O Is for Outlaw

point, what worries me are Mickey's medical bills. As far as I can tell, he lost all his coverage when he was fired from his job."
    "I'm sure that's not an issue. His bills can be paid from funds from Victims of Major Crimes, through the DA's office. It's probably been set in motion, but I'll be happy to check. By the way, I stopped off at Mickey's on my way back from L.A. I thought I should meet his landlady in case a question came up."
    "Oh, great. Because the other thing I'm concerned about is his eviction. The sheriff's already been there and changed the locks."
    "I gathered as much," he said. "Frankly, I'm surprised to see you take an interest. I was under the impression you hadn't spoken to him for years."
    "I haven't, but it looks like I owe him one."
    "How so?"
    "You know I blamed him for Benny Quintero's death. Now I find out Mickey was with Dixie that night.
    "I heard that story too, but I was never sure how much credit to attach."
    "You're telling me they lied?"
    "Who's to say? I've made it my practice not to speculate. Mickey didn't confide and I didn't press him for information. Fortunately, we never had to defend the point one way or the other."
    I saw him glance in Laddie's direction, gauging their departure, which was imminent. Laddie had, found Dixie and she was proffering regrets. Hugs, air kisses, and niceties were exchanged.
    Mark said, "I better catch up. Give me a couple of days. I'll let you know about his bills. Glad we had a chance to chat." He gave my shoulder a squeeze and then joined Laddie and Malcolm, who were waiting in the dining room. Dixie followed them out, apparently intending to see them as far as the door.
    Meanwhile, Eric had wheeled around and his face seemed to brighten at the sight of me. He pointed to a corner chair and then pushed himself in that direction. I nodded and followed, admiring his physique. His knit shirt fit snugly, emphasizing his shoulders and chest, along with his muscular arms. He looked like an ad for a fitness supplement. When he pivoted his chair, I could see the point where his thighs ended, six inches above the knees. He held a hand out to me. I leaned down and bussed his cheek before I took a seat. His aftershave was citrus and his skin was like satin. He said, "I didn't think you'd come."
    "I probably won't stay long. I don't know a soul here except for Mark and his crew. The kid's attractive."
    "And bright. Pity about his father. He's a waste of time."
    "I thought you liked Mark."
    "I do and I don't. He's phony as all get out, but aside from that he's great."
    "That's a hell of an endorsement. What'd he do to you? "
    Eric gestured dismissively. "Nothing. Forget it. He asked me to do a film clip for his ad campaign. Primary's only ten days off, and there's nothing like a cripple to pick up a few last-minute votes."
    "Ooh, you're a cynic. You sound worse than I do. Did it ever occur to you he might see you as a shining example of success and achievement, overcoming the odds and similar sentiments?"
    "No. It occurred to me he wants me on his team in hopes other Vietnam vets will follow suit. Prop Forty-two is his pet project. The truth is, he needs a banner issue because he's floundering. Laddie's not going to like it if he's trounced at the polls."
    "What difference does it make? I didn't think he had a chance anyway."
    "It's one thing to lose and another thing to lose badly. He doesn't want to look like a has-been right out of the gate."
    "Easy come, easy go. They'll survive, I'm sure."
    "Possibly."
    "Possibly? I like that. What's that supposed to mean?"
    I saw his gaze shift and glanced up in time to see Dixie return. "Things aren't always as they appear."
    "The Bethels are unhappy?"
    "I didn't say that."
    "Incompatible?"
    "I didn't say that, either."
    "Then what? Come on. I won't repeat it. You've got me curious."
    "Mark has places to go. He can't do that divorced. He needs Laddie's money to make it work."
    "What about her? What's her stake in it?"
    "She's more ambitious than he is. She dreams about the White House."
    "You're not serious."
    "I am. She grew up in the era of Jackie 0 and Camelot. While other girls played with Barbies, she was making a list of which rooms to redo."
    "I had no idea."
    "Hey, Mark wants it too. Don't get me wrong, but he'd probably be content with the Senate while she's longing for a place in all the history books. He won't make it this round, the competition's too fierce, but in four years, who knows? As long as he can