Shakeup

34

Joan buzzed Stone. “The president for you, on line one.”

Stone pressed the button. “Good day, Madam President.”

“And to you,” she replied warmly. “I understand you had a pleasant last evening.”

Stone wondered which part of the evening she was referring to. “Yes, we all had a very good dinner.”

“And a very good nightcap, too, I hope.”

“Quite satisfactory,” he replied, getting a little more uncomfortable.

“Oh, Stone,” she said, “you must get over being almost as famous as I, since People published those photographs of us waltzing. I get reports.”

“I’d like to think I’m over that.”

“And did you find Maren Gustav good company?”

“Define ‘good company.’”

“I don’t need to do that, and you mustn’t mind if I send you pleasing companionship now and then.”

“I’ll try to be more grateful,” he said. “But I’m beginning to feel that you are rendering me an unnecessary service.”

“Perhaps so. Nevertheless, it gives me pleasure to provide it, and eases my guilt about being here instead of there.”

“Then we’ll say no more about it.”

“If you wish. By the way, you might ingratiate yourself even further if you whispered into her shell-like ear that she’s very likely to be the next director.”

“Is Shaker taking a hike?”

“Let’s just say that I have pointed him toward the Appalachian Trail and kicked him in the ass. My guess is, his ego will require him to head that way. You’ll see it in the papers when it happens. In the meantime, I have denied him the White House, and I’m thinking of ordering a major renovation of his office. I think a lot of chintz would look nice in the Hoover building.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing about that. How are you holding up down there?”

“Well, the conversation with Shaker lifted my spirits a bit, as did a visit to the Oval this morning from the choir of a Catholic girls’ school.”

“Next, no doubt, it will be the cast of Hamilton!”

“What a good idea! I could never afford the tickets on a mere president’s salary.”

“Next time you’re in town, I know where to get seats for only the price of a small house.”

“Oh, good. Uh-oh, I’m told the secretary of defense is waiting. We’ll talk soon.” She hung up.

Stone worked on for a few minutes, when there was a knock at the other door.

“Come in,” he said.

Maren looked around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”

“More than you know,” Stone said.

She came over to his desk. “Is it legal to kiss you in these surrounds?”

“Strictly speaking, yes, but Joan has very sensitive antennae and tends to walk in at such times. Bob, over there,” he said, nodding toward the sleeping dog, “wouldn’t mind a bit.”

“I’ll try to control myself. I’m off to speak with Arthur Jacoby and Donald Clark.”

“Dinner tonight?”

“Oh, good, where?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Well, I’d better repair to the Carlyle and exchange these clothes for others,” she said. “Or someone might notice.”

“Joan certainly would, and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“After dinner, your place or mine? I need to select the appropriate wardrobe.”

“Appropriate would be nothing at all, and I think we should come here. The director of the FBI might be noticed coming and going with a man at the Carlyle.”

“That’s deputy director,” she said.

“Perhaps for the moment.”

She perked up. “Have you heard something?”

“The breeze bears rumors,” he replied. “I hear Shaker is being encouraged to vacate that space.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Here at six-thirty?”

“Done,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

Joan buzzed him. “That Donald Clark character is here again.”

Stone ground his teeth for a moment. “Send him in, and disturb us after about three minutes.”

Donald Clark strode into Stone’s office, looking more athletic and self-confident than on his last visit. “Good morning, Stone!” he boomed, taking a seat, uninvited.

“Now what, Donald?” Stone asked, with no attempt to conceal his displeasure at the visit.

“I’ve been cleared of anything to do with the murder of Ms. Carlyle,” he said.

“Oh, really? Did the DCPD post a notice?”

“The DCPD has closed the case,” Clark said confidentially.

“How did you come to hear that?”

“I have ears here and there.”

“Well, you’d better have them cleaned,” Stone said. “The DCPD has simply closed the case without further recommendation.”

“And that is as good as it can get,” Clark said.

“Perhaps so, Donald, but it can get worse.”

His face took on a wary look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Tell me, Donald, what did Ms. Carlyle do for a living?”

“I believe that she was a secretary.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“I fear it’s going to matter a great deal.”

“Stone, what do you know that I don’t know?”

“Ms. Carlyle was a secretary at the Justice Department.”

Clark’s face went blank. “So?”

“So, she was a federal employee, and the DCPD does not investigate the murders of federal employees.”

“That’s okay with me,” Clark replied.

“The FBI investigates the murders of federal employees.”

Clark’s face seemed to collapse. “The FBI?”

“Yes, and in this instance, the case is being personally dealt with by the deputy director for criminal investigations, a woman called Maren Gustav, who has a big reputation for her dogged pursuit of perpetrators.”

“Dogged?”

“Do you possess a dog, Donald?”

“Yes, a Lab, much like yours.”

“Does he ever tire of chasing a ball?”

Stone thought the man was going to burst into tears. “And I believe she has an appointment with you today. Better check your calendar.”

Donald Clark got up and left.