Free There Fell a Shadow by Andrew Klavan Page B

fine food and the fine liquor that the … the sources and the women liked.” A lock of red hair fell forward on her brow. She brushed it back impatiently. The motion brought her face up again. She looked at me blankly, as if something had just dawned on her. “You won’t write this, will you? I didn’t mean …”
    â€œYou want to go off the record,” I said.
    â€œThat’s right. I want to go off the record. Can I do that? Is it too late to do that?” An edge of panic crept into her voice.
    I shook my head. “It’s not too late.”
    â€œI didn’t … I heard you had to say it first. I thought maybe …”
    â€œPoliticians have to say it first,” I said. “You can say it now.”
    She smiled a little, nodded. “I say it now.”
    â€œFine.” I lit another cigarette. She didn’t take one this time. I leaned against my desk, rested an elbow on it. I glanced down at the messages strewn atop the typewriter. I saw the name Chandler Burke written on one of the pink sheets. I looked up at Valerie Colt. “Mrs. Colt,” I said without thinking, “why did you come here? Why did you come here to talk to me?”
    She was sitting, just then, very erect. Like a little girl. Her knees were pressed tightly together. Her hands lay clasped in her lap. She was smiling slightly, ruefully, as if she were almost amused at the bitterness of her situation. Her green eyes were still glassy with a sheen of tears, but behind that there seemed to me to be a kind of nakedness. I knew, looking at her, that whatever she was about to say would leave her exposed and vulnerable, completely stripped of pride. I wanted to lay my hand upon her mouth and hush her. But whatever she wanted from me, it had driven her this far. She could not go back. She could not help herself.
    â€œI came here …” she said, stiffly, primly, as if reciting. “I came here to find out what he said. At the end. If he … mentioned me, at all. At the end? Just … something, you know? Anything he might have … said, I …” We could hardly bear to look at each other. “Now,” she said, her chest rising with a breath. “Now do you understand why I’ve come? Why the poor, deluded woman has come?”
    I grappled with it for what seemed a long time. People went by the cubicle’s opening. The business of the city room seemed to press in on the little space. The seconds went by.
    â€œMrs. Colt,” I said finally. “It was so fast. He—I mean, he died so fast, there was no time …”
    â€œBut before that.” She no longer bothered to hide the sound of panic. “You were with him before that, the police told me, you were drinking with him, he must have talked to you, you must have talked about … about … things …”
    â€œWell … I …” I moved my hand about helplessly. The cigarette held between my fingers left a spiraling trail of smoke. “Yes,” I said. I forced my mouth into a slight, self-effacing smile. “You have to understand, I was a little the worse for the liquor, I …”
    â€œYes,” she said eagerly. “You didn’t remember … everything … of course, I …”
    â€œThat’s right, I … forgot, we … We talked of you at great length, in fact … quite a lot, he, uh, Tim, he spoke very, very fondly of you, in fact, I …”
    â€œWhat did he say? Please. What did he say?”
    â€œWell, he spoke about how fond he was of you. What a wonderful wife you were. He said, I remember now, he said …”
    â€œOh God!” It was a soft cry, but on the instant it escaped her, she pitched forward. She doubled over in her chair, her hands coming up to cover her face. Her whole body shook as she sobbed and sobbed. “Oh God,” she said again. “Oh God, oh God. Eleanora! Eleanora!”
    I sat