All The Pretty Things

by Magdon, Rae D

  Robin scanned through the familiar names: United States Petroleum Industries Political Action Committee, American Gas Association Political Action Committee. The list was beginning to get monotonous. Then, she found what she was really looking for. Credit card companies. VISA, QuikSilver, GateCard, and Discover were all on his list of corporate donors.

  This mostly confirmed information that she already knew. The op-ed pieces were full of accusations that the oil and credit card companies lavished money and gifts on Representative Saunders in order to receive his help in committee.

  Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She answered it with a mouthful of scrambled eggs, trying to mouth the words around the food. "Hello?"

  "Hello, Nina," said a familiar alto voice that Robin had already learned to recognize. "So, I was just wondering if you wanted to do that interview today? I just got an opening in my schedule during my lunch break."

  Robin smiled. She swallowed down the food with a little force as her heart rate jumped. "Oh, hello Tess. Is it okay if I call you that? I guess I never asked."

  "Sure, but don't tell anyone. I usually avoid first names."

  "Even though everyone knows yours?"

  Tess groaned. "More like everyone knows my last name. Sorry, I'm a little crabby and I didn't have time to go out for lunch today..."

  That answer confused the fake reporter. "Um, I know you were the one that called me, but if you don't have time to squeeze me in, I totally understand. You must be really busy –"

  Robin smiled as the pleasant sound of laughter drifted from her cell phone's earpiece. "Actually, I used you as an excuse to ditch a meeting with a bigwig investor that I absolutely despise. If I didn't make up another conflicting appointment, my campaign manager would have forced me to go. I can't leave my office to get lunch, though, or he might suspect something."

  "You like Chinese?"

  "Sure, why?"

  "I think I can pick up some on my way. Consider it your payment."

  Chapter 11

  Cincinnati, Ohio: October 5th

  "Oh wow, that smells absolutely delicious," Tess moaned, closing her eyes and inhaling the scent drifting from the two brown paper bags in Robin's hand. "Mmm..."

  "I got a little bit of everything. Lemon chicken, spring rolls, steamed veggies, basic stuff... and of course, we couldn't forget your fortune cookie!"

  Tess grinned as Robin set the bags on her desk and took a seat in the comfortable chair opposite her, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "Can we play the fortune cookie game?"

  Robin arched one sleek eyebrow. "The fortune cookie game?"

  "You know... the fortune cookie game. Where you add 'in bed' to the end of every fortune as a joke? 'You will have a long and prosperous life... in bed' or 'you will come in to a large sum of money... in bed.'"

  The taller woman laughed, taking off her jacket and slinging it over the back of the chair as she pulled out her trusty laptop, not bothering to re-zip its case. "Why, Miss Daubney, such language! Sometimes I forget I'm talking to a Republican."

  Tess snorted. "Come on, we're not all sticks in the mud."

  "Yeah," Robin admitted. She noticed the way Tess’s gaze kept drifting to the food. "Hey, don't stand on ceremony for me. You're drooling over that bag and you haven't even seen what's inside yet. Let's eat for a few minutes and then you can tell me all of your deep, dark secrets."

  For a moment, Tess flinched, but she hid the reaction quickly, covering her discomfort with a winning smile. "I have to say, Nina, this is the most pleasant interview I've ever done, and we haven't even started yet."

  Robin enjoyed the next few minutes thoroughly, and she was impressed with both the food and Tess's mastery of chopsticks. "Surprised?" she asked, noticing that the brunette was staring unashamedly at her hands. "You end up eating a lot of take-out when you're on the road with a politician father. Good take-out, yeah, but it's still take-out, and Chinese is Chinese no matter what city you're in."

  "I eat a lot of Chinese, too... with a fork."

  Tess had no idea why the rules of social etiquette that she had spent her whole life learning melted away when she was with Robin, but she felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. "That's cheating," Tess chided the reporter after swallowing a mouthful of spring roll. "And by the way, don't let me forget to pay you for lunch."

