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“For starters, where he is.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. He’s a creep.”
The agents exchanged a look. One said, “It’s our understanding, Miss Travis, that the two of you have been spending a great deal of time together.”
“That’s right, we have. Had, rather. Until yesterday, when he turned up as one of America’s Most Wanted. As if I didn’t have enough problems,” she said, rolling her eyes. “First my house blew up, killing my dog. Then I had a shouting match with Senator Armbruster, during which he did all the shouting. That incident got me fired from my job.
“Then I indulged in a… well, you know,” she said demurely. “I got involved in a thing with this guy. But what woman wouldn’t be attracted to him? He’s a national hero, for heaven’s sake. The strong, silent type. Very sexy. And he has these eyes that just…” She shivered in mock delight.
“Well, anyway, we were getting along pretty well, then yesterday his mug shows up on a news bulletin. Scared the hell out of me. I told him to get lost and he did.” She sighed wistfully. “I should have known he was too good to be true.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Just as I said, yesterday.”
“What time?”
“Hmm, let’s see. Midafternoon.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“No. Up until I saw the news flash, I wasn’t watching the time.”
“What were you doing?”
She shot him a telling look.
“I see. You were having an… assignation?”
She giggled. “How quaintly put.”
“Where did it take place?”
“Some motel. I don’t remember the name.”
“Location?”
“You got me. It was along a freeway, I remember that. I didn’t pay any attention to where we were going.”
“You don’t have any idea what part of town you were in?”
Bowing her head, she pulled her lower lip through her teeth, looking distressed. “I, uh… God, this is so embarrassing. Gray, Mr. Bondurant, was driving, see. And I… Oh, jeez! Can I just say that on the way to this motel I wasn’t exactly sitting up straight in the seat and that my head was below the dashboard?”
The agents exchanged another look. One’s eyebrows were encroaching on his receding hairline.
“I’m not even sure the motel had a name,” she continued. “He picked the place. Between you and me, it was kind of sleazy. You know the type of place. Rooms rented by the hour. Clean sheets optional. On top of being wanted for questioning by the feebs—Oh, sorry, guys. I meant no disrespect. Anyway, Bondurant was cheap. Our first date, he took me to an I-HOP. Can you believe it? If he hadn’t been so good in bed, and those blue eyes and all, I would have ended it right there.”
One of the agents cleared his throat. “Uh, did Mr. Bondurant ever talk to you about Spencer Martin?”
“Sure. All the time. They were buddies. The two of them and the President are like this,” she said, crossing two fingers.
“Did he say anything about Mr. Martin going to Wyoming to see him?”
“Yes. In fact, I think I was there just a day or two ahead of Mr. Martin. I went out there, thinking I’d do a piece on Bondurant, a what’s-he-doing-now type story. Right away, we sort of hit it off, you know? He followed me back to Washington. But before I could produce the story on him, I got canned. Now I find out he might be more dangerous than I thought.”
“You thought he was dangerous?”
She flashed the agent an angelic smile. “To my libido.”
