Real Bad Things(55)
Benjamin enacted his best Hollywood police stance for her: leaning in, eyes direct, elbows on knees. He looked at her with an intensity that made her mouth go dry. “Is there a specific reason you’re interested in this case?”
Georgia Lee retracted. She’d shown her hand. Asked too much. “Do I need to have a lawyer present? Is this an interrogation?” Both John and Benjamin examined her like she was serious. “My God, look at you two. I’m only kidding.” She laughed to disguise the way her chest seemed to rise and fall as she neared hyperventilation. She glanced across the yard at Rusty to calm herself. The gun show continued. This time, the cops showed Rusty and his buddies their guns. She wished she had the luxury of relaxation. “I’m heartened to know I can count on you to take this seriously and that our taxpayer dollars won’t go to waste,” she said, trying to change the subject away from her. “Maybe Maud can get worked up about something besides me.”
John chuckled. “You never cease to amuse me, Georgia Lee.”
“At any rate, I don’t plan on stopping until I figure out what happened,” Benjamin said.
“Well, all right.” He was about as exhausting as Bollinger, but better looking. “Just make sure you stay within budget, honey.”
John laughed and slugged Benjamin on the arm. “Like the lady said. Loosen up, Benny boy.”
Benjamin tightened his posture. He didn’t appear to be the type of individual for whom loose was a personality trait or boy was a joke, yet he focused his attention on her instead of John. “I imagine you’re interested because of the election.”
He wanted to get ahead. Make an impression. Nothing more than that. No need to worry. At least she hoped. “It’s certainly not ideal to have a murder investigation during an election year. People make strange associations. But as long as it’s taken care of in a timely fashion, neither you nor I will suffer too much. And I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t mind the distraction.”
They took too long to respond, and they certainly didn’t laugh.
“Of course I’m thinking about the election,” she said. “I’d be a fool not to. Bollinger is already using this nonsense to his advantage, claiming that I’m somehow responsible for something that happened over two decades ago.” She sipped her wine as if untroubled.
John reached for another beer from the ice chest near where he sat. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it ruining your election. Folks round here are always mad about something. But they always do right.”
“Do they?” Georgia Lee asked. She hoped her nerves didn’t reveal her irritation but rather sounded like an insecurity. But there was that look on Benjamin’s face. “What is it?”
Benjamin raised his eyebrows. “Maybe people just want a change.”
The signatures on his job offer and lease were barely dry. Hardly enough time to have an opinion on the state of their city or its citizens. Georgia Lee couldn’t wait for his shine to wear off. And to think she’d gone to bat for him. “Meaning, a change from me?” She looked to both of them for confirmation.
John squirmed in his seat. She was glad to see it. But Benjamin might as well have scanned her and decided she was someone who required extra screening.
“Change is an illusion,” she said. “And messy. It doesn’t happen without hard work. Money can’t buy everything, despite what Bollinger would have everyone believe.”
“Yeah,” John said, “but maybe it can buy some influence. Sure would help to recoup what we lost with that factory. And our budget’s been the same for years.”
The nerve of John to bring up K-Parts. “Why would you need a budget increase? Maud is one of the safest cities in the state.”
“What about all those missing men?” Benjamin asked.
“I mean violent crimes. We’ve had none of those.” Except Warren, but that’d been justified, she assured herself. And long ago. It didn’t count. It was practically a public service. Jane had mentioned how she suspected Warren of killing their pet parakeets. She’d probably taken out a serial killer. “There’s been no indication those are even crimes, as you just confirmed.” She fanned herself with a napkin and expelled all the worry she tried to disguise as exasperation. “I know you and Bollinger are golf buddies. But we all have to think about what’s right for the city—”
“Come on now, Georgia Lee,” John interrupted her. She hated to be interrupted. “Let’s not ruin the day with politics.”
Why on earth did he think she had invited him and the station over for a barbecue? Because she enjoyed their company? Because she had nothing better to do?
She took a long sip of her wine. She’d not planned to have this conversation. That was the worst thing about politics: keeping everything she wanted to say inside. Like telling John he’d been invited to her house precisely for politics. That he kept his job despite his obvious deficiencies because of politics. That Benjamin had been hired thanks to her politicking. Neither of them would be sitting in her backyard drinking beer and eating too much food were it not for politics. To them, politics only happened during election years. Change, not hard work over time but a businessman who only saw numbers—not realizing that to him, they were both expendable. She couldn’t say any of those things. Instead, she asked the one thing she could.