Grave Apparel (55 page)

Thankfully
the
waiter
chose
that
moment
to
appear.
He
took
their orders and departed
quietly.
Lacey
and
Jeffrey
were silent for a moment. Jazz
was
playing softly
somewhere.

“But
why
are
you
in
Washington
and
not
in
New
York?
And
what’s
this fundraiser you mentioned?”

“According
to our PR firm, the Bentleys must perform a public mea
culpa.”

“And
that is?”

“Good
works.
The
specific
project
hasn’t
been decided upon yet. The
Bentley
Foundation
has not hitherto been
known
for its actual charity
work.
Lots of tax breaks,
but
not much real char
ity.
And please
don’t
use that quote. So the
Bentleys
are
now

going to be
giving
some healthy charitable grants to some
wor
thy
nonprofit
organizations.
Or
I
will
kick
some
butt.”

“You’re
not really a
Bentley,
are you?
Were
you
secretly
adopted?”

He grinned.
“That’s
the nicest thing
anyone’s
said to me all
day.
Maybe
ever.”

Charity
work
sounded
like
a
good
fit
for
Jeffrey,
Lacey
thought. He
wasn’t
like
the rest of the
Bentleys.
He
wasn’t
con sumed by greed or
fear.
A
changeling.

Lacey
gazed
out
the
front
windows.
Rain
was
falling
steadily,
but
she suddenly felt so at peace sitting there with Jef
frey.
Buildings glimpsed through the drizzle
looked
stately and austere. Multicolored taxi cabs and black Lincoln limousines
picked
up and dropped
off
passengers. The
restaurant’s
front doors opened at
regular
intervals,
letting in
waves
of chill wind.
Brooke’s
own
favorite
Snidely
Whiplash,
also
known
as
Senator Pendleton
Wilcox,
and his younger
brother,
Henderson
Wilcox,
suddenly
blew
through
the
door
and
handed
their
trench coats to the host.
They
shook
off
the rain, wiped their feet on the mats, and deposited their wet umbrellas in a
large
brass
cylinder.
Here were
two
of
Brooke’s
least
favorite
politi cal characters, come to life before
Lacey’s
very eyes. Lacey
was
sorry
Brooke
wasn’t
around
to
give
her
a
playbyplay
commentary.

Wendy
Townsend
of Garrison of Gaia trailed along behind them, wearing a dark green
slicker
and shedding
water
on the carpet. She glumly refused an
offer
from the host to hang it up for
her,
a
grownup
grumpy
Wednesday
Addams carrying her storm cloud with
her.
The
Wilcox
brothers ignored
her.
Were
they
just
inconsiderate
snobs,
Lacey
wondered,
or
had
they really forgotten she was there? Perhaps
she’d
invited
herself
along
and
they
were
ignoring
her
as
punishment?
Wendy seemed about as welcome in this clubby atmosphere as a third party candidate.
Lacey
wondered
if she were blind to the hos tile undercurrents that were so apparent to
her.
How
did this
fit
in with
Wendy’s
“friends with
benefits”
story about her rela
tionship
with
Henderson?
Jeffrey
followed
Lacey’s
gaze.

“Sorry,
Jeffrey.
Just people
watching.
A dedicated
follower
of
fashion,
you
know.”

“Understood.
The
Senator
is
always
a
good
show.
If
you
like
train
wrecks.
He’ll
be
there
tomorrow
night,
if
you’re
interested.”

“Really? I guess you need some
heavyweights.” Few
Wash
ington politicians could really be
classified
as true celebrities on their
own
merits,
but
a Senator
was
always
welcome at a
fundraiser.

“Exactly.
The
event
is to announce the program and meet
with
representatives
of
various
organizations
who
will
be
vying
for the
money.
Leaving
out politicians who pander for cash, of course.
We
already
take
care of
them.”

“You
contribute
to Senator
Wilcox?”

