Текст книги "Native Affairs"
Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 37 страниц)
“You knew?”
“I hoped.”
“That’s better.” Marisa rolled over and looked at the ceiling. “What are all those little caps up there?” she asked, pointing.
“Recessed lighting.”
“Please. I may not be the editor of Architectural Digest, but I’ve seen recessed lighting. That’s not it.”
“I’m serious. You press one of those white buttons over there on the wall and all the little caps open up, and lights emerge on aluminum stalks, like in a science fiction movie.”
Marisa propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“Try it,” he said.
Marisa jumped up and ran to the panel he had indicated. She pressed the top button and the floor length drapes swooshed closed across the glass doors.
“Wrong button,” Jack said from the couch, unnecessarily.
She pressed the second button and a television set emerged from the wall next to the fireplace.
“It’s the third one down on the left,” Jack said, in a tone of exaggerated patience.
Marisa located the right button and all the ceiling caps receded simultaneously with a low whirring sound.
“Look at that,” she said in amazement. “Does your friend have an aversion to track lighting?”
“His father doesn’t like to see lamps during the daytime when he doesn’t need them.”
“Eccentric millionaires,” Marisa sighed. “What does the rest of this place look like?”
“I will be happy to provide a tour,” Jack said, standing and throwing his arms wide.
Marisa scurried to fall into step beside him.
“On your right,” he said, in the ringing tones of a museum guide, “you will find the space age kitchen, complete with trash compactor, double stainless steel sink, and walk-in refrigerator.”
“Who needs a walk-in refrigerator? Is somebody studying forensic medicine?”
“Don’t interrupt the guide,” Jack said.
“Sorry.”
“Pantry,” Jack said, gesturing with one hand, “and laundry room,” he added, gesturing with the other.
“Very impressive.”
Jack walked across the glazed tile floor to indicate the dining room, which featured a pegged pine floor, a dazzling art deco chandelier, and a hand knotted rug which looked as if it were loomed the day before it settled on the gleaming boards.
“Just a trifle nouveau riche, don’t you think, Jackson?” Marisa asked, sniffing.
“I don’t know about the nouveau, but definitely riche.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the living room they had just vacated. “And you saw the rest in there, the matched skin couches and chairs, the Mexican marble cocktail tables, the natural stone fireplace, the Jackson Pollock on the wall.”
“I have only one question,” Marisa said.
“Yes?”
“Where’s the bedroom?”
He crooked his finger. “Follow me.”
The open spiral staircase led to a second floor loft and a series of guest rooms down the hall. There was another fireplace on the exterior wall of the loft and a second deck overlooking the ocean.
“Nice digs,” she commented.
“It’s okay, if you like luxury,” Jack replied.
The loft was furnished with a vintage Shaker set with a peg post king bed, bleached pine end tables and a standing armoire. The bathroom leading off it had a Jacuzzi tub and an oversized shower stall with a frosted glass enclosure.
“Come back here,” Jack called, as Marisa disappeared through the door.
She came back and stood in the doorway.
“Let’s see if this mattress works,” he said.
She ran and jumped up on him, and they fell on top of the down comforter.
“What’s this you’re wearing?” he asked, tugging on her collar impatiently.
“It’s called a blouse. You remember it, Jackson. You took it off me last night too.”
He unbuttoned it efficiently and threw it on the floor.
“So much for that,” she said contentedly.
He disposed of the rest of her clothes in the same manner and then lay next to her, tracing the line of her hip with his forefinger.
“Is this a physical?” she said. “Should I have brought my insurance information?”
He bent and took her nipple in his mouth.
“I guess not,” she sighed.
“I hope your doctor doesn’t do this to you,” he murmured, running his hand up the inside of her thigh.
Marisa put her arms around his neck and drew him on top of her, locking her legs around him.
“I’m going to say something to you that I’ve never said to another man,” she whispered, licking the shell of his ear.
“What’s that?”
“Take off your clothes.’‘
“You’ll have to let me go.”
“Just for a moment,” she said.
He stood and stripped as she watched greedily, then dove back onto the bed, embracing her immediately.
“I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she said, arching her back as he ran a trail of kisses down her neck.
“That’s not saying much. I’m the only man you’ve ever seen.”
“I didn’t mean naked, I meant... in general.”
“How about in specific?” he said thickly, guiding her hand to enclose him.
“That, too,” Marisa replied, caressing him.
He groaned and pressed her back into the bed.
“Now,” she said urgently.
He obeyed.
