The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “Yeah, but we’ll have the MTV vote locked,” Clever Dennis said and Madeline thought he was too cavalier.

  “You’re enjoying this far too much.” She pushed him back, studying his face, and wondered if this was an act or maybe partly genuine. She’d have to think about the implications of that.

  “I love when a job is more than a job.” Dennis winked.

  “Since when did it become personal between you and PJD?” Madeline arched her brow at him. He laughed. She had guessed right.

  “The minute I realized how personal it was between you and PJD.” He arched his brow back at her. Touché.

  Waiters came with drinks, and Peter and Rick finished whatever conversation they were having. Madeline needed to change the tone of the night. Peter stared straight at her with intense eyes.

  “What is the topic of your speech tonight, Peter?” She begged him with her eyes to get back to business.

  “I’m glad you asked. I’m going to talk about a program we’re running for teenagers at various urban centers that’s been tremendously successful. I’ll be presenting an award.”

  “Mad, how about a dance?” Dennis cut Peter off and Madeline turned to him, about to turn him down until she saw the reporter and photographer approaching.

  “I’d love to.” She rose and stepped into his arms. As they passed Rick, he smirked in his unfriendly way as if to say “nice try but it’ll never work.” Who knew what kind of issue he’d try and make out of this. PJD may even be just angry enough to let him. She’d deal with it all, she thought as she spun onto the dance floor, following Dennis’s agile lead. He spun her and dipped her and she laughed out loud as she threw her head back.

  At that moment flash bulbs went off all around her. It seemed like dozens of them. If she hadn’t grown so used to them she would have fallen to the floor with her surprise. Questions were shouted to them as Dennis continued to lead her around the floor.

  “You’re good. At dancing and evasive maneuvers.” She grinned at him, letting herself go with the flow of fun he created in an instant.

  When the music stopped, all that was left was the continued flashing of bulbs. This time, she realized, they weren’t aimed at her.

  They were aimed at Peter, who now towered close and looked inscrutable. If the press—or she—was looking for a show of jealousy, then they were disappointed. Peter’s face showed nothing but his usual charm. She squelched the sudden overpowering desire to wrench something more from him. That would be an act of utter stupidity, and she reminded herself she was not a stupid woman.

  But there it was, once again, the inescapable fact was that she was a woman. And that was turning out to be very difficult to reconcile with the mission she’d set out for herself.

  Not impossible. She reminded herself to be Madeline Grace, the all-perceiving genius. PJD was really jealous underneath all his aplomb, and she could use that. But to do what? Not to hurt him, because that would hurt her, and she wasn’t thinking politics.

  “Quite a performance. I can’t wait to see what else your campaign has in store for us to watch. But hopefully we can spare people from having the theatrics take over the governor’s office.” Peter pulled a woman from behind him as if he were a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat. The music started again, a sedate song to which he danced in smooth, gliding steps with the woman held close but not tight.

  Dennis started to say something, but the moment faded the instant the music began and the couple waltzed off. The media dispersed like effervescent bubbles with an expected lifespan of five seconds or less.

  “Poof,” he said, and led her back to the chair. Madeline felt her pulse returning to normal, but the fun Dennis had created disappeared from his face and he looked almost abject.

  “You are a moody man, aren’t you?” She sat back down, ready to discuss business with her staff.

  “Don’t worry about me. Moody or not, I’m a pro. Let’s work.” That made her smile with relief and pleasure.

  The Next Day Back at the Ranch

  45 Days Until the Election

  “I’ve been dreaming about ringing telephones,” Val said.

  “You weren’t dreaming.” Sarah picked up the phone as she punched the line. Madeline noticed it was Dennis’s line, but she didn’t bother to point that out. He and Sarah had come to their own tenuous understanding about how to work with each other. Sipping her coffee and slouched back into the cushions of the couch, Madeline tried again to concentrate on the fluff passing for journalism that had been served up for her today. Instead, she glanced out the window at the bright morning sky. Soon it would be dark at this hour. Maybe it already was, metaphysically speaking, and she didn’t see it yet. Quit the flights of fancy already, and get back to earth.

