“It might have been a warning,” Jer said. “You might bruise a dragon in a car accident, but it’d have to be crushed completely to kill her. We ought to know,” he added, with a nod toward Griffen.
“But a warning to do what?” Malcolm asked.
“To back off this election. But you talked with her all evening. Did she sound like the threats made her want to quit?”
“Er, no. In fact, they seemed to add to her determination.”
“The accident doesn’t have to have had anything to do with Penny at all,” Griffen argued. “It might have been a city worker who went on a bender and decided to take the truck out for a midnight joy ride.”
“C’mon, Grifter, you don’t believe that? Turning up so conveniently just as Representative Penny Dunbar was going home from an evening out with friends, with plenty of witnesses on hand?”
A very unwelcome thought struck Griffen. “So she set it up herself?”
“They don’t call her Bad Penny for nothing,” Jerome said.
“Bad Penny?”
“She turns up all the time. You never noticed that she never misses the opportunity to appear in public? Ever since she started as a member of the school board back when she was still in college, she hasn’t missed a store opening or an important funeral. She was real cute, too, with those dimples and that sunshiny hair, and she was born knowing how to talk to the camera. She must have a scrapbook bigger than the New York City phone directory. Sometimes events happen just when she needs a publicity boost. Normally, the campaign season doesn’t get started till next month. She’s jumping the gun a little, but it’s pretty smart to show up in the paper at regular intervals. The driver wasn’t hurt. The city’ll repair any damage to the vehicle. Her car belongs to her campaign. Even if no one showed up, she wouldn’t lose a thing.”
Griffen felt his head start to pound. “But Fox Lisa could have been killed!”
“Doesn’t she have dragon blood, too?” Malcolm inquired. “I thought I sensed it.”
“Just a little,” Jerome said. “Pretty dilute, but she’s a tough girl.”
“Well, we cannot take a chance that it was a stunt. It is undeniable that she is under threat. We must assume that Reginaud Duvallier was behind the crash. You had better escort Miss Dunbar to the television studio, Griffen.” Malcolm consulted the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “They will need to depart in approximately two hours to arrive on time. You will need Miss Dunbar’s address.”
“I haven’t had any sleep yet!” Griffen protested. “Why don’t you go?”
“Griffen, I have other lines of investigation to follow up. You can rest after the interview is over. In the meantime, I suggest sustenance. Replenishment of blood sugar will help buoy you through the coming hours.”
He’d given Griffen that same advice when Griffen was a boy. Griffen nodded.
“I know a couple of places that are already open for breakfast.”
“I would prefer room service.”
“This hotel’s isn’t running right now,” Jerome said promptly. “They close every night for a couple of hours to scrub down the kitchens.”
“Yes, you would undoubtedly know that for professional reasons,” Malcolm said. “Then how do you supply provender for your clients during games that run into the predawn hours?”
“We got a great caterer,” Jerome said, standing up and moving toward the door. Griffen and Malcolm sprang up to follow him. “They make these little cheesy things that would knock your eyes out.”
“That sounds . . . rather upscale for such a seat-of-the-pants operation as yours,” Malcolm commented.
“Well, you know,” Griffen said. “You have to move with the times.”
• • •
“It was terrifying,” Penny confided to the female host on the Eyewitness Morning News show on WWL-TV. The woman, a light-skinned African-American in her thirties, kept her eyes fixed on Penny with an expression of concern. Penny sat bolt upright on the couch in the mock-library set facing the two hosts. Her slender hands fluttered in the air. The pearl gray two-piece suit she had on made her look even more ethereal than usual. “And then, if my campaign worker hadn’t slammed the car into reverse and stamped on the gas the way she did, we might have been killed.” She told the story in such breathless terms that Griffen found himself taking deep gasps of air.
“A big shout-out to her,” the male host said. He was a genial man in his fifties, slim with fair hair. He glanced off camera to where Fox Lisa was waiting beside Griffen. Fox Lisa, dressed up for a change, wore a dark green dress and heels. After some persuading by his uncle, Griffen had promised to shave and wear a jacket over his customary dark blue silk shirt and khaki trousers. He found he was dressed more professionally than anyone else in the room but Fox Lisa and the hosts.
“Yes,” the woman added. “We’re so happy nothing happened to you.”
“Apart from getting my wits scared out of me!” Penny said, with a coy little smile for the camera. “But I’m all right now. This morning I went to Charity Hospital to visit the poor man who was driving that truck. I want to add my voice to the campaign to make certain that our city workers are not scheduled for outrageous hours, so that they feel they have to make up the time late at night. Not to mention it violates local noise ordinances.”
“Is that what he told you?” the female host asked.
“No,” Penny said, a plaintive expression wrinkling her forehead. “The poor man’s still unconscious. No one knows what’s wrong with him. He probably needs some of those expensive brain tests, which Lord knows this parish can hardly afford.”
“Very curious,” the man said, with a photogenic frown. “But this gives us a chance to ask you about progress on your program to wipe out corruption in local government and free funds that might help to pay for medical treatments for the indigent.”