* * *
Marisa saw Jack every day until the day before court hearings began again. On the morning that the case was due to resume she wore a pink dress with a shawl collar and paired it with navy shoes and purse. She was fastening her earrings when Tracy came through the door.
“You look so nice! Ain’t love grand?” she said.
“I’m discovering that it is.”
“Just remember whose side you’re on,” Tracy said warningly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marisa asked, glancing at Tracy in the hotel mirror.
“Well, you might be affected by your feelings for Jack, don’t you think?”
“I’m trying very hard to keep the two situations completely separate,” Marisa replied.
“Good luck.”
“Tracy, don’t make this any more difficult for me. I’m nervous enough as it is,” Marisa said, picking up her briefcase.
Tracy nodded, looking away.
“And send that file over to the clerk as soon as it’s ready,” Marisa added as she left.
Tracy looked after her thoughtfully but said nothing.
* * *
As soon as Marisa arrived in court that day she knew that something was wrong. Jack, seated at the NFN desk, would not meet her eyes. His whole demeanor was stiff and unyielding. Ben Brady, on the other hand, looked positively exuberant. Marisa took her seat, her heart pounding, wondering desperately what was happening.
“All rise,” the clerk called as Judge Lasky made his entrance.
Marisa stared at Jack as the clerk announced the case and docket number.
“Mr. Brady?” Judge Lasky said, rattling papers on the bench.
“Your honor, I would petition the court to grant a summary judgment for my client, the organization known as Natives for Nature.”
Marisa stared at him, thunderstruck. What the hell was this?
Lasky raised his brows wearily. “Mr. Brady, I warn you. This had better be good.”
“Your honor, this past Friday, a representative from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Department of the Interior, a Mr. Randall Block, attempted to bribe me.”
There was a stir in the courtroom. Marisa stared at Jack’s back, which was ramrod straight.
Lasky banged his gavel.
“That’s a serious accusation, Mr. Brady,” Lasky said, when all was quiet again. “Please elucidate.”
“I was offered a considerable sum of money to convince the NFN to drop this suit, so that the federal government could proceed with the highway without opposition and without delay.”
“I see. There will be a short recess while I consider the situation. Counsel will approach the bench.” He banged the gavel again.
The courtroom erupted into sound as Marisa, still in a state of shock, rose in obedience. She turned as she passed to look at Jack.
One glance at his stony face told her that he was convinced she was a party to the bribery attempt.
Chapter 7
“Mr. Brady, were these dramatics really necessary?” Judge Lasky said with obvious restraint to the NFN counsel, when both lawyers were standing in front of the bench.
“Your honor...” Brady began.
Lasky waved his hand dismissively. “You could have approached me in chambers about this and handled it quietly. But then the press would not have been racing for the courtroom doors at this very moment, isn’t that right?”
Brady tried, and failed, to look chastised.
Lasky sighed. “Mr. Brady, it would be well for you to remember that I am sixty-four years old and have been practicing law for forty of those years. No matter what you try to pull, I have seen it all before, many times. Is that clear?”
“Yes, your honor,” Brady said, with as much humility as he could muster.
Lasky turned his gaze on Marisa, who was standing, dumbstruck, at Brady’s side.
“Ms. Hancock, I suppose you know nothing about this charge of bribery that Mr. Brady has lodged against the representatives of the federal government?”
Marisa cleared her throat. “No, your honor.”
“I was sure not,” Lasky said dryly.
“I intend to investigate this incident thoroughly...” she began again but Lasky cut her off abruptly.
“You will do nothing,” Lasky said sharply. “I am declaring a recess while I locate this Mr. uh...” He looked at Brady.
“Block,” Brady supplied.
“Block,” Lasky continued, “and get to the bottom of this. And take this warning in advance, Mr. Brady. If I discover you have fabricated any of this for the purposes of delay and/or confusion, your disbarment will begin to look like a very appealing prospect to me.”
Brady did not look at all worried, which dismayed Marisa further; he must know he was on safe ground.
Lasky waved them away and looked up at the full court.
“This court is in recess until.. .” He looked at his calendar. “Thursday, December 18th, at 9:00 a.m. unless you are advised otherwise in the interim,” he concluded.
The spectators rose to leave, buzzing with renewed speculation. Marisa hurried after Jack, who was already near the door.
“Jack, wait,” she called.
He halted but did not turn to look at her.
Marisa ran around to confront him.
“Jack, I had nothing to do with any bribe,” she said flatly, her eyes locking with his. “The first I heard of it was this morning in court.”
