Affairs of Steak (15 page)

Cyan’s expression matched Bucky’s. “Especially this time. She’s too involved already.”

With his back to us, Virgil was missing all the subtext. “Maybe next time you should check with me when you’re
looking for answers. I know a lot more than you give me credit for.”

I winked at the other two. “I’m sure you do.”

Agent Scorroco drove me home again at the end of the day. No one had made any further attempts to accost me, but to be fair, no one had had the chance. My new best buddy made sure to deliver me safe and sound to my building every evening and was there every morning bright and early to pick me up. He also insisted I sit in the backseat. I hated that.

For the past trips home, he’d asked if there was anything I needed on the way. There hadn’t been. And even though I didn’t need anything today, either, I wondered why he hadn’t asked. Agent Scorroco came across like a man of routine and I was curious what was up.

I leaned forward. “Not going to ask me about stopping along the way today, Agent Scorroco?”

His hands were set precisely at the ten and two position and his attention never wavered from the road. “Not today, ma’am,” he answered in his soft Kentucky drawl. “Orders are to take you straight home.”

“Oh, do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

No answer. I’d learned that trying to engage Agent Scorroco in conversation was a futile endeavor, so on the ride to Crystal City I sat back, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed Gav.

“Hey,” he answered.

“Wow, first ring, I’m impressed.” It was rare when we didn’t play telephone tag for several hours before finally connecting. “You busy tonight? It’s been a heck of a day.”

He didn’t answer.

I sneaked a look at my driver, who appeared to be utterly uninterested in what I was saying. “I could use company.”

“You
had
company.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

“What are you talking about?”

“See you in a few.”

He hung up. I tapped the back of Agent Scorroco’s seat. “Is something going on?” I asked him.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose any information.”

“But it’s about me.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t answer.

I sat back hard, folded my arms, and stared out the window.

I usually waited for Agent Scorroco to give me the all-clear before getting out of the car, but the moment he threw it into park, I was up and out the door, looking for Gav.

Agent Scorroco jumped out and called from the driver’s side, “Ms. Paras.”

The outside of my apartment building was quiet as ever. No one loitering in the shadows, no one waiting near the door. The way Gav had said “See you in a few” led me to believe he was here already, or at least on his way. But then again, would he want Agent Scorroco to see him? Probably not.

Coming around the front of the car now, Agent Scorroco tried a more chastising tone. “Ms. Paras,” he said, “you can’t run out like that until I make sure—”

I waved him silent. “I’m fine. I’m going straight in. You can take off.”

He looked unconvinced. “But my orders—”

“Your orders were to get me here safe and sound. I’m here. I’m safe. I know that ensuring I’m sound isn’t always possible…” He didn’t laugh. Fine. I pointed to the glass entryway. “If it makes you feel better, you can watch until I get in.”

At that moment four men came running up, two from the street end of my apartment building and two from the far side. I jumped, then relaxed. All four wore suits, held grim expressions, and had wires running up to their ears. Not
only that, but they all had the pin-of-the-day on their respective lapels. I’d recognize Secret Service agents anywhere.

In the seconds it took for me to wonder why they were swarming my apartment building, Agent Scorroco had rushed up and grabbed my arm. “Back in the car, Ms. Paras.”

I didn’t fight him.

One of the agents came over to talk to Agent Scorroco, but with the door closed, I couldn’t hear what was going on. I tried rolling the window down, but they were electric and Agent Scorroco had taken the key. All I could make out were muffled voices—very muffled, because they both talked so low. The three other agents were talking among themselves near the front door. From their body language, I could tell they’d all been looking for something. Or someone.

My phone rang. Gav.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Again he hung up.

The four agents and Agent Scorroco surrounded the car, standing in a rough circle with their backs to me. I was surprised not to see James peeking out the front doors to see what was going on. A quick stab of panic. I hoped nothing had happened to him.

A few minutes later, just as I thought I might go stir-crazy, I spied Gav coming out. He spoke briefly to the agents, then waved them back.

He opened my door. “Ms. Paras,” he said, without changing the expression on his face. “You can come out now.”

