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"Conor?"
It took a couple of seconds to bring himself back. When he did, he found Miranda standing over him, wearing a dress the same color as her eyes.
"Sweetheart," he said, "are you done?"
"Yes." She smiled, bent down and kissed him. "And you're ringing."
Damn. She was right. His cell phone was shrilling. Conor smiled sheepishly, took the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.
"Hello?"
"Can you talk, my boy?"
Miranda kissed his cheek. "It'll take me five minutes to change," she whispered. He nodded, jerked his chin towards the door, and stepped outside.
"Conor? Can you talk, or do you want to phone me back?"
"I can talk, Harry." Conor said quietly. "You sure took your time getting back to me."
"You phoned at seven this morning. It's not even noon."
"Listen, I'm not interested in hearing how overworked you are. Hang onto what you've got." Conor shot back his sleeve. "I'll call you from a secure line in half an hour,."
"There's no need. I don't have anything to tell you."
Conor's eyes narrowed. When he'd spoken with Thurston's P.A., she'd told him Beryl Goodman had come up clean. He'd said he'd expected as much and then he'd made it clear that he wanted in-depth, heavy-duty background checks on Hoyt and Eva Winthrop.
"We must have our wires crossed, Harry. I told Sybil—"
"I know what you told her. And I'm telling you that the examinations on those, ah, items, were completed weeks ago. Perhaps you've forgotten that it was you who carried word of the final check to our client."
"I've forgotten nothing,and you know it. Those examinations were standard. What I'm asking for now is cabinet-level."
"You want us to dig deeper and look for bodies."
"Yes."
"Such a thing will stir things up. If our primary client finds out, he will not be thrilled."
Your primary client would be even less thrilled, Conor thought grimly, if he knew his ambassadorial candidate has a thing for little girls.
"Remember our agreement, Harry? I get carte blanche, whatever I want, and no questions asked."
"Conor, my boy, this is an unreasonable request."
"Do it and get the results to me quickly or I'm done with this assignment. I'm not fooling around, Harry. You got that?"
Harry Thurston's tone grew cool. "I seem to have no choice in the matter. Is there anything else?"
The door
opened, and Miranda stepped into the hall. Conor reached out and clasped her hand.
"Yes," he said pleasantly. "Stop calling me 'my boy.' "
* * *
They headed uptown, holding hands and walking because it was, Miranda said, an absolutely beautiful day.
