“That’s entrapment. That can blow back on us. What we need is a real crime. A scandal. A secret. He has to have a secret.”
“I’m sure he does,” Sam said. “And you’ll find it. You stick to Reverend Fuller.” She picked up her bowl again, held out her spoon, and Kingsley took a bite. He tried for a second bite but Sam wouldn’t give it up. “I’ll stick to Lucy Fuller. And this ice cream. I should have gotten the bigger size.”
“Why are you so hungry today?”
“It’s a secret.”
“I’m in the business of secrets.”
Sam narrowed her eyes at him and then took a seat in Kingsley’s lap.
With unabashed pleasure he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to him. She wore a new suit today—tight tailored white blouse, skinny tie, black trousers and suspenders.
“You want to know my secret?” she whispered in his ear. “I am bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Kingsley groaned and pushed her off his lap. Laughing, Sam sat on his desk and picked up her ice cream again.
“You asked. It’s why I’m craving chocolate. Seriously, I want chocolate more than * today. What I need is a * that I can put chocolate in. Sorry. I have thoughts like this when I’m on the rag.”
“That’s not the sort of secret I need to know.”
“What? You don’t swim the red river?”
“I have swum the red river. Swam? Swum? I hate English. J’ai nagé la riviere rouge.”
“Good. You get to keep your stud credentials. Only pussies are afraid of pussies.”
“I am not afraid of pussies.” Kingsley stood up and opened his mouth. She fed him another spoonful of her ice cream. “Speaking of pussies, Blaise is in DC again. Felicia has an overnight with a client. You want to sleep with me tonight?”
“Will you give me a back rub? I’m crampy today.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I formally accept your invitation.”
“Good.” He snapped her suspenders, and she yelped. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Where are you going?”
“To seduce Lucy Fuller.”
She pushed him back, hard.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I was kidding,” Kingsley said. “I’m reformed. These days I only fuck people I want to fuck. I don’t fuck fundamentalist preachers or their wives. Catholic clergy only.”
“It’s good to have standards,” Sam said, obviously relieved. “So, no fucking the Fullers. What about the money? Did you look through the financials The Barber sent over, too?”
“I did. Nothing there, either. The church is sitting on millions of dollars—most of it from the sale of merchandise and Lucy Fuller’s books on how to be a godly wife.”
“Please, stop reading those books,” Sam said. “They’re making you weird.”
“They are not.”
“Yesterday you asked me if we’re spending enough quality time together.”
“Are we?” Kingsley asked.
“Oh, my Jesus.”
“Admit it, Sam. Our marriage has never been better,” Kingsley said.
‘I’m burning those books,” Sam said.
Kingsley sighed. “I’m only trying to find something on these people. They’re the Stepford Christians. No second homes, no secret islands, no lavish apartments for mistresses. The Fullers are rich, but so far that’s their only sin.” Kingsley sighed. “What about you? Did you find anything on your quest?”
“No,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Didn’t really pan out. Still looking, though.”
“Keep looking. It’s there. We’ll find it.”
“Where are you going now?”
“An abortion clinic,” Kingsley said.
“Is it mine?” Sam asked. “It’s mine, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have let you come on me.”
Kingsley glared at her. “It’s Fuller’s. His protest, I mean. I want to talk to some people who go to his church. And Lucy Fuller, if she’s there.”
Kingsley tapped her under the chin and strode from the office. He heard footsteps behind him.
“King?”
He turned around and saw Sam wearing a rare expression of earnestness on her lovely face.
“You promise you won’t go near Lucy Fuller?” she asked.