Chapter 34

About 9:30 Monday morning, my office phone rang. When I answered it, I was surprised to hear Steve Finnissy's voice. As had always been typical of him, he cut straight to the chase. "Pat, can you join me for lunch today or tomorrow?"

I checked my calendar. "Actually," I said, "today looks pretty good. After my morning studio, I'm free until mid-afternoon."

"Great. How about 12:30 at the Green Valley?"

"OK. Do you want to make the reservation, or shall I?"

"I'll do it."

"Steve, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"

"Yes, in fact, I do mind. I'd rather not talk about it over the phone."

After I hung up, I went down the hall to Joe's office. When I told him about the call, he was as perplexed as I was. "But I understand," he said, "that the two of you were once best buddies. Maybe he just wants to renew the friendship."

"If you think that, you don't know Steve. He's one inflexible bastard. I transgressed his fucking code. To him, that's an unforgivable sin."

Joe grinned at me. "What did you do, fuck his girlfriend?" I didn't reply. Joe stopped grinning. "Oh shit," he said, "you did, didn't you? You stupid fucker."

"Yeah. In those days I always thought with the little head instead of the big one."

"But Jesus, to fuck your best friend's girlfriend, that's pretty fucking low. Even for you."

I grinned ruefully. "It wasn't my finest hour. Actually, it was more like a couple of weeks."

"You know," Joe said, "I'm not particularly interested in hearing that story."

"Nor I in telling it to you."

"Right." Joe leaned back in his chair. "All of this shit aside, what do you think this fucking lunch meeting is all about?"

I sighed and sat down. "Well, I suspect that Steve wants to pump me about the Singh affair. And between you, me and the lamp post, my first inclination is not to give him too much."

"Yeah." Joe did this thing he does with his hands, bringing his fingers together and pressing them. He's told me that he thinks it helps him concentrate. "But if you can, you have to avoid being called by his committee. Remember, if you're called, you have to tell them everything you know, and it's different than testifying in court. There aren't any rules on what the press can and can't report. Your testimony gets to be front page news. There is no friggin' recourse from a Parliamentary committee."

"Of course it's not the same as a court of law. I know that much from all the years I've spent covering this stuff. But your testimony before Parliament can't be used in court."

Joe looked at me. His look was full of sympathy. "And if you believe in that, I have some swamp land in Florida for you. And there's this fuckin' rabbit that brings chocolate eggs every Easter. If your face and voice are all over the country spilling your guts, your ass is grass. Finissy is the lawn mower. And your broadcasting career is over. Over. Get that? Give the fucker anything he wants. Just don't get your ass in a sling."

"Cuz," I said, "your ass would be right in there with me."

"Yeah, you son of a bitch. I have kids in school. And I'm not a goddam millionaire like you."

"What do you mean?"

"You simple son of a bitch. You've gotta know that everyone on the political beat in this country knows that you got all Moe's money. Plus whatever you've managed to steal over the years."

Holy shit! What the fuck was Joe talking about? Why would everybody think that Moe was rich? And why should everybody think that I inherited a crapload of money from Moe? I'd been shocked to find out that Moe had money. Was I the last to know? Moe couldn't have been on the take. Moe's lawyer, Jerry Goldfarb, had sworn that Moe made every dime legally. But there had to be a lingering doubt in my mind. I'd spent year covering politics. But I felt I understood it less all the time. Hell, I'd never have guessed that Jake Singh would be on the take.

I sat in my office for an indeterminate time, lost in thought. I was brought out of my reverie by a loud knock at the door. It opened slowly.

"Oh good," Shauna said, "you're alone. I thought I'd better make sure, after the other day."

I managed a grin. "Good plan," I said.

Shauna sat on my lap and stoked my cheek. She said, "What's wrong, my love?"

This time I forced myself to create an almost-convincing smile. "There's all this Singh stuff going down. And I have to see Steve Finissy for lunch. Baby, it's just all this crap happening all at once. When you came in, you looked like you had good news. Tell me." I lifted her chin and kissed her.

Shauna put her lips to my ear. "God I love you," she whispered, "I'd love to fuck you right here. I wish I could just pull down your pants and jump on you."

I hugged her gently. "That's not news," I whispered, "and I'd love it just as much." I sat up and held her facing me. "Now, precious. What's all this about?"

Shauna beamed. She got off my lap and sat beside me. She took my hand.

"Guess what?"

"No. What?"

