“Mike Newman is a good man,” she said. “Almost as good as his predecessor.”
Stone was about to agree when the door opened, and the president of the United States breezed in, followed by a man carrying his luggage. “Good evening, all,” he said.
Everyone but his wife leapt to their feet and made the appropriate greetings.
“You’re early,” his wife said.
“Not inconveniently so, I hope. Will you all excuse me while I get out of this suit?” Without waiting for a reply, he walked into another room and closed the door behind him.
Mrs. Lee looked at her watch. “They must have had a hell of a tailwind,” she said.
“West to east will do that for you,” Stone observed. “It’s tougher going the other way.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re a pilot, and I understand you’ve moved up to a jet. We will want to hear about that.”
“Of course,” Stone replied.
“We may as well wait until he’s back before I brief you.”
Stone nodded. He was nursing his drink, wanting a clear head for this meeting, whatever it was about.
The president came back wearing a cardigan sweater, and the butler was waiting for him with a drink. He collapsed in a large armchair that Stone had avoided, correctly guessing it had a regular occupant.
“How was your flight down?” he asked Stone.
“Uneventful, Mr. President.”
“At home, we like to be called Kate and Will,” the president said. “Uneventful is the best kind. I miss flying. The Secret Service won’t let me, you know. They can’t get a team of a dozen agents onto my Malibu, and the required jet fighter team wouldn’t be able to fly slowly enough to escort me.”
“I can see the problem.”
“I’m out of here in another eighteen months, though, and I’ve sworn to fly home to Georgia in my own airplane. Fuck the Secret Service and the Air Force.”
Stone laughed. “Only you can get away with that.”
“Will,” his wife said, “I think I’d better get to why Mr. Barrington and Lieutenant Bacchetti are our guests this evening.”
“Of course, my love, go ahead.”
“Please,” Stone said, “it’s Stone and Dino.”
She smiled, then continued. “Stone and Dino, you may recall that a year ago there was a murder on the grounds of the White House.”
“I remember hearing about it on the news. The husband took his own life shortly thereafter, and was blamed for the killing.”
“That is correct. Her name was Mimi Kendrick, and her husband was Brixton Kendrick. She was my social secretary, and he was, in effect, the manager of the White House, in charge of the physical plant and the office arrangements.”
Stone made a note of the names.
“The problem is,” the first lady said, “Will and I don’t believe Brix killed his wife.”
“Oh?”
She shook her head. “The investigation was, to Will’s and my mind, inconclusive. Because the Kendricks were federal employees on what, in effect, is a government reservation, the D.C. police were not involved. The FBI and the Secret Service conducted the investigation. Secret Service personnel are not trained as detectives, and it’s my own belief, perhaps colored by my association with the CIA, that FBI agents are not awfully good at investigating homicides, either.” She looked at her nails. “It’s possible that the White House staff were too willing to accept the Bureau’s conclusions, given the proximity of the midterm elections. Will didn’t want a stink, either, and I, in my position, was not about to publicly criticize the Bureau.”
“I understand,” Stone said.
Will Lee spoke up. “I’m a lame-duck president now, and I don’t really give too much of a damn about stepping on bureaucratic toes or contradicting the wise. I want to know, both for the sake of justice and for my own satisfaction, what actually occurred, and if there is a responsible person still out there, I want to see him tried and convicted.”
The first lady cleared her throat. “Holly suggested that, because of your current status with the NYPD, Dino, and because you, Stone, are a retired homicide detective, and because you are both under contract to the Agency, you two might be best qualified to review the investigation quietly and draw conclusions.”
“I see,” Stone replied.
“We’d be glad to do that,” Dino said. “Will we have access to the FBI’s file on the case?”
She handed Dino a briefcase that was resting against her chair. “Everything’s in here,” she said. “The Secret Service file, too. Take it all with you after dinner.”
“Anybody want another drink before we dine?” the president asked.
Everyone demurred.
“Good, I’m hungry.”
Stone noticed that dinner had not been announced, but as soon as the president was seated, food began magically arriving. They dined on a rib roast of beef, rice, and green beans, and a bottle of good California Cabernet.
They stayed for A quick brandy after dinner, then the president rose, signaling their imminent departure. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Stone and Dino.
“Not at the moment, Mr. Pr-Will. Whom should we contact when we do?”
The first lady spoke up. “Call Holly first, and if she doesn’t satisfy you, call me at my office. My secretary will know your names. If we need to meet again, we’ll do it here. In the meantime, the White House staff will be apprised of your identities, and you may prowl around with an escort appointed by the chief of staff, Tim Coleman. Just call him, if you need to.”
Stone and Dino said their good-byes, and Holly left with them.
When they were in the eleinoe in thvator, Stone asked, “Holly, what have you gotten us into?”
“After you’ve read the file, you can tell me,” she replied. “Where did you choose to stay?”
“At the Hay-Adams.”
“Nice. Are you sharing a room?”
“No, Dino has his own accommodations.”
“Good, then you may invite me back for a drink,” she said. “I’ll drive myself and meet you there.”
The elevator doors opened, and they were escorted back to the entrance, where their cars awaited.
5
Stone and Dino got out of their sinister SUV at the Hay-Adams, and Holly pulled in behind them. Stone turned to Dino. “Go to your room,” he said.
“Yes, Poppa, and be sure to close your door so I can’t hear your pitiful cries.”
Stone opened the car door for Holly and told the valet to put it on his tab.
“Where’s Dino?” Holly asked.
“He’s been sent to his room.”
“Oh, good.”
Stone led her to the elevator and thence to the suite.
“My goodness,” Holly said, “is the Agency paying for this?”
“Only to the extent of your miserable per diem,” Stone replied. “Drink?”
“Oh, yes; brandy, please.”
Stone poured them each one from the generous bar on the sideboard, and they sat down on the sofa, with the sight of the brightly lit White House through the French doors in the distance. Dino’s door was tightly shut.
Holly set down her glass, took Stone’s face in her hands, and kissed him firmly, then she picked up her glass
