Janet Evanovich - Naughty Neighbor

“Suppose we find Maislin has the pig. What does that prove?”

“I don’t know. It’s a place to start. I figure we’ll just keep poking around, picking up stray pieces, and then at some point maybe the pieces will start to come together. Besides, even if Maislin doesn’t have the pig, I’d still like to see his house.”

Louisa ran her finger down the congressional directory on her lap. “Maislin,” she said. “Here it is…he lives in Potomac.”

Pete turned off Connecticut, heading west to Wisconsin. He opened the sunroof, punched in a CD selection, and gave the console and floor mats a quick look to see if he’d left any loose cigarettes lying around. If he found one, he’d have an obligation to smoke it, he told himself. After all, it’d be just one, and then it wouldn’t be there to tempt him in the future. He searched through the map pocket on the driver’s side door and looked in the glove compartment. No cigarettes. Not even a butt. He sighed and slumped a little in his seat.

“You smoke?” he asked Louisa.

“No.”

“You drink?”

“A little wine once in a while.”

“How about gambling…you go to the track? You buy lottery tickets?”

“No.”

“So what are your secret vices?” He knew it wasn’t sex. Her life was a sexual wasteland. “What do you do for fun?” he asked her. “You a chocolate binger? You have a fetish for kitchen appliances?”

“Being Nolan’s press secretary has been pretty consuming. I guess I haven’t done much else. Haven’t really wanted to.”

She replaced the congressional directory with a map of Montgomery County and traced down Maislin’s street. “I know this section of Potomac. The lots are all about two acres and the houses are so big, there’s barely any lawn. Maislin isn’t hurting for money.”

Pete knew more than that. Maislin had started out with ball bearings. They went into everything from Rollerblades to rocket launchers. Over the years, Maislin had diversified to nuts and bolts, electronic circuit boards, high-tech fuses, and a scattering of related industries. After his election to Congress, he’d dumped legal title into trusts and holding companies, so he couldn’t be accused of conflicting interests. That didn’t mean he didn’t have any.

Pete turned north onto River Road. It was two lanes and filled with lights, but it was the most direct route to Potomac. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth and offered one to Louisa. “I’m much better at starting bad habits than stopping them,” he said.

“Think you’ll make it?”

“If I live long enough.”

He drove by the outskirts of Glen Echo and passed under the beltway at Cabin John. The countryside was beginning to open up. The wealth was obvious. Houses were large. Grounds were manicured. “You’re the navigator from here on,” he said to Louisa.

“Take the next left.”

The road led them into a subdivision of tract mansions. After half a mile Louisa pointed to a two-million-dollar version of a French country house. “There.” A gray Mercedes was parked in the circular drive. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “I guess I was hoping there’d be pigs on his front lawn.”

The street wasn’t heavily traveled, so Pete stared at the house for a while. No one went in or out. No one peeked from behind drawn curtains. No pigs could be heard squealing in the distance. “I suppose one or both of us should try to get into the house,” he finally said.

As far as Louisa was concerned he might as well have suggested they fly to the moon. “Forget it. Not me. No way.”

He made chicken noises and flapped his arms.

“No.”

“You could be the Avon Lady.”

“Get serious,” Louisa said. “I’m not going in there.”

“Does Maislin’s wife know you?”

“I don’t think so. They travel in higher circles.”

Pete pulled the Porsche into the drive and parked next to the Mercedes.

Louisa had her hand braced against the dash. “I’m not getting out.”

“Sure you are. We’re a team. Wither thou goest.”

“No!”

“C’mon, be a good girl and do this for Uncle Pete. I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone.”

“You’re certifiable.”

“Yeah, but I’m also lovable,” he said. He took a pair of sunglasses from the console and put them on. “Sexy, huh?”

She reluctantly followed him up the steps and lagged behind when he rang the bell. She couldn’t imagine what he was going to say when the door opened. She was sure it would be something outrageous. After all, he was from California. He was involved in movies.

“Listen,” she said, “I was born and raised in Chevy Chase, Maryland. I’m not good at breaking and entering.”

“This isn’t going to be breaking and entering. This is going to be lying and entering.”

“If I get arrested, my mother will have a heart attack.”

“You’re not going to get arrested. The worst that can happen is maybe this will be a little embarrassing.”