“My campaign for governor is going well,” Penny said, reframing the question without hesitation. “I have picked up endorsements from the school board, the fishing industry, numerous local corporations, and many of our leading citizens. All my generous contributors and sponsors are listed on my website. That’s PennyForLAGovernor.com,” she added, with a smile for the camera. “Everyone who funds my campaign, no matter how small a contribution, is listed. Every penny counts. ‘A penny for Penny,’ I like to say. For every penny, I promise you a dollar’s worth of good government.”
“Very cute.” The woman chuckled, but she looked discomfited.
Beside Griffen stood the heavyset white-haired woman who had taken Penny away the night before. In spite of the early hour, her pearl gray two-piece suit, subdued jewelry, perfect makeup, and carefully coiffed hair suggested lengthy preparation. She was mouthing the words along with Penny. So the answers were all well rehearsed. Griffen was impressed how natural Penny acted on camera. Jerome was right. She had amazing poise under pressure. She answered the questions she wanted to and in the way she chose. Since the program was going out live, the hosts had no choice but to smile and nod.
Griffen had never been in a television studio before. Through the video monitors that were everywhere, including attached to the rear of every one of the five cameras rolling around the bare concrete floor, it appeared that the set was a comfortable library in a gracious home, perhaps somewhere in the Garden District. Instead, peering over the shoulders of the camera crew, what Griffen saw was a well-lit island in the middle of a barren cinder-block room. The bookshelves were on heavy casters, hidden behind the angled sofas. The rest of the furniture was on a quartet of carpet-covered platforms, raised about eight inches off the floor. Cables snaked from them across the floor, ducking into long rubber bumpers that prevented an unwary toe from catching underneath them. Where they crossed walkways marked on the floor by yellow paint, they were secured with adhesive strips that looked like colored masking tape. The soaring ceilings were crisscrossed w
ith long metal brackets from which hung enormous lights with shutters around the plate-sized lenses. Only a quarter of them were on, arranged to throw light behind and beneath the three people on the set as well as on them. It made the whole scene look more realistic. Far from being disappointed, he was impressed. The only thing he didn’t like was the inescapable high-pitched whine of the machinery. It threatened to overload his dragon-sensitive hearing.
“Well, we look forward to hearing more on your campaign as the season kicks into high gear,” the male said. “Thank you for being with us this morning, Representative Dunbar.”
“We’re so glad to see that you were unharmed in last night’s accident,” the female host added. She turned to the camera. “And for those of you who haven’t seen them, we have photos on our website of the aftermath of the crash. Representative, thank you for being with us.”
“My pleasure,” Penny said. She beamed vivaciously at the hosts, then at the camera.
“And we’re on commercial,” a disembodied voice said. “Thank you!”
Penny detached the small microphone that had been threaded up into her blouse and stood up. She shook hands firmly with the two hosts and came over to the white-haired woman.
“How was that?” she asked.
“Great, honey,” the other woman said. “I can hear the phones ringing already.”
Penny glanced at Fox Lisa, and the brilliant smile beamed out again. “Thank you once more for saving my life, Fox Lisa,” she said. “It was above and beyond what I would ever ask of my volunteers.”
“Quick thinking,” agreed the other woman.
“It was nothing,” Fox Lisa said, her cheeks reddening. “Um, have you met my boyfriend, Griffen McCandles?”
“Hortensia Peck,” the other said, wrapping both hands around Griffen’s and pumping it enthusiastically. “Call me Horsie. Heard about you. What did you think of our girl?”
“I think she was very brave,” Griffen said. “Fox Lisa really came through for her.”
“No one could deny that, honey,” Horsie said. “And I assure you, we’re all grateful for her. I mean, Penny thanked her right there on the set.”
Griffen frowned. “I didn’t hear her name mentioned.”
“Oh, she must have said it. Penny wouldn’t forget a little thing like that.”
A tall man wearing a headset earpiece with a microphone extension, blue jeans, and a worn army green T-shirt came bustling up. He had a no-nonsense expression on his face. He beckoned them out of the studio and into the hallway. The heavy door closed silently behind them. Griffen glanced up at the square ON AIR sign illuminated next to it.
“Representative Dunbar,” the man said. “Pleased to have you here. I’m a little troubled that you ignored my instructions not to bring up the election this morning. It’s against the fairness doctrine we broadcasters follow. All candidates for a public office receive the same amount of airtime. Finessing mention of the campaign into an unconnected interview like you did means we’ll have to give equal time to your opponents.”
Horsie put her arm through his and drew him close to her side.
“Now, Stewart, you know it ain’t no law in this state.”
Stewart pulled himself loose.
“No, but it’s an accepted practice,” he said. “And we intend to stick to it. We don’t want to give the appearance of partisanship. All right. You got a gimme this time, but once we start airing campaign coverage, for every time you electioneer on the air, we have to give each of your competitors the same amount of time. Or we can air footage of you without sound. Your choice. We still run a seven-second delay. My soundman can hit the mute button anytime.”
The two women exchanged glances.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” Horsie said.
“All right. Y’all have a nice day.” Stewart put his headphones on and went back to the studio.