He said nothing, but she could see that he did not believe her.
“Jack, you know me! You’re not going to take the word of some federal flunky you’ve never met over mine, are you?”
“I’ve met him,” Jack said quietly.
Marisa stared at him, taken aback. Then she said, “The courtroom next door is empty. Come in there with me for a few minutes and let’s talk.”
He hesitated.
“Please?” she said.
He followed her reluctantly, his mouth set. Once inside, Marisa closed the double doors behind them.
“Can’t you see what’s happening?” Marisa began. “This guy Block was upset at the way things were going, and he misjudged Brady on the basis of what he observed. Brady is a flamboyant blowhard but he’s honest. Block thought he could slip him some money and Brady would then tell the NFN to drop the case. Instead it backfired and Brady blew the whistle on him. That’s all there is to it.”
“I’ve seen Block myself,” Jack replied flatly. “When Brady told him he was going to Lasky with this, Block admitted that the whole thing was your idea. You knew you couldn’t win in court so you thought up this clever scheme to come out on top another way.”
“You don’t actually believe that!” Marisa said, aghast.
“Why not? It makes sense.”
“Then where is Block? Let him say this to my face. I want to see him do it!”
“I’m sure he’s back in Washington, trying to salvage his career. Don’t worry, Lasky will make certain he’s located and questioned to everyone’s satisfaction.” Jack turned to go.
“Jack, is that all you have to say to me?” Marisa demanded, astonished.
He looked back at her. “Not quite all. You used me. I still can’t believe I was quite that stupid, but apparently I was. You won’t get the chance to dupe me again.”
“How did I use you?” Marisa asked, trying desperately to maintain her sanity.
“You pursued a relationship with me in order to gain my trust while plotting behind my back,” he said tightly. “Is that clear enough for you?”
Stinging tears filled Marisa’s eyes. “Jack, how could you think that after...”
“You slept with me?” Jack finished for her. “Great little convincer, that was. And having your friend Tracy front for you, that was a nice move too.”
“Front for me?” Marisa gasped.
“Yes, setting me up with touching stories about your innocence and lack of experience with men. I swallowed it all, didn’t I?”
Marisa’s distress was turning to anger. “Are you suggesting that I remained a virgin for twenty-eight years in order to entrap you?” she demanded icily.
“I’m suggesting you manipulated that... situation...in order to make me feel...” he stopped.
“What?” she whispered.
“In order to make me feel that you loved me!” he yelled.
“I do love you,” she wailed.
“Bull!” he shouted and turned on his heel for the door.
Marisa ran after him and grabbed his arm. He wheeled and seized her shoulders so hard that she winced.
“Stay away from me,” he said warningly. “I don’t want to hurt you but I just might, so leave me alone.” He released her suddenly and bolted through the doors before she could say anything else.
Marisa looked after him despairingly, still trying to absorb what had happened since she arrived at the courthouse that morning.
* * *
“What are you doing back so early?” Tracy said, looking up from her pile of notes. Then her expression changed. “My God, you look ghastly. What happened?”
Marisa told her, as briefly as possible, while Tracy stared at her in appalled silence.
“I can’t believe it,” Tracy whispered.
“That makes two of us,” Marisa said, unbuttoning her jacket, still in a state of shock.
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea,” Marisa said miserably, wiping her eyes.
“You have to find Block, that’s the first thing.”
“I’ve already called the Bureau three times and left messages. His secretary keeps saying that he’s in a meeting.”
“I’ll bet—what used to be called a lynching party. He never thought Brady would turn him in to Lasky. I knew Block was stupid.”
“And now he’s trying to bail himself out by saying it was all my idea,” Marisa replied.
“Oh, he won’t get away with that. He’s just buying time. You’ll straighten it out in the end. You’ll see.”
“I’d better, or I’ll be lining up at the unemployment office.” Marisa sat down hard and stared at the carpet fixedly without replying.
“That’s not the worst of it, is it?” Tracy murmured.
Marisa raised her eyes. “Tracy, Jack wouldn’t even listen to me,” she said softly.
“He’s just hurt, Marisa. Once he calms down he’ll think better of it and call you. I know it.”
Marisa shook her head. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see his face.” She threw up her hands. “How could he take the word of that snake from the Bureau over mine?”
“He’s not in love with Block. He’s in love with you.”
“Oh, what does that mean?” Marisa moaned.
“It means he’s proud and sensitive and taking a big chance on you, right? Even the suggestion that you might not feel the same way about him, that you might have had ulterior motives for your relationship with him, is bound to drive him wild.”
