Death Turns A Trick (Rebecca Schwartz #1) (A Rebecca Schwartz Mystery) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

nieces’ birthdays, but also their boyfriends’. And sent the presents to the right address, too. Or more likely, hand-delivered them in his Mercedes.
    I’d never seen him like that, never known him to confuse me with Mickey, or Alan with Gary—never, never had him brush me off. I had to face the fact that that was what he had done. To me, his favorite niece! There had to be a reason for it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was.
    Dad spoke, at my elbow. “Rebecca, I want you to meet somebody you’ve got a lot in common with. Another friend of the downtrodden prostitute.”
    I extended my hand, holding back the words that sprang to mind: “Hello, Senator, I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” For it was Senator Calvin Handley.
    At
his
elbow was his wife Josephine, who asked me almost immediately to call her Jodie. She had one of those never-a-hair-out-of-place coiffures, like Betty Ford, and she was wearing an Adolfo dress. She had something of Mrs. Ford’s energy and vitality, too. I liked her right off, and felt sorry for her as well. She was the perfect political wife and then some, yet her husband had spent his Friday nights with Kandi Phillips. Probably told her he was tied up at the office, har har. Half of it was true, anyway.
    “I feel as if I already know you,” she said warmly. “I’ve been following your career ever since you became the lawyer for HYENA. In fact, Cal and I saw you on TV last night, didn’t we, Cal?”
    The senator nodded, beaming. He didn’t seem a whit ill at ease.
    “You know,” continued Jodie, “I’m an honorary member of HYENA myself. I got on the bandwagon long before Cal did.”
    The senator might be used to duplicity, but it was driving me nuts. I hoped it didn’t show in my face. “Oh?” I asked weakly. “How did you get involved?”
    “I’d been actively working for the Equal Rights Amendment, and I've also been a longtime opponent of anti-abortion laws. I guess I must have been on some mailing list or other. They sent me a letter and asked me to attend one of their meetings.”
    “So you’re a feminist.”
    “Of course.” She smiled at her husband. “I was long before the women’s movement, and so was Cal. We’ve always had a very sharing sort of marriage.”
    The senator’s face was serious. “I wouldn’t say that, Jodie. Being married to a politician, you’ve had to endure a lot of—what’s the Yiddish for trouble and woe, Rebecca?—
tsuris
?”
    “Well, we’ve tried, anyway,” said Jodie, not denying it. “And Cal, as you know, has been very good about supporting feminist issues in the senate. But I like to think I had some influence with him on this bill to legalize prostitution.”
    Since I had my doubts about the thing as a feminist issue, I asked Jodie her thoughts on the subject. “I
do
agree with the HYENA arguments,” she said. “I’m sure many women turn to prostitution because of, well, misfortunes that make it impossible to make a living in a more conventional way.” She looked vague for a moment. “Lack of educational opportunities, children to support… But I must admit I support it on practical grounds more than anything. I think that’s what finally convinced Cal I was right.”
    “How do you mean?” I asked.
    “Well, it
is
the oldest profession, after all. Hundreds of years of prohibitions against it have failed to wipe it out. You may as well legalize it so you can regulate it, like marijuana.”
    The senator smiled, still showing no sign of discomfort. “Wait a minute, Jodie. Let’s not get carried away.” To me he said, “Jodie’s a little more advanced on the marijuana issue than I am. If she had her way, you could buy it in cigarette machines.”
    “I understand that day is coming,” I said. “Or at least that the cigarette companies think it is. Supposedly they’re all set to start producing twenty-joint packs as soon as it’s legalized. But prostitution’s a little different. It could so easily come under mob control.”
    “But that’s not the issue,” Jodie insisted. “Of course it could, but I don’t think I care much who runs it. The mob is in a lot of legitimate businesses these days. Should we outlaw Italian restaurants because they may be owned by the Mafia? Anyway, I’m not sure the mob is so much worse than the oil companies—or the cigarette people for that matter.”
    “My dear!” said the senator. His eyes twinkled at both of us. “So now you know