  "I got it –" Robin started to protest, but Tess shook her head stubbornly.

  "You paid for our dessert a few nights ago, and you were nice enough to order and buy this food for me. I wouldn't have gotten lunch without you."

  Robin looked down and was surprised to find that they had demolished the contents of the two bags. She shrugged and wiped her fingers on the provided napkins and flipped open her laptop, balancing it on her knees. "Okay, I guess I should start using my sneaky reporter tricks now."

  Honestly, Tess hardly remembered that Nina was actually a reporter. When she thought of the media, she thought of people shouting questions at her, camera flashes, fake lighting, microphones, and the winking of glass lenses. "Fire away. Do you want to give me a general idea of what this article will be about?"

  "I wanted to put a personal spin on it. Nothing too personal," she added at Tess's startled look. "We'll include your positions on some major issues, but I thought it would be nice for people to see how they relate to your life and why you think the way you do. Nothing intrusive, of course. People should be able to research their candidates, but I don't want the article to read like something from the Enquirer."

  In the back of Tess's mind, a small voice screamed that talking about anything personal with a reporter was a very bad idea. With a great deal of mental effort, she shoved the little voice behind a door and turned the lock. Something about Nina made her want to break all of her previously established rules. One more wouldn't kill her.

  "Sure," she said. "Trust me, I'll tell you if you cross a line."

  Robin had no doubt that she would, and she also had no intention of making Tess uncomfortable. Aside from being a valuable source of information, the FBI agent also found her personality appealing. "My stepbrother will give my eulogy if you have to kill me," she joked. "I've got a list of questions on my computer, but I was tossing one around in my brain on the car ride over that I want to ask first. What's the one question that you've always wanted to answer in an interview, but have never been asked?"

  "No one ever asks me why I went in to politics," Tess said after a moment of thought. "They just assume it's because of my father. That's partially true, I think he is a great man who has done a lot for our country, but I chose my career for myself. I like helping people, and I get frustrated when I can't fix the problems I see around me. Some people might think that getting frustrated easily is counterproductive when you're a politician, but I think it just makes you more passionate."

  "Fighting the good fight against injustice?"

  "Eh, it pays the bills." Tess rapped her fingers on the back of Robin's laptop. "Don't write that last part."

  The rest of the interview went just as smoothly. They talked about Tess's opinions on banking legislation, her reaction to a recent Climate Summit in Europe, and they even discussed her pet cat, Horatio.

  "He was from a puppy mill," Tess revealed. "Well, kitty mill, if you want to be technical. Somehow, the poor guy ended up at the pound. I'm all for adopting animals whenever possible. Unfortunately, Persians require a lot of grooming and care, especially around their faces, and he has some health problems."

  "All I've got is a betta fish," said Robin. "His name is Charlie. Not quite as fancy as Horatio."

  "Those are pretty."

  The jarring ring of Tess's landline interrupted their conversation. Shooting Robin an apologetic look, she picked it up and answered with a crisp, "Daubney." Immediately, her expression became strict and businesslike, almost cold. Robin was stunned by the sudden change, but listened to Tess's end of the dialogue with interest. "Yes? ... oh, all right. No, it's fine. Yes.
Yes. Thank you."

  "Yes to what?" she asked after Tess hung up.

  "Next meeting," she said, sounding a little regretful. "We'll have to finish this another time."

  Robin grinned, saving the document and closing her laptop. "I don't mind. I'll bring you more food." She glanced at Tess's thin frame. "You could use it."

  Tess sighed. "Ah, the perils of a busy schedule and very little sleep."

  "Do you have two minutes to open your fortune cookie first?"

  Tess glanced at the clock resting in the corner of her desk. "You know what? I think I do." Reaching into the second brown paper bag, she pulled out the two fortune cookies, passing one across the desk to her interviewer. "Here. Together?"

  Robin popped open the tiny plastic pouch, cracking the cookie in half and pulling out the rolled up slip of paper. "You will discover what you have been seeking..."