Shauna jumped back on my lap, hugged me and squealed. Loudly. Very loudly. I remember being scared shitless that everyone would put out an alarm. Since the Singh affair had heated up, there were cops all over the office. I really didn't want to be caught by the RCMP with a passionate woman on my lap. Even if she were my fiancée. Maybe especially if she were my fiancée. Making out on the corporate dollar. At the taxpayer's money. One breath. Two breaths. Three. No alarm was raised. "So what's all this about?"

Shauna sat beside me and once again took my hand. She beamed at me. "My folks," she said, "my folks are coming to visit. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Great," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

"It's so great. I want them to see things through your eyes. Through our eyes," she said excitedly. "I want to show them our world."

I cuddled her. "Sweetheart," I said, "I know this is very important. And I desperately want everything to go well. After all, I have some territory to rebuild." I took a long breath. "But in exactly thirty-two minutes, I'm having lunch at the Green Valley. With Steve Finnissy."

Shauna stared at me. "Pat, this isn't personal, is it?"

"Personal?"

"You and Steve. About what happened at St. Michael's."

I stared into space. "Is every moment of my life known everywhere?"

Shauna kissed my neck. "That," she said, "might be considered a theological question. As for your relationship with Finnissy, I have no idea how much people know about it. I only know what you've told me. No details, just that the two of you fell out years ago. Badly. And that his committee is investigating the Singh affair. I'll bet you this is just a fishing expedition."

I was puzzled. "Why?"

Shauna grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Think about it," she said, "I'll bet that Finnissy doesn't know nearly as much as you do about this thing with Singh."

"But that's what bothers me. What will I do if Steve threatens me with testifying before his committee?"

Shauna held me close and cuddled cheek-to-cheek. "That's not going to happen. You don't invite somebody to lunch and slap a subpoena on them. Even I know that, and I'm a rookie here."

The appointed hour arrived. I decided to take a cab to the restaurant. It wasn't a short distance, but I thought I might need a few drinks after talking to Steve. I sure as hell didn't need a drunk-driving charge added to whatever else this meeting might entail. When I got to the restaurant, Steve was already there. He was seated in the booth that was known as the "conference room," since it was often used for political meetings. It was in the back near the kitchen. It was fairly distant from the other tables. That fact and the background noise from the kitchen meant that overhearing a conversation was difficult if not impossible. After a handshake and the usual meaningless pleasantries, Steve and I sat down. I ordered my gin and tonic. Steve, characteristically, was drinking diet cola. Equally characteristically, he cut to the chase.

"Pat, I think you know the main reason I asked you to come here today. It's about the whole Singh mess. We'll talk about that, if you don't mind. But first, let's get our personal baggage out of the way." He paused. I took a drink of my G & T and waited for him to continue. Steve bent over the table and looked me straight in the eye. "Let's get one thing straight. Back at St. Mike's, you weren't just fucking Mary. You were really fucking me, weren't you? The whole thing was a deliberate scheme to get me."

He caught me totally off guard. I took another drink and collected my wits. Steve continued to stare at me. "No, Steve. It wasn't that way. I don't deny that I behaved like an asshole, but I didn't do it to 'get' you."

"Bullshit. Even you wouldn't fuck a girl just because she was there. You knew exactly what you were doing. Tell me, Pat. What was it like? What was she like? How did it feel to get her cherry? Come on, asshole. Tell me what it was like."

I looked into my glass and thought. What had it been like? I honestly have no idea how many women I've had. Unlike a lot of guys, I don't keep a tally sheet. Those I remember are simply that: memorable. Mary was memorable. Why? Because of her innocence? Perhaps. Because of her passion? Yes. Most of those in the forefront of my memory are there because of their passion. Or lack of same. Mary had probably been the oldest virgin in my experience. I'll never forget her incredible reaction the first time that I ate her. I thought she'd literally bring down the house. My part of it, anyway. Oddly, the actual defloration, her first fuck, was much more dim in my memory. Perhaps it was an anticlimax, in a way. We were both naked in my bed. I had eaten her to climax several times. Thank God, her reaction had been a bit more subdued the second time. We both knew why we were there. She'd come to me because she wanted to be fucked. The act of penetration was preordained. How had she reacted? The best way I could think to describe her reaction was relief. She seemed happy to be rid of her cherry, as though it were a burden she'd carried for far too long. Of course, this was the last thing I could tell Steve, especially in his current state. Instead, I said, "I don't know how to describe it, Steve."