“Thanks.” I stepped out onto the sidewalk and stared at the agents flanking the front door. “What in the world is going on?”

Gav gestured me forward. “I’ll explain inside.” As we passed the five, only Agent Scorroco made eye contact with Gav, who released him for the day. “You can go back. The rest of you gentlemen remain here until I brief Ms. Paras. I’ll give you further orders momentarily.”

James at the front desk looked like a five-year-old who’d just been given a pony for his birthday. He practically danced from foot to foot as we approached. “Ollie,” he said, “they wouldn’t tell me what was going on, just that there might be someone after you. Is that true?” He pointed to Gav. “I’ve seen this fellow before, but those other guys are all new.” Still pointing, he said, “I let him into your apartment. That was okay, wasn’t it?”

“You did the right thing, James.”

The worry lines faded as he smiled. “Thought so. You always have some excitement going, don’t you, Ollie?”

“Seems so,” I said, trying to keep my tone upbeat, but there was nothing light about this situation. Gav’s expression was unreadable.

“There was a ruckus here earlier,” James said in an effort to help.

I knew how much I was about to disappoint my elderly doorman, but I resisted the urge to ask him any questions. “Several of Special Agent Gavin’s agents are waiting outside,” I said. “He needs to debrief me upstairs before he can release them.” James’s face fell. “I’ll tell you all about it later. I promise.”

Gav and I were silent as we walked to the elevators, but once we were out of earshot, he turned to me. “What are you going to tell him?”

“Maybe I’ll have an idea after I find out what’s going on.”

“It could be nothing,” he said, “but we like to be careful. After Wednesday night’s encounter on the Metro, we don’t want to take any chances.”

“But nothing actually happened?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“But you were in my apartment.”

He nodded.

As we waited for the elevators, I felt another stab of panic. But this one had nothing to do with anyone’s well-being. I suddenly remembered what I’d left on the kitchen table.

This morning as I’d made up a to-do list for the next
several days, I’d also doodled. It was a habit I had when my mind wandered. My artwork—if you could call it that—stunk. This morning, however, I’d gone beyond mere doodles. With Gav on my mind, I’d amused myself with a game girls used to play in grammar school when we liked a boy. Boy’s name on one line, girl’s on the next. Through a complicated series of steps where we crossed out letters and added up numbers, you could determine if the boy you liked was your one true love. I hadn’t goofed around like that in years, and I wasn’t even sure I remembered the rules right. But accuracy wasn’t what worried me right now.

I’d left those scribbles right in the middle of my table.

Whatever might have happened in my apartment that brought Gav in couldn’t be as bad as him seeing my schoolgirl-crush handiwork. I’d doodled hearts all over that paper, too. With arrows. And our initials.

I couldn’t look at him. I was afraid my face would give me away. “Did you find anything…strange or wrong?”

He waited for me to meet his gaze, but I couldn’t read his expression. “There was nothing in your apartment that shouldn’t be there.”

Well wasn’t he Mr. Enigmatic? “Was there some reason you thought there would be?”

“Yeah.” Gav stared up at the numbers as we reached my floor and the car came to a smooth stop. “I need to make a detour,” he said when the doors opened.

There weren’t too many options at this point, so I wasn’t terribly surprised when he knocked at Mrs. Wentworth’s door. She opened it immediately and I could read relief on her face when she saw me standing there. “Well?” she said to Gav, stomping her cane on the ground. “What of it? Did you catch him?”

“I’m sorry to report that we did not, Mrs. Wentworth,” he said, “but I do thank you for your diligence in reporting what you saw.”

Her eyes flicked over to me, back to Gav, and back to me. “He hasn’t told you what went on, has he? Not much more than an hour ago, I’d say.” She held up her watch and
squinted at it. “Not that you ever keep regular hours, Ollie, but I expect it was someone who hoped to find you at home.” Her face crinkled up and her eyes narrowed. “Shady character. I don’t think he intended for you to ever leave here, either.”

