The Ambush of My Name (US Grant mysteries) by Marks Jeffrey

Author:Marks, Jeffrey [Marks, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-03-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The mayor's dinner proved worse than being used as target practice. Grant referred these galas as handclasps, events typically preceding a dreaded speech. Julia called the stately home of their reception "Revival"; Hannah Grant would have pronounced it fixy. The two story structure sat nestled in the trees of Apple Street, columns in front as if to block the common folk from entering. Grant couldn't get comfortable in the collection of bric-a-brac, which covered every surface inside: cameos; vases; fall bouquets. The guests were almost as difficult to relax with. The Hamers, the Higgins, and the other first families had come out in suits and their best Sunday bonnets.

Mayor William Sly brought over a Bourbon and Branch for Grant and handed it to him. The party could be saved. He took a sip, looking around to see if the disapproving Dent eye reconnoitered this direction. Nothing spoiled a drink faster than Julia's glare.

The mayor slipped Grant a cigar from his jacket pocket and offered him a light. Grant took a long sniff of the tobacco as he turned his back to Julia. That woman aimed to ruin all his vices. Since Vicksburg, people had sent him cigars – one picture of him with a stogie in his mouth, and people assumed he loved them. Maybe the people would be as generous with their votes.

The leaves smelled like they might be from Havana and Grant eyed the mayor as he cut off the tip. How did he get his hands on a stogie like this and what did he want in return? The mayor would lose the local farmers' vote if they learned of imported tobacco. He'd never known a politician who didn't want your soul for his penny. He must want something big for this kind of expense.

Grant headed to the door of the mayor's house and darted out onto the deserted porch, a series of railing and columns that abutted the front of the house. A lone tallow at the end of the walk provided his only light. He struck a match on the railing. Inhaling hard as the match lit the end, the thick smoke invaded his mouth.

The brigade of fireflies rivaled the candle on the walk. The occasional buzz of a fly made the only other sound on the porch. The party inside didn't notice his absence. The stars above him glittered with an intensity missing from Washington skyline. Along the Potomac, the celestial splendors had to compete with politicians who wanted to shine as brightly.

The thought crossed his mind that a lone figure on a porch with a lit cheroot sticking out of his mouth made an easy target. Tyson had been lost in the crush of party guests. To his left, the door shut before he could decide what to do. He held the cigar to his side, ready to deny everything to Julia. Grant started to stammer when he realized it was only Mayor Sly.

Sly motioned to the swing gracing the far end of the porch.

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