  “Madeline,” Sarah called out. “This call is for you, but I think Dennis should take it. Where is he?” Sarah’s face was red. That was as good an alarm as any. Madeline jumped from the couch and shot to the outer office to drag Dennis in. This would be a private call to be taken in their private inner office.

  Sarah held out the phone to him and he tried to ask who it was, but she only mouthed something unintelligible. They would all have to wait for the cool and clever one to handle it.

  “Dennis McBain. Can I help you?” After that he listened. He turned away from them and they watched his back as he nodded his head and muttered his interest and agreement about something. It was something important, Madeline knew. When she started tapping her foot and contemplating wrestling the phone away from him, he turned back with a big grin and said, “That sounds great. You’ve got a deal. I’ll call back and confirm the details.” He hung up and stood for a second with his grin. Then he bounced across the room, grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around.

  “What is it, Clever? What have you done now?” She was smiling, but had real apprehension. After all, the biggest issue of the election had overnight become whether or not Madeline and PJD were sleeping together. Every other poll question on the Internet asked some variation on that theme. She felt too much like a cartoon character to be pleased with the attention, and the high ratings on her trustworthiness didn’t make the high ratings on her glam appeal all right.

  Who was she anyway? An accomplished professional woman or Betty Boop?

  “You’re on your way to LA, Mad! Yesterday you were a mention in a monologue and tomorrow you’re going to be the guest star.”

  “What are you talking about?” Val asked.

  “Jay Leno,” Mad said. She batted his hands off her and screeched. “Are you out of your mind?” Her reaction was crazy, she knew, but the reality of how far afield the campaign was getting was getting to her.

  “What?” Sarah said.

  “This is perfect. It’ll be great, in fact. That was Jay himself. He’s got a personal interest in Massachusetts politics, as it happens. This will be nothing but good for your career.”

  “Career as what?” Madeline’s voice was still loud, but she forced herself to calm and turned to pacing. She felt more mixed about this Tonight Show deal than she’d realized. Picking her mug back up on the way by, she drained it and shook her head. Then she thought of how funny PJD would find all this and groaned out loud.

  “You are poised to break new ground. You will be the ultimate woman,” Clever said and started pacing behind her. “Serious and Sexy. You have career ambition and refuse to take a back seat to a man—even one you’re romancing. Totally in control. Take life on your own terms. A politician with a personal life and not apologizing for it. You can beat your opponent in the toughest of forums—a political campaign—and still be a desirable romantic interest. People will go crazy for this, men, women, hell, even children.

  “Women have been competing and being accused of sleeping their way to the top behind the scenes for eons. Now let’s take that notion out of the closet and explode it. Madeline Grace can sleep with her opponent and beat him in an election at the same time. The woman for everyone. The woman who
does it all. The woman who can have it all. All women everywhere want to see this. They want to see you succeed.” He stopped and took her by the shoulders.

  “Before I’m through with you, doll, you’ll be voted the most admired woman in America!” Dennis finished. There was silence. They all looked at him, and then they turned to her. What did she think of all this?

  “There is one minor problem with all this, Mr. Clever.”

  “What’s that?’

  “I don’t want a romance with Peter John Douglas. I don’t want to beat him in the polls and then seduce him for good measure, as if I have an ax to grind to prove that women are better.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “But that’s the message nonetheless.”

  “She’s right,” Jon said.

  “Of course she’s right,” Sarah said. “Clever Dennis is out of his flipping mind.”

  Dennis glared, turning from one face to the next with hands on his hips. Swiping one hand through his hair, he shook his head. “You’re right.”

  Madeline knew that cost him. But her mind was way ahead of that. It would be a tough line to stay on but she was good at the tightrope act.