  "...in bed."

  "Oh yeah? Well, let's hear yours."

  Obediently, Tess opened her own cookie and pulled out her fortune. While she waited, Robin popped the first half of her cookie in to her mouth and chewed. Noticing the blush on Tess's cheeks, the agent raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Well?"

  "You will only find happiness if you are open to receiving it..."

  "In bed."

  "Well, inappropriate jokes aside, this has probably been one of the most productive interviews I've had the pleasure of giving."

  "The same," Robin said, sweeping the remaining trash from their meal into the bag and packing up her laptop. "We'll have to continue soon."

  "Thank you for lunch, Nina. Sorry to rush you out," Tess said, reaching into her purse and pulling out two twenty-dollar bills.

  Robin tried to resist, but the woman deftly forced them into her curled-up hand. The FBI agent felt her fingers burn where Tess's hand had brushed against hers, but she ignored the sensation. "Fine, fine. But I'll find a way to sneak them back to you," she grumbled good-naturedly. "I'll call you and set up the second half of the interview."

  Tess gave her one last smile before preparing to put on her public face again. "You do that."

  Chapter 12

  Cincinnati, Ohio: October 5th

  "Tess?"

  There was no response from the form hunched over the desk, so Brian tried again. "Tess?"

  Still nothing. "Tess?"

  The third time, Tess looked up, revealing her exhausted face to her campaign manager. "I'm sorry, were you calling?" she asked tightly, straightening the stack of papers on her desk and adjusting her glasses with a free hand.

  "You look awful," said Brian, ignoring the question. The stress lines on her face cut deeper into the skin and her eyes had lost a little bit of their brightness. "Get some rest or some make-up, why don't you?" he teased, smiling so that she would know he was joking.

  Tess sighed. "Already have make-up." The politician clenched her teeth in order to suppress a yawn. Her mother had drilled polite manners into her since infancy. "Is there something I can do for you, Brian?"

  "Make time travel forward so that it's November fifth and you're celebrating at your victory party."

  Tess managed a tight smile. "Sorry. Let me rephrase. Is there anything feasibly possible that I can do for you?"

  "Nothing important, but there's a flower delivery for you out front."

  That caused Tess's eyebrows to rise. "Oh?" she asked, getting up out of her chair. She felt a brief moment of terrifying joy as she imagined that they were from Nina, but dismissed the notion as impossible. There was no reason for a reporter to send her flowers, even a reporter as nice as Nina. Besides, as far as the world knew, she was straight and celibate, not receiving flowers from mysterious, attractive brunettes. Still, she could not contain her curiosity.

  "All right," she said, standing up from her chair and circling the desk. "Did you sign for them?"

  "Of course." Brian stepped aside and held the door open for her, allowing her to pass through.

  Tess thanked him with a smile and headed out into the deserted hallway. "I'm surprised there was a delivery so late in the evening..." she mused aloud over the click of her heels as she started down the hall, heading for the security desk at the front of the building. At first, she had not seen the need for a security-slash-welcome desk, but Brian pointed out that there were always nutcases willing to vilify politicians, reporters looking for a scandal, or even spies for the opposition. Tess thought it was all too dramatic for reality, but agreed anyway. At least this way, no family members could drop by unannounced. Dealing with her mother without proper time to prepare herself usually ended in disaster.

  When she arrived at the security desk, she noticed Mike, the night guard, waiting with a bouquet of... "Who on earth sends rhododendrons in a bouquet?" Tess asked herself. Growing up, Tess had enjoyed watching the rhododendrons that grew in a section of her front yard, but they were not usually gift flowers or arrangement flowers. They weren't even in season, so whoever had purchased them must have visited a flower shop.

  Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she stepped forward. "Good evening, Mike," she said, glancing away from the flowers to watch his face, "I don't suppose you could tell me anything about the person who left these for me?"

  The portly security guard shrugged. "Sorry, ma'am, not much. Just some pimple-faced delivery kid. Must have been about seventeen, I guess." He noticed the concerned expression on Tess's face. "Ms. Daubney? Is something wrong?"

