Affairs of Steak (16 page)

“He saved it to memory? What name did he assign?”

“Three guesses. And your first one is right.”

“Mandy. No last name.”

He nodded.

I took all that in. “Even though she, or he, isn’t a suspect, I bet knowing who Mandy is would help.”

“It could. But this one really is out of your league.”

I was afraid he’d start lecturing me the way Tom used to,
but he surprised me by adding, “Knowing you, though, you’ll probably stumble across a clue the rest of us miss. Keep your eyes and ears open. But most important, stay safe.”

“I plan on it.”

“We’re not taking any chances. An agent will be posted outside your apartment around the clock.”

“I appreciate your concern, but—”

He started pacing my small living room. “Not just my concern. People out there know you’re involved with the double murder. And they know you helped rescue Mr. Bettencourt. When they find you, they aren’t going to play around. Or go away. Not until they get their jobs done. There’s a very real threat against the administration, and you’re right in the thick of it.”

“Again.”

“Yes, again.” He stopped at the balcony doors and stared out the glass. “You should keep these covered,” he said and pulled the drapes closed. The room was suddenly dark. I could see him across the room, but his features were in shadow when he turned. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned for you personally, but first and foremost I’m doing what’s best for the country. I thank God I’m able to protect you this much.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I used to get aggravated with you because I thought you were a smart aleck who didn’t know what was good for her.”

“And now?”

“You’re still a smart aleck who doesn’t know what’s good for her, but now I’m not aggravated—I’m terrified. You could get hurt, Ollie. Seriously hurt.”

I made a move as though to get up, but stopped when I saw him wince. “You don’t want me near you?” I asked.

“That’s the problem. I do.”

“Because you’re afraid.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“Having a guard outside my door twenty-four/seven means you won’t come visit, doesn’t it?”

“It means you’ll be safe.”

“But…”

He came over to where I was sitting and crouched next to me. He took my hands in his. “Let’s just get through this, Ollie. Maybe when this is over…”

“Then what?” I asked. “Will you want to continue as friends, or will we take a chance and move forward?”

“Understand this: When it comes to keeping you safe, I never take chances.”

That wasn’t what I meant and he knew it. “But…”

He put his finger over my lips. “I know,” he said. “I’m not ready. Not yet.”

As he left, I wondered: Would he ever be?

IN THE MORNING I SHOWERED, GRABBED A quick bite, then remembered I had a Secret Service babysitter waiting outside my door. I poked my head out to see a female agent pacing the hallway. “Good morning,” I said. “Have you been here all night?”

She glanced at her watch. “You’re an early riser. But no, I just got here at three.” She came over to shake my hand. “I’m Agent Rosenow.”

“Olivia Paras.”

She gave me an amused look, as if to say, “I know.”

I opened my door wider. “Please, call me Ollie. Would you like coffee or something? Are you hungry?”

Agent Rosenow had a nice smile. Older than me by just a couple of years, she was tall and muscular, with super-short cropped blond hair that looked about a week overdue for a touch-up. She thanked me but declined. “You’re not scheduled to go in to the White House today. Why are you up so early? Big plans we need to know about?”

“There’s an important dinner tonight I need to handle,
so I am going in.” With Virgil covering the president’s breakfast and lunch, my single focus today would be tonight’s event—a working dinner for the president and some of his most trusted advisors. I’d slept far past my normal four o’clock wake-up because I knew the evening could go late. “It’s already six-thirty.”

“I wasn’t informed,” she said, “but we will adjust. How soon will you be ready to leave?”

“Ten minutes. Five.”

“I’ll call for a car.”

She opened her cell phone and began to dial. I ducked back into my apartment to make sure I had everything for the day. Tonight’s working dinner would be a relatively easy event. We had originally planned for ten guests plus the president, which made eleven, but now with Nagy’s addition, it would be an even dozen. Even though we’d planned for several new dishes with intricate preparations, we’d taken care to ensure every single dietary requirement would be met. I was eager to get in and get started. Days off could wait.

Agent Rosenow knocked a moment later.

“A driver will be here shortly,” she said. I must have looked confused, because she quickly added, “I’m here alone on site all day. I can’t leave. Our information said it was your day off and we didn’t expect you to be up and out so early. I can’t leave the building until ordered to do so.”

“I feel so…” I wanted to say “hemmed in” or “restricted” or “claustrophobic,” but that would have sounded rude.

“Protected?” she suggested.

“Exactly.”

“The car won’t be here for at least ten minutes. Possibly longer.”

I smiled and nodded.
Just great
, I thought as I shut my apartment door behind me. A ten- or fifteen-minute delay wouldn’t kill me, but it certainly wasn’t optimal. Grabbing my coat, cell phone, and a handful of notes I’d scribbled as I’d gotten ready this morning, I emerged from my apartment less than five minutes after I’d gone back in.

“The car’s not here yet,” Agent Rosenow said. The look on her face told me she wondered how I could possibly have not understood.

“I just want some fresh air,” I said. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

Agent Rosenow wasn’t pleased, but she didn’t refuse. “Let’s go.”

“Honestly,” I said as we rode the elevator down, “I doubt if anyone will try anything at this early hour of the morning. I’m sure I’d be fine on the Metro.”

She gave me a look that told me exactly what she thought of that idea. I hadn’t really expected my suggestion to fly, but even after one night I was getting itchy knowing that my every movement was being watched.

As much as James wanted to man the desk all day every day, he, like most humans, required sleep from time to time. I waved hello to his replacement. As we passed, the elderly gentleman brightened and said, “Good morning, Olivia!” and I felt guilty for not remembering his name.