“But it isn’t true!”
“He’ll see that eventually.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Why don’t you give him a day or two to cool down and then go and see him?”
“Assuming he doesn’t shoot me on sight.”
“He’ll calm down.”
“I wish I could be sure of that. He was wild, Tracy. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“But you knew that potential was there,” Tracy replied.
Marisa looked at her.
“That’s part of what attracted you to him so strongly, isn’t it?” Tracy said sagely.
“I’ve never analyzed it,” Marisa said.
“I have.”
“Of course.”
“It’s the attraction of opposites. There’s a lake of fire smoldering beneath that polished surface of Jack’s, and you’ve always known that, haven’t you?”
“I didn’t expect it to burn me!” Marisa protested. “He was so unreasonable. Nothing I said had the slightest impact on him .”
“What did you think would happen?”
“I thought he would have some faith in me!”
“Maybe he’s more insecure than he seems,” Tracy observed.
Marisa snorted.
“I mean it. Look at his background, look where he comes from. He must have had some dreadful experiences while he was growing up.”
“He won’t talk about it much, but I think you’re right.”
“So there! You must seem like a goddess to him.”
“Please,” Marisa said disgustedly.
“Think about it. Sure, he’s gorgeous. Sure, he’s been around quite a bit, but has he ever had a serious adult relationship with somebody like you? I doubt it. Is it any wonder that he’s vulnerable to the suggestion that you were manipulating him?”
“But what do I have to do to convince him otherwise? He’s turned into a madman!”
“Wait it out, as I said. He’ll come around. In the meantime, let’s see if we can unearth Randall Block.”
“And I’d better call Charlie at the firm right now and tell him what’s happened,” Marisa said resignedly.
“Don’t you think you should alert his cardiac specialist first?” Tracy said dryly.
“If he thinks I was in on the bribe I’ll kill myself.”
“I wouldn’t worry about Charlie. He’s got a high tech computer ticking away in his chest. He’s never allowed an emotion to cloud his judgment in his life.”
Marisa nodded and picked up the phone.
* * *
Jack shut down the word processing program in disgust and threw his notes in the trash. It was impossible to work. He couldn’t think straight enough to count to ten. His manuscript would be late, his editor would go crazy, and the NFN case against the government was stalled indefinitely while Lasky tried to decide who was lying about what. His life was in a shambles, all because he was stupid enough to fall for a regal blonde with an innocent manner and a heart of stone.
He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was not crying; his eyes were tearing from fatigue. He blinked until he had himself under control and then rose to get a drink.
In the kitchen he fumbled around for the bottle of whiskey at the back of the cabinet. When he located it he splashed several fingers of the amber liquid into a glass and drank it neat. He gasped as it hit his stomach and the fire spread through his belly. It didn’t help much, but a little. Any relief was welcome.
He couldn’t wait to wrap up this case and leave Florida forever. All it meant to him now was bittersweet memories he wished he could erase from his brain. It was no fun recalling what an idiot he had been, and a change of scenery might make it easier to forget. He was sorely tempted to jump on a plane and let Brady wrap up the case alone, but that was a little too much like flight, and he was damned if he was going to run. He would face her down and show her up for the rotten little deceiver she was.
Jack looked at the bottle and then resolutely put it away. His father had been an alcoholic, and he was not heading down that road. He had been through many painful episodes before and had survived them. He would survive this, even though it didn’t seem like it at the moment.
He couldn’t forget Block’s smug expression as the agent told him how Marisa had come to him with her clever plan to put an end to the NFN case. The warning signs had been there all along, of course, but Jack had been too much in love to heed them. Marisa’s career was very important to her. She prided herself on her win record, and she especially wanted to beat that overblown gas bag Ben Brady. She couldn’t lose, that was all, and when she saw that she was going to do just that she pulled a last rabbit out of the hat to try to save the situation. And her relationship with Jack had been a ploy to keep him off guard and maybe get some inside information while she worked the angles. He was a jerk, all right, a prize bull led to the slaughter by the delicate scent of perfume.
Jack swallowed the rest of his drink abruptly, hoping that if he got semi-sloshed he’d be able to sleep. Then he felt his way upstairs in the dark and fell into bed.
* * *
Marisa took Tracy’s advice and waited three days before she went to see Jack. She didn’t call first because she knew he would refuse to see her. She drove her hired car out to his isolated house just after sunset and knocked on his door with her heart banging in her chest. When he appeared seconds later she blurted out, “Don’t throw me out, Jack, please give me a chance to talk to you.”