Speechless, I turned to Gav. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he kept up a conversation with Mrs. Wentworth, all the while holding on to my elbow in a way that was neither comforting nor helpful. “You did the right thing,” he said. “Any time you hear or see anything out of the ordinary, you be sure to call.” Gav let go of me long enough to dig out a business card. He handed it to her. “My cell phone is on there. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always reachable at that number, but do you see the one under it?”

She held it low, at arm’s length. “Yes.”

“You can call that one anytime day or night. They’ll find me. Better yet, they’ll send help immediately.”

Looking very pleased with herself, Mrs. Wentworth tucked the card into the pocket of her pink sweatshirt. “I’m happy to help any way I can. But can I make a suggestion?”

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe if you stayed the night once in a while, I could sleep easier knowing Ollie’s protected.”

Gav coughed. His face went bright red. “Yes. Well. I’ll take that under advisement. Good night.”

But Mrs. Wentworth wasn’t finished with him. “You’re going to stay tonight, aren’t you?”

Gav looked to me for help, but he was totally on his own here. “I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere.”

She made a face that told us exactly what she was thinking. With a very unladylike snort, she shook her head. “Seems to me you’re needed here.” She shut her door.

We both stared at it for a moment before she shouted, “Good night.”

“She’s a pistol,” I said.

“And a good neighbor.”

I pulled out my keys and let us both in. “Start at the beginning.”

“I don’t have long.”

“I gathered that, from the contingent of agents downstairs.”

My apartment looked exactly the way it had when I left this morning. Messy, with newspapers strewn on the kitchen countertop, mail piled up on the side table near the door, and an unmade bed. I wondered if Gav had gone in there.

“Have a seat,” I said, leading him to the living room. I wanted to get a peek at the doodles I’d left on the kitchen table. They were just scribbles on scratch paper, but I had to know if Gav had seen them.

“I don’t have time,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of water. Want some?”

As I passed the kitchen table, I saw the corner of the scratch pad peeking out from under newspapers. I must have tossed them on top before I left the house. Whew. My secret was safe.

“Ollie,” he said with some impatience, “we need to talk. Right now.”

“No problem,” I said, returning to the living room. “What happened?”

“About an hour and a half ago, a man Mrs. Wentworth described as having dark hair and wearing a dark coat managed to get past James and up to this floor. He was at your door when Mrs. Wentworth shouted at him to get away. He took off, apparently without leaving anything, and she called for help.”

“She could have been hurt,” I said, newly terrified. “What if he’d turned on her?”

“She’s a tough one,” Gav said with a dose of admiration. “When one of my agents told her she’d been foolish to confront the intruder, she waved him off, claiming it had been her excitement for the day.”

I rubbed my eyes. “She watches too many cop TV shows.” But something nagged at me. “Why are you here? I mean, didn’t she call the police?”

“She called the White House and demanded to talk to the Secret Service. I don’t know how she got through, but
she did.” Gav chuckled. “It isn’t funny, but she mentioned your name. Your reputation is legendary.”

“Great.”

“Mrs. Wentworth apparently noticed that you were being picked up every morning and dropped off every night by one of our own. She’s feisty all right, but she’s sharp, too. She thought about how your bodyguard detail started immediately after the two victims were found at Lexington Place. She put two and two together and figured you were somehow involved.”

I sat. “Of course she did,” I said with resignation. “I have to be careful if I want to keep secrets around her.”

“I don’t think you can. The two of you are too similar.”

“Hey,” I said, suddenly remembering, “speaking of Lexington Place, did we ever find out who it was calling the chief of staff’s cell phone? You heard that it played the song ‘Mandy,’ right?”

“We’re following up, but we’re hitting brick walls. The caller used a prepaid cell phone bought at a Walmart. Paid cash. Almost impossible to track down. But that’s not our priority right now. The authorities are working on the theory that whoever called most likely did not know Cawley was dead. That means they’re not a suspect.”

“But the ringtone?”

“Yeah, I know. Unanswered questions. We even questioned the DJ whose voice is part of the recording. She checks out. No connection to the case. Apparently Cawley had saved the prepaid phone’s number to memory and assigned that ringtone, but there’s no way to determine who ‘Mandy’ is.”