The late-morning sun beat down on the white bubble dome that stretched out like the top of a giant Moby Dick. Rena Quentin didn’t allow one single blade of grass a chance at life under her active feet, which is why Drayco was meeting her at the East Potomac Tennis Center. He’d never been inside, although he liked Hains Point, the little island between the Washington Channel and the Potomac River. The tip of the island and nearby Gravelly Point were two of the best places to watch planes take off and land at DCA.
He was early, so he meandered through the center’s pro shop. Tennis balls, tennis shoes, tennis clothing. Imagine. He picked up a tennis racket, a graphite-tungsten Babolat, and looked at the price tag. Two hundred dollars. Yikes.
Heading to the indoor courts, he spied Rena and watched as the instructor worked on her strokes with her. Hardly a bead of sweat crossed her brow, and her clothes looked dry. Not that she wasn’t working hard, her skin just wouldn’t dare to perspire.
All that exercise seemed to be paying off, with the near-sixty retiree running around like someone a few decades younger. Even when she was just walking, she moved like a dancer, springing, pirouetting, with controlled movements.
After she wrapped up her lesson and approached him, he could see her hair better this time sans polo hat, dyed chestnut with a hint of gray at the roots and sprayed into submission. She wore a navy blue tennis dress and white shoes with a navy stripe. Her racket also had navy trim and looked suspiciously similar to one of the Babolats in the pro shop.
Rena looked up at him. “You’re much taller than I remember.”
She nodded at the wall, and he followed her to a sports bag she opened to stuff her racket inside. “Men think women love horses because it’s an orgasmic thing. But it’s not. It’s the controlled power in horses, their magnificent energy and strength that I can control with a flick of my legs and feet. They’re such amazing animals.”
“Horses can turn on their riders.”
“Mine don’t.” She smiled at him. “So, you’re trying to prove your mother isn’t a killer.”
“Edwin Zamorra said you’d checked on me. You do that with everyone you meet?”
“You have to admit it was odd having you show up like that. Besides, once a security wonk, always a security wonk. Edwin’s words, not mine.” Rena patted her hair. “It must be difficult having your mother be a suspect in a murder.”
“I haven’t seen her in thirty years. I hardly know her.”
“Then we have something in common. I didn’t get the chance to know my mother, either. My cop father pushed her down some stairs in a drunken rage when I was eight. Broke her neck. I’d love to have just one more day with her. She was my entire universe.”
She zipped the bag, and as they walked to a bench, added, “Is your mother like you remember her?”
“Her voice is.”
Rena bent over to tie her shoelace tighter. “No disrespect intended, but if she’s convicted, maybe she’ll try the suicide route. I would in her shoes. Jails are so messy.”
Drayco caught a stray tennis ball that bounced in their direction, almost hitting his chest. He threw it back. The young girl who’d missed her shot twirled around and covered her face with her racket, peeking through the strings. Drayco waved.
“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you again, Mr. Drayco. But I’m surprised you didn’t just call me on the phone.”
“Disembodied voices give me the willies.”
She laughed. “It’s all about that body language thing, isn’t it? There was such a controversy about using profiling at the TSA.”
“I know you and Jerold weren’t on the best of terms. But did you ever get a hint he might be involved in gambling?”
“Gambling? Most people play the lottery, I suppose. Or bet on their favorite sports team if that’s what you mean. Nothing else.”
“What about something illegal?”
She used the towel in her hands to wipe the non-existent sweat. “He’s one of the last people I’d expect to pull such a stunt.”
“I stopped by the East Potomac Golf Course on my way here. One of Jerold’s regular golfing buddies said the same thing.”
“There you go. Maybe he cheated on his taxes, maybe he took candy from babies. Few things surprise me these days. My job, you know.”
“Underwear bombs and passengers smuggling exotic birds in their bras?”
“Why, Mr. Drayco, you must read the news. Thank you for not including pat-down mishaps.”
“There’s the matter of Edwin’s lawsuit.”
“Edwin’s a dear man, but he’s a prude. One trip, one pat-down and suddenly he’s the victim of assault. Not at all like my case against Jerold. Ironic, though, don’t you think?”
“It was an effective way to embarrass his brother.”
Just then, a plane taking off from DCA veered too far off the legal flight path. Its loud engine noise made Drayco pause. “An MD-88.”
“However would you know that?”
“The sound of the engines.” He got tired of trying to explain his synesthesia to other people. It was like explaining breathing to someone without lungs. “You said last time we talked that Jerold didn’t get along with Gogo. And Ashley didn’t get along with her father.”
“The couple in cahoots, you mean? Gogo is into martial arts as I understand. It’s possible. But they’re both adults. They didn’t need Jerold’s blessing.”
“Maybe they needed his money.”
She laughed. “Jerold was terrible with money. Always splurging on things he couldn’t afford. I doubt he had any left to give them.”
“Two million dollars actually.”
Her eyes widened. “Now I understand all your questions. My, my.”
“Ever heard of a man named Alistair Brisbane?”
She thought about it. “No. And it’s a memorable name, isn’t it?”
She looked at her watch, the same expensive one she wore last time. At least, it wasn’t navy. “I don’t want to appear heartless, Mr. Drayco. Your mother is the prime suspect in a murder, and that’s hard. But I learned early on how difficult it is to survive in this world. Even more being a woman in a man’s world. You put on a cloak of emotional armor every day you wake up.”
Moving as if she had a plane of her own to catch, Drayco had a hard time keeping up as he walked her to her car. She opened her car door and added, “Look, if I think of anything, I promise I’ll give you a call. I’m beginning to enjoy these chats of ours.”
As Rena’s Lexus screeched out of the parking lot, he tried to imagine Jerold trying to get close enough to her to harass. His judgment must have been way off even to consider it.
Rena said she hadn’t heard of Alistair Brisbane, and yet she’d ended their conversation shortly after his name was brought up, the second time that had happened to him. Maybe there was one name that frightened even the self-confident Rena.
Had she crossed paths with him while she was at the TSA? Maybe Uncle Alistair’s long, multi-tentacled reach stretched farther and deeper than Drayco could begin to imagine.