“Oh Lord,” she wailed. “I hate being embarrassed!” She wheeled around and headed for the car, but he grabbed her by the back of her jacket and pulled her to him. He firmly tucked her under his arm and rang the bell.

“Behave yourself,” he said. “All you have to do is follow me around and look adoring. I’ll do the talking.”

The Maislins’ front door cracked open, and a teenager peered out. Louisa guessed the girl to be fourteen or fifteen. She had a pouty cherub face, and she was wearing enough eye makeup to send the cosmetic company’s stock up two points. Her hair was dyed raspberry, pulled into a ponytail that sprouted high on the right side of her head. She was wearing long johns, army combat boots, and an oversized black sweatshirt with a stretched-out neck that drooped over one shoulder.

“Uh-huh?” the teenager said.

Pete flashed her his Hollywood smile. “Hi. I’m Pete Streeter, and this is my associate.” He made a vague hand gesture in Louisa’s direction, but his eyes never strayed from the young woman in front of him. “I’m scouting movie locations-”

“Ommigod. Ommigod,” the girl said. “Pete Streeter! I saw you on MTV. You were on the cover of Premiere. Ommigod, this is so awesome.”

He turned the wattage up on the smile. “I’m in Washington doing a new screenplay, and like I said, I’ve been out scouting locations. I wonder if we could come in for a minute?”

“Ommigod, you want to use this house in a movie? I can’t believe it. That would be like so excellent.”

“There might even be a small part in it for you,” Pete said.

Louisa made a gagging sound behind him.

“What’s wrong with her?” the girl asked. “Why is she making those megagross sounds?”

“She’s pregnant,” Pete told her. “She has morning sickness all day long. It’s really pretty disgusting. Try to ignore her.”

Louisa kicked him in the back of the leg, and he took a blind swipe at her, catching her on the shoulder, knocking her off balance.

“Whoa,” the teenager said. “Very alpha.”

Pete moved toward the back of the house. “You don’t mind if I look around, do you?” He walked through the dining room, into the kitchen. “What’s your name?”

“Amy Maislin.”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“It’s the end of the grading period. It’s a teacher work day, and we get the day off. I was supposed to go to the mall, but the Mercedes is sick.”

“Bummer,” Pete said. He looked out the French doors. The yard was small for the size of the house. There was a flagstone patio with white wrought-iron furniture that looked cold and uninviting. Beyond the patio was a pool, protectively covered in blue vinyl. Some fancy shrubbery delineated the end of the property. He didn’t see any pigs.

“So what do you think?” Amy asked. “You think this will do?”

He turned from the doors and scanned the kitchen. It didn’t look any more promising than the yard-no bags of pig chow sitting around. “You have any pets?”

“A dog. He’s downstairs in the work-out room with my mom. She’s into this physical stuff.”

“That’s it? A dog?”

Amy looked worried. “Is that bad? Did you want a house with cats or something? I could get a cat.”

“Actually, I was looking for a house with a pig,” Pete said.

“Bad ass,” Amy said. “I could go for a house with a pig, but I don’t know any. How about a rabbit? My friend, Christy, has a rabbit. I could borrow it and maybe we could shave it and tie down its ears. And then you could like do special effects.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Pete said. “Thanks for showing me the house.”

“Sweet,” she said. “And I think your hair is bitchin’.”

Pete saw Louisa’s eyes widen. “It’s a compliment,” he told her, guiding her out the front door.

“I know that. We say that to each other on Capitol Hill all the time.”

He smiled at her and got a smile in return.

“Now what?” Louisa asked, settling herself into the Porsche.

“I don’t know. This was our one lead. I’m≈usually much more clever than this,” he told her. “The problem is I have these cravings…”

“Nicotine withdrawal?”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Maybe lunch would help.”

He found his way back to River Road and headed for the district. Lunch wasn’t a bad idea, he thought. Someplace dark and cozy. Someplace where they could get to know each other better: Favorite color, siblings, sexual preferences. And it should be close to home in case they got carried away. He didn’t think it would take much to get him carried away. He was already halfway there.

“I know a place on Connecticut,” he said.

“Can you wait that long?”

“If I have to.”

Louisa was apprehensive when she saw his choice. She balked at the door. “This is very nice, but I had something different in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?”

No sense trying to be tactful, she thought. There really was no easy way to put it. “Something cheap,” she said. “I’m unemployed.”