Chapter 8: Vote Early (Part II)

Jade looked as if she had been caught in the headlights. “Who what?”

“Who did she save?”

That stopped the girl. She blinked a few times as if reeling back the tape in her head. “Well. There was a fire in her dorm. And some of the students were playing around in the kitchen…” Jade dropped her voice a little, scrubbing the back of her hand with embarrassment. “I can’t remember. I don’t think she likes to talk about it,” she admitted. “Emily’s modest like that. Things like this are what make her such a good candidate, don’t you think?”

No, Elaine didn’t think so, but she didn’t say so either. A heroic foray into the middle of a fire to save another student seemed romantic, but it was in total contradiction to the girl that she had met in front of the fireplace in the MU. The brittle socialite, terrified of her own shadow, unwilling to reveal her strange winning streak for fear of losing her candidacy. No. Not that Emily. She might have been some other creature when she came to ASU.

“When did this happen?”

“Well,” Jade said, “a few years ago. Probably two or so. Right before the first time she ran for Treasurer.”

“So there might be a State Press article on it,” Elaine said. “Not like there’s got to be that many dorm fires in a year.”

“No,” Jade said. “Of course not…”

Another volunteer—stern college guy with thick blonde hair, and huge eyebrows, and very severe cheekbones—appeared from nowhere, apologized, and stole Jade for a moment. Even with their voices lowered it was obvious that he wasn’t happy about something that Jade had said or done. Turning her head so that she wasn’t looking directly at them, instead into a bucket of “VOTE EARLY” gewgaws, Elaine tuned her ear to listen.

Their voices were hard to distinguish from the crowd, but what she did catch floating on the wind made her wonder a little. The crowd melted around her, a rustle of feet, the clatter of voices and chuckles, a multitude of different conversations—threads in a chaotic woven sound that she could reach into a pluck a single one out. She focused on the cadence of Jade’s voice and…

“I’m sorry,” the girl said. “I’ll stay on task.”

“You understand,” the guy said slowly. “We can’t have stories like this running around. You might give people the wrong idea about Emily. It’s really important that you stay on reservation with this.”

“Okay.”

“You’re doing a good job, Jade,” he said—Elaine did not get the impression he thought so. “Emily is very happy to have you on her team. Now get out there and get some votes.”

“Thank you so much!” Jade, on the other hand, sounded sincere every time she opened her mouth. “…and, Kristian, thanks for putting in a good word with Emily for me…”

Elaine doubted that Emily even noticed this tiniest of her pawns.

Then she spotted the thespian plant out of the corner of her eye, walking between groups like a London street urchin choosing marks for good pickings. If anyone in this crew would actually be knowledgeable, it wouldn’t be the tame foot soldiers like Jade. The plant looked to at least have been around the block a few times, and she knew what she was doing. Likely she was well paid for her efforts as well.

She was tough to follow—knew how to blend into the crowd, vanishing into one group here, and appearing there. Just in time to cough up some phrase or jibe a person standing nearby into smiling and replying to a volunteer. Her presence and words would produce a false camaraderie with the listeners, which the volunteer would then use to regale them with further news about Emily and how she was a good candidate.

When she turned back, Jade had been returned. Looking a little bit chastised.

“Hey,” Elaine said. “Can I get a button? One of the huge, shiny ones please.”

“Sure!” Jade certainly sounded relieved that she wasn’t being put on the spot anymore. She quickly rustled up a large button that, if she tried to wear it on her lapel, would have looked about the size of a dinner plate. “If you have any more questions you can always use the feedback form on the website. It’s listed on the back.” Jade even kindly helped pin the button on, possibly hoping it meant the questions had ended. “Remember,” she said. “Vote Early.”

“Thanks,” Elaine said.

Wearing the Emily Early pin gave her maneuvering room in the mass of people. Nobody tried to give her pennants, key fobs, certainly not hats, and generally the random callers took her stern glare in stride when they opened their mouths. Almost instantly, eyes would fall onto the giant pin, and they’d look for a different target. It gave her the opening she needed to look for the theater club girl in the water polo shirt.

Except that she’d managed to pull a vanishing act somewhere between receiving the button and looking for her.

The leads in the case were certainly mounting. Political enemies, strange past events in her life that weren’t entirely part of Emily’s public profile. Secrecy or modesty, there was something strange there. Every case, Elaine had discovered, hinged around the personal life of the client—especially stalking cases—so she might need to interrogate Emily on some of these matters. She had hoped that the iPhone, with basically the ins-and-outs of Emily’s entire social life on the dissection table, would give her those insights…

Some secrets would never be typed into a phone—and those secrets could be prowling the campus right now.

After about ten more minutes of search, Elaine finally gave up on the wayward thespian. The range was too thick and there were too many people.

Fortunately, bobbing amid the crowd a particularly familiar green ponytail trotted past on her way to the MU. So Elaine sprinted to catch up before Frog escaped as well; her friend, of course, was very happy to see her and decided to treat both of them to frozen yogurt while they caught up on their day…

…and, of course, demanded to know why Elaine wasn’t in class.