Alien Diplomacy (40 page)

We reached a major intersection, crossed the street, and started walking back on the other side. Passed the Paraguayan Embassy—still a whole lot of nothing going on, especially from a distance. This walk was boring, at least by my standards, though the dogs were living it up in the sniffing, snuffling, and peeing on random trees departments.

However, as walks went, it was a nice one, sauntering up and
down part of what was nicknamed Embassy Row. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew, since I didn’t really know our neighbors well. We hadn’t had a lot of bonding time during the one disastrous party we’d thrown.

So it took me a couple of seconds to realize someone was calling my name as she came running out of the Croatian Embassy.

“K
ITTY!” MARCIA KRAMER RACED OVER,
dragging Nathalie Gagnon-Brewer behind her. “What are you doing here?”

I stared at her for a long moment. “I’m an ambassador. We live in this neighborhood. I’m taking a walk, what does it look like I’m doing? What are
you
doing here?”

“Visiting friends.”

“You two have friends in the Croatian diplomatic mission?” I found it hard to believe either one of them had friends outside of the Washington Wife class. The idea that anyone else could stand them just seemed too unreal.

“We have friends all over,” Marcia said with a sniff. Her sniff was returned by all four dogs, who were busy sniffing the two new arrivals with interest. Marcia tried to shove them away surreptitiously, but our dogs were pros at avoiding anything but the most strenuous of hints.

Nathalie hadn’t looked up from her iPhone. Apparently she was deep into another Angry Birds session and couldn’t tear herself away, people in front of her and dog noses in her crotch or no. “Bonjour,” she said absently.

“Nice to see you. See you tonight.” I tried to walk on.

“Is this your baby?” Marcia asked as she sidestepped Dottie only to walk right into Dudley, who, after finishing his sniffing extravaganza, had pointedly moved himself between Marcia and me.

I wanted desperately to say we’d found the child held in my arms, who everyone in the world said looked exactly like me, in a
basket on the Embassy steps, but I managed to rein myself in. Aunt Emily would have been proud. “Yes.” Tried to walk on again.

“She’s so cute,” Marcia said.

“Thank you.”

“Can I hold her?”

I stared at her. “No.” Duchess growled softly. I had no idea if she was reacting to my feelings or not, but my dogs, like Jeff, were pretty in tune with my emotions, Duchess in particular.

She looked shocked. “Why not?”

“I don’t pass my three-month-old daughter around to anyone and everyone.”

“Oh, new mother thing. I get it.” She looked at White and gave him what I could only think of as a coy smile. “Is this your husband? He’s even more handsome than I’ve heard.”

White resembled Timothy Dalton, and he was an A-C, so he was a good example of how to look amazingly hot when you were over fifty. However, my husband he was not. Having met him, I knew Marcia’s husband was around White’s age, though, so I could see how she’d be confused.

White smiled. “No, I’m her husband’s uncle. Richard White. And you are?”

“Marcia Kramer. My husband is Senator Zachary Kramer, from Illinois.” She put out her hand.

White took it and did the whole gallant thing, which included hand kissing. Unsurprisingly, he did it better than Gadoire had the other day, but it was still nauseating, though it might just have been making me ill because I couldn’t stand Marcia. I managed not to gag, but it took real effort. The dogs didn’t try to butt in, which was something of a shock, but I took the small victories whenever they showed up.

“And you, Mademoiselle?” White said to Nathalie.

She managed to drag herself away from her phone. “I’m a Madame.”

Since White seemed intent on being polite, I broke down. “Nathalie Gagnon-Brewer, Richard White.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, offering her hand. White did the whole gallant thing again while I contemplated flowers, not to hide from Jeff but to keep from barfing. Maybe I’d have thought this was old world charming if I didn’t have the far too recent memory of Gadoire slobbering on my hand to turn my stomach.

They finished, and Nathalie seemed to notice Len and Kyle for
the first time. They both got appraising looks. “And who are your young men?” She shot me a sly smile. “You take the French ideas for both sides of the marriage, oui?”

It took me a bit to realize she was insinuating that Len and Kyle were my boy toys. It had apparently taken the boys less time. They were both busily petting the dogs, who were quite willing to act as distractions; Kyle’s face was already red.

“Um, not so much, no. Great seeing you both. Dogs need to go do what dogs do on a walk. Would hate for them to do it here in front of your friend’s Embassy.”

“Oh, they won’t care,” Marcia said, with a casual wave of her hand toward the Croatians. I knew we’d mind, so I was pretty sure they would, too. I wanted to ask her just who she thought would say it was okay for someone else’s dog to poop on their friends’ property anyway. Particularly four large dogs. Particularly Dudley. No one wants a Great Dane to relieve itself anywhere in their general vicinity. The boys could already attest to that.

“I’d care.” Tried to walk on again.

“Did you hear about Jack?” Marcia asked.

“He called last night, yeah. We’re all still going to the President’s Ball anyway, despite Jack’s warning.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean about that.” Marcia put her hand on my arm. Duchess did the low growl thing again, but Marcia either didn’t hear it or wasn’t worried about being ripped to shreds by my dogs. I wondered if she actually thought I liked her while Len got Duchess back under control. “Poor Jack, he killed himself this morning.”

I stopped trying to walk on. “Excuse me?” My body felt cold.

