Cold Case Part 10

P.J. aimed first for the tall man. "Senator," he said, shaking hands.

"As in once and future," the man replied with a laugh.

"I remember my father introducing me to you on the Senate floor," P.J. went on. "I'm P.J. Farris."

"Trav Farris's son?" The man's interest now matched his geniality. "Well, you've certainly grown." He rolled his eyes. "To state the obvious. And who is this delightful young lady?"

"Megan O'Malley."

"Walter G. Callivant. A pleasure to meet you." The older man took Megan's hand in a warm clasp. It took her a moment to match the smiling face before her with the rather hara.s.sed figure in HoloNews clips that had provided so much material for the comedians.

Well, he didn't spill a drink on me, or spit when he talked, Megan thought.

"Some people get depressed when they discover that colleagues' children have grown up behind their backs," Callivant said. "I like to think of it as a glimpse into the future." He shook his head. "I also hope that wasn't something from an old campaign speech. Let me introduce you to someone more your own age. Nicola!"

Walter G. stepped over and neatly disentangled Nikki Callivant from the pair of fawning socialites. "May I present my granddaughter, Nicola. Nikki, meet Megan O'Malley and P.J. Farris. I worked with this young man's father, Trav Farris."

"The senator from Texas," Nikki said quickly. "Nice to meet you."

"Right-I'm sure it's very nice." P.J. laughed, looking at the zoo around them.

Nikki's smile broke through her company manners. "At least my grandfather knew you." Megan could barely hear her voice over the chatter around them.

"How can you stand it?" Megan asked.

Now Nikki's smile became rueful. "This event will help several charities my family supports, and the money is desperately needed. If I have to risk pneumonia and smile until my face hurts, it's a small price to pay. It's the least we can do-"

And it's an election year, Megan thought. She almost yelped as an elbow caught her in the ribs. There were other people who wanted to touch a Callivant, and Megan and P.J. were holding up the line.

"Perhaps I'll see you later," Nikki called after them. Then she turned to the next set of hand-grabbers.

"If I hold my breath till that happens, my face will match my gown," Megan muttered as they made their escape. "Nikki and her grandfather are doing better business than some of the refreshment stands."

"Which would you rather have?" P.J. asked mockingly. "The glow of personal contact with the Callivant clan, or mediocre domestic champagne and a sc.r.a.p of mystery meat in puff pastry?"

"They're on display like prize hogs."

"It's for charity," P.J. said. "And I suppose it beats sticking your head through a hole in a sheet and having people throw pies at you."

"I suppose it's also for politics." Megan glanced at him. "Walter G. wants his party's nomination for senator."

They both looked at the older man shaking hands with lots of young and not-so-young Junior League supporters. "I'd say he's doing pretty well with the trust-fund const.i.tuency," P.J. observed.

"But they're cramping our style," Megan complained. "How are we even supposed to talk to her again?"

"As opportunity allows." P.J. sighed. "Look at me-here I am, wasting all those good-cop lines I've been studying. Shall I practice them on you? Would you like to dance?"

Megan's opportunity to talk to Nikki came, of all places, in the ladies' room. The winter prom had shown her some of the dangers of high formal fas.h.i.+on. Besides nearly falling out of some of the more extreme gowns, girls had tripped on their long, swirling skirts or sprained their ankles falling off the high, slender spike heels that were all the rage.

Destroyed hems, ripped hose, and torn seams were common. Sometimes they'd speared the fabric with their own high heels, other times a clumsy date had stepped on their skirts, sometimes a stranger got too close at the wrong moment. But the worst combination had proven to be haute couture and plumbing. One girl had even flushed a bit of her skirt down the toilet, which had left her stuck in the ladies' room and had caused a flood. Almost everyone had to depend on friends for help in either temporarily escaping from or rearranging their fas.h.i.+onable formal wear in "the ladies' lounge."

High society had the same problem as high school prom girls, Megan discovered, but the hotel provided female attendants to give whatever a.s.sistance was needed.

Unfortunately, at that moment the system had broken down-or maybe some designer's creation had. A young woman was screaming that one of the attendants had destroyed her new Modeschau gown while helping her into the stall.

Women in formal gowns and uniformed attendants alike were all gawking at the disturbance, so that everybody except Megan missed Nikki Callivant about to have her own fas.h.i.+on disaster. Megan acted fast-two quick steps and a grab prevented the socialite's gown from being destroyed that evening. Megan helped a pink-faced Nikki get back to normal, and a few minutes later they were in front of the big plate-gla.s.s mirror repairing their lipstick and making a few final adjustments to their dresses before heading back out to the ballroom.

