Mirror Image

chair and stared at the locket with misty eyes. He rubbed it between his finger and thumb like a talisman that might make her miraculously materialize.
    Later, he would try to solve the mystery of how her jewelry had become switched with that of another crash victim. For the present, however, he only wanted to wallow in the morass of his bereavement.
    * * *
    “I don’t see why not.”
    “I told you why not.”
    “What would be wrong with me going down to Corpus Christi with you when you go later this week?”
    “It’s a business trip. I’ll be busy setting up rallies for Tate.”
    Fancy’s mouth drew into a petulant pout. “You could let me tag along if you really wanted to.”
    Eddy Paschal looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Guess that gives you your answer.”
    He switched out the lights at campaign headquarters. The property was located in a shopping center and had previously been a pet store. The rent was cheap. It was a central location, easily accessible to just about any point in the city. About its only drawback was the remnant odor of caged pets.
    “Why are you so mean to me, Eddy?” Fancy whined as he used his key to secure the dead bolt.
    “Why are you such a pest?”
    Together they walked across the parking lot to his parked car, a serviceable Ford sedan that she privately scorned. He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her. As she got in, she brushed the front of her body against his.
    As he rounded the hood on his way to the driver’s side, she noticed that he’d recently gotten a haircut. The barber had clipped his hair too short. Topping her list of Eddy “redos” was his car. Second was his barber.
    He slid in behind the wheel and turned on the ignition. The air conditioner came on automatically and began filling the interior with hot, humid air. Eddy made a concession to his fresh-out-of-the-bandbox appearance by loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar button.
    Fancy went considerably further than that in her quest for comfort. She unbuttoned her blouse to her waist, then fanned it open and shut, providing Eddy with an excellent view of her breasts if he chose to take it, which she was peeved to note that he didn’t. He was maneuvering the car through the intersection and up the entrance ramp to the freeway.
    “Are you gay, or what?” she demanded crossly.
    He burst out laughing. “Why do you ask?”
    “Because if I gave away to other guys half of what I give away to you, I’d spend all my time on my back.”
    “To hear you tell it, you do anyhow.” He glanced at her. “Or is that just so much talk?”
    Fancy’s blue eyes fairly smoked, but she was too clever to lose her temper. Instead, she curled up into the car seat with the sinuous laziness of a cat and asked slyly, “Why don’t you find out for yourself, Mr. Paschal?”
    He shook his head. “You’re an incorrigible brat, Fancy, know that?”
    “I should,” she said breezily, pulling her fingers through her mass of dark-blond curls. “That’s what everybody tells me.” She leaned toward the air-conditioning vent, which was blowing out frigid air now. She held her hair up off her neck and let the air blow against her skin, which was dewy with perspiration. “Well, are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “Gay.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    She sat up and angled her body toward him. Her hands were still holding her hair up off her neck—a pose that emphasized her breasts. The cold air had made her nipples hard. They jutted against the cloth of her shirt. “Then, how can you resist me?”
    Congested freeway traffic had been left behind and they were now heading northwest toward the ranch. Eddy’s gaze roved over her slowly, taking in all the alluring details. It gave her satisfaction to watch his Adam’s apple slide up and down as he swallowed with difficulty.
    “You’re a beautiful child, Fancy.” His eyes rested briefly on her breasts, where the dark impressions of their pert centers could be seen beneath her shirt. “A beautiful
woman.
”
    Gradually she lowered her arms, letting her hair fall loosely around her face and onto her shoulders. “Well, then?”
    “You’re my best friend’s niece.”
    “So?”
    “So to me that means you’re off limits.”
    “How prudish!” she exclaimed. “You’re a Victorian, Eddy, that’s what you are. A throwback. A stuffy prude. Ridiculous.”
    “It wouldn’t be ridiculous to your Uncle Tate. Or to your grandfather or father. If I laid a hand