  “Don’t look too disappointed. I still have a message to get out. It’s a tough distinction, but worthwhile to sell. I want people to know that a woman can be a woman and have ambition. But I don’t want to play the role of conqueror any more than I want to play second fiddle. I don’t want to beat PJD while I sleep with him and I don’t want to join his political team because I’m sleeping with him either.”

  “What’s left?” Clever asked.

  “We’ll play this for real. I’m running against him—and everyone else for that matter—because I have something to offer. I’m also a human being who might want a personal life. And if I had one, I would want it to remain as personal as possible. Which has nothing to do with a romance with PJD.”

  “You want us to use The Tonight Show to convince people there’s no romance between you? Better yet, you want to convince people that it doesn’t matter even if there is? You want to be taken seriously as an individual, in spite of your personal life—and even though, Mad, you don’t actually have a personal life?”

  She nodded her head. “Minor quibble.”

  Clever looked interested. Thank God.

  Sarah looked dubious. Val and Jon were in.

  “It’s a go,” Mad said.

  “I’m gone,” Clever said.

  “But make sure Jay knows the angle,” she shouted after him as he streaked from the room showing a grin of excitement.

  Now she only hoped that the angle she was playing for real really was for real.

  Chapter 9

  The Tonight Show with Jay Leno

  “And here she is, ladies and gentlemen, the New Woman of politics, candidate for governor of Massachusetts—a very unusual race for governor going on there—and Pulitzer Prize-winning professor. Maybe we could even call her the ‘mad’ scientist, the very lovely Madeline Grace.” Jay Leno introduced her as she coolly and deliberately walked onto the stage with long, slow steps in high heels. She tried to listen to the clicks of her own heels to tune out the catcalls from the audience. His intro had not been bad. He did as he promised. He had not mentioned her past relationship with PJD; that had been the condition of her appearance. They had gotten what they wanted because there were so many other angles to pursue. And Dennis had pointed this out to The Tonight Show people in succinct detail. She smiled and tried to push back the mental image of her as a frothy beauty queen taking her seat next to the illustrious late-night host. Wearing the suit had been her victory over Clever Dennis and his objections. She insisted on looking dignified even if he insisted she should look like she was going on a late night entertainment program and at least try to entertain the audience.

  He would be pleased that she found the straight black skirt uncomfortably short and that she was extremely conscious of the slit over the front of her right thigh. Because she had to angle toward Jay, the slit would be a problem, she thought, as he smiled and shook her hand.

  Madeline stood center stage in her tall black heels with their rhinestone trim and the slick black suit with its matching rhinestone buttons. She smiled at the audience, pleased to hear the catcalls die down. All that was left was the respectful appreciation of applause. She nodded her head. Her hair was up in the French twist with a rhinestone comb. The do was becoming her signature look, according to Sarah, and it had obtained high approval ratings in a Boston poll of an all-woman target group.

  Madeline carefully took her seat, indulged in an internal sigh, then turned to Jay and beamed. She was determined to have the best of both worlds. Why not? She would merely have to stretch the Jackie Kennedy model from beautiful respected first lady to beautiful and respected and intelligent and ambitious politician. She could do it. She had to do it. She loved killing two birds with one stone. There was more than one mission she could accomplish. She realized the dual nature of her mission—and which part was more important. Furthering a serious role model for women eclipsed the importance of any political goal. Giving people a woman, unmuted and fully feminine, as a viable option to politics as usual was big.

  “So what’s a nice and very beautiful and smart woman like you doing in the dirty game of politics, Ms. Grace?”

  “Call me Madeline, please, Jay. I should say something like it’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it, and the truth is that old cliché is at least part of the reason. But honestly, the bottom line is I think I have something to offer. I think I can make a difference. No more politics as usual. My mission is to give people a third viable option to the two established parties, and do it as a real woman with a personal life, not the antiseptic sexless version worked over and turned into a gray-clad and suspiciously man-like, albeit politically correct, candidate.”