  "No, nothing," she said too quickly, reaching out and taking the bouquet. A card fell out into her hand, but she decided not to open it right away.

  Brian was watching over her shoulder, looking equally confused. "Aren't you going to see who they're from?"

  Tess frowned and shot him a silencing glare. Even though it felt like he owned her soul sometimes, she was still the one signing his paychecks. "Not right now."

  "I don't suppose it's from an admirer?" Tess purposely ignored the warning tone of Brian's voice. He didn't have to remind her that her attraction to women needed to stay hidden. She knew what was at stake.

  But could Brian be right? What if the flowers were from an admirer? Tess dismissed the idea immediately. Samantha would never indulge in a grand, romantic gesture like flowers, and even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be foolish enough to send them to Tess's office. Again, Tess thought of Nina, but they had only met on two occasions. Their relationship was certainly strange, but not romantic. That was mostly wishful thinking on Tess's part, although the last thing she needed right now was an attractive woman meddling in her perfectly ordered life. Besides, Nina wasn't the rhododendron type.

  Tess remembered the gardener who had taken care of the flowerbeds until the summer she turned thirteen, a nice old man with receding gray hair and a tan, weathered face. When she and her brother played outside, he had warned her: "Don't let Josh eat the flowers. They're poisonous." Despite Tess's careful training, her younger brother had a bad habit of shoving anything he could get into his mouth. Ever the dutiful, protective sister, she had kept him away from the rhododendrons. Now, they seemed almost ominous to her, staring back up from their bouquet.

  She reached down to shove the card in her pocket before realizing that she was wearing a skirt instead of slacks. Folding her hand around the paper instead, she kept a tight grip on it. "These are lovely," she forced out after a long, uncomfortable pause. "I think I'll take them back to my office."

  Less than a minute later, she was secluded in her workspace with the rhododendrons waiting for her on the desk, staring at the card in her hand and wondering whether or not she should open it. For some reason, the flower delivery felt personal, almost menacing. With a flash of fear and frustration, Tess forced herself to open the card. It only contained three words.

  'WE KNOW EVERYTHING'.

  Immediately, Tess's thoughts went to her arrangement with Samantha. Resisting the impulse to panic, she took in a deep breath through her nose. This was the second message, but she had a feeling that there would be more. Whoever
was sending her these warnings – threats? – was not likely to stop until they got whatever they were after. Unfortunately, Tess had no idea what that was. All she could do was wait for this unknown person to make their intentions clear.

  For a moment, she considered calling the police, but decided against it as soon as the thought crossed her mind. What could she possibly say? "Oh, I've received two strange messages from an anonymous source. I have no idea who sent them or what they want, but I am afraid that they know about my secret lesbian affair with a former prostitute who sexually dominates me. Can you help me?" That conversation was definitely never going to happen. She would just have to find a way to deal with this annoyance herself. Meanwhile, contacting a security company to install some extra locks on her doors sounded like a very good idea.

  * * *

  Washington, DC: October 6th

  Louph smiled, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders to redistribute the tension in his upper back. The information superhighway was a wonderful thing. In the past few days, he had gathered a lot more information on Cal Saunders to give Robin. Several search windows were open and running on his main computers. Pulling up one of them, Louph began typing on the nearest keyboard. He watched as the computer scanned through several different newspaper articles, cross-referencing key words and highlighting them with a yellow line. His eyes skimmed over the list, trying to recognize a pattern.

  Really, data wasn't hard to find. The tricky part was separating the important from the meaningless, sifting out the gold from the mud and silt. Although computers were helpful, it took a trained human brain to put together the final pieces of the puzzle.

  Of course, some sources yielded more gold than others. For example, a set of messages sent from the Congressman's work e-mail address at his charity (and unofficial, slightly illegal Political Action Committee), People's Voice, were particularly interesting. The CC'd recipients at QuikSilver and GateCard were even more interesting.