She nodded. “Hung himself. It’s so sad. Abner thinks it’s because Pia found out he’d been snooping on her. They had a huge fight, and she went to a friend’s house for the night. Poor Abner.”

“Poor Abner? Jack’s the one who’s dead!”

Marcia shook her head. “Abner found Jack. He was worried about him after Bryce confirmed that Jack had called everyone from class to warn them to stay away from the ball. Abner’s a mess.”

“I’ll bet he’s going to make the ball anyway, though, isn’t he?”

She gave me a dirty look. “He has no choice. Lillian needs to attend, so her husband has to attend with her.”

“So sad,” Nathalie said, back to Angry Birds, since the boys were still petting the dogs as if they were going for the Best Dog Walker of the Year Award. “Poor Pia.”

“Why does no one but me think it’s Jack we should be feeling
sorry for? If you were all his friends and you thought he was delusional last night, why didn’t someone go over and see him
then
, as opposed to this morning when it was too late?”

Marcia patted my arm, then took her hand away. “Like Bryce says, if someone’s determined to kill himself, there’s nothing anyone else can do to stop him.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course there are things someone else can do!”

White put his arm around my waist. “Kathy, I think we need to move on. Mourn at home, dear.”

Nathalie looked up, gave us a sharp look, then smiled again. “Ah. Pardon my confusion. Don’t let us detain you any longer.” She nudged Marcia. “They’re on a time limit.”

Great. I’d moved from an affair with the boys to an affair with my husband’s uncle. Or an affair with all three of them. I had no clear idea how Nathalie actually thought, after all, but it was obvious her mind went straight to “affair” no matter what the circumstances.

“Oh!” Marcia blushed, proving she was also one with the “affair” mindset. “I’m sorry we slowed you down. Anyway, I figured you’d want to know about Jack. See you this evening.”

“Yes, bye. Take care. Or whatever.” I let White lead me off. Len showed restraint and didn’t run down the street, though I got the impression he wanted to. “Okay, Rick, honey, I get that you wanted us to get away. But you know they now firmly believe I’m having an affair with you.”

“Good,” he said as he moved us along, still keeping a hold of me. “It will keep them off balance, and I believe that will be important.”

“Why so?”

“Because those women were lying.”

“W
ELL, THEY BOTH CAN’T STAND ME,
and color me totally shocked and impressed that any A-C can spot a human lying, but what do you mean? Do you think Jack isn’t dead?”

“I’m sure whoever they said was dead is no longer with us on the mortal plane,” White said as we walked down the street. “However, they weren’t in the Croatian Embassy. They were in the doorway when we came by, but they weren’t inside.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Apparently he felt we were far enough away, because he stopped walking and pretended to fiddle with the stroller. “Gentlemen, your thoughts?”

“I agree,” Kyle said. “I saw them in the doorway as we approached the property. The door wasn’t open at any time.”

“I saw them when we were on the other side of the street,” Len said. “They were walking on the street and went into the doorway. But they didn’t go into the building at that time.”

“So, why did they hide in the doorway? So they could jump out at me?”

“To share that your other friend had died?” White asked.

“They aren’t my friends, and neither is—was, he. Len, can you pull up the information on the death? Jack Ryan, owns a car dealership in Silver Spring, married to Pia Ryan, who works for the C.I.A.”

Len made Duchess and Dottie sit, then got busy on his PDA while I pondered. Something felt weirder than normal. As I thought about it, neither woman had mentioned that their spouses had stopped by my Embassy the day before. Of course, it was possible
they didn’t know. I wouldn’t share my business with them, and maybe their husbands felt the same. Or maybe they had another reason to talk to us. “Think they’re involved in the stuff with Paraguay?”

“I believe it’s possible,” White said. “I’d say they’re involved in something, and it’s likely to be illicit.”

“So why hide in the doorway of another Embassy?”

“Lookout?” Kyle offered, while Dudley and Duke stared intently behind us.

“That makes sense, actually. Len, anything yet?”

“Just coming through. Listed as a suicide. Because his wife works for the Agency, it’s being treated as a possible homicide.”

I thought about it. “You know, Jack didn’t sound either drunk or delusional when he called me last night.”

“I can’t speak to the inebriation,” White said, “but if he was warning you, he wouldn’t sound delusional to you, since we, in fact, know something bad is going to happen tonight.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between loony conspiracy theorists and the ones who know what they’re talking about. And, trust me, they sound different.”

“True. You did spend many formative years with Mister Reynolds.”

“Exactly. So, let’s take the leap and say that Jack didn’t kill himself, but instead he was murdered. Why kill him?”

“Because he’d leaked information,” Len said without missing a beat.

“Chuckie wasn’t worried about it. If the Conspiracy King doesn’t worry about a leak, I’d guess no one else does.”

“Well, it wasn’t a leak out of our division,” Kyle offered. “Mister Reynolds might have worried if it had been.”

I stared at him. “He leaked C.I.A. information. And it was out of
someone’s
division. Maybe that someone wasn’t happy that people were being told to stay away from the President’s Ball.”

“Specific people,” Len suggested.

“Yeah, maybe, because while Jack said he’d called everyone in class and the instructor, it didn’t sound like he’d called anyone else. He might not know anyone else who’s going to the ball other than his wife’s coworkers. And Eugene and I were dead last on his to-call list, so I think he might have said something if he’d called other people before his Washington Wife classmates.”

“Do you have a roster of your classmates?” White asked.