Free Devil May Care by Elizabeth Peters Page A

aristocrat who has allowed himself to spread out and slump comfortably.
    There was another car parked in the drive when Ellie pulled up. It might have belonged to Donald or his father, but the long, sleek lines and prestigious emblem didn't go with the house, and Ellie was not surprised to learn that it belonged to a visitor. Donald, meeting her at the front door, had time for a hastily whispered warning before he led her into the parlor.
    "Sorry, we've got company--we'll get rid of him as soon as we can. An old enemy of Kate's, maybe she told you ... " And then they were in the parlor; smoothly Donald raised his voice and went on, "Ellie, I don't know whether you've met Mr. Mcgrath, the head of the local schoolboard. And this is my father."
    Ellie liked the note of pride in his voice, especially
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    since the man who had risen to greet her was not an imposing figure. Like the house, he had let himself spread out. He was as tall as his son, but his stomach hung comfortably over his belt and his shock of iron-gray hair needed trimming. Keen dark eyes inspected her with friendly approval and a big, warm hand closed firmly over hers.
    "Now I remember you," Ellie said, returning his smile. "The year I got measles. I was ten."
    "It would be trite but true to say you've changed considerably," the doctor said. "And for the better."
    It was trite, but it didn't sound trite, not in his deep, sincere voice. He didn't give her time to reply; still holding her hand he turned her toward the stranger.
    "Mr. Mcgrath dropped in to discuss some of the issues we'll be voting on in November."
    Mcgrath was dressed with a fussy neatness that contrasted with the rumpled clothes of the Golds; but then, Ellie thought involuntarily, his face needed all the help it could get. His hair was snow white and so was the moustache that bristled out on either side of his long, pointed nose. His chin had no chance at all against the nose. His eyes were a pale, washedout blue. And when he smiled, Ellie conjectured that his parents had not patronized orthodontists.
    Reluctantly Ellie surrendered her hand into Megrath's; it was pinkly clean and a little damp.
    "Goodness, yes, you have indeed changed," he exclaimed, squeezing her fingers. "I remember you as a little pig tailed charmer. But I daren't hope that you remember me. We met only briefly."
    "You look very familiar," Ellie said truthfully. She did not mention that she had never in her life worn her hair in pigtails. "Are you running for reelection this fall, Mr. Mcgrath?"
    "Let's not talk about politics," Donald said. "It's so dull. What'll you have, Ellie? Martini, gin and tonic, Scotch, sherry?"
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    Mr. Mcgrath gave her barely time to express her preference before he burst out.
    "If I didn't know you were joking, Donald, I would scold you severely. What would we do without politics?
    Why, they are the basis of our democratic system!
    I am indeed running for reelection, dear child, and I hope I may count on your support."
    Ellie saw the Golds, father and son, exchange glances of amused despair.
    "But I'm not a resident," she protested. "I couldn't vote for you if I wanted to, Mr. Mcgrath."
    "You wouldn't want to," said Donald, not quite sotto voce.
    Mcgrath gave Donald a spiteful glance, but pretended not to hear.
    "No, of course not, my dear; but you could influence your aunt's vote."
    Ellie laughed. "I don't think anyone can influence my aunt, Mr. Mcgrath. Anyway, what does one vote matter?"
    Mcgrath's eyes narrowed. Again Ellie was conscious of a sense of familiarity. Where had she seen that face before?
    "For some unaccountable reason your aunt carries considerable weight in this county, Ellie. She is not even a member of one of the old families, and yet--"
    "Oh, come, Roger," the doctor protested. "This isn't the eighteenth century; old families don't mean a curse these days, and I for one am glad of it."
    "There were only six of them to begin with," Donald said,