"It's not," she reminded them, "the kind of story you run into every day."
They talked about restaurants in Dallas and people they knew there and famous Texans in general. It turned out Davette was Davette Shands of the once-notorious Oilfield Shands family.
"But that's all gone now," she assured them with a self-deprecating smile.
I doubt it, thought Annabelle. This child has been rich all her life and always will be.
And then she thought, I can be a little bitchy, can't I?
Adam smiled in reply to the banter but offered not one word himself.
"Offhand," offered Carl, mixing himself another drink, "I'd say the kid's met a reporter before."
"Do you believe all reporters are dishonest, Mr. Joplin?" she asked.
Carl grinned, sipped. "That depends on whether it's a reporter or a journalist."
She sort of smiled back. "What's the difference?"
"Well, a reporter lies to get himself a better story and a raise."
"And a journalist doesn't lie?"
"Well, yes. But only out of a deep sense of compassion and concern."
She laughed gamely enough along with the rest of them.
Not bad, thought Cat.
Annabelle checked her watch. Jack was due in a few minutes. So they all chatted some more before he showed and heard an odd story from Davette. Seems she had been the editor-in-chief of her college newspaper but had quit last spring, in the final semester of her senior year. Quit school entirely, as a matter of fact, and gone home to get to work.
"I needed to get off my... rear," she offered with a patronizing smile. "I needed to get out in the real world."
God! groaned Cat to himself. I hate to be conned.
The great oaken door burst open and Jack Crow strode in, looking fresh and invigorated and thirsty. While Carl played bartender he met Davette, shaking her hand firmly and telling her outright what a beauty she was. She seemed a little taken aback after all the beating around the bush she was apparently used to.
"You wanna talk to me, do you, young lady?"
"Why, yes. If it's convenient."
"It is for the next coupla hours. Then we hit the road. C'mon."
And just like that they left the room.
Part One Chapter 6
"What do you think?" Cat asked after they had gone.
"I'd like to know what she was kicked out of school for," offered Carl.
"So would I," said Annabelle.
"Please, God," sighed Cat, "let it be prostitution."
"It's not the kind of job you can turn down," replied Jack Crow with more than a little exasperation.
They were in the Zoo's main corridor, leaning against opposite walls facing each other. Jack sipped from his drink.
"Why not?" Davette asked.
He thought about a reply, said, "To understand that, you'd first have to buy it."
The young girl glanced briefly away then back to him. "Well, you have to admit it's pretty hard to believe." By God, I think she does believe! Jack thought suddenly.
Or at least she's trying.
"What put you onto us, anyway?" he asked.
She smiled. "An old friend of my family owns the weekly newspaper that covered your last... uh, mission. I got into that little town, what's it called?"
"Bradshaw, Indiana."
"Yes, Bradshaw. Anyway, I got there two days after you'd left." She frowned. "Nobody would talk about it by then. But I got your address."
"Lucky you weren't on time."
"I heard you'd had some trouble." He took a sip.
"Some."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Seven."
"Was it serious?"
"Dead. Seven dead."
She went pale. "You're joking! You can't be serious!"
He just looked at her. "Okay," he said.
They were quiet for several seconds. She could tell he meant it. And he could tell it had gotten to her.
Finally, he said, "Let me give you a little advice."
"What's that?"
"This is real."
And they were quiet again for a while.
At last she said, "I don't know what to say. Or do."
He stepped away from the wall, shrugging off the somber mood.
"I'll tell you what you can do. If you ever get this story printed anywhere - which I frankly doubt - you can put this in it." He drained his glass and set it down on the carpet. "Got your pad with you?"
"Tape recorder," she answered. She dug quickly in her purse, produced it, and held it up.
"Okey doke." He stuck a cigarette in his grinning teeth, lit it. "I'll give you the grand tour."
She smiled back, gestured about her. "It's certainly a big house. How many bedrooms?"
"Seven too many."
"Oh," she said quietly, gazing down the row of empty rooms. Four on one side. Three on the other.
"Don't despair," he said. "It's just eulogy time."