Jack studied her for a long moment in silence and then stepped aside, allowing her to precede him into the house.
“I really don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” he observed neutrally.
“How can you just dismiss me?” she demanded. “Isn’t there any chance I could be telling the truth?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Why?” Marisa countered, trying very hard to stay calm.
“I knew you were too good to be true, and I was right. I just wish I had realized it before I made a fool of myself.”
“It’s very important for you to hurt me now, isn’t it?” she said quietly.
“Why not? Turnabout is fair play.”
“You never believed I loved you, did you?” she said miserably.
“I believe you wanted to sleep with me. Even you are not that good an actress. As an amusement, I’m sure I was satisfactory. I’ve never had any complaints in that direction. And all that business about keeping the relationship going after the case was over, that was just a red herring to throw me off the track. Can’t have the pigeon catching on before the trap is sprung, right?”
“Once I get Randall Block into court I’ll force him to tell the truth, and then you’ll see,” she said desperately.
“Save your breath. He’s already telling the truth.”
“He got a federal judge to issue a restraining order against me,” Marisa said.
“Smart guy.”
“He knew he could dodge my calls only so long before I showed up in person.”
“Terrifying prospect. What were you going to do, bludgeon him with your briefcase?” he said sarcastically.
“I don’t know,” Marisa said in a small voice.
“Why don’t you try sleeping with him? That seems to work very well for you.”
Marisa gasped, staring at him, unable to reply.
“Maybe you could try the virgin routine with him too. No, I guess that only works once. Well, you’re an inventive lady. Never fear, you’ll think of something.”
“You louse,” Marisa whispered.
“That makes two of us. Will there be anything else?” He motioned toward the door.
“Yes,” Marisa said hoarsely. “I have something else to say.”
“Make it quick.”
“You are going to regret this,” she began.
“I doubt it.”
“Oh, I know you don’t believe it now, but you will remember this day and the things you said to me and realize what a mistake you made.”
He glared back at her stonily.
“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re throwing me away because you’re so insecure and cynical and just plain stupid…”
“Watch it,” he said tightly.
“What are you going to do, big man?” she said, fighting tears. “Punch me, the way you punched that kid at the Seminole gallery? That’s your standard method of solving problems, isn’t it?”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Marisa burst out, suddenly overwhelmed by the unfairness of it. “I didn’t attempt to bribe anybody. I knew nothing about what Block was doing until I heard about it in court. But if this is what it took to show me what a narrow, limited, prejudiced person you really are...”
“Prejudiced!” he said disbelievingly.
“You heard me,” Marisa said, crying openly now. “You think I’m just like that girlfriend you had when you were in high school, too Waspy, too white bread...”
“I think that you’re a liar,” he said tonelessly. “They come in all colors.”
“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I’m leaving.”
“Good.”
“I’ll never forget you,” she sobbed, running headlong for the front door.
“I’ll try to forget you,” he called after her.
Marisa burst out onto the porch, blinded by tears. She dashed to the car and sat on the front seat for a couple of minutes, waiting for her vision to clear, watching the door through a mist to see if Jack would follow her.
When he didn’t, she drove back to her hotel in town and went straight to bed.
* * *
“What’s this?” Tracy asked, when she came in from shopping an hour later and found Marisa already huddled under the covers, clutching a box of tissues.
“It’s over,” Marisa said.
“What’s over?”
“The World’s Fair, what do you think? I took your advice and went to see Jack tonight. He was the same as before—a stone wall. Worse. He was mean and nasty and insulting and... I give up,” she said, dissolving into tears again.
Tracy dropped her bags on the floor and sat down.
“Maybe it was too soon,” she said lamely.
“Will you please stop making excuses for him?” Marisa said in irritation, pausing to blow her nose.
“He’ll find out eventually that you didn’t know what Block was going to do,” Tracy said reasonably.
“What does that matter? This episode has shown me what he really thinks of me, and that isn’t good.”
“When you see him in court again...” Tracy began.
“I doubt we’ll be going back to court,” Marisa interrupted, tossing a wadded tissue into the trash bin next to the bed!
“Why not?”
“Lasky will probably declare a mistrial and the feds will tell me to fold my tent and go home.”
“And leave the cemetery to the Seminoles.”
“Which is what they should have done in the first place,” Marisa concluded.
“So it looks like we’ll be out of here in short order,” Tracy said, measuring Marisa with a glance.
