“That’s okay. It’s your expertise I want right now. Do you know where Lacey Dowell is staying while they’re shooting Virgin Six?”
“You’re not trying to prove she committed some kind of crime, are you?” Emily demanded.
“No. Someone was saying an old friend of hers was harassing her. I want to talk to her doorman and see if it’s true.”
She thought it over and decided it was an innocuous enough reason to reveal her heroine’s whereabouts: a suite at the Trianon, a luxury hotel on the tip of the Gold Coast that overlooks the cardinal’s residence on one side and Lake Michigan on the other. A nice change from the corner of North and California, where Lacey had grown up.
“Thanks, honey. You’re not coming out with us this afternoon? Mr. Contreras is going to provide the food.”
She mumbled something about having to see her father. “He’s got a new girlfriend. He wants us to be friends before I leave for France.”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” I reminded her.
“Yeah. I guess. Anyway, I’m flying on Wednesday, so I might as well tell him good–bye.”
I don’t suppose you ever outgrow the hope that your parent, however vile and violating he may have been, will magically turn into someone who cares about you. I turned sadly to join Mr. Contreras and the dogs in my car.
In the event, I had a pleasant outing. We joined Mary Louise and the boys in a forest preserve on the northwest side. Over a meal Mr. Contreras had created with boys in mind—fried chicken, potato chips, chocolate cupcakes, and marshmallows—Mary Louise and I went through the list of jobs that had come in this week. I had a half dozen background checks that were her main contribution to my work and a few other odds and ends, but I really wanted to talk to her about Alex–Sandy’s offer and my meeting with Baladine.
“You don’t need me to tell you not to touch that Global assignment,” she said. “I hope your pal Murray isn’t signing on for some real sleaze with them: that job sounds pretty bogus. As far as I can tell, your only reason for taking it on is to see what Murray is up to—and that’s not enough reward for maybe getting hung out to dry by one of the biggest laundries in America.”
I sat back on my heels, blushing—I didn’t know I was that transparent. “It’s not only that. What if Abigail Trant stuck an oar in to try to keep Baladine from swallowing me up?”
Mary Louise snorted. “What if she did? Are you supposed to fall over and slobber on her manicured toenails? Come on, Vic. This isn’t a job, it’s a setup. You know that as well as me.”
She was right. Probably right. I didn’t need the aggravation of being spun around by an outfit as slick as Global.
“But the Aguinaldo business is different,” I said. “That’s having a direct effect on me, what with that creep Lemour, and the State’s Attorney panting for me to take a fall. Will you check with the paramedics to see if they can remember the officers who came to the scene that night?”
“I can do it, but it’s a question of money, Vic. You pay me, remember, so even if it’s pro bono for you, it’s not for me. I think it’s an unnecessary detail right now, given your budget. You have plenty else going on. You told me the evidence from Cheviot Labs on your car got the SA to back off. Let it go for now. I’ll make those Georgia phone calls for you in the morning, but you know as well as I that there’s a trip south of the Mason–Dixon line in your future: I can’t leave town with those two monsters on my hand.” She gestured toward Nate and Joshua, playing Frisbee with the dogs.
She bit her lip, the way people do when they’re deciding to say something you don’t want to hear, then burst out, “Vic, there’s a kernel of truth in what Baladine said to you. About you going after strays all the time—only I call them wild–goose chases. You gnash your teeth over how you’re always hard up for money, but you’ve got the contacts and the skills to build a big agency. It’s just there’s something in you that doesn’t want to go corporate. Every time it’s about to happen you get involved in a story like Aguinaldo’s, and phht, there goes your chance to grow your business.”
“Grow my business?” I faked a punch at her. “You sound like a business–school manual.”