoned
me . . . he
phoned
me personally. He said to have a good rest over the Christmasrecess because it was going to be a busy year ahead. What could hehave meant by that? . . . Toby, I can taste it. The Vice Presidency.Toby,
why
didn’t I follow my instincts?
Why
did I let Luther Pelhamtalk me into this program? Where was my head?”“Senator, listen. That picture may be the best thing that everhappened to you. It’s for sure that wallflower Claire Lawrence neverwon any contests. Maybe Pat Traymore is right. That kind of makesyou more accessible . . . is that the word?”They were going over the Roosevelt Bridge, and traffic was pickingup. Toby concentrated on the driving. When he looked again into therearview mirror, Abby’s hands were still in her lap. “Toby, I’ve workedfor this.”“I know you have, Abby.”“It isn’t fair to lose it just because I’ve had to claw my way up.”“You’re not going to lose it, Senator.”“I don’t know. There’s something about Pat Traymore that disturbsme. She’s managed to give me two bouts of embarrassing publicityin one week. There’s more to her than we know.”“Senator, Phil checked her out. She’s been touting you since shewas in college. She wrote an essay on you her senior year at Wellesley.She’s on the level. She may be bad luck, but she’s on the level.”“She’s trouble. I warn you, there’s something else about her.”The car swung past the Capitol and pulled up at the Russell Senate

 

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Office Building. “I’ll be right up, Senator, and I promise you, I’llkeep an eye on Pat Traymore. She won’t get in your way.” He hoppedout of the car to open the door for Abby.She accepted his hand, got out, then impulsively squeezed hisfingers. “Toby, look at that girl’s eyes. There’s something about them. . . something secretive . . . as though . . .”She didn’t finish the sentence. But for Toby, it wasn’t necessary.At six o’clock Philip was waiting in the office to admit Pat andthe network camera crew.Sleepy-eyed guards and cleaning women with weary, patient faceswere the only other people in evidence in the Russell building. InAbigail’s office, Pat and the cameramen bent over the storyboard.“We’ll only give three minutes to this segment,” Pat said. “I want thefeeling of the Senator arriving at an empty office and starting workbefore anyone shows up. Then Philip coming in to brief her . . . a shotof her daily calendar, but don’t show the date . . . then office helparriving; the phones starting; a shot of the daily mail; the Senatorgreeting visitors from her state; the Senator talking to a constituent;Phil in and out with the messages. You know what we want—a senseof behind-the-scenes in a Senator ’s workday office.”When Abigail arrived, they were ready for her. Pat explained thefirst shot she wanted, and the Senator nodded and returned to thevestibule. Cameras rolled, and her key turned in the latch. Herexpression was preoccupied and businesslike. She slipped off thegray cashmere cape that covered a well-cut but restrained pin-stripedgray suit. Even the way she ran her fingers through her hair as shetossed off her hat was natural, the gesture of someone who caresabout her appearance but is preoccupied with more important matters.“Cut,” Pat said. “Senator, that’s fine, just the feeling I wanted.”Her spontaneous praise sounded patronizing even to her own ears.Senator Jennings’ smile was enigmatic. “Thank you. Now what?”Pat explained the scene with the mail, Phil and the constituent,Maggie Sayles.The taping went smoothly. Pat quickly realized that SenatorJennings had a natural instinct for presenting herself at the best cameraangle. The pin-striped suit gave her an executive, businesslikeappearance that would be a nice contrast to the taffeta skirt at the

 

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Christmas supper party. Her earrings were silver; she wore a silvertie pin, stark and slim against the ascot of a soft gray silk blouse. Itwas the Senator’s idea to photograph her office in a long shot showingthe flags of both the United States and Virginia and then to have onlythe flag of the United States behind her in close-ups.Pat watched the camera angle in as Abigail carefully selected aletter from the mound of mail on her desk—a letter in a childishhandwriting. Another touch of theater, Pat thought. How smart ofher. Then the constituent, Maggie, came in—the one whom Abigailhad helped to find a nursing home for her mother. Abigail sprang upto meet her, kissed her affectionately, led her to a chair . . . allanimation, warmth, concern.She does mean the concern, Pat thought. I was here when she gotthat woman’s mother into a home; but there’s so much showmanshipgoing on now. Are all politicians like this? Am I simply too damn naive?By ten o’clock they had finished. Having reassured Abigail thatthey had everything they needed, Pat and the camera crew got readyto leave. “We’ll do the first rough edit this afternoon,” Pat told thedirector. “Then go over it with Luther tonight.”“I think it’s going to turn out great,” the cameraman volunteered.“It’s turning into a good show. That much I’ll grant,” Pat said.

 

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