Though temperatures were slowly beginning to climb, it was still unseasonably cold. The brightening sky promised a clear day. Fragrant damp dirt hinted at new growth. I took a deep, appreciative breath the moment I cleared the doors. Agent Rosenow followed. “Where’s your coat?” I asked. “Don’t you have one?”

“I didn’t think you meant to wait outdoors,” she said, pointing toward the parking lot. “It’s in my car.”

“Why don’t you go get it?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll take you less than a minute, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said again.

“At least button your jacket,” I said.

“Can’t.”

Oh that’s right. Secret Service agents never buttoned their jackets. “I feel guilty,” I said. “Let’s wait in the lobby, then.”

Agent Rosenow was about to reach for the door when
her cell phone rang. As she stepped to the side to answer it, I noticed movement in the shrubbery to my far left. Not like a squirrel or a gopher; we were talking significant movement. Sneaking around in the shrubs.

I took a few steps back when I heard branches snap and leaves rustle. The shadow moved behind a cluster of tall evergreens planted there to create a berm between our apartment building’s property and our neighbor’s. To make it look pretty. Not to shield peeping Toms.

“Hey,” I started to say.

Still on the phone with her back to me, Agent Rosenow didn’t hear.

The front doors of my apartment building stood out ever so slightly from the brick of the building, creating a vestibule entryway jutting toward the sidewalk. I eased around one side—protected, but still able to see what was going on. We didn’t get a whole lot of wildlife in this area and this creature was almost my height. I supposed it could be a local tenant returning home after an overnight binge. But I didn’t think so.

I was more curious than afraid. It was morning, I had an armed Secret Service agent less than five feet away, and I could easily duck into the apartment building if necessary. I moved my head from side to side, to try to get a better view.

When the intruder moved again, cracking shrubs as it pushed its way out, I grabbed Agent Rosenow. She started to say something about a delay when I pointed.

“Get behind me,” she said.

I didn’t argue.

The elderly doorman inside watched with interest. I could only imagine what he was thinking. Agent Rosenow had her gun ready, and held me back with her free arm. Not that I intended to rush out or anything; I’d had my fill of gun battles, thank you very much.

The elderly guy boosted himself up and started around the desk, clearly intent on coming to the front door. I waved him back.

“Come out,” Agent Rosenow shouted to the shrubs. “Make yourself known. Hands up.”

A wavering voice called back. “Put the gun away. I’m not going to hurt anybody.”

I’d heard that voice before, but I couldn’t place it. “He doesn’t sound very menacing,” I whispered.

“Come out now,” she repeated, never taking her eyes off the bushes in the berm. “I won’t tell you again.”

“Okay, okay, just don’t shoot.”

At the moment the elderly guy pushed through the door. “What’s going on?”

“Get back inside,” Agent Rosenow ordered in a voice that brooked no disobedience.

He put his hands up and backed into the lobby, eyes wide. Making eye contact with me, he pantomimed holding a phone receiver and mouthed, “Should I call 911?”

I was about to answer him when our shadowy visitor stepped out from behind the shrubs, hands high, a sheepish expression on his face. “Milton?” To Agent Rosenow, I said, “It’s okay. I know him. Sort of.” I turned to the eager doorman and shook my head. He looked extremely disappointed.

Rosenow lowered the gun, still not taking her eyes from him. “Keep your hands up,” she said as she holstered the weapon. As she patted him down, I stood next to her.

“What were you thinking, Milton?” I asked. “You could have been shot.”

He spoke over his shoulder. “I didn’t know you had a guard with you.” She’d moved down to his legs. “I just wanted to talk to you, and I know you get in early. You’re running late today.”

“How do you know my regular schedule? Have you been watching me?”

His face colored. “Are you done yet?” he asked Agent Rosenow.

She stepped back. “Show me some ID.”

As he complied, I pressed him again. “Why have you been watching me?”

“Petey won’t give me the time of day. And I know something that could help you with your investigation.”

Agent Rosenow looked at me with growing suspicion. “What investigation is he talking about, Ms. Paras?”

“None. Nothing,” I said. “I’m not investigating anything.”

Milton pointed. “Is she with the Secret Service?”

I nodded.

“Then I can talk in front of her?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“It’s about that meeting we had the other day,” Milton said, “remember?”

I did a quick assessment of the situation. If he started talking about the double murder, I had no doubt Agent Rosenow would run him in as a suspect. Milton was harmless, but it would cause Sargeant untold grief to have to deal with an incarcerated relative. Although the temptation to irritate Sargeant was almost too much to pass up, I took the high road. “Agent Rosenow,” I said, “could you please give us a minute?”

She didn’t look happy about it, but she stepped back inside the lobby with a glare directed at Milton that silently conveyed, “I’m watching you.”

Milton coughed but didn’t cover his mouth well enough. “Have you been drinking?” I asked.

“Got to find confidence somewhere.”

“Not from a bottle.” I thought about what Sargeant had said about Milton ruining his life. “What happened between you and Peter, anyway?”

“What did he tell you?”

“Not much.”

Milton shifted his weight. He wagged his head. “Maybe some other time. Don’t you want to know what I found out about the murders?”

“Metro Police and the Secret Service are working together. I’m sure—”

He brought his face closer to mine and spoke in a hushed tone, keeping a hand cupped next to his cheek as though to
prevent Agent Rosenow from reading his lips. It sure didn’t keep the sickly sweet smell of liquor from invading my space. “I know who’s behind all this.”

Placing my hand on his arm, I said, “I think you should probably just go home and—”

Rather than shake my hand off, he placed his cold one atop mine. “Listen to me…”

“You’re freezing,” I said. “Come inside.”

“I don’t want her to hear.”

“But you’ve been out here for so long.”