Senator Grimley’s office was on the fifteenth floor in one of the tallest buildings in the city. It faced the river and as the sun set, an orange glow was given to everything in the office. Grimley was middle-aged with cropped gray hair and a sagging middle. The knot in his tie was loose and hung askew. He handed me a drink and fell into the seat behind his desk. He adjusted himself until he was comfortable and took another sip from his scotch and water.

"You come highly recommended." He said. "As a matter of fact, you look quite bigger than in the papers."

Since my picture hadn’t been in the paper in a few years, I gathered he had done some research before calling me that afternoon. I sat and waited. The miniature grandfather clock that hung on the wall chimed seven times.

"I have a rather delicate situation for you to handle." He took another sip and leaned forward on the desk. "But I need you to accept it before I can explain"

"I don’t think that’s possible. I will listen and if I decide not to take it, then I guarantee it will remain confidential."

"Just what I need, more guarantees." He abruptly stood up and walked to window.

The orange light surrounding him added to the well-played drama.

"What about my recommendations?" I said in jest.

His neck stiffened. "Well, I guess I have no choice." He spun around to face me, took a deep breath and said, "I have been a Senator in this state for eight years. I like my job and, quite frankly, I’m damn good."

"If it’s my vote you want, a simple commercial would have sufficed. But since I’m not registered, even that’s wasted."

He lowered his head. Once he had counted to ten, he closed the blinds to block the sun and walked over to a large wooden armoire. He opened the two doors revealing a 25-inch screen television, grabbed two remote controls, and sat behind his desk.

He looked at me earnestly and said, "I’m about to show you something. Outside of myself, you are the only other person I’ve shown."

I was hoping for a new commercial. It took him a few minutes to figure out which remote worked the television and which one worked the VCR. The video was not a commercial, not one he would like shown on TV anyway. The opening scene was a blonde-haired girl in very revealing lingerie lying face-up on a four poster bed. One leg was crossed over the other and in her left hand was a necktie that she twirled like a lasso. Within a minute, Grimley leaned over her and began kissing her neck. As the video unfolded, Grimley, now sitting with one leg on the desk, watched with a stone face. As it became apparent what was going to happen, Grimley stopped the tape.

"That won’t win many elections." I said.

"Please. It is hard enough watching this without the sarcasm." He said returning to his seat.

I waited.

"This tape was sent to me along with a letter urging me to resign and not run in the election this Fall."

"Do you have the letter?" I asked.

"Certainly not!" He bellowed. "Why in the Hell would I keep it?"

I had a few reasons, which I kept to myself. Since he didn’t have the letter, it wouldn’t have done any good.

"Well, from what I can gather, you were caught on tape having sexual relations with a woman. No big deal, Senator. You’re not married. You’re not breaking any laws."

He sat there like a volcano waiting to explode. After a minute, it finally did.

"She was sixteen!"

And with that, I had nothing to say. Grimley let his head fall into his hands and rubbed his head. He stood, walked over to the bar, made another drink and when he returned said, "I didn’t know she was sixteen at the time. It’s hard to find a woman, the kind you would take as a wife. Unfortunately, I can’t go around experimenting. To the press, I would appear as some kind of gigolo. That kind of image certainly doesn’t win elections. Since my wife passed away, I have been prone to these rendezvous. There are discretely arranged by an agency I use in the city. I use a fake name and since most of the girls don’t even vote for President, let alone a Senator, they have no idea who I am."

"Well someone does. Is this," I indicated to the television. "the only thing you received?"

"Yes."

As I waited to carefully phrase the questions, the only thing audible was the ticking of the clock, which seemed louder by the minute.

"Besides the obvious choices, who else would like to see you resign?"

"You mean, the other candidates?"

I nodded.

"Nobody I can think of. I mean, I’m a Senator. I help pass laws that people may or may not like."

"Well, than we’ll start with the candidates."

He became excited. "What are you going to say? You can’t just ask them if they sent me a tape of me and a sixteen year-old!"

The words echoed off the walls. "I don’t know yet. I’ll see what happens and deal with it as it comes."

