The Last Hand by Eric Wight Read Free Book Online Page A

Hal–the discovery that her last boyfriend was a Greek doctor who disappeared in the Sahara. The connection is not public. It’s nobody’s business but her own, but she is a politician, and therefore
who she’s slept with lately is interesting, and it’s a rotten prospect for her.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd now she wants to lean on us a little, which she’s not supposed to do, so she’s asked you to bring the message. As you say, it wouldn’t do her any good in the Ottawa Valley to have her connected with the Greek doctor.”
    â€œBut, Hal, would you believe that her real motive is to protect her privacy? The assumption these days about a woman in her position is that she’s a lesbian; the assumption in sophisticated circles, that is, not in the Ottawa Valley. Would you believe that she would rather they think whatever they like than that they should actually know about her private life, which is much less interesting? We’re talking about a … lady here, Hal, not some MPP trying to keep her nose clean while she angles for a cabinet job.”
    â€œSo what do you want from me?”
    â€œI’d like to be able to tell Flora that you’ve moved the investigation onto the front burner to try to get it solved. You know, put your best men on it, as they say.”
    â€œYou can tell her that. I can speak to Marinelli. I can’t shut this reporter up.”
    â€œI’ll try to speak to someone on the masthead. Get them to lay off for a couple of weeks.”
    â€œThat how long it will take us?” Again, Mackenzie’s tone gave the remark several possible interpretations. “I guess I could talk to someone on the–what did you call it?–the masthead, too, but that would use up all my influence for about a year. Can’t her connections handle it?”
    They considered each other for a few seconds. Mackenzie continued. “The editors or the publishers or owners–they’re all in your club, aren’t they?”
    Gregson laughed. “That’s not exactly how it works, Hal. Okay, I’ll think of something.”
    â€œHave a word with the premier. He must know someone who can help.” Mackenzie leaned away from his desk, openly jeering, adopting the voice of the man on the street who believes all the people
at the top are hand in glove with each other, protecting each other’s interests. Not that this discounted what had already been understood between them. Mackenzie simply wanted to put a limit on their collaboration, so he leaned back.
    Gregson picked up his raincoat, grabbing it in the middle as if he intended to dump it in a garbage can on his way out. “Find her, please, and get her out of sight.”
    Like a goddamn actor, Mackenzie said later, to Salter.
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    â€œYou know him?” Mackenzie asked, when the door had closed on Gregson, and Salter had reappeared. “You collared that stagehand who killed that actor, didn’t you? Gregson got him off easy.”
    â€œTwo years. Apart from that, I’ve never come up against him, but I know about him, sure. He gets himself in the papers and on TV giving his opinion on capital punishment, stuff like that. He likes the spotlight.”
    â€œDresses like it, that’s for sure. Real prince.”
    â€œWhat did he want?”
    Mackenzie considered the question for several seconds. “I’m not sure. Says he’s looking out for Flora Lucas. You know? The politico? But he’s not the family lawyer. I’ve already heard from that one. Gregson implied they are afraid that if the investigation goes on too long it will damage her chances in the election. She’s tipped for A-G, did you know that? Gregson made goddamn sure that I knew it. But that’s not the point. Point is, I don’t think Gregson was being totally up front. I think there’s something else.” Mackenzie laced his fingers