A Welcome Haunting - Part Twenty-Seven
MONDAY LATE AFTERNOON
“Political murder is still murder,” Top Aide scolded. “Acting like this is something you can just not talk about is absurd. Someone was killed and everybody we know thinks you did it.”
She was frustrated and her voice rose about the usual urgent whisper she used in restaurants or coffee shops or bars with close seating.
“I just don’t understand how you can be so sanguine about this,” she sputtered at me.
“I prefer to think of it as Zen, not sanguine,” I said, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then why are we here?”
“I needed to eat and I have other things to talk about, assuming we still do that.”
“We do. We talk. What’s up?”
“I’m going away for about two weeks. I need to calm down and get my head back on straight.” Her eyes didn’t leave my face while I was talking. “This is one of those moments where I choose to get better or choose to get worse, you know?”
“Yeah, I know about those.”
“The thing is this - I have three bills coming up in Albany that I need slowed down and an appearance on a contract dispute that has already been rescheduled two times. Please do me a favor, have the bills tabled to next month and cover the appearance for me?”
“I’ll take care of them. Planned on heading up for the Judge’s confirmation hearing anyway.”
“Thanks, love. I’ll let you get this,” I said, standing up and waving at our table. “Also, someone we both know who dresses very well and fancies himself important referred to you as a bitch.”
“Oh,” Top Aide said, smiling. “In what context?”
“About you and I being without a patron if the Judge were to have stumbled.”
“That’s nice. When I see him next I’ll share that you and I had this conversation about him, see how that goes over. And, you know,” she continued, “we don’t need the Judge anymore.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I answered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, “But why risk it? We have time.”
Then I walked out of the diner.
END