Atropos Read Free

trying to tell it so it made sense. It was impossible to relate what had happened to him tonight so that it made sense. A few disconnected phrases made it past Hank’s mouth. “Pina’s dead ... fire ... somebody saw me—lot of people ... had to get away ...”
    “Stop it.”
    “Ainley, help me! The police will be after me, I’ll go to jail. I didn’t mean—”
    “Hank, shut up! ”
    The Senator shut up and goggled at him. Ainley, though about ten years older, had never called him “Hank.”
    Hank looked at him, waiting. Ainley was thinking. He had a very good face for thinking—large, dark, sort of sad eyes, long aquiline nose, thin lips, strong chin. He was quite a small man, but he gave an impression of power all the same.
    “There’s the phone,” Ainley said. “Call the fire department. Give your name. Report the fire.”
    “But, Ainley, the fire department was just getting there when I left. I thought it was the police, that’s why I ran, but I realize now—”
    “You ran because you were obsessed with calling the fire department,” Ainley said. “You’re so agitated, you aren’t thinking straight.”
    “That’s the truth,” Hank said. “Can I have a drink?”
    “After you make the call. Maybe. As soon as you call, I’ll get the family lawyers busy.” Ainley had gone to Harvard Law at Gramps’s expense, and had passed the bar years ago, but he had never practiced law. His brain was too valuable to waste in court, or in drawing up documents.
    Ainley handed Hank the phone. “Call,” he commanded. “Your name, and the address of the fire. Nothing else. Just hang up.”
    Hank made the call. The dispatcher had tried to ask questions, but Hank pretended not to hear them. He turned to Ainley. “Was that okay?”
    “That was fine, Hank, especially with the strain you’re under. You know, I can guess exactly what happened tonight.”
    “I’ve been trying to tell you.”
    Ainley was stern. “Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. You and Miss Girolamo and a few others?”
    Hank nodded.
    Ainley nodded back, as if he’d expected that. “And a few others worked late. You drove Miss Girolamo to the house the campaign has provided for her. You left her there, and headed for your own home. On the way, you realized there was a document you’d forgotten to give her, something to do with the upcoming campaign. You have such a document in your car right now, don’t you, Senator?”
    “I’ve got neighborhood income breakdowns, but—”
    “Neighborhood income breakdowns. It was important she have them, an important addition to her duties. You turned back to bring them to her. When you got there, you smelled smoke. You went inside—the door was unlocked—and called her name, but there was no answer. The smell of smoke was stronger. You went through the house, fighting flames and smoke, looking for her. It was a terrible risk, but the Van Horns inspire loyalty by giving it.
    “You couldn’t find Miss Girolamo. You knew the fire department was needed, but by the time you made your way out of the house, you were so dazed by heat and smoke that you were temporarily at a loss as to what to do.
    “The approach of the fire department—or at least the sirens and the distant lights, you didn’t actually see any fire trucks, did you?”
    Hank shook his head.
    “Good, good,” Ainley said, like a doctor listening to a patient’s chest. “The siren and lights, without registering on your conscious mind, reminded you subconsciously of your resolve to call the fire department. In your confused state, it never occurred to you to ask to use a stranger’s phone, and you didn’t want to take time to find a public phone. So you came here.”
    Ainley regarded him blandly. “Does that sound about right, Senator?”
    Hank took a few seconds to repeat the story to himself. Ainley was amazing. Of course, the image of the Van Horns always being in control was going to be shaken, but Hank was sure Gramps, wherever he