Maxine wrinkled her nose. “Can’t say the same about his son the senator, though.”
“What do you mean?” Luke asked.
“I can answer that one,” Irene said around a mouthful of doughnut. “Ryland Webb was always a superambitious politician. He never spent much time here in Dunsley.
At least, he didn’t when I lived here.” She gave Maxine an inquiring look.
“Nothing has changed,” Maxine said. She shrugged. “He shows up occasionally in the fall to go hunting with his father, but that’s about it.”
Irene took a sip of coffee. “I remember my father saying once that it would not be a good idea to get between Ryland Webb and something that he wanted.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Maxine said. “But I think the real reason folks around here don’t feel the same way toward Ryland Webb that they do toward Victor is because the senator never paid much attentio o Dunsley after he started winning elections.”
“Never brought home the political pork, is that it?” Luke asked.
Maxine waved a hand to indicate the landscape outside the lobby windows. “Look around. You don’t
see any big federally funded projects going on here in Dunsley do you? No road construction money.
No developments designed to aid the local economy.”
“Personally, I consider that part of the charm of the place,” Luke said dryly.
Maxine laughed. “Tell that to the town council. The problem here is that we don’t have any big, wealthy contributors to help finance Ryland Webb’s campaigns so he pretty much ignores us.”
“Pamela was involved in Ryland’s campaigns, wasn’t she?” Irene said to Maxine.
Maxine nodded. “She went to work for her father when she got out of college. She served as his social hostess. He didn’t have a wife to help him with all the entertaining that politicians have to do because he never remarried after Pamela’s mom died.”
Irene looked thoughtful. “But that was about to change, wasn’t it? Senator Webb announced his engagement a few weeks ago.”
“That’s right.” Maxine paused, her mug halfway to her lips. “I hadn’t thought about it but now that you mention it, Pamela was going to be out of a job soon, wasn’t she?
A real high-flying job at that. I mean, as Senator Webb’s official hostess she was a VIP, herself.”
“Yes,” Irene said. “She mingled with the movers and shakers, not only in the state, but also back in Washington, D.C.”
Maxine’s eyes widened. “Do you think that’s why she killed herself? She was depressed because sh as no longer going to be so important?”
“We don’t know that Pamela killed herself,” Irene said evenly.
He’d had enough, Luke thought. Time to take control of the situation. He reached into his pocket fo he keys to the SUV “You ready for our little meeting with McPherson? Might as well drive into town together.”
Irene pondered the offer briefly and then nodded, as though the decision to get into the same vehicl ith him had been a major one.
“All right,” she said.
Luke took his jacket off an antler.
“How long are you going to be staying with us, Irene?” Maxine asked.
“Awhile,” Irene said.
Luke pulled on the jacket. “She’s booked for one more night.”
Irene put down her empty mug and tossed the napkin into the trash. “I will probably be extending m tay a bit longer than I originally planned.”
Luke looked at her. “How much longer?”
“It all depends.” She went to the door and opened it. “We’d better be on our way.
Wouldn’t want to be late for our meeting with the chief.”
“Be back in a while, Maxine,” Luke said. He started toward the door.
“Sure.” Maxine went around behind the front desk. “Take your time.”
Luke followed Irene outside to the SUV, managing, just barely, to get to the passenger door before she could open it.
“Thank you,” she said, very polite.
She climbed inside and reached for the seat belt.
He closed the door, went around to the other side and got behind the wheel.
“Mind if I ask what the hell you think you were doing back there?” he said, firing up the engine.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Forget it.” He put the heavy vehicle in gear. “Rhetorical question. I already know the answer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were grilling Maxine.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘grilling.’”
He smiled humorlessly. “I know a deliberate line of questioning when I hear it.
You’re trying to do ittle investigating on your own, aren’t you?”
She slanted him a quick, cautious glance. “Maybe.”
“Maxine filled me in on your connection with Pamela Webb. I realize that finding your old friend lik hat last night was bad. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything more to her death than the obvious.”
She faced straight ahead, watching the narrow strip of pavement that wound toward town.
“What I decide to do is my business,” she said quietly.
“Look, I admit I’ve only been in this town for a few months, but from what I’ve heard, Sam McPherson is an honest cop. There’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t conduct a legitimate investigation if he found anything to warrant one.”
“There won’t be an investigation. Not unless Senator Webb wants it, and I can pretty much guarantee that’s not going to happen. Just the opposite, more likely.”
“Because he’s getting ready to announce a run for the presidency?”
“Exactly. The last thing he’ll allow is an investigation into his daughter’s death.”
He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Judging from some of the local gossip I’ve heard here in Dunsley,
I guess it could get kind of messy.”
“For years the Webb family has been able to keep a very tight lid on Pamela’s history of drug abuse and her, shall we say, youthful indiscretions. But any serious investigation is bound to dredge up a lot of old stuff that I’m sure Ryland Webb’s handlers would just as soon not hit the media fan. It could damage his image as a devoted father.”
“He won’t be able to escape the media altogether, no matter what he does,” Luke pointed out. “A senator’s daughter dying of a drug overdose is going to draw some attention from the press.”