He began to look worried and for the first time his age began to show. His eyes looked hurt and a frown tugged at the edges of his small mouth. Relief also crossed his face as if the burden had been passed.

"As for money," He said lifting his briefcase from the floor to his desk. He continued talking as he spun the dials on the combination. "I will give you cash." He opened the briefcase pulled out five wrapped bundles, closed the case, and put it back on the floor. He pushed four of the bundles over to me.

"Here’s twenty-thousand dollars. I do not want to see or talk to you during this. If I need you, I will talk to you. Do whatever it takes to clear up this matter. Once you’ve completed the job, I will pay you five more."

I spent the next two days in the library gathering information about the Senator and his two main opponents in the election. Newspapers, magazines, and certain political figures had strong feelings on the coming election. It would take a miracle for Grimley to lose. His only major source of competition was Alfred Birch, whose term as mayor expired. He brought new ideas and a fresh face. As for the Independent, Rev. John Witherton, a reverend turned activist, turned politician, everyone agreed it would take a miracle for him to get more than ten votes statewide. Grimley, however, was a widower. After a lifetime of battling Leukemia, his wife died five years ago. She was a staple at fundraisers and benefits for not only Leukemia but for children and AIDS victims. The only interesting piece of news was on Birch. He started almost twenty points out. Now with two months until the election, he sat around five.

Birch’s main headquarters was nestled in the corner of a row of strip stores downtown. Red, White, and Blue Banners, pictures of Birch, and inane slogans were haphazardly taped on the two glass windows on either side of the entrance. Inside, several desks were lined in rows with busy occupants either on the phone, writing on poster board, or hacking away at a computer. Phones incessantly rang and in some cases, receivers were slammed into their cradles. On the far wall, a calendar counted down the days. It read 61.

A short woman with a disproportional waistline waddled down the main aisle that divided the room. Her brown hair was short and her eyes were dark blue. She introduced herself as Birch’s campaign manager.

"Hi. My name is Gloria. How can we help you?"

I told her.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Birch is out of town." She even tried to look sorry. "He’s giving a speech at a women’s rotary club for lunch and then he will be dining at the Governor’s for a fundraiser later this evening."

I gave her my card and went back to my car. I drove around the lot until I found a relatively inconspicuous spot about twenty yards away from the entrance to the headquarters. It took about three hours for Birch to emerge with two other men. A limo was parked waiting and the two men helped Birch into the back of the car and got in behind him. I followed, keeping at least a two to three car distance. It took three days before I got anywhere.

Upon returning on the second day, there were several hang-ups on my machine. In my mailbox was a hand delivered note warning me to stay away from Birch. There was no need to have the letter analyzed. My keen investigative wit told me it was from Birch. That coupled with the fact that it was the only case I was on, cinched it. The third day was more revealing.

In the morning, I noticed Birch sent someone to follow me. It was nice to have a parade. If I lost Birch, I could just ask they two guys behind me where he was going. As the sun was going down, I decided to feed the growling gremlin in my stomach. For dinner, I drove across town. I knew something was going to happen so I pulled into a tow-away zone and got out on the passenger’s side, which faced opposite the street. I took my gun from the holster and held it close to my leg. As I began to walk, the car sped along and began firing. I dove behind another car, rolled out to the street, but it was too late to get off a shot. I did, however, get the license plate.

Birch’s assistant was less than eager to see me the next day. I strolled past her and her objections to my entering Birch’s office and kicked in the door. Birch was standing next to one of the men that shot at me. It took two strides to meet him and one punch to knock him out. Birch backed up against the wall.

"Who the Hell do you think you are?" His voice hurdled through the uneasiness.

Gloria had moved to the door. The only noise in the office was the ringing phones. "Gloria, call the police and have this animal removed." Gloria obediently followed the order.

"Now that I have your attention Birch, maybe we can talk."

"I have nothing to say to you, other than you’ll be spending some time behind bars."