“Not I, no
way,
but
he and Uncle Hugh go
way
back.
They
have
a lot in common, and the Senator is tireless when it comes
to
fundraising.
He’ll
get
to
rub
more
Bentley
elbows.
And
maybe
Bentley
wallets.
It’s
all about access.
There’ll
be a full
house.”

“How
much
money
is at
stake
in the grants?”

“Twenty
million is in the pot right
now.
Broken
into up to ten
grants.”

As if blessed with
exceedingly
keen
hearing when sums of
money
were mentioned, Senator Pendleton
Wilcox
spied Jef
frey
and stepped smartly
over
to them,
leaving
his brother and
Wendy
sitting at their table across the restaurant and
scowling
at each
other.
The elder
Wilcox
put his hand out and a good im itation of a smile on his
face.

“Bentley,
good to see
you,”
the Senator said.
“Senator.”
Jeffrey
stood and shook hands.

“Don’t
stand on my account, my
boy.”
Old Snidely
acknowl
edged
Lacey’s
presence with a
very
slight nod,
but
he
spoke
only to
Jeffrey.
After all,
Jeffrey
was
the potential
contributor.
Lacey
was
politically a
nobody.
“Looking
forward
to your big
event
tomorrow
night. The
Willard, isn’t
it?”

The
Willard.
Of course the
Bentleys’
event
would
be held somewhere fabulous, Lacey thought, and the stately Willard Hotel, just
down
the street, where the term “lobbyist” suppos edly
was
first
coined, certainly
fit
the bill.

The Senator seemed quite willing to stand there and jabber at
Jeffrey
all
day.
In
Washington
everyone
knows
that
one’s
own
time is
valuable
and the other
person’s
time is not. The trick is to monopolize the
conversation
while
eyeing
the door for the
arrival
of someone more important to jabber at. But Jef
frey
cut the Senator short with charm.

“So nice talking with you,
Senator,
I
won’t
keep
you from

your lunch. See you
tomorrow.”
Senator Snidely shook hands
again
and
lumbered
ponderously
back
to
his
table,
seeming
confident
of his
next
campaign
contribution.

“Jeffrey,
what kind of projects are you looking to
fund?”
Lacey
asked.

“Nonprofits.
The foundation board will battle it
out,”
Jeffrey
said.
“Anything
from
arts
groups,
theatres,
art
galleries,
to
Boys
and Girls Clubs, to entertainment. Has to
burnish
the
Bentley
name too, of
course.”

“You’re
the white sheep of the
family,”
Lacey
said.

“Not
my
doing,
but
I’m
glad
you
think
so.
Who
knew a spoiled rich kid could be
saved
by a small
town
cop on
the
beat?”

Jeffrey
had told her the story of a
mixedup
teenage brat who
had
totaled
his
mother’s
Mercedes,
and
a
cop
named
Mike
O’Leary who had
taken
him in hand and become a mentor and friend. The contrast between the Irish cop and the Bentleys, who were so proud of being
WASPs
of a certain social class,
was
vast.
But
Lacey
thought the friendly O’Learys sounded
like
a much happier
family.

“From what I heard, O’Leary
wasn’t
just
any
cop. But what do you
want
the
money
to accomplish?”

“I
don’t
know
yet. O’Leary will
have
some ideas. I put him on the project.
He’s
on the
Foundation
board
now.”

“O’Leary
on
the
Bentley
Foundation
board?
You
are
the
white sheep of the
family!
Do you get a
vote
too, along with the black sheep? And the
wolves?”

“Of course I do, or I
wouldn’t
be
here.”
Jeffrey’s
smile
was
engaging.
“Lacey,
even
if
you
won’t
come
as
my
date,
why
not
come
anyway
and
give
me
your
opinion
on
the
flora
and
fauna?”

She glanced across the room.
Wendy
Townsend
was
desper ately trying to
make
conversation
and gesturing
wildly,
while the
Wilcox
brothers ignored her and studied their menus.
Lacey
was
puzzled.
Why
did
they
even
drag
her
along?
Just
to
ignore
her?