The Maverick: The Maverick / Magnate’s Make-Believe Mistress

“Wow,” Alice exclaimed softly.

“There’s more. She almost lost the job by lecturing the senator for hiring illegal workers and threatening them with deportation if they asked for higher wages.”

“What a sweetheart,” Alice muttered.

“From what we hear, the senator is the very devil to work for. They say his wife is almost as hard-nosed. She was a state supreme court judge before she went into the import/export business. She made millions at it. Finances a good part of the senator’s reelection campaigns.”

“Is he honest?”

“Is any politician?” Marquez asked cynically. “He sits on several powerful committees in Congress, and was once accused of taking kickbacks from a Mexican official.”

“For what?”

“He was asked to oppose any shoring up of border security. Word is that the senator and his contact have their fingers in some illegal pies, most notably drug trafficking. But there’s no proof. The last detective who tried to investigate the senator is now working traffic detail.”

“A vengeful man.”

“Very.”

“I don’t suppose that detective would talk to me?” she wondered aloud.

“She might,” he replied surprisingly. “She and I were trying to get the Kilraven family murder case reopened, if you recall, when pressure was put on us to stop. She turned her attention to the senator and got kicked out of the detective squad.” He grimaced. “She’s a good woman. Got an invalid kid to look after and an ex-husband who’s a pain in the butt, to put it nicely.”

“We heard about the cold case being closed. You think the senator might have been responsible for it?” she wondered aloud.

“We don’t know. He has a protégé who’s just been elected junior senator from Texas, and the protégé has some odd ties to people who aren’t exactly the crème of society. But we don’t dare mention that in public.” He smiled. “I don’t fancy being put on a motorcycle at my age and launched into traffic duty.”

“Your friend isn’t having to do that, surely?” she asked.

“No, she’s working two-car patrols on the night shift, but she’s a sergeant, so she gets a good bit of desk work.” He studied her. “What’s this I hear about you trying to marry Harley?”

She grinned. “It’s early days. He’s shy, but I’m going to drown him in flowers and chocolate until he says yes.”

“Good luck,” he said with a chuckle.

“I won’t even need it. We’re going to a movie together Friday.”

“Are you? What are you going to see?”

“The remake of that fifties movie. We’re going to dinner first.”

“You are a fast worker, Alice,” he said with respect. He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back to the precinct.”

She glanced at his watch curiously. “You don’t have a blade or a wire in that thing, do you?”

“Not likely,” he assured her. “Those watches cost more than I make, and they’re used almost exclusively by mercs.”

“Mercs?” She frowned.

“Soldiers of fortune. They work for the highest bidder, although our local crowd had more honor than that.”

Mercs. Now she understood Harley’s odd phrasing about “trade secrets.”

“Where did you see a watch like that?” he asked.

She looked innocent. “I heard about one from Harley. I just wondered what they were used for.”

“Oh. Well, I guess if you were in a tight spot, it might save your life to have one of those,” he agreed, distracted.

“Before you go, can you give me the name and address of that detective in San Antonio?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Better let me funnel the questions to her, Alice,” he said with a smile. “She doesn’t want anything to slip out about her follow-ups on that case. She’s still working it, without permission.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So are you, unless I miss my guess. Does Kilraven know?”

He shook his head. Then he hesitated. “Well, I don’t think he does. He and Jon Blackhawk still don’t want us nosing around. They’re afraid the media will pick up the story and it will become the nightly news for a year or so.” He shook his head. “Pitiful, how the networks don’t go out and get any real news anymore. They just create it by harping on private families mixed up in tragedies, like living soap operas.”

“That’s how corporate media works,” she told him. “If you want real news, buy a local weekly newspaper.”

He laughed. “You’re absolutely right. Take care, Alice.”

“You, too. Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime.” He paused at the door and grinned at her. “If Harley doesn’t work out, you could always pursue me,” he invited. “I’m young and dashing and I even have long hair.” He indicated his ponytail. “I played semiprofessional soccer when I was in college, and I have a lovely singing voice.”

She chuckled. “I’ve heard about your singing voice, Marquez. Weren’t you asked, very politely, to stay out of the church choir?”

“I wanted to meet women,” he said. “The choir was full of unattached ones. But I can sing,” he added belligerently. “Some people don’t appreciate real talent.”

She wasn’t touching that line with a pole. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

“You do that.” He laughed as he closed the door.

Alice turned back to her notes, spread out on the desk in the motel room. There was something nagging at her about the piece of paper they’d recovered from the murder victim. She wondered why it bothered her.

Harley picked her up punctually at five on Friday night for their date. He wasn’t overdressed, but he had on slacks and a spotless sports shirt with a dark blue jacket. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat, either.

“You look nice,” she said, smiling.

His eyes went to her neat blue sweater with embroidery around the rounded neckline and the black slacks she was wearing with slingbacks. She draped a black coat with fur collar over one arm and picked up her purse.

“Thanks,” he said. “You look pretty good yourself, Alice.”

She joined him at the door. “Ooops. Just a minute. I forgot my cell phone. I was charging it.”

She unplugged it and tucked it into her pocket. It rang immediately. She grimaced. “Just a minute, okay?” she asked Harley.

She answered the phone. She listened. She grimaced. “Not tonight,” she groaned. “Listen, I have plans. I never do, but I really have plans tonight. Can’t Clancy cover for me, just this once? Please? Pretty please? I’ll do the same for her. I’ll even work Christmas Eve…okay? Thanks!” She beamed. “Thanks a million!”