“If it goes the way I think it will,” Marisa replied, sniffling and rubbing her reddened nose.
“Can’t be soon enough for you, I guess,” Tracy said darkly.
“You got that right.”
Tracy sighed. “Are you sure Charlie won’t blame this debacle on us once we get back home?” she asked.
“Charlie knows what happened. And if I have to track Randall Block to the limits of civilization he will clear this up before he dies, or I do.”
“What does Charlie want you to do?”
“Nothing. Charlie’s main concern is getting the feds to pay up speedily. Losing clients are notoriously less happy about paying their bills than winning clients.”
“So Charlie thinks it will be over shortly too.”
“Unless a new world order is established while we sleep and we wake up tomorrow with Randall Block as President.”
“Now there’s a thought to fill your heart with joy.”
Marisa closed her eyes. “I wish I had never come here,” she said plaintively.
“Soon we’ll be back home and you can forget it.”
“I can never forget it,” Marisa whispered.
“The pain will fade with time. It always does.”
“I’ll never meet anybody else like him, Tracy. I know I’ll miss him for the rest of my life.”
“You’re young. You’ll meet somebody else.”
Marisa closed her eyes.
“Please don’t say things like that. You sound like you’re comforting me about not being asked to the senior prom.”
“I didn’t mean to trivialize it. I know you’re hurting. I just don’t know what to do to make you feel better.”
“There’s nothing to do.” Marisa got up and set the box of tissues firmly on the nightstand. “And I am through feeling sorry for myself. I have to resurrect my career from the ashes of this firestorm, and that’s going to be my priority from this moment.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tracy said, brightening.
“And now I’m going to take a very long, very hot shower,” Marisa announced, marching toward the bathroom.
“I’m glad to hear that, too,” Tracy added, grinning.
Marisa threw her a dirty look over her shoulder.
“Well, water could only cause an improvement,” Tracy said, shrugging.
Marisa pushed open the bathroom door and glanced in the mirror. “I see what you mean,” she said glumly.
“I’ll order dinner in the room,” Tracy went on, cheering up at the prospect of food.
“I couldn’t eat anything,” Marisa said, turning on the taps.
“Chicken Marsala?” Tracy suggested.
“Oh, God,” Marisa whispered, leaning against the tiled wall, her gorge rising at the thought of wine sauce.
“All right,” Tracy said, peeking in the door as steam billowed out of the shower stall. “Bad idea. But you can’t keep on starving yourself. You’re losing weight already and you can’t spare it. How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Yes, Mother,” Marisa said, smiling weakly.
“And a glass of milk,” Tracy added, as Marisa shut the door firmly in her face.
Marisa stepped under the streaming water and picked up the bottle of shampoo, wishing that she could wash away her troubles as easily as she washed her hair.
* * *
It happened as Marisa had predicted. Judge Lasky declared a mistrial and the Indians kept their land. Marisa was recalled to Maine where she was kept very busy filing papers to answer collusion charges on the attempted bribery. She was placed on suspension and reduced to the status of law clerk while the state bar association awaited the outcome before instituting disbarment proceedings against her. She was miserable, but she had to bide her time until she was able to show that Block was lying.
About two weeks after Marisa left Florida, Jack flew to Washington and entered the familiar building which housed the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He went up in the elevator and strolled down a corridor lined with offices, looking for a particular cubicle. When he found it he looked up and down the hall to make sure that no one else was around, and then he entered quickly, startling the room’s occupant.
“Hi, Randall,” Jack said briskly. “Remember me?”
Block dropped his pencil.
“We’re going to have another little talk,” Jack announced, and kicked the door shut behind him.
Chapter 8
Marisa peered out the window of her house in Maine and gauged the accumulation of snow on the ground. It was enough to cause trouble but not enough to bring traffic to a standstill. She would be able to make it in to work.
She switched on the radio in the kitchen and was rewarded with the blaring sound of “Deck the Halls,” reminding her that it was Christmas Eve. She turned the knob abruptly, cutting off the sound. She had never felt less festive in her life.
The coffeepot was disassembled on the drain board, and as she put the pieces together and fitted the filter into the cup she tried to remember whether she had sent her gray wool skirt to the cleaners. The navy shirtwaist was probably clean, but there was a button missing from one of the sleeves.
She sighed. She would wear whatever was easiest. She didn’t have the heart, or the interest, for a wardrobe analysis. She plugged in the pot and wandered over to the front door to see if the paperboy had left the morning edition on the porch.
