Beauty Queen

Jeannie and her speechwriter at one of the tables, and he put a little food on a paper plate and joined them.
    "Well, Ms. Police Person," he said to the young woman, "we meet again. What a nice surprise."
    The young woman grinned, without a trace of alarm. "Yes, I told Jeannie how we met. Pretty crazy, huh?"
    Jeannie didn't speak to Bill, stabbing furiously at her hamburger, not eating much.
    "Whatever happened to the old man's body?" Bill asked.
    "I have no idea," she said. "Usually the officers at the scene never find out the end of the story, because they're running to other scenes."
    "So how come you're not in uniform?"
    "I was laid off," she said. "So I was looking around to some other place where I could, uh, keep from putting light under a bushel."
    Bill looked at Jeannie. "Is she good, Jeannie?"
    Jeannie shrugged. "She made us think of things we'd never thought of before. For instance, somebody sent a package with T-shirts for the children. Jessica was about to put one on, and Mary Ellen stopped her. Turned out the T-shirt was treated with acid."
    Bill shuddered.
    "Well," said Mary Ellen dryly, "I don't think that little kids should get hurt for what their parents do."
    When Jeannie got up to talk to Tom Winkler, Bill said quickly to Mary Ellen, "I'm sorry to be so inquisitive, but I have to ask what you're doing here."
    "Huh?" said Mary Ellen, who had been watching Jessica galloping around on her pony. The expression on her face had hardly changed, but suddenly she had a subtly guarded look.
    "I'll be very frank with you," said Bill. "I happen to know what church you belong to in New York. And it's not the Antioch Baptist Church either. So I have to ask you again what are you doing here?"
    She stared at him, and answered without hesitating: "I don't understand what you mean. I needed a job, and it seemed like a good bet."
    "Did the Police Department know you belonged to that church?"
    She shrugged. "I have no idea. I doubt it. We were hearing rumors about layoffs long before Jeannie started making her noises."
    "But it's odd, Mary Ellen, a member of your church here . . "
    "Not really," she said. "Look, I happen to think that in that respect, Jeannie has done more good than harm. She's made the whole country talk openly about something they didn't want to talk about. And that's good. And in other areas I do admire her politics, so . .
    Jeannie had just finished a short violent argument with Tom Winkler, and was coming back, walking in the foot-stomping way she had when she was angry.
    So Bill broke off the conversation with Mary Ellen.
    Later that afternoon, it clouded over, and a couple of swift violent line storms came over. Everybody sat in the house, feeling claustrophobic. Tom Winkler had apparently quit as campaign manager. A couple of the staff were writing long memos about it. It looked as if everything was falling apart.
    The conversation with Bill Laird had left Mary Ellen in a stormy state of mind, though outwardly she kept her cool.
    How did he know that she belonged to MCC? Was he so protective of his daughter that he made a habit of checking out everybody who worked for her?
    She kept asking herself if this had blown the whole thing. And she wasn't sure it had. She had already discussed with herself the certain knowledge that, if the plan worked out, the police would find out she was gay. She had given Bill the answers that she had rehearsed with herself in case anyone in the organization found out she was gay. Had this really changed things? Not really.
    Armando had been at the Bel Aire Motel since Tuesday. Today was Thursday. She had driven past the motel yesterday on an errand, and had seen a dark-green 1974 Pinto with a red T-shirt, blue sweater and white T-shirt piled in the back.
    She had brought the Beretta and the silencer down from the cabin a couple of days ago, and had them hidden in the small powder room where she slept, right off Jeannie's room.
    Tonight would be the night, she was sure. She could feel it in the air. Jeannie had been happily busy with the plans for the new anti-gay organization, and for a couple of nights, she had actually not visited the cemetery. But the way things were going, she would surely go there tonight.
    Hearing them talk about going national with the antigay thing had whetted her anger to a new sharp point. All over the country, thousands more people were going to be hurt because of this woman. She would focus and direct the homophobia in American