American Sextet by Warren Adler

in
cash," Fiona said. "She didn't make that kind of money."
    "So?"
    "How could she have done that on a take-home salary of
$800 a month?" Fiona asked, aware of her pressure. Something about the man
was aggravating. Had they any business being here, wasting the taxpayer's
money?
    "What are you trying to say?" His eyes moved
nervously between her and Cates. Without answering, she pressed on, unable to
stop herself.
    "All I want is the truth." The statement was
premature, unprofessional.
    "About what?" Martin snapped. She caught Cates's
glare of caution but decided to ignore it.
    "You know what."
    Martin looked at Cates.
    "She's mad as a hatter. Are you accusing me of
throwing her over the bridge, murdering her?"
    The word hung in the air like an unbearable stench. She
knew she was going too far.
    "You brought her to D.C. Why?"
    "That's my business," he said, on the edge of
exasperation. "I don't have to take this shit. You're harassing me."
He stood up, then sat down again. "I adored her. You're profaning our
relationship."
    "Why did you split up?"
    "That's also my business."
    "I think you're full of crap," Fiona said
vehemently. She was pushing it now, skirting caution. It was, she knew,
professionally dangerous. Verging on harassment.
    "You're insulting her memory," he said sharply.
"She was my friend. We were lovers once. If that's a crime, then you can
arrest half of this town."
    "Show him the pin," Fiona ordered. Cates
hesitated. She could see he was very unhappy with her behavior. Reluctantly, Cates
drew the pin from his pocket and gave it to her. Holding it up, she glared at
him.
    "Ever see this?"
    Martin looked at it curiously, while she studied his
reaction.
    "No." Was something awry in his expression?
    "General's insignia. Four stars. Tell him where you
found it, Cates."
    Cates appeared to force his concentration as he explained
where he'd found it.
    "So?"
    "Means nothing to you?"
    "I'm no general."
    He got up and turned away. When he faced her again, his
eyes were moist and his Adam's apple was sliding up and down in his throat.
    "Get the hell out of here," he said, his lips
trembling.
    She pointed a finger in front of his nose. "I'm going
to watch you, Martin," she warned, seeing Clint's face. This was no damn
interrogation, she realized. She'd been conducting an inquisition. But against
whom?
    "Just get out," Martin said.
    She moved toward the door and Cates followed her.
    Something about the man gnawed at her. Was it because he
reminded her of Clint? It annoyed her to connect them.
    "You were rough on him," Cates said cautiously
when they were in the car again.
    "On myself," she mumbled, ashamed. Why couldn't
Dorothy leave her alone.

VI
    Jason had always been contemptuous of the Washington social
scene, an endless round of parties faithfully reported in the newspapers and
recorded by the Capital's social chronicle, the Washington Dossier .
    Like most Washington media types, he loudly proclaimed the
exercise an orgy of back-scratching and hors d'oeuvre munching; nothing more
than a chance to dress up and exchange trivia. When not officially invited for
press coverage, media people publicly criticized these events, as if the act of
putting them down was, in itself, a badge of superiority. Privately, they
thirsted for invitations, knowing that they provided easy social access to
people who wielded power. For that reason, Jason knew that the party circuit
would be the principal channel of accessibility to the types he wanted to cast
in his sexual extravaganza.
    The cocktail and buffet arena was a cornucopia of potential
victims. What good was fame or success if you couldn't receive the plaudits of
your peers? Egos required stroking. Power as a rule was so splintered that even
those who exercised it needed the validation of their fellows to appreciate the
joys of having a piece of it.
    Since he was not on any favored lists, he had to pursue a
program of research that would give him the access he needed. It was