Affairs of Steak (11 page)

I didn’t answer. “What do you want from me, Milton?”

“Nothing more than what’s fair,” he said. Looking sheepish, he worked his mouth. “All I want is an interview. Let the job be mine to win or lose, not Petey’s to decide. I can work in the kitchen. I’m a real good cook. I can work as a server, too. I’m good at getting orders just right. I could be a butler, even.”

Sargeant made a noise of disgust. “I’d sooner put a gorilla in a tuxedo to serve the president.”

Milton dug into his pocket and pulled up his cell phone. “A gorilla wouldn’t have the local news station on speed dial.”

“We can have you arrested for threatening us,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said almost apologetically. “I mean, all I’m saying is that the news media folks have a right to know you two were in the vicinity.” He pointed the phone at me. “And with your reputation—”

Sargeant jumped on that one. “This is all your fault,” he said to me. “You get involved in the White House business far more deeply than you ought. I never should have agreed to accompany you the other day. You’re trouble with a capital
T
.”

“Gee, thanks, Peter. Now tell me how you really feel.”

Milton shifted foot to foot. He was losing us. “How long were the two people dead?” he asked me.

I took a step back. “Listen, I think we all need to—”

“Because I think the guy who bumped us is the guy who killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Remember the guy who almost knocked Petey over?” He hesitated a moment. “You got upset with me for shouting at him.”

“You think that’s the killer?” I asked. Even as I heard the skepticism in my voice, my brain zinged into high gear. Hadn’t the stranger stopped and looked back at us when Milton shouted?

“I do,” Milton said with some pride.

Sargeant threw his hands in the air. “Bah,” he said. He began to walk away.

“Even better,” Milton continued, “I think I saw him again.”

“Where?”

Sargeant had made it about fifteen feet. “Are you coming?”

I ignored him to focus on what Milton was saying. “I saw him walk by the restaurant where I work. Couple of times. I’m sure it’s him. I’m gonna follow him next time.”

“You should go to the police,” I said.

“And tell ’em what? Wouldn’t that be a fast track to getting your names in the paper?”

Sargeant had doubled back. “I don’t want my face in the paper.”

“It’s more important to follow any leads. The chances of that being our guy…” I let the thought hang.

“It
is
the guy,” Milton said, “I can feel it. And from the look on your face, you can, too.”

“Then go to the police.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t happening.”

“Then I will,” I said.

“In the meantime,” Milton said, “don’t forget who gave you this information. Maybe you can put in a good word for me with the chief usher.”

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “You sent a resume?”

Milton brightened. “I did. He should have it by now. With a good word from you—”

Sargeant looked ready to pop. I headed off any further outbursts, explaining, “Paul Vasquez is out for a while.” I couldn’t very well let on that Doug Lambert had taken over when most of the White House staff hadn’t yet been informed. Time to sell the party line. “He’s on vacation for
a few weeks. He won’t be able to look at it until he gets back. And I’m not exactly sure when that will be.”

Milton’s face fell. “Do you promise to talk to him about it when he gets back?”

Sargeant pivoted. “I’m going in. With or without you.”

“I will talk with the chief usher about you at some point,” I said. “I can’t promise more than that right now.”

“Will you recommend me for the job?”

“Can’t promise. All I can do is make sure he sees your resume.”

“What if I bring you more information about the guy who bumped us?”

“Milton,” I said, repeating words that had been directed to me more times than I could count, “stay out of it.”

I signaled to the guard to show Mr. Folgate out. “I’ll be in touch,” Milton said.

The tenseness of the conversation had made me forget the cold. Now, as I returned to the White House, I felt it whip my hair around and race down my neck, making me shiver.

The trees offered little protection from the slicing wind and I ducked my head, hurrying back. Just as I passed a giant tree, someone jumped out at me.

My hands went up and I screamed. A half-second later, I was furious. “Peter, you scared me.”

He seemed surprised by my reaction. “I was waiting for you.” Hands shoved into his pockets, his nose was bright red.

“My lucky day.”

“Are you really going to tell the police what Milton told us?”

“It would be foolish to ignore a clue.” I mulled it over. The police didn’t know me and they might not understand the significance of Milton’s report. “I’ll tell the Secret Service. They’ll know what to do with it.”

That shut Sargeant up for a minute. Unfortunately, not long enough. “You’re just going to get in deeper, you know. I think we should both just forget Milton’s visit here.”

“Why are you so against him? He’s your family.”

Sargeant didn’t answer.

“Look,” I continued, “I don’t see him as White House material, either, but it wouldn’t kill you to be nicer to him.”

“He will never work in the White House.”

“What did he ever do to you?”

The look in Sargeant’s eyes was one I’d never seen before. Angry, yes, but also oddly vulnerable. “Nothing I care to discuss with you.”

FRIDAY MORNING, VIRGIL WAS HUMMING when he returned from preparing breakfast upstairs.

“How did it go yesterday?” I asked.

“Very well.”

“No trouble getting the camera crew in?”

“None whatsoever.”

I was surprised to hear it. Yesterday had been a zoo, which meant that our Secret Service agents were ten times more likely than usual to push back. Getting interviewers and camera crews in on such short notice was unheard of.

“Peter Sargeant made sure they got whatever clearances they needed,” he said.

That couldn’t be right. “How? He didn’t leave the kitchen.” That had been the standing joke yesterday, that Sargeant simply would not leave. That is, until he and I had gone outside to talk with Milton right about the same time Virgil was being interviewed.

“He must have made a call, or sent an e-mail, or…I
don’t know. Whatever he did, he got me what I needed. That’s what counts, right?”

None of my business. I shrugged. “I suppose.”

