Tail Spin

Sherlock said.
    MacLean stared at them, a drug-happy smile on his face, his eyes glittering, a bit manic. “You think old Lomas would try to knock me off for that? He told me straight out that everybody does it, that the Pentagon knows everyone does it, and so they simply make allowances, they even have tables that show the range of acceptable deviations, that sort of thing. He said it was all a big game.”
    Sherlock said easily, “Could you tell us exactly why Lomas Clapman was seeing you, Dr. MacLean?”
    “He was impotent. After all the tests and a couple of tubs of Viagra, his doctor recommended he see me, see if his inability to sustain an erection was mental or emotional.”
    Savich said, “Did you help him?”
    “I’ll tell you, Agent Savich, Lomas is so filled with envy and arrogance, I think it would take God himself to help him.” MacLean closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the pillow, and sighed.

EIGHTEEN
    Savich said, “The bartender our agent spoke to said you also talked about Dolores McManus, a congresswoman from Georgia.” And Savich waited to see if he would continue to talk with candor and cynicism, or would revert to the psychiatrist renowned for his discretion.
    MacLean closed his eyes for a moment, hummed deep in his throat, carefully rearranged himself a bit to ease his ribs. They watched him give his pain med button a couple of pushes. Several minutes passed in silence. MacLean sighed and said, “Sorry, I just wanted to float about for a little bit, such a lovely feeling. These drugs are first-rate. Ah, Dolores—you strip away all the glitz and glamour and the attention her position has brought her, and what you’ve got is one simple basic human being—not many frills or mental extras, if you know what I mean.
    “I wanted to sleep with her, I knew I could please her, but she wasn’t interested.”
    Sherlock’s mouth dropped open. This was a kick. She said, “Dr. MacLean, you propositioned a patient?”
    “Oh no, I merely thought about it. I could tell she’d never see me that way.” He sighed. “Even though she’s nearly as old as I am, she still has gorgeous breasts, nicer than Molly’s. Three kids’ll make your breasts sag, Molly tells me, and then says to count my blessings. Molly’s always been big into counting blessings. Even with all this crap, she still tells me I’m her biggest blessing.” He continued without pause, “It was difficult to keep my eyes on Dolores’s face, to listen to all her crowing. She was so proud of being on the A-list, wouldn’t shut up about all the famous people who call her by her first name. Then she’d switch gears and crow for the umpteenth time about how her background hasn’t slowed her down. She’d been a housewife with a college degree in communications, no work experience of any note, raising two kids, but she had one major asset— her mouth. She never hesitated to mix it up with the mayor, the governor, the newspapers, the phone company. It was her successful assault on the EPA that got her elected to her first term. She cut them off at the knees about a local cleanup project they weren’t funding.
    “Being elected to Washington simply gave her a bigger canvas. I have to admit, watching her take on all comers—it’s a treat. She can spin on a dime, make you believe you just left the room when in reality you were actually coming through the door. It’s her only talent, and makes her the perfect politician. As for substance, I guess she has about as much as any of her colleagues.”
    Sherlock asked, “Do you remember telling Arthur Dolan if she had anything in her past that could harm her if made public? Something so grave she’d feel threatened?”
    “I never told Arthur a thing, I’ve already told you that. I wouldn’t. Would she feel threatened enough to kill me? Of course not. Everything in her past is nickel-and-dime stuff—really nothing much at all, except that she murdered her husband.”
    They stared flabbergasted at MacLean, saw his eyes go vague, the manic light die out. He was about to go under. He’d given himself one too many doses of the pain meds. This congresswoman murdered her husband? The bartender hadn’t heard anything about murder.
    As if on cue, the door opened and Dr. Bingham looked in. He listened to MacLean’s vitals, but didn’t attempt to engage him in conversation. They all stood by his bed and watched him drift off.
    Dr. Bingham nodded, then straightened.
    Savich