82 Desire

much effort into it she’d probably have to go lie down in a minute. “We haven’t talked yet.” She glanced over at Seaberry, who was adjusting his glasses.
    Megan said, “Oh,” and continued to stand there.
    Finally, Seaberry said, “She says it’ll just take a few minutes. Why don’t you get dressed and join us?”
    Megan only nodded, evidently not wanting to waste precious words on so lowly a creature as Jane Storey, and padded off on feet that looked so pampered they probably felt like little silk pillows. Jane wondered, and not for the first time, how smart men with pouty little pets for wives made it through the day. You couldn’t screw for twenty-four hours. You had to work eight and sleep eight; that still left eight to get through. You could play tennis, you could work out, you had to get dressed—that took care of another three. And you could have sex for one, say. So four hours a day of making conversation with a ninny. She personally would rather live on Rikers Island. Or was she just being snotty because she was attracted to the parakeet’s feeder?
    He said, “Megan’s a little out of it—hard day in court.”
    “I beg your pardon? “
    “She’s a civil rights lawyer. Plus, the kid’s sick—we’ve got a seven-year-old.”
    Jane took a moment to feel slightly silly and then got to the business at hand. She didn’t mind apologizing in aid of her own agenda. “I’m sorry to invade your home,” she said. “I wanted to see you here to protect your privacy.” Once again, she thought she saw a little jaw action—some almost indefinable sign of discomfort.
    But you had to be fast to catch it. He smiled like he showed teeth for a living, and nodded.
    She said, “I’m trying to get some background. Everything we say will be off the record.”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, it’s difficult to know how to say this. Let me ask you first—have you any idea what happened to Russell Fortier?”
    He shrugged and waved his hands a bit, perfectly friendly. “Are you kidding? The guy’s one of my best friends. I’ve been worried out of my mind.”
    “Was he in some sort of trouble at United?”
    “No.”
    “Embezzling, maybe? Something like that?” She didn’t expect an honest answer; she was just hoping for a reaction.
    She got one. Seaberry did a virtual double take. “Embezzling—Russell? That’s the last thing I can imagine.”
    “I was thinking that if he did something criminal that was about to come to light, he might simply have found it a good time to disappear.”
    Seaberry’s face clouded up. “Ms. Storey, do you want me to confirm something? I can’t understand what’s going on here.”
    “We’re developing a story on United that isn’t going to thrill you over there.” She told herself it wasn’t exactly a lie—the Money section was always writing about United; surely some stories didn’t thrill them.
    “May I ask what it’s about?”
    “We think Russell Fortier’s involved.”
    “Yes?” he said.
    Jane said nothing, just kept staring at him—partly because he was such an eyeful. Ever the gentleman, he didn’t get mad—he just seemed to make a decision that she was wasting his time. “I wish I could help you, but I really can’t if you don’t ask me any questions.”
    Jane was deeply embarrassed. What she was doing was unprofessional as hell, and she couldn’t imagine what had ever made her think it would be productive. “We have information that Fortier was involved in some problems with the company. I was wondering if you’d like to tell me about them.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” For the first time, his voice sounded irritated.
    Jane remembered what department he ran. “Were there any problems with acquisitions?”
    “I’m really at quite a loss here.” His voice came out of a soon-to-be-active volcano, and Jane had to admit she’d given him provocation. The thing to do was get out fast.
    She produced a card, stood, and handed it to him.
    “Well, as I said, the investigation is at a very delicate stage. If you should need a sympathetic ear, I’m here.”
    “Thanks for coming by.” He tried a smile, but he hadn’t quite recovered his composure.
    Driving home, she chastised herself. Brilliant, Jane, brilliant. Sure, some oil exec is going to spill the beans just because you asked him. Say, Mr. Executive, know of any recent criminal activity at your company? I need a story for my high school paper.
    She hoped he