Nicola Callivant's face was still a little flushed from her recent misadventure. "Thanks again for your help. I wish I had the sense to wear something like you have on-something sensible-"

"You mean something off-the-rack and unfas.h.i.+onable?" Megan asked as they left the lounge for the ballroom.

The other girl blinked, then c.o.c.ked her head. "You say what you think, don't you?"

"Even when people don't want to hear it," Megan agreed. "For instance, did you know that P.J. and I are friends of Leif Anderson?"

Nikki Callivant nearly had another disaster, tripping on her skirt in midstep. "What?"

"We all belong to the Net Force Explorers," Megan went on as if nothing had happened. "Leif's not as bad as you seem to think. He has his good points. For instance, he's very loyal to his friends."

"How nice." Nikki Callivant's voice grew cold.

Megan plowed right ahead. "We're trying to help another friend who seems to have gotten into some trouble with your family. A cla.s.smate of mine from Bradford Academy-a guy named Matt Hunter. He was playing in a mystery sim that turned out to touch on a forty-year-old skeleton in the Callivant family closet. The death of a girl named Priscilla Hadding-"

Nicola Callivant had stopped asking questions or making comments. She just stared at Megan, her mouth open.

"Is there a problem here?" The interrupting voice was gruff, but the burly man's moves were smooth as he moved to separate Megan and Nikki. It was the balding, iron-haired man who'd stood in boredom behind Nikki and her grandfather. He didn't took bored now. Icy blue eyes backed up his question.

"It's nothing, Grandpa," Nikki said. "Just the usual madhouse in the ladies' room."

The older man took her arm. "I don't know why you object to having a female operative come along-" Megan lost whatever else he said in the party noise as they walked away.

Grandpa? Megan thought. Megan thought. Who the frack is that guy? Who the frack is that guy?

11.

Even without being grounded, Leif wouldn't have gone far from his computer console tonight. He was impatiently waiting for a report from P.J. and Megan.

The call came much earlier than he expected, though. In spite of that, the call announcement chime had barely sounded once before Leif shouted at his computer to accept the connection.

Megan O'Malley's face swam into focus in the holographic display over the console-as did the rest of her upper half.

Leif sliced the air with a loud wolf whistle. "Whoa! Nice dress, O'Malley!"

She gave him a look and pulled the little jacket she wore more tightly closed. "We decided to bail early on the Junior League thing. It's a school night, after all."

"At least you weren't thrown out," Leif said. "Or nearly drowned. Any luck in b.u.mping into the sn.o.bby one?"

"Most of the time we saw her, she was trying to be polite and seemed quite human," Megan replied. "I had a couple of minutes alone with her, rattled her cage a bit, and got a brief taste of what you received."

"What did you do?"

When he saw Megan's suspiciously sweet smile, Leif braced himself. "I took your advice," she said, "and told her that you were a friend of mine. She began to get a little snotty, but that changed after I mentioned Priscilla Hadding."

Leif leaned toward her image. "Don't stop there."

"It shook her up. But I didn't get the chance to take advantage of that. This older guy stepped in and hauled her off. That was the last shot I got at her." Megan shrugged. "Another reason to blow out of there early."

She squinted at him. "We'd already met Nikki's grandfather."

"Walter G.?"

Megan nodded. "But the guy who showed up to rescue her-she called him Grandpa, too. What gives with that?" Before he could make a comment, she hurried on. "Yeah, of course she has two sets of grandparents. But now that I come to think of it, I've never seen nor heard of anybody but the Callivant side-and I looked in all the same books you did."

"You'd have to look farther afield than that," Leif said, "if it's who I think it is. This guy. Balding, iron-gray hair, built like a football player gone to seed?"

Giving him a suspicious glance, Megan nodded. "Sounds like you know him."

"As it happens, I do. That gentleman is her great great-grandfather, Clyde Finch. He's the head of security for the Callivant clan."

"He looks only a little older than Walter G."

"Less than twenty years older, as a matter of fact. Clyde was divorced and came to live in the Callivant compound with his sixteen-year-old daughter Marcia when he took the job as head of security. Less than a year later Walter G. Callivant married Marcia Finch. It was a big, but well-hushed, scandal. Walter G. was all of nineteen at the time, and Marcia was barely seventeen."

"Nnggggyuck!" Megan said in disgust. "Marriage at that age! She was only as old as we are! What was that all about?"

Leif shrugged. "I can think of at least two reasons, one of them being undying love at first sight. As for the other major possibility-well, the math supports it."

She gave him another look. "I can only imagine." Then she looked thoughtful. "We really don't see much of Grandma Callivant in the popular press, do we?"

"Only photographed in carefully controlled family gatherings," Leif said.

