Act of Darkness(55)

“What’s obvious now?”

“There’s nothing to say there has to be an Act in Aid of Exceptional Children. There’s nothing to say it shouldn’t die in committee. If Dan Chester decided to take exception to your behavior, or mine—”

“He can’t do that, Clare. There’s been too much publicity. He has to go ahead with the act. If he drops it, Stephen will look like a fool.”

“There’re a lot of ways to kill a bill, Harvey. And there’re a lot more ways to kill you. Chester could always get Fox to go with vouchers.”

There was another long silence on the line, then the sound of heavy breathing turning into snorts, and Harvey Gort said, “Shit.”

“Exactly,” Clare Markey told him.

“You can’t let him do that. Vouchers are poison. You know they’re poison. They ruin any chance we have to be a real—”

“—force for social change,” Clare finished for him. “Yes. I know. In the meantime, I am not going to do anything to make the police think I’ve got anything to hide or to make myself look guilty. I am not going to leave Great Expectations unless I’m asked to leave. I am not going to try to move to a motel and I’m not going to ask for the privilege of being allowed to leave town. I’m staying right here. If that costs you people one hundred thousand dollars, that’s your problem.”

“We could sue you for it, Clare.”

“Yes, you could. And I could declare bankruptcy, and then where would you be? Good-bye, Harvey.”

“Clare—”

But that Clare was only a distant squawk. Clare was slamming the receiver into the cradle, bringing one down on the other with a crack that sounded more like metal than plastic.





[2]


Stephen Whistler Fox knew when he heard the knock on his door that the person on the other side would be Dan Chester—mostly because he’d been half-waiting for Chester all night. The other half of the time, he had been thinking about Janet. It was six thirty in the morning and even colder than usual. The air-conditioning was off, but the temperature outside had dropped into a pit. When he went to his window and looked out, he saw tiny figures walking along the shore farther up the bay, bundled up in slickers and hoods. He was trying to find his courage. It had been years since he talked to Janet, really talked to her, assuming he had ever talked to her at all. Lately, she seemed to have been fading out of his awareness, dissolving into nonexistence in a way that disturbed him.

When the knock came, he got out of the chair he’d been sitting in and went to the vanity mirror, to check himself out. His hair was still untouched by gray. His face was still untouched by lines. He looked just the way he had always looked, except better.

He turned away from the vanity mirror, went to the door, opened it up, and stuck his head out. Dan was there all right, dressed in chinos and a baggy cotton sweater, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. Dan always looked like a scholarship boy at some ultra-WASP prep school. He knew all the rules, but he was never able to carry them off right.

Stephen stepped back, opened the door wide, and let him in. “Hi,” he said. “I thought it was you. I expected you to show up last night.”

“I had things to do last night.” Chester shut the door, threw the bolt—why did he always do that?—and threw himself down on Stephen’s bed. “I was up until four o’clock in the morning, trying to figure out what’s going on. I didn’t get anywhere.”

Stephen frowned. “I don’t see where you mean to get. Kevin died. The police don’t know what he died from yet, so they’re a little nervous. You said yourself it was perfectly natural.”

“It is.” Chester cocked his head. “What do you think, Stephen? What did Kevin die from?”

“Murder,” Stephen said solemnly, because he meant it. He hadn’t been able to follow all the technical discussions that had been going on the night before, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d known as soon as he’d heard that Kevin was dead that somebody must have murdered him, and he’d even had a good idea who. He thought Dan must have a good idea who, too.

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised about it,” he said. “You must have known it was coming. It was only a matter of time.”

“Are you nuts? Only a matter of time that somebody killed Kevin?”

“Well, not Kevin in particular. You know what I mean. It’s just that—”

“Shut up,” Dan Chester said.

This time, it was Stephen who cocked his head. If he’d seen himself in the mirror, he’d have realized he was imitating Dan. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. He’d seen himself on videotape a million times, and it had never occurred to him that he’d picked up almost all his gestures, all his mannerisms, by watching Chester. He’d picked them up much the same way he’d picked up his politics. And his ambition. And his life.