A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

She was silent for asecond or two. “What do you need from me?”

I explained some of what Marquez had said, and added, “And he threatened that if I didn’t let him in now, he would make certain the FBI didn’t help us later, if we needed their expertise to solve the crime. Could you talk to him for me?”

She laughed. “You could have called the diplomatic service, talked to your ambassador. You could have called a dozen people, but you called me first. You did call me first, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

She laughed again, and I knew she liked that I had called her first. I also knew she liked that I hadn’t asked her to talk to her husband. “Put him on the line,” she said, and her voice had already taken on that cultured, almost purring edge that it had on radio or television.

I handed the phone to Marquez. He looked a little pale around the edges. His end of the conversation was mostly “Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Of course not, ma’am.” He handed the phone back to me, managing to look angry and sick at the same time.

“I think he’ll behave himself now,” she said.

“Thank you, very much, Joanne.”

“When you’ve finally picked a husband, you better invite me to the engagement party.” She was quiet for a second, then said, “I am sorry about what happened with Griffin. I saw the tabloid photos he gave to the reporters. I have no words to say how sorry I am that he turned out to be a such a bastard.”

“I’m okay about it.”

“Good for you.”

“And you will get an invitation to the engagement party, and to the wedding.”

She laughed again with honest delight. “All of faerie decked out for a wedding, I can hardly wait.”

“Thank you, Joanne.” We hung up, and I turned to Marquez. “Is there anything else you wanted to know, Special Agent Marquez?”

“No, I’ve had about all I can stand tonight, thank you very much, Princess Meredith,” he said, and gave me a look that said I’d made an enemy. Gee, an enemy that wouldn’t try to kill me. It was almost refreshing.

“You and your lab will be available if we need your expertise?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“I promised Mrs. Billings we would be.”

“Great,” I said, then turned to Major Walters. He was trying not to look pleased and failing. He practically beamed at me. Local police spend a lot of time getting their hats handed to them by the feds; for once the shoe was on the other foot, and Walters was enjoying it.