"Sounds like that happens to a lot of Callivant women." Megan sounded grim. "What have they got in that compound, a harem?"

"Find out, in Secrets of the Rich and Well-Guarded Secrets of the Rich and Well-Guarded!" Leif replied in his best holo-announcer's voice. "Speaking of well-guarded, you might enjoy this historical footnote. Can you name the first cop on the scene in Priscilla Hadding's death?"

"Was that in the Herzen book?" Megan asked. "I didn't read that one."

"You didn't miss much," Leif said. "But the fact was mentioned in pa.s.sing. The cop, by the way, was a fellow called Clyde Finch."

Megan's eyebrows rose. "As someone in Matt's ill-fated sim might say, 'Is this a clue?'"

The Was.h.i.+ngton weather was no longer icy. It had gone back to the usual winter standard-mild, gray, and damp-when Matt set off for school the next morning. Even though Bradford Academy was far away from Foggy Bottom, wisps of the gray stuff floated past the windows of the autobus Matt rode on the way to cla.s.s.

Matt's morning turned out to be equally gray. The problems that had haunted him lately had eaten into his study time. He was completely unprepared for the chemistry pop quiz. And he'd barely skimmed the reading for English-which showed all too obviously in cla.s.s discussion. All in all, his morning's academic performance would have won him an Oscar for the role of Least Prepared Student of the Year.

As soon as he finished eating lunch, Matt headed outside. The weather hadn't improved any, but he found himself in need of some fresh air.

Matt was standing in the parking lot, looking up at the cloudy sky and thinking that he ought to hit the library before the afternoon nailed him, too, when Andy Moore appeared at his elbow.

"Hunter, you sly devil, you," Andy said in admiring tones. "You didn't tell us you'd made a new conquest."

"What are you talking about?" Matt snapped, not in the mood for his friend's clowning.

"Your new girlfriend stopped by in her car." Andy jerked his head in the direction of the street, where a small knot of guys cl.u.s.tered around a gleaming double-parked car. "She specifically asked for Matt Hunter-hey! I heard her!" he protested as Matt swung on him.

"If this is some stupid prank-" Matt began as he headed for the group, Andy trailing behind.

"If it is, it's not one of mine," Andy a.s.sured him. "I just wish I'd thought of it," he added in an undertone.

Gritting his teeth, Matt reached the group around the car. Then he saw why so many people were there, gawking. It was a brand-new bronze Dodge concept car, one that looked as if it had just rolled out of the pages of the latest car netzine. Half of the guys were checking out the car. The rest were staring in disbelief at the driver.

She wore a denim jacket, the kind that came lined with an old horse blanket. Matt could tell, because it was way too large on her, and she'd rolled back the sleeves. A bilious green scarf was wound around her neck and up to her chin, and the hat she wore defied all attempts at cla.s.sification. It was hand-knitted and shapeless, covering all of her hair. The color was somewhere between brown and orange, and the knitter had tried to end up with a flower at the top, but had failed and turned it into a sort of blobby pom-pom.

In spite of the clouds the girl wore sungla.s.ses. Matt's grandmother once had a pair like them-they were built to go on over regular eyegla.s.ses, and they hid the top third of her face as effectively as a mask.

Matt looked hard at what little of the girl's face that remained uncovered, trying to find some feature he could recognize. Do I know anybody who'd rig themselves out like this for a gag? Do I know anybody who'd rig themselves out like this for a gag? he wondered. he wondered. Megan? Maj Greene? Who'd put them up to it? Andy swears this isn't one of his gigs. Who else? Leif? Nah, not his style Megan? Maj Greene? Who'd put them up to it? Andy swears this isn't one of his gigs. Who else? Leif? Nah, not his style.

Unable to come up with an answer, and positive this was about to blow up in his face, Matt pushed forward. "I'm Matt Hunter," he said. "Who are you?"

The girl didn't answer, but for a brief second, she raised the sungla.s.ses from her face. Behind the big, clumsy lenses were a pair of beautiful eyes so blue they were almost violet.

Matt remembered Leif describing eyes like that-and on whom. Without another word, he got into the car.

Nikki Callivant started the engine and pulled away down the street. "It seems I need to talk to you," she said in a toneless voice.

"Not for too long, I hope," Matt said, glancing at his watch. "I need to be back in cla.s.s in about twenty minutes."

"Is there someplace nearby where we can stop?"

"Rock Creek Park isn't too far away," Matt replied. "We could probably find a place to pull up and not even have to leave the car."

She nodded and began steering the car, following Matt's directions.

"I guess I have to congratulate you on your-um-disguise," Matt said as they parked.