I flipped the pair of brass knuckles in the air, caught them, and put them back into my pocket. I stepped over the man on the floor and took a seat. "Well, then I can ask the police why you sent two men to have me killed. When this one wakes up," I pointed to the floor. "we’ll even ask him."

He feigned ignorance. "I didn’t do any such thing. Why would I send men to kill you? I don’t even know you."

"Well, the car that was used is in the lot out front." I bent down, took out the wallet of the man on the floor, opened it and said, "And it’s registered to this guy." I threw the wallet on his back.

Birch’s jaw tightened. "I have nothing to say until I’ve talked with my lawyer."

"Good idea." The sounds of sirens were growing near.

"Have a seat." Lt. Palmer said. "Before you make a formal statement, I thought you and I could compare notes."

Palmer was six-two with dark hair and a dark complexion. His thick eyebrows looked like caterpillars perched on his narrow head. He filled two cups with coffee.

"If I remember correctly, you drink it black." He said handing me a cup.

I nodded.

Palmer walked to a filing cabinet, inserted a key, and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a manila folder, slid the drawer back with his foot, and took a seat behind his desk. He leafed through the folder, closed it, and tossed it on his desk.

"So, why were you investigating Birch?" He asked.

Before I even answered, he cut in. "And don’t give that crap about client confidentiality. You and I have crossed paths before. You know how I work and I have a good sense of how you work."

"I can only answer your question with a question. It’s rather delicate. Do you know if it was common practice for Birch to intimidate his opponents?"

Palmer bit his lip and when he could no longer control it, began laughing. "Birch? Hell, elections aren’t won anymore, they are bought. Birch didn’t need to intimidate his opponents, when he could buy the votes." His eyes narrowed. "What gives?"

"I’m not sure yet. My client." I smiled. "Who shall remain nameless asked me to investigate allegations of possible intimidating tactics."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, so I know who your client is. What happened?"

I shook my head. "Christ. I could force you to tell me." He sneered.

"No you can’t. Since it’s not relevant, I’m not a material witness in your investigation, which you haven’t told what it is, and at worst you throw me in jail for, how do I say, impeding the progress of a police investigation."

He finished his coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. "Okay. Stalemate." He rubbed his face with his hands. "I’ll concede. Partly. Our case is pretty well sewn up anyway. Like I said, all you have to do is buy the votes. Birch bought the African-American vote, the Jewish vote, and was beginning to work on some of the women’s clubs. How else would you explain fifteen points in five months. There were allegations that he bought his last term as mayor but nothing was proven. We got a tip," He smiled. "from someone that will remain nameless and they pointed us into a couple of directions. He gave them money in exchange for their votes."

"That has to get pretty expensive."

"It does. We thought maybe he had underworld connections that backed him. But they have their own rules. They don’t need to buy a Senator." Through a self-righteous tone he said, " Through our collective efforts and hard work we were able to ascertain the financial pushers."

"You mean someone squealed."

He laughed. "Yeah, something like that. His backers not only bought his votes, but bought his campaign. There was talk of illegal contributions and some turned out to be true. Oh, incidentally, the guy you hit. You broke his jaw. We were able to question him and he pretty much spilled the beans on the operation. It helped that he was on probation for armed robbery. As for your case, by the looks of it, it has nothing to do with ours. So your client’s anonymity should remain intact."

Birch was out of the election, which gave Grimley a sigh of relief. I guess it gave him a sigh, maybe a smile, who knows. It had been nearly three days and I hadn’t heard a word from him. The story was on every news station and in every paper. He avoided all of my calls and that uneasy feeling crept back. Something wasn’t right so the only thing left to do was pay him a visit.

His secretary greeted me just inside the main doors. She looked familiar but I couldn’t place her. She told me to have a seat. I did. Two hours passed, then three.

"He is in there?" I said pointing to the door.

"Hmm. Oh, yes. He’s very busy. He has to give a speech this evening and is polishing the final draft."

"Must be exciting."

"I’d hardly call an insurance dinner exciting."

