Free A Ghost of Justice by Jon Blackwood Page A

had no eye for colors and décor, so long as there wasn't anything garish or tacky.  None of that here.
    The same could be said for Ruth Luptman, an attractive, no nonsense woman of practical mien.  Emily had a hard time picturing her entertaining in the Washington way.  That suited her fine.  She also disliked functions or socials, and had no use for them now.
    Ruth's meal was perfect, simple, exactly what the Sheafers needed.  Emily was glad the fast food burger languished, unordered by her father or herself.
    Walter Luptman was another thing entirely.  But then his chatter may have been thoughtful in a way.  At least he didn't ask all the questions he could have.  Going on about the Smithsonian politics and inner workings certainly gave them a chance to rest, eat and listen without responding.  That is, until it got interesting.
    "I tell you, Eric," he said.  "Crowder is a fine administrator.  And when it comes to procurements, he's the best there is.  Unbeatable.  Got a stealth orbiter for the Aero-Space back in thirty-two.  The Air Force is still having spasms over that.  It's a veteran ship from Second Korea, too.  To this day I don't know how he does it.  All he'll say is he knows 'this or that staffer for so-and-so,' and, like a magician, he conjures up what he's wanting."
    "You're not so bad at that yourself, Wally," Eric said.  "One minute the Denver Museum is firing you as their curator of collections and then the Smith is hiring you as their curator of the American History unit.  You never have told me why Denver gave you the sack."
    "And I never will, old friend.  Some stories are best left untold.  Rest assured it was nothing professionally related.  At least not in the strictest sense."  With that Luptman burst out laughing, a crazy hyena kind.
    Eric chuckled, a knowing look in his eyes.
    Ruth added, "I think the fact that I'm his second wife may be a hint."
    "Now, my love," Luptman said as his laughter subsided to intermittent chuckling.  "Nothing like that really happened."
    "No, you beast.  But everyone thought so."
    "Gossip mongers, all!  And they all only thought what Muth told them to think, the ignorant, sycophantic bastards."  He laughed again.
    Emily's curiosity had grown to the point that she asked, "Why is it so funny if it cost you your marriage, Dr. Luptman?"
    "Oh.  That.  Well, Elaina was really just a rich society brat.  True, her father's connections got me on at Denver's, but the job was boring, she was boring as hell, and I'm so much better off now than I ever would have been there."  He reached over and clasped Ruth's hand.  "A lot better off."
    "Keep telling yourself that, dear," she said.  "And maybe I'll stay.  I can always change my mind about believing you, you know."
    Both Sheafers laughed.
    Luptman snorted.  "I just hope Crowder continues to believe me."
    "Crowder didn't hire you in spite of your alleged infidelity.  He just doesn't care."
    Luptman was perplexed for a second.  "I don't know if I've been insulted or complimented."  Then he made a complete change of subject.  "Which reminds me.  Did I ever tell you about the time Old Crow - that's what we call him, got jet black hair, wears it slicked to the nape - nearly ruined an appropriations meeting?  It's all because he won't learn how to use modern technology.  He gets the latest junk, but refuses to believe he may need lessons in their use.  Got himself one of those brand new imbedded personal data managers made by InTouch.  The latest thing.  They're so easy that a quick lesson and any jerk can use them.  But there's the problem.  Crow may be opinionated, stubborn, brilliant.  But a jerk, no.  He makes a call on the thing, right before the meeting, to his daughter, speaks a while to his grandson, closes the video, then goes on in.  The meeting goes on like normal, but as the GAO rep starts making her case for budget cuts, we hear this maniacal giggling coming from Crow.  Only