Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [19]
Mac ignored Crowley’s comment and asked Clarise what Bancroft had had to say about the murder that morning.
“I haven’t talked with him,” she said. “He’s out of town, I think. I was annoyed this morning. Sydney evidently called a meeting on the teen show knowing he couldn’t be there. That’s why there was a stage crew so early. They weren’t happy.”
Mac excused himself to assume the role of chef. Annabel had prepared a large salad and a rice dish; Mac’s task was to pop flounder stuffed with crabmeat into the oven.
“Let’s talk about more pleasant things,” Annabel said. “All set for your confirmation hearing?”
Clarise frowned. “That is coming up soon, isn’t it? I’ve been making the requisite tour of Senate committee members, making nice, putting them at ease that I won’t allow the NEA to support what the senators consider blasphemous or pornographic.”
“Succeeding?” Annabel asked.
Clarise laughed. “Who knows? It’s obvious which committee members are for me, and which ones aren’t. You can put Topper Sybers at the head of the latter group.”
“Good ol’ Senator Sybers, champion of virtue, protector of women and children, and hypocrite nonpareil,” Crowley said.
“Actually, he was endearing when I visited him. We chatted for over an hour.”
“Wrapped the old reprobate around your little finger, huh, Clarise?” said Crowley, his words slightly slurred.
“I have no illusions. Being courteous to me informally doesn’t necessarily translate into his vote. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Dinner is served!”
Later, after coffee, fresh fruit, and slivers of chocolate truffle cake from Watergate Bakery, Crowley excused himself. “I don’t think I realized what an impact Nadia’s murder has had on me,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Annabel offered.
After Crowley had departed, Mac, Annabel, and Clarise, accompanied by Rufus, returned to the terrace for a taste of rare port that Mac had recently purchased at a wine auction.
“He’s such a delight,” Clarise said, referring to Ford’s Theatre’s controller with theatrical overstatement.
“He’s obviously shaken by this morning’s events,” Mac said.
“He’s not alone,” said Clarise. “I dread tomorrow. The press will be camped at the door, and I’m due to have another series of briefings for the confirmation hearings. You can’t believe the possible questions my so-called handlers come up with. I’m tempted to withdraw, leave the theatre, and buy a cabin in the Maine woods.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Mac said. “Within a month you’d be thinking up ways to get back in the race. Ambition is an attribute, and a curse.”
“You did it,” Clarise said. “The two of you. Big-time law practices abandoned for an art gallery and mortarboard.”
“Guilty,” Mac said. “But the NEA needs you, Clarise. Most of our clients didn’t need us, or shouldn’t have. More coffee? Port?”
“Thanks, no. Being here has been wonderful. An oasis. And forget what I said about cabins in the woods. ‘The NEA needs me.’ I like that. Senator Topper Sybers needs me, whether he knows it or not. Everything was great. You’re special people, special friends.”
“Give a call tomorrow?” Annabel asked after calling a cab and walking Clarise to the elevators.
“Sure. Count on it.”
Mac and Annabel again settled on the terrace after clearing the dinner table and loading the dishwasher.
“She’s an impressive woman,” Mac said. The clouds had broken, and a full, white moon seemed within their reach.
“And beautiful.”
“I sometimes think you two look as though you could be sisters.”
“I feel bad for her. She was questioning what sort of mother she’s been.”
“Jeremiah didn’t have the most stable of homes, as I understand it. Classic case of mother and father pursuing demanding ambitions and schedules without a lot of time to devote to their kids.”
“Which doesn’t necessarily mean the kids have to turn out bad.”
“Of course not. What’s her relationship with Lerner? They seem to stay in touch.”
“Yes, they do. She’s told me they do it for the sake of their son, which can’t be faulted.”
“Maybe a little late.”
“Maybe.