Grimley’s speech went on for about hour. He rallied for better practices, tougher laws, and any other lies that politicians tell in order to get elected. Some of the participants held signs similar to the ones I had seen being constructed in Birch’s headquarters. When the speech was over, he fielded a few questions. I was tempted to ask him why he was avoiding me but I knew that wouldn’t get me any closer to the answer. When it was over Grimley began heading to the side entrance. Anticipating the end, I had already begun drifting to the back of the entrance. I got to his limousine before he did, so I got in.

When Grimley got in, he could barely hide his enthusiasm. "What the Hell do you want?"

"Nice to see you too. It’s not so much the money you owe me as it is the questions I have. One-"

"What money?" He pretended to sound appalled. "I don’t even know you. You harass me at work and now at a fundraiser." His voice was loud enough for the driver to hear through the glass partition. He leaned in closer. "There’s no proof I even know you. Nobody has seen us together. The money is untraceable. Do yourself a favor and drop it." He sat back. "Henry?"

The glass partition lowered and a deep voice responded. "Yeah, boss."

"Could you please let this gentleman out. And if you see him again, call the police. His harassment is growing tiresome."

The doors unlocked and Henry opened the door for me. He tried to look tough but since I was five inches taller and a little broader in the shoulders, he failed. I walked back to my car and followed the limousine. I figured if following Birch produced results, then maybe following Grimley would too.

"Why don’t you leave him alone?" Parker said.

We were sitting in his office. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting on the other side of the building. A crisp September air came in from the open window. Parker reached in the bottom drawer of the desk and produced a bottle of Irish Whiskey. He poured out two cups and handed me one.

"This should ward off the chill."

"Thanks."

"If you don’t tell me why, I can’t help you."

I took a sip of the whiskey. "I can’t."

"Listen, he wants to press charges for harassment. He said if I talked to you, he would reconsider."

"Of course. Trust me, he won’t press charges."

"Yeah, I know. You do this job long enough, hollow threats become fairly routine. You must have something pretty big. He seemed a little scared. And not because a big tough guy like you is tailing him."

"That’s the thing. I might, I just don’t know."

I finished the whiskey and we had another. By the time I got home, I was feeling lousy. I fixed a sandwich at the counter, got out a beer, and toasted. "Here’s to being had." My voice sounded thick and slow in the empty apartment.

I was sitting in my office staring at the deposit receipt I made in my account for twenty thousand dollars. It looked good. I opened my bankbook and looked at the entry, which looked even better. It didn’t erase the sour taste I had in my mouth but twenty thousand buys plenty of mints. I looked at my watch and tucked away the book. As I got up to go to lunch, someone knocked on my door.

"Hi, remember me?" She asked.

"Give me a couple a days and I’ll have forgotten."

Although it would have been hard. I had never seen her out from behind her desk. She was taller than I had imagined. Not an ounce of fat hung over the waistline of her slacks and she had let her blond hair down. It flirted with the slopes of her shoulders.

She frowned. "I need to talk to you."

"What are we doing now?"

Another frown. "Please. Can you meet for dinner? Say, around seven at Dolce Vita."

"Sure."

"I’m sorry to be abrupt. But I need to get back to the office."

"Somebody needs to get those last minute drafts done."

She shook her head and left. By the time I got down to the street, she was pulling away in a silver two-door Mercury. I retrieved my car and since I was going to have dinner, I skipped lunch. I also decided to take the rest of the day off. You can do that with a twenty thousand-dollar deposit.

Dolce Vita sits out over the river. I opted for a few drinks at the bar before she arrived. She came in right at six-thirty. As she strolled across the room, it was interesting watching the eyes of the single men follow her. More interesting, were the married men trying to conceal their gaping from their wives.

I had called earlier and reserved a table for two outside. There were seven tables and all but ours was taken. I helped her off with her jacket and slid the chair in for her. Ah, a man with manners.

"I don’t know where to begin." She said.

"Well we could try exchanging names. The last time I tried, you didn’t reciprocate."

She laughed. "Sheila. Sheila Stevens."

The waiter brought over our bottle of wine, poured two glasses, then disappeared. Sheila picked up her wine and took a sip.

