“You’ve known the congressman for quite some time, haven’t you?” Mike asked.

“Sure have. Sure have. I actually met him through his father. It was Moses Leighton who hired me away right out from under Mayor Bloomberg. I was just two years out of law school, working on legislation for the City Planning Commission.”

“You and Moses Leighton became close?”

“Yes, we did. Man is like a father to me. Took a chance, liked what he saw, thought he could teach me a few things. I owe a lot to him.”

I’d guess he owed at least the monogrammed shirt and the vintage Montblanc, not to mention the well-addressed town house, to the senior Leighton.

“Was it through working at Leighton Enterprises that you got to know Ethan?”

“Yeah. I’m an only kid, Detective. No sibs. So Ethan liked to take me under his wing, show me the ropes.”

“Has politics always interested you?” I asked.

“There’s two ways out of the ghetto, Ms. Cooper. Politics and business. The gangsta route? You can make money and live just as well that way, though not likely as long. It’s still a ghetto lifestyle, no matter how high the rent. And there’s always the risk of prison bars. No, I was focused early on. Politics and business.”

I didn’t want to say that this week’s news made prison bars a strong possibility for Councilman Reid.

“I’m guessin’ I can read your mind, Ms. Cooper. How can I talk about being better than criminals when your office just came gunnin’ for me?” Reid reached behind him and grabbed the weekend edition of The Wall Street Journal. He swatted his hand a couple of times with it as he spoke. “I’m just a scapegoat for this practice that’s been goin’ on in this here city council for more than twenty years.”

“I really don’t want you talking about that to us, Mr. Reid,” I said.

“You read this yet?” he asked, offering the newspaper to me. “I’ve got nothing to keep from you. Like the Journal says, it was a bookkeeping maneuver that dates back to 1988. I don’t even know who the speaker was then, but he set up these fictitious groups, just to pool the money till it was distributed to council members. Nobody’s takin’ a piece of Kendall Reid’s hide for this. That money’s goin’ to the community, just like I promised. Read this editorial.”

I took the paper from him and put it on my lap. “We’d just like to ask you some questions about Ethan Leighton,” I said, “and about Salma.”

“Such a pity, such a tragedy.” Reid was shaking his head back and forth.

“You were the first person Ethan called after the accident early Wednesday morning, I understand.” I had read that in the police reports.

“I told you, ma’am, he’s like my brother.”

“You got to the scene before anybody could find the congressman. You were willing to take the weight for him?”

“Now, don’t you be puttin’ words in my mouth. There was a lot of confusion at that car wreck. I was just doin’ my level best to help sort things out. I had no plans to take no weight for anybody, you hear?”

“He’s not that heavy,” Mike said. “I thought-like-he’s your brother.”

“Good try, Detective.”

“What exactly did you tell the police when you got to the scene of the crash?”

“That paperwork those boys were so busy fillin’ out? I bet everything I said is as clear as day. I don’t want to be saying different things to you. Won’t help Ethan any.” Reid winked at me and went on. “Besides, I know how y’all be crisscrossing us up on the witness stand, you prosecutors. Bet you’re good at it, ma’am.”

Mike and the councilman were squaring off with each other. Reid had the habit of bouncing back and forth between a very crisp accent that matched his educational opportunities, and the g-dropping lingo of the streets. I could tell Mike was getting the sense that Kendall Reid was more flimflam than substance.

“Why don’t you tell us when you met Salma Zunega?” I asked.

“Dates and me, we just don’t get along too good.”

“Roughly, Mr. Reid. About what year?”

“Goodness, I would have been working for Ethan at the time. Three, maybe four years ago.”

“Do you remember where?”

“Does Ethan remember?” Reid tilted his head and pointed a finger at me.

“Yes.”

“I’m kind of afraid to say. Don’t need to mix him up none.”

“Take your best shot,” Mike said. “A speech, a party, a funeral, a Bar Mitzvah. Some other rubber-chicken dinner where you politicians hang out?”

“I’m quite sure it was a fund-raiser. That would be it.”

“That’s what Ethan said.” Mike was luring the councilman along, opening his steno pad to pretend he was confirming Reid’s answers with what Ethan Leighton had just told us an hour ago. “So you remember who brought her too?”

“Oh, Lordy, yes,” Reid said, scratching his head. “That could have been ugly.”

Mike flipped pages as though he were trying to find the name, even though Leighton had claimed it was no one memorable. “Yeah, the congressman said he dodged a bullet on that one.”

“Salma came in with Rod Ralevic,” Reid said. “Am I right?”

“You got it.”

“He was a state senator at the time, before he became lieutenant governor. It was a big-ticket Democratic fund-raiser. There was Salma, looking so sweet, just getting on her feet after-you know her background, right?”

“We do,” I said.

“Well, she was really fragile and vulnerable. And there’s that fool Ralevic, so much hair on the guy’s head he’s looking like he’s wearin’ a mop instead of a hairpiece.”

So Salma Zunega had already graduated to the political scene before she met Ethan Leighton.

“But she couldn’t have been too wrapped up in Ralevic,” Mike said, “if she made such a play for the congressman?”

“Rod? He was just in town for a few days from the boonies. Goin’ hog wild over women and wine and whatever other people’s money could buy him,” Reid said. “He didn’t care about the girl.”

“How do you think Ralevic met her?” I was trying to get back to the common thread among the trafficked women.

“I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“Pay for play?” Mike asked.

Kendall Reid stood up straight and stretched his neck back. “Maybe so. That’s before Salma found her way. Fell in love with Ethan.”

“Ralevic never got mad when he learned about Ethan and Salma?”

“Learned what, huh? That affair was a better kept secret than my grandmother’s recipe for monkey bread.”

“No rivalry there? It has nothing to do with Ralevic rushing in to pull the strings on replacing Ethan’s congressional seat?”

“Where you think Ethan’s goin’, dude?” Reid asked. “Sure as hell you don’t know Moses Leighton if you think anybody’s got a plan to take Ethan’s seat away. The lieutenant governor ain’t got no chance against Moses. That’s for sure.”

“What can you tell me about the little girl,” I asked, “-about Ana?”

Reid’s mouth tightened and he closed his eyes. “No way.”

“But, we’re terribly worried about what’s become of the child.”

“And I want to know who’s the baby’s father,” Mike said. “Couldn’t be the lieutenant governor, could it?”

“You know what?” He started to walk around to sit at his desk. “Let me get Ethan on the phone. Let me hear from him that he wants me to talk to you about all this, okay?”

“Try Lem Howell’s office,” Mike said, getting up and closing his pad. He knew Reid was about to end our interview. “My guess is that’s where your brother is.”

“Don’t be goin’ all holier-than-thou on me, Chapman. You want to know about Ethan meeting Salma? Ask your friend Baynes.”

“Donovan Baynes?” I asked, shocked to hear his name in that context. “The head of the task force?”

Donny had denied from the first moment the news broke that the congressman had been having an affair.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s part of the club.”

“Club. What club?”

“You’re all so high-and-mighty, don’t you think? I find it nice myself when there’s something you just don’t know.”