The phone rang and Bucky answered. “For you,” he said when he hung up. “Doug would like you upstairs right away.”

Being summoned to the usher’s office “right away” sounded ominous.

“What’s up with Paul, anyway?” Bucky asked. “It’s not like him to stay away during a White House crisis. I expected him to rush back from wherever he was as soon as the news broke.”

I held up my hands in a helpless gesture. “Maybe he can’t get away?”

“Paul not putting the White House first on his list of priorities? Nah, I think something is up.” He looked at me shrewdly. “Is there?”

Avoiding answering, I held my hands up in a helpless gesture, untied my apron, and washed my hands. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Doug looked up from his paperwork as I entered his office. I wondered if I’d ever get used to seeing him sitting behind Paul’s desk. “Good morning,” he said. “Have a seat.”

I did. “Is this about me talking to the Secret Service yesterday?” I asked. “Because I stopped by here a couple of times to let you know about it, but you weren’t in.”

I could tell I’d confused him. “Secret Service? What are you talking about?”

“Yesterday,” I said, “I alerted the Secret Service to a possible clue in the double-murder case.”

Doug perked up. “What are you talking about?” he said again.

I took a deep breath. “It’s a long shot, and maybe not even very reliable, but I promised Paul I would keep you informed. Yesterday, Peter and I…”

“What about me?”

Doug smiled as Sargeant entered. “Thanks for joining
us. I have some important news to discuss with both of you. But first, Ollie, please continue.”

Sargeant’s expression darkened as I told Doug about Milton’s visit the day before. By the time I’d finished explaining the encounter, Sargeant wore a deep scowl. “I don’t believe my nephew’s involvement needed to be discussed at this level.”

“I disagree,” Doug said. “Thank you for letting me know, Ollie. Did the Secret Service tell you how they intended to proceed?”

I gave a short laugh. “Do they ever?”

“Good point.” Doug scratched at the back of his head. What little hair he had was standing on end as though he’d been grabbing it with both hands and trying to yank it out. His eyes were bloodshot and small. “Okay, before I get to why I called you up here, is there anything else we need to cover about the incident at Lexington the other day?”

Incident? Doug made it sound more like an unfortunate wine spill rather than a case of double murder. “No,” I said. “Have you heard if the police have any leads?”

“The media is continuing to pursue the rumor that Chief of Staff Cawley and Ms. Woodruff were having an affair, but I think we all know that’s ludicrous.”

“Was the medical examiner able to determine how much earlier than Patty Mr. Cawley was killed?”

“Why on earth would you care?” Sargeant asked.

“I like when things make sense. You and I both know that Cawley and Patty were killed at different times. There has to be a reason. If the police are able to figure out why, they may have a clue to who killed them.”

He made a noise that sounded like
harrumph
.

“No idea, Ollie,” Doug said. “They keep me updated on a lot, but there are details I’m not privy to. All I know is that the police aren’t squelching the affair rumor because it keeps the media on the wrong track.”

If Doug didn’t have any idea about the two victims’ times of death, he surely wouldn’t know why Cawley’s
phone was set to play the opening bars of “Mandy,” so I just said, “What’s on your mind, Doug?”

“As we discussed before, the First Lady has decided not to hold the secretary of state’s birthday party at Lexington Place.”

“But she’s still planning to host it?” Sargeant asked.

Doug nodded slowly. “It’s a tough call, but there’s more at stake than just a simple party. This event promises to bring two groups together. Groups that don’t ordinarily mix, let alone work together. The president and First Lady are working hard—and very shrewdly, I might add—to build consensus. Throwing a lavish event such as this one is a brilliant move. If it goes well, this could be the start of significant harmony in our government.”

“And if it doesn’t go well?” Sargeant asked. Always the optimist.

Doug wore a grim expression. “We need to make certain it does, and that not one single thing goes wrong.” His hands curled into fists so tight I could see the whites of his knuckles. “Not one.”

“Okay,” I said, “what do you need us to do?”

“First of all, thank you for the reports you sent me. I know I told you I wouldn’t need them immediately, but it turns out I did and I appreciate it. We’re moving ahead with these plans, despite the recent tragedy, because we all know how much lead time is necessary to get a project of this scope under way. There’s no time to waste.”

Doug was talking in circles, but maybe that made it easier for him to keep control of the many balls he was juggling.

“Based on Patty’s preliminary reports, which she recorded before her death, and the opinions you two submitted, Secretary of State Quinones’s birthday party will now be held at Jean-Luc’s. I believe both of you pegged that as your second choice. You probably also realize that Patty’s colleagues are having a difficult time dealing with this.” He waited for us to nod.

“Chief of Staff Cawley’s funeral is scheduled for Monday.
I’m not quite sure about Patty’s arrangements yet. I haven’t heard from her family. Regardless of when her services will be held, her loss is being felt all over the East Wing. The people she worked with are some of her closest friends. You may not be aware that she worked with Mrs. Hyden and several of the other assistants in the past. They’re very close and this loss has devastated them.

“With that in mind,” Doug went on, “we ought to give them a hand. They’re all professionals, yes, and we will eventually be able to depend on them to make the secretary’s birthday party a success, but right now they need our help.”

“Absolutely. What do you need us to do?” I asked.

Sargeant looked ready to backhand me out of my chair.

“I’m glad you asked, Ollie,” Doug said, “because I would like for you and Peter to take over Patty’s responsibilities until another assistant is appointed to take her place.”

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘take over’?” I asked. “Neither of us is qualified to organize a White House affair—I mean, beyond our regular responsibilities.”

“The two of you have been part of the decision making on this project from the very beginning. All I’m asking is that you both step it up a notch. Work together to get all the preliminary legwork done.”