  The applause was immediate, and as far as she could tell, spontaneous. At least she didn’t see any guy with a card prompting them. Jay shook his head in approval, and she smiled in genuine satisfaction. If she said nothing else of substance the entire evening, she could be happy with that much, as long as she made no mistakes. As Dennis had reminded her, the most deadly mistake she could make was to be boring. That was the big danger on this show. If she didn’t entertain on her terms, then Jay would take it away from her and do his best to make her squirm.

  “Aah, I see. You want to prove that women can be sexy and serious enough to run the government. But can they do it any better than men? Sex has always gotten the male politicians in trouble.” Jay turned to his audience, deadpanning, “That’s just what we need in this country, equal opportunity sex scandals in politics.” He was only partially joking.

  She laughed because she knew she could handle this. “My goal is to be myself. To keep my personal life personal. To be accepted on my own terms.” The audience responded and Jay shook his head.

  “But seriously…”

  “Seriously, it’s the voters’ choice. At least they have a choice with my candidacy.”

  “So you don’t care if you lose? This is all a lark and you’re really out to get a movie role, like every other babe in the spotlight?”

  “Now you sound like Dave Letterman.” The audience roared with laughter at that.

  “Ouch. I deserved that. Forget I ever asked. But admit it, part of you likes the attention. All politicians love the attention, even you, the acclaimed outsider of politicians.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Jay. I’ve been in the spotlight all my life, sometimes more, sometimes less. I’m much more concerned about preserving my privacy than with getting more attention.”

  “Oh, I see. The price of being beautiful and sexy.”

  “And having brains. I was a child prodigy long before sex appeal became an issue.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s so easy to forget, looking at you, that you’re also a highly acclaimed scientist and Harvard professor, is that right? Sex a
ppeal never got in your way of being taken seriously as a professional?” he prompted. She squirmed.

  “Not until politics.” The audience laughed and Jay raised his brows, unconvinced.

  This was a tough topic to talk about and still be taken seriously. But at least she wouldn’t have to worry about being boring. It would most definitely be entertaining. If that was what it took, then talking about the reason that sex appeal colored everyone’s perceptions almost all the time once they hit puberty was a matter of survival of the species suited her just fine. And so she did. Jay was fascinated, and she handled the subject of sex without looking like a sex object herself—she took the brainy approach to sex. She’d have to wait and see what the media made of it tomorrow.

  “Now given your sex appeal…” Jay turned to the audience to have them confirm that she indeed had sex appeal, and they responded with the obligatory catcalls. Madeline was proud of herself for not squirming or wincing, at least not on the outside. She only smiled mildly, waiting for Jay to ask his question. This was the most nerve-racking, challenging, exciting and fun interview she’d ever done. They were getting down to brass tacks after all, her favorite thing.

  “Given that, why is it—I’m very puzzled by this—that the polls show that far more women would vote for you than men? Your chief opponent is far more popular with men than you are. Tell me about that. I don’t get it. What’s going on there in Boston? Is that city turning? I don’t get it.”

  She laughed along with the audience. This would be tricky to answer without putting people to sleep. Her stomach knotted and she searched for a pithy response that wasn’t trite or just plain false.

  “You are a world-renowned psychologist, after all?” Leno reminded everyone, ratcheting up her tension tenfold.

  “Yeah. I think, Jay, it’s just a matter of men preferring their sex symbols in the bedroom and not the boardroom—or the state house, in this case.” She smiled, but it was forced. And then he leapt.

  “So you do admit that you are a sex symbol of sorts. Guys, let’s bring that poster out here. We have a pin-up poster. Don’t worry, it’s very tasteful. You’ve probably seen this photo. It was in all the Boston papers.” Two men carried a life-size poster out onto stage. It was a blown up version of the photo of her in her evening gown at the mayor’s party. He was right. It was very tasteful. It was the look on her face that gave it the sex appeal—that and the long slit up the front of her leg. And the bare shoulders. The audience was particularly appreciative. Jay laughed as he patted her hand and rose from his desk.