Page 56 of Fade Out
I considered what had just been said. Sugar already knew about Gloria’s illness. Good. That meant Brian didn’t have to tell her. It also meant I didn’t have to. I thought about asking how or why or what, but instead noticed Beverly Harland coming into the room. She wore a shiny black gown and stumbled on her hem.
“Someone’s drinking again,” Gloria said.
“I can’t really blame her. Did you hear what happened to her son?” Adelaide asked.
“No, what happened to her son?”
“Down at Stateville. Beaten. Almost to death. And God knows what else.”
“He doesn’t belong in a maximum security facility,” I said. “He’s not violent.”
Gloria turned to me and said, “He murdered his stepfather. The man died just feet from me.”
I nodded. “I worked the case for Jimmy English.”
“Terrible having your son kill your husband,” Adelaide said.
“It’s the daughter who belongs in prison,” I pointed out. “She tricked her brother into it.”
“Did she really? How?” Adelaide wanted to know.
I’d said too much. Just because Jimmy English was dead didn’t mean it was safe to gossip about his family.
“I really shouldn’t say any more.”
“Don’t worry,” Adelaide said. “If I pour enough drinks into Beverly she’ll tell me everything.” And with that she propelled herself across the room.
People were entering the ballroom at a much faster clip now. Waiters had begun to float around with trays of appetizers. Caviar on tiny bits of toast and that sort of thing.
Soon ASA Sanchez walked in alone. Wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit, she looked like she’d just come there from work and that might even have been true. I had the feeling she was working her way up to running for office, possibly State’s Attorney. Maybe even mayor. The more people she locked up the better her chances of winning.
Given what Gloria and Adelaide were talking about earlier, that Jane Byrne might run again, her chances would be improved. Byrne was a divisive figure and so was Washington. Sanchez could present herself as the healing solution.
Gloria leaned over and said, discretely, “Richard Crisp just walked in.”
I looked over and saw an older, short man with thinning hair dyed a rosy peach. Next to him was a tall, elegant woman about twenty years younger.
“Is that his wife?”
“No, that’s Elaine Kelso,” Gloria explained. “She runs a very elite escort service. No one has ever figured out if Richard hires her per event or if he actually owns the service. And by extension, her.”
“Either way, people love it when the two of them show up,” I supposed. “Should we go over and say hello?”
“God no.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“What do you think you’re going to say to him?”
“I’m going to ask if he’s seen Rita Lindquist.”
“A dead woman?”
“She’s not—”
“I believe you, but will he? And besides, he’ll want to know why you’re asking. And you can’t say because he killed Rita’s father.”
“You acted like it’s public knowledge,” I said, half to tease her.
