Affairs of Steak

by Julie Hyzy

  “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.”

  “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 suspec
t, 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?

  CHAPTER 11

  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.

  “He
y,” 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?”