“Come and have breakfast with us, Mr. McCandles,” Horsie said, leading the way out of the WWL-TV building. “I’d love a chance to talk with you.”
Griffen felt desperate for sleep, but the fog overwhelming his brain cleared for a moment. He didn’t know what kind of threat Penny faced, but until Uncle Malcolm investigated further, they were fumbling in the dark.
“Uh, sure,” he said.
“I know just the place,” Penny said, putting her arm through his. “You’ll love it.”
Twelve
The famous Brennan’s was crowded with tourists even on a Friday morning. Griffen did his best not to get in anyone’s way. He recognized faces, but the identities were muddled in his mind. He shook hands and slapped backs when someone called his name. The restaurant had a long waiting list; it always did. Horsie left the three of them a few feet from the desk and went to whisper to the maitre d’, an elegant man in his fifties with silver touching the temples of his smooth black hair. He recognized Penny immediately, and his expression changed from nonchalance to expansive welcome.
“Representative! What a pleasure. I didn’t expect to see you until Sunday! I can seat your party in just five minutes if you don’t mind.”
Penny kissed him on both cheeks.
“Of course I don’t mind, Mitchell. You know Mr. McCandles?”
Mitchell favored him with a blandly pleasant look. “Yes, of course. You were in last with Mr. and Mrs. Nussbaum, weren’t you? Back in August?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Griffen said. Mr. Nussbaum was a high roller from Ohio. His wife loved all the landmarks of New Orleans, and he loved to gamble. When he won, which he did often, he took his tablemates out for breakfast. “That’s some memory you have, sir.”
Mitchell shrugged. “A trick of the trade,” he said. His attitude became markedly warmer as he turned back to Penny. “We have your Community Awareness flyers on the hostess desk. People have been signing up for the program by the dozen since we started handing them out.”
“Just making people aware of little things helps. We all have to work together,” Penny said, fixing her gaze intently upon Mitchell. Griffen wondered if she was using mind control on him, but it could simply have been her charisma. She exuded palpable charm. She wasn’t that attractive, but when she talked, it was hard to look anywhere else.
Mitchell was certainly caught in the spell, and so were a number of the other patrons. Griffen noticed that Penny was careful to pitch her words and speak clearly so she could be overheard. Tourists aimed their cameras at her. Horsie nudged her subtly in the side with a forefinger. Penny turned at just the right moment to aim a beaming smile at each lens. The tourists looked embarrassed and gratified. They might not know who she was, but they could tell she was important. Griffen, who had traded for years on flying under the radar, was a little uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of bystanders, but he soon realized he didn’t have to worry. Their gazes slid off him on their way to fix on Penny. She was good.
“. . . I said, we can go this way, Mr. McCandles,” Penny said. She threaded her arm through his and pulled him along behind the host. Griffen snapped out of his reverie.
“C’mon, Griffen, wake up,” Fox Lisa said, teasingly. She nudged him in the back. Griffen shook himself. He edged between the tables, avoiding diners in their chairs. Penny held on to him and smiled like a bride fresh from the altar.
The host spun to a halt before a table for four spread with a brilliant white tablecloth and shining silverware. “Ma’am?” He pulled a chair out. Penny settled into it like a soap bubble alighting on the surface of a pond. Griffen hurried to help seat Fox Lisa. Horsie didn’t wait for either male. She slid in toward the table by herself. The chair legs groaned as she dragged them over the floor.
“Coffee?” asked a young black man in a white coat, appearing at tableside. Feeling like a drowning swimmer seeing a life preserver, Griffen held up his cup to be filled. The server poured for the ladies first. The heavy, rich a
roma tantalized Griffen so much he was almost salivating by the time he took the first sip. Clarity seeped into him with the hot liquid.
“This stuff ought to be illegal,” Horsie said, echoing his own thoughts, “but thank God it isn’t. Come back in five minutes, honey. We’re gonna need refills right away.”
“Sure, ma’am,” the young server said with a brilliant smile.
“Penny, have you thought about who might have been behind the attempt on you last night?” Griffen asked. “Who knew you were going to be in the pub at that time?”
“No one but me.” Horsie answered for her. “I have to know where she is at all times. She ought to have an aide with her, but she said she wanted to meet with you and your uncle in private.” She gave Penny a reproachful look. “He could have sat across the room.”
“I was there!” Fox Lisa said indignantly.
“Of course you were, honey. I meant someone who knows how to talk to the press.”
“Well, I’m learning. I could probably have handled it.”
“A major incident like that, we needed Walter Cronkite,” Horsie said. At Fox Lisa’s blank look, she waved a hand. “Before your time. So you think that crash was meant to take her out? Who?”
Penny must not have told Horsie everything about her conversation with Malcolm.
Griffen shrugged. “My uncle heard some rumors. It looks like at least some of them might be true.”
“Do you have any proof of that? It was deliberate?”
“No. Nothing that I can say with any certainty. It might have been an accident.”
“Honey, you ought to be a spin doctor,” Horsie said, with a sly gleam in her eye. “Unnamed sources?”
“You could call them that. But it looks like it might be credible.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her. Not that she always makes it easy.”
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