Burn Marks

I nodded, but she couldn’t see that, so I gave an affirmative grunt. Anyway, I did understand it.

 

“This election is just the first step. I’m aiming for Congress and I want to be in a position for a cabinet post if the Democrats win in eight or twelve years.”

 

I grunted again. The specific shape of her ambition was interesting, but I’d always known she had the ability and the drive to reach for the top. In eight or twelve years maybe the country would even be ready for a Hispanic woman vice president. She must have been born in Mexico, though—that was why she was thinking only of the cabinet.

 

“Your advice would always be valuable to me.”

 

I had to strain to hear her, her voice had gotten so hoarse. “Thanks for the testimonial, Roz.”

 

“Some people—my cousin—think you might do something to hurt me, but I told him you would never do such a thing.”

 

I couldn’t begin to fathom what she might be talking about and said as much. She didn’t answer right away, and when she finally did I got the impression she’d chosen her words with great care.

 

“Because I’m working with Boots. Anyone who knows you knows you’ve always opposed everything he stands for.”

 

“Not everything,” I said. “Just the stuff I know about. Anyway, your cousin doesn’t know me. We just met this afternoon.”

 

“He knows about you,” she persisted in her raw voice. “You’ve done a lot of significant work one way and another. People who are connected around town hear your name.”

 

“I don’t need soap any more than you do, Roz. I haven’t said or done anything to make anyone think I’d stand in your way. Hell! I even paid two-fifty to support your campaign. What does your cousin imagine I’m doing? It may be chicken feed to a contractor, but that’s a big outlay for me—I wouldn’t do it frivolously.”

 

She put her hand on mine. “I appreciate you coming out for me. I know it took a lot for you to do, both the money and the function.” She gave a throaty chuckle. “I’ve had to swallow a few things, too, to be here—the sidelong looks from the party regulars. I know what they’re thinking—Boots is getting a piece of Spanish ass and giving her a spot on the ticket as payment.”

 

“So what is Schmidt worried about? That I’m from the Legion of Decency and I’m going to cook up a sex scandal? I’m really offended, Roz. Offended by the thought and by you thinking you had to sound me out over it.”

 

Her callused fingers gripped mine. “No, no, Vic. Don’t take it that way. Luis is my little cousin, my little brother, almost, the way he worries about me. Some men he was talking to told him how negative you are to Boots and he got worried on my behalf. I told him I’d talk to you, that’s all, gringa. Boots has his flaws, after all, I’m not blind to them. But I can use him.”

 

I didn’t know if I was hearing the truth or not. Maybe she was sleeping with Boots for the good of the Hispanic community—there was very little Roz wouldn’t do to help her people. It would turn my stomach, but I didn’t really care. At any rate, prolonging the conversation wasn’t going to buy me a copy of her thoughts.

 

“I don’t like you tying your wagon to Boots’s star, but I can’t afford to be picky—I’m self-employed and it’s a pretty small operation. And there’s certainly something to be said for letting Boots do your dirty work. Pulling the plug on abortions at Cook County the way he did, he owes the women in this town something—why shouldn’t it be you.”

 

Roz gave a husky laugh. “I knew I could count on you, Vic.” She summoned enough of her voice to call her cousin. “Hey, Luis, come on, we gotta go get a drink and shake a few more hands.”

 

Luis ambled over to the porch with Michael; Carl Martinez apparently had taken off. “You get everything settled, Roz?” It didn’t sound like a casual question.

 

“Coming up roses. You worry too much, you know—-you’re just like your mama that way.”

 

We stood up. Roz hugged me. “I may call you yet, Warshawski. Get you to stuff envelopes or hold my hand if I freak.”

 

“Sure, Roz. Whatever you want.”

 

I followed her down the shallow steps. When Luis had hustled her around the side of the house, Furey took my arm.

 

“Let me meet you back at your place, Vic, get things talked out. I don’t want to have matters go completely bust between us without at least saying good-bye in a friendly way.”

 

I was staring at the corner of the house where Roz had disappeared, still trying to figure out what the hell that whole conversation had been about. I was so busy with my thoughts that I found I’d agreed with Furey without even realizing it.

 

 

 

 

 

8

 

 

A Devoted Mother

Sara Paretsky's books