The Laid Plans

Ten minutes later, Frank Lonergan was on his way to National Airport. He was too late.

As the passengers descended from the plane, Lonergan saw Peter Tager approach an attractive blonde in her forties and greet her. The two of them talked for a moment, and then Tager led her to a waiting limousine.

Watching in the distance, Lonergan thought, I’ve got to talk to that lady. He headed back toward town and began making calls on his car phone. On the third call, he learned that Governor Houston was expected at the Four Seasons Hotel.

When Jackie Houston was ushered into the private study next to the Oval Office, Oliver Russell was waiting for her.

He took her hands in his and said, "I’m so terribly sorry, Jackie. There are no words."

It had been almost seventeen years since he had last seen her. They had met at a lawyers’ convention in Chicago. She had just gotten out of law school. She was young and attractive and eager, and they had had a brief, torrid affair.

Seventeen years ago.

And Chloe was sixteen years old.

He dared not ask Jackie the question in his mind. I don’t want to know. They looked at each other in silence, and for a moment Oliver thought she was going to speak of the past. He looked away.

Jackie Houston said, "The police think Paul Yerby had something to do with Chloe’s death."

"That’s right."

"No."

"No?"

"Paul was in love with Chloe. He never would have harmed her." Her voice broke. "They – they were going to get married one day."

"According to my information, Jackie, they found the boy’s fingerprints in the hotel room where she was killed."

Jackie Houston said, "The newspapers said that it…that it happened in the Imperial Suite at the Monroe Arms."

"Yes."

"Oliver, Chloe was on a small allowance. Paul’s father was a retired clerk. Where did Chloe get the money for the Imperial Suite?"

"I – I don’t know."

"Someone has to find out. I won’t leave until I know who is responsible for the death of my daughter." She frowned. "Chloe had an appointment to see you that afternoon. Did you see her?"

There was a brief hesitation. "No. I wish I had. Unfortunately, an emergency came up, and I had to cancel our appointment."

In an apartment at the other end of town, lying in bed, their naked bodies spooned together, he could feel the tension in her.

"Are you okay, JoAnn?"

"I’m fine, Alex."

"You seem far away, baby. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," JoAnn McGrath said.

"Nothing?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I was thinking about that poor little girl who was murdered at the hotel."

"Yeah, I read about it. She was some governor’s daughter."

"Yes."

"Do the police know who she was with?"

"No. They were all over the hotel questioning everybody."

"You, too?"

"Yeah. All I could tell them was about the telephone call."

"What telephone call?"

"The one someone in that suite made to the White House."

He was suddenly still. He said casually, "That doesn’t mean anything. Everybody gets a kick out of calling the White House. Do that to me again, baby. Got any more maple syrup?"

Frank Lonergan had just returned to his office from the airport when the phone rang. "Lonergan."

"Hello, Mr. Lonergan. This is Shallow Throat." Alex Cooper, a small-time parasite who fancied himself a Watergate-class tipster. It was his idea of a joke. "Are you still paying for hot tips?"

"Depends on how hot."

"This one will burn your ass. I want five thousand dollars for it."

"Goodbye."

"Wait a minute. Don’t hang up. It’s about that girl who was murdered at the Monroe Arms."

Frank Lonergan was suddenly interested. "What about her?"

"Can you and me meet somewhere?"

"I’ll see you at Ricco’s in half an hour."

At two o’clock, Frank Lonergan and Alex Cooper were in a booth at Ricco’s. Alex Cooper was a thin weasel of a man, and Lonergan hated doing business with him. Lonergan wasn’t sure where Cooper got his information, but he had been very helpful in the past.

"I hope you’re not wasting my time," Lonergan said.

"Oh, I don’t think it’s a waste of time. How would you feel if I told you there’s a White House connection to the girl’s murder?" There was a smug smile on his face.

Frank Lonergan managed to conceal his excitement. "Go on."

"Five thousand dollars?"

"One thousand."

"Two."

"You have a deal. Talk."

"My girlfriend’s a telephone operator at the Monroe Arms."

"What’s her name?"

"JoAnn McGrath."

Lonergan made a note. "So?"

"Someone in the Imperial Suite made a telephone call to the White House during the time the girl was there."

"I think the president is involved," Leslie Stewart had said. "Are you sure about this?"

"Horse’s mouth."

"I’ll check it out. If it’s true, you’ll get your money. Have you mentioned this to anyone else?"

"Nope."

"Good. Don’t." Lonergan rose. "We’ll keep in touch."

"There’s one more thing," Cooper said.

Lonergan stopped. "Yes?"

"You’ve got to keep me out of this. I don’t want JoAnn to know that I talked to anyone about it."

"No problem."

And Alex Cooper was alone, thinking about how he was going to spend the two thousand dollars without JoAnn’s knowing about it.