Julie Hyzy - Eggsecutive Orders

He didn’t laugh. That made me squirm. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll see what I can do to get the media to back off Suzie and Steve. And if you want to talk with them, go ahead. We’re not suggesting you can’t maintain your friendships.”

The words were pleasant enough, but the effect was ominous. “You’re going to be watching me?”

“Not necessarily.”

“You’re going to be watching them?”

“I never said that.”

I pursed my lips, frustrated. I wondered what these “new interesting facts” were that he wasn’t sharing. “There’s something else you should know.”

“Uh-oh.”

I hesitated. There was no easy way to say this, so I just blurted. “I ran into Ruth Minkus yesterday and she accused me of killing her husband.”

Tom was quiet for so long I thought he’d hung up.

“You there?” I asked.

“My God, Ollie. I can’t keep up with you.” I heard scratchy noises, as though he were rubbing his face. I shivered and it wasn’t just because it had started to drizzle. I stared up at the overcast sky.

“We went to Arlington,” I said, trying to explain. “And she was just… there. It wasn’t as though I sought her out.”

“Why didn’t you call me about this yesterday?”

Why hadn’t I? Truth was I’d been nervous about letting him know I’d had a run-in with the deceased’s wife and son. “I called you today. Besides,” I added, my own anger starting to return, “it’s not as though I’m ingratiating myself into the investigation. For crying out loud, I had a conversation with Mrs. Minkus. There’s no law against that, is there?”

I could practically see him shaking his head. “No, Ollie,” he said with such resignation in his voice that I was sorry I’d raised mine. “There’s no law against you talking with people you run into-or people you have a relationship with. I just…”

“You just… what?”

“I hope Craig is able to see things the same way I do.”

“Does he have to know about any of this?”

“Suzie and Steve-yes. I’ll want to suggest that you’re present when we take a look at the DVD of that day’s filming. For whatever good that will do. And if you do talk with them, he’ll want to know if they said or did anything you consider unusual.”

“So they are suspects!”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Okay. Sorry,” I said. But my mind was racing.

“I have a few other things I want you to take a look at.”

“Like what?”

“It’ll wait. I’ll call you.”

Effectively dismissed, I hung up, but I stood outside, leaning on the balcony’s rail, even though it was wet and the chill seeped up through my forearms, making me shiver. When we’d first started our relationship, Tom and I both knew that our jobs-no, our careers-could cause strain. Emotional relationships were always fraught with peril, but his being a Secret Service agent, sworn to protect the president and his family above all else, made this one so much harder. I understood that there were things he couldn’t tell me. I had no problem with that. I also understood the pressures he was under. Craig and I had been friends before the first time I’d inadvertently gotten involved in Secret Service matters. Since then he had cooled toward me, and avoided me when he could. I suppose he didn’t believe I was worth his time, and I further supposed that Jack Brewster’s antagonistic bent during my intake questioning had more to do with Craig’s influence than with Jack’s personal impressions.

The street below was quiet except for the occasional car slicing through puddles, causing a sad sound that made me want to retreat into the warmth of my apartment-to where my mom was probably making something for us to eat, and where Nana was devouring the newspaper in my absence, pretending that she wasn’t hunting for mention of my role in this White House drama.

At least Tom had said he’d take care of Suzie and Steve. Still on the balcony, now ducking closer to the building to avoid the heavier rainfall, I dialed them back and let them know that the Secret Service had been alerted. “They better do something,” Steve said with uncharacteristic roughness. “They got us into this mess.”

I wanted to argue that it hadn’t been the Secret Service’s fault-but to what end?

“Where do you want to meet?” Steve asked as I was about to say good-bye.

“Excuse me?”

“We need to talk,” he said. In the background, I heard Suzie reiterate his statement.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Suzie must have been listening in, because she grabbed the phone and started in on me. “Please, Ollie. You know we only agreed to come film at the White House because you wanted us to. We did this as a favor to you.”

That wasn’t how I remembered it. “I thought your production team wanted to use this for ratings week.”

“No,” she said, chastising now. “We did this because we knew it was important to you.”

It hadn’t been important to me in the least. I’d done it as a favor to them. Correction: The White House had agreed to the favor. I’d been left out of this decision entirely. Although they were indeed friends of mine, I’d been against them being in the kitchen while we were preparing a dinner for actual White House guests. I would have preferred to stage a fake dinner and treat the staff to whatever delicacies we came up with. “Actually, Suzie,” I began, but I was interrupted by a beep on the line. I took a look at the number. Tom. “I better let you go,” I said in a hurry to hang up.

“Please,” she said. “We really do need to talk.”

“Later,” I said. “I’ll call you back.”

“Please,” she said again. “But we have to meet in person. Just in case others are listening in.”

“I highly doubt anyone is tapping your line.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “But Steve and I will be more comfortable in person.”

I heard another beep. I wanted to switch over to talk with Tom. Now.

“Okay, fine. But I really need to get going.”

“Hang on.”

Steve took the phone. “We can’t get into this over open lines.”

“Got it,” I said, my exasperation evident. “But I can’t…” I took a look at my handset and realized Tom was no longer waiting for me to pick up. I bit my lip in anger and hoped he would leave a message.

“Let’s meet later,” Steve said.

Tom had said that there was no law keeping me from talking with friends. And right now there was no longer any need to get off the phone quickly. I sighed. “Sure. Where and when? I know my mom and nana will be excited to meet real television personalities.”

After a beat of silence, he said, “Just you, Ollie. Okay? Maybe we can meet your family another time.”

This was starting to feel a little bit strange. Steve persisted. “How about tonight? Do you think these camera crews will be gone by then?”

I heard Suzie in the background. “A police car just pulled up.”

“What do they want?” Steve asked her.

“How should I know?”

“Are they coming for us?”

“Steve,” I said, “you sound busy. How about I let you go?”

The balcony door opened behind me. “Are you okay out there?” Mom asked. She held the receiver of my apartment phone.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Tom’s on the line.” She held out the receiver and looked at me with hopeful eyes. “Maybe you should take this one.”

Steve was pleading in my ear. “Ollie, no. Don’t hang up.”

“I really have to-”

“The police are making them leave!” I heard Suzie say.

“But are the police coming for us?” Steve’s obvious tension made me wonder what he was so worried about.