"I’m not sure how to say this, so I just will."

I took a drink of the wine. "Okay."

"I know why Senator Grimley hired you. Or should I say, I know he hired you. Or—what the Hell difference does it make, I know he showed you the tape."

All at once, it hit me. I knew where I had seen her or at least someone who looked liked her. I knew how and why I had been set up. It all came into focus like adjusting a telescope on a far away star and seeing it for the first time.

I took a deep breath. "What tape?"

She slammed the wineglass down hard enough for some of its contents to splash over the side. Peripherally, I saw a couple turn to look at us.

She regained her composure and said, "The one that looks like he’s seducing my daughter."

I let her off the hook. "Okay. Yes, he showed me the tape. I’m not sure how to ask this—"

"You don’t have to ask. I need to tell you."

I nodded. I didn’t want her spilling anymore of a very good wine.

"As you may know, Senator Grimley had been slipping in the poles. The only reason he got elected the first term, was because of his wife and the second term was the memory of his wife. He had no wells in which to draw. So he called me into his office one day and asked how we could improve our strategy. I just shrugged my shoulders. I was no political strategist. That’s why he has Paul and Janet. They handle that stuff. I just answer phones."

The waiter came with our food. It wasn’t as good as I had remembered it. Sheila pecked at hers and between bites continued.

"So he pretended to have this new idea, which involved my daughter. I obviously told him no. But he used more persuasive measures." She drank some more wine.

"Like what?"

"There are certain things you will not get the benefit of knowing from this conversation. That and how I got my daughter to agree."

I let it pass. I had a few ideas and none of them aided the conversation.

"He, that is Senator Grimley, believed the rumors that Birch was buying votes and that his fundraising tactics were suspect. Unfortunately, the police were taking too long and he was afraid that if Birch was elected, he would have the ability to sweep it under the rug."

"So he made it look like he was being blackmailed, enlisted my help, and I eliminated his competition."

She shook her head. "Yes."

"Why tell me this now?"

"I have my reasons. None of which I am prepared to reveal."

"You know, this will not only implicate him but it will you too. And you’re daughter."

"Not so. My daughter is really sixteen. She falls under the legal age for punishment. Grimley wanted it as authentic as possible." She shivered at the unwanted memory. "Besides, after the story I tell, no jury in the world would convict her."

We both declined dessert, however, I needed a cup of coffee. The wine was making me tired and I needed to stay alert.

"Okay." I said drinking the coffee. "After the tape was made what happened next?"

"He called you."

"How did he get my number?"

"The phone book I guess. Why?"

"It couldn’t have been the phone book. He researched me before he called."

"I don’t know, honestly."

"Skip it."

"Anyway, we or should I say he, waited for you to dig up the truth. I think he said it wouldn’t take long for you to push Birch over the edge. When he heard about the shooting, he was hoping they would’ve killed you. He remarked about cleaning up loose ends."

"Convenient." The coffee was lousy.

"Since Birch’s arrest he’s never mentioned it."

"All’s well that ends well."

The phone rang at 8:15 the next morning. I rolled over and tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t stop. On the tenth ring, I picked up.

"Glad to see you’re up."

"Didn’t have a choice, Parker."

"I think you better come down to Senator Grimley’s office."

By the time I got there, they still hadn’t removed his body. He was lying back in his chair with a small bullet hole in his forehead. I rubbed my eyes and entered the office.

"Over here." He called.

Parker was standing next to two uniformed detectives giving them orders and pointing around the room. He saw me and dismissed the cops.

"What we have here," He said. "is this. Grimley was shot at very close range in the forehead probably late last night early this morning. The ME will know for sure after an autopsy."

"Who found the body?"

He jerked a thumb to the door. "Out here."

I followed out and into the anteroom. Sheila walked out of a side door, probably a bathroom, and sat down on the couch.

"She did. Said she came to work early and found him. Also claims that she had dinner with you and spent the night."

I looked across the room at Sheila. She looked back but couldn’t hold the gaze.

"I think you better tell me what the Hell is going on."

I did.