Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [29]
“How inconsiderate,” the woman in another chair said, referring to the sound of music being played too loud from somewhere, a car perhaps.
“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing she was there and turning to look at her.
“The music. I don’t understand why people think others should be subjected to their taste in music.”
“It wouldn’t bother you so much if it were Mozart,” he said, returning his attention to the city’s lights visible in the distance.
“It wouldn’t bother me so much if it were anything other than what it is. You were saying before about the media calls.”
“Oh, yes. They won’t let it go, those damn rumors about Nadia and me.” His voice was low and well modulated, and he spoke with deliberate slowness, a southern pace that he tended to exaggerate at times.
The woman, Shirley Lester, had been seen frequently with Lerner at myriad social functions over the past six months. They’d been friends for years. Lerner had been especially close to Shirley’s deceased husband, Vice Admiral Nelson Lester, the navy department’s inspector general. After her husband died, Shirley forged a closer friendship with the bachelor senator that quickly led—too quickly, some said—to a romantic one.
“Nelson used to say Shakespeare was wrong,” she said. “It isn’t the lawyers who need killing. It’s the journalists.”
“He was right, considering I was a lawyer.” He drew on his drink. “Nadia was flirtatious, Shirley. I don’t doubt she would have entertained an affair with me.”
“She flirted with you?”
“Yes. Hung around after hours a lot. Liked to squeeze in tight spots with me. She was damned tempting.”
Shirley didn’t ask how tempting Nadia had been. Truth was, she wasn’t sure whether she would believe his denials, any more than she had when the rumors first started floating over Washington. It might have been important to her if she had designs on Lerner as a potential husband. But she knew that wasn’t in the cards, nor did she want it to be. She was content being the attractive blond woman on his arm, reflecting in his stature, being on the A List of invitees, and enjoying the speculation that went with the role. She didn’t have illusions about Bruce Lerner. He liked women, and wouldn’t be content with only one. He was on the downside of life, as handsome and virile as he might be. So many women, so little time. She would enjoy his company for as long as it lasted.
“Her parents called me,” he said.
“When?”
“Earlier this evening. They flew up from Florida.”
“What did they say?”
“I didn’t speak with them. My AA took the call. They want to meet to talk about Nadia.”
“You’ll have to, won’t you?”
“At some point.” His sigh was pained. “I suppose they want to rehash the rumor.”
“You can’t blame them, Bruce. They’ve just lost a daughter.”
“Because someone murdered her. That has nothing to do with me.”
“Have you heard from the police?”
“No. That’s next. My press officer is preparing a statement for the press.”
The sound of loud music abruptly stopped, leaving them in silent darkness, which neither of them violated. That was left to a housekeeper who came to the deck and said to Lerner, “A call, sir. In the library.”
“Excuse me, Shirley.” To the housekeeper: “Please refresh Mrs. Lester’s drink, Maria.”
Lerner’s library was downstairs. He descended the wide, carpeted staircase, crossed a spacious tiled foyer, passed through open double doors, and settled behind a leather-inlaid desk. The room’s only light came from a brass gooseneck lamp. One of two buttons on a phone was lighted.
“Hello?”
“Bruce, it’s Clarise.”
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better. You?”
“Just fine. You’re calling about Nadia Zarinski.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not, although it’s not as though it isn’t on my mind. God, Bruce, what dreadful timing.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“I envy you, it not interfering with your life.”
He laughed quietly. “Oh, it interferes all right, Clarise,