Julie Hyzy - Eggsecutive Orders

We hadn’t gotten a half block away from the funeral home when Nana piped up from the back seat. “Odd,” she said.

I glanced at her through the rearview mirror to see her staring out the side window, with a look of concentration. Like she was trying to work something out in her head.

My mom twisted in her seat. “What’s odd?”

“The photos on that digital whatchamawhoozis.”

Relieved to be away from the place, and finding her choice of words humorous, I smiled. “What was wrong with them?”

Nana shook her head. “Not ‘wrong’ exactly.” She made a face. “Just incomplete, somehow.”

I hadn’t spent much time checking out the digital display, and had only caught that one quick glimpse of Minkus in uniform.

“I mean,” Nana continued, “when I go to these wakes, I always see pictures from the person’s childhood-and college pictures-and wedding pictures.” She resumed looking out the window. “The only pictures here were recent ones. Or political ones. I mean, I think there were three different shots of him with presidents.”

“Maybe that’s what Carl Minkus would have wanted,” Mom said.

I nodded. “I’m sure it is. He was climbing the ladder, no two ways about it.”

“By making enemies along the way.”

I glanced again at Nana in the backseat. She was thinking about Joe McCarthy, I could tell.

“Who was that big military guy with all the medals on his uniform?” she asked.

There had to have been a dozen well-decorated military types in attendance. “Which one?”

She described him well enough for me to recognize. “General Brighton. He’s another big hot shot,” I said. “Why?”

“He was talking with your boyfriend.”

“What?” I asked. “Tom was there?”

A half-second later I realized I’d jumped to an erroneous conclusion. Nana tapped Mom on the shoulder. “No,” Nana said to me. “He was talking with Kap. For quite a while.”

“ Washington is a small place,” I said, trying to process that “boyfriend” comment as it related to my mother. “Almost everyone knows everyone else.”

“Something about their conversation,” Nana said.

“You eavesdropped?”

“Don’t I wish! I couldn’t get close enough to really hear everything they were saying.”

I was reminded of Tom’s comment about the apple not falling far from the tree.

“But you heard something?”

“They both used words like China and classified,” she said, clearly proud of herself.

She must have caught the look on my face, because she added, “I did hear them say that. They were about the only words I could make out, but they were clear as day. Of course, they also said Minkus’s name. Several times.” She held up a finger. “The thing is-I could tell from their body language that whatever it was, it was really important.”

When we got home I decided to leave a voicemail for Paul Vasquez, and I was surprised when he personally picked up his phone.

“Good to hear from you, Ollie. How are you holding up?”

We talked for a while before I hit him with my big request. “Is there any way at all we can get back into the kitchen?”

I heard him take a breath, as though preparing to let me down, so I interrupted.

“This may sound stupid, Paul, but at the Minkus wake tonight nobody really seemed to pay me any mind. I think the big theory suggesting the kitchen staff had anything to do with Minkus’s death has just about died down.”

“You attended Carl Minkus’s wake?” There was uneasiness in Paul’s voice. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“I didn’t,” I explained hastily. “I met Ruth Minkus for the first time just a few days ago at Arlington, and she insisted I attend.”

He was silent for a moment. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe it. Odd things seem to happen around you, Ollie.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m trying to change that.”

He was silent for a heartbeat. “What about Suzie and Steve?”

I knew what he wasn’t saying: that even if it hadn’t been any of our staff members, we were-that is, I was-still responsible for every plate that left the kitchen. If Suzie and Steve were guilty of poisoning Minkus, my head wouldn’t just roll. It would bounce down the stairs.

“I don’t think they had anything to do with it.”

“Oh, Ollie,” he said with resignation. “I wish I could make the decision this minute to bring you and your team back, but my hands are tied. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know if there has been any progress at all?” I asked, wanting to prolong the call. It was my only tie to the White House right now, and it seemed a lifeline. The longer we talked, I reasoned, the better the chance that an aide would rush in and tell Paul the ban had been lifted. “Are we expecting any news soon?”

Another resigned sigh. “You know I would tell you if I could.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’m working to get you back here,” he said with the first glimmer of cheer I’d heard all night. “But I hope you’re not planning to stir anything up.”

I thought about my promise to Tom. “Don’t worry. I’m behaving myself.”

But I wondered if Tom realized how much that was killing me.

BACK AT MY APARTMENT, OVER MILK AND COFFEE cake, I called everyone to order. “Listen,” I said, “remember when those kids bullied me when I was little?”

Mom and Nana nodded.

“And remember how you told me that by giving in to my fears, I was allowing them power over me?”

Again, they nodded.

“Well, isn’t that what Liss is doing?” I asked.

Mom nodded. “That’s exactly right.”

“Let’s promise ourselves not to read his articles anymore,” I said. “Let’s refuse to let him have power over us.”

“I like that attitude, Ollie,” Mom said.

Nana yawned. “Me, too. As of right now-no more Liss.”

In the morning, when Mom asked, “Anything new in the headlines?” her tone was light, but her eyes asked if I’d cheated and peeked at what Liss had to say.

“More unrest in China,” I said, not rising to the bait. “Can you believe this?” I pointed. “The Chinese government is now claiming that the United States is responsible for the double-assassination.”

Her interest was piqued. She leaned over my shoulder as Nana came in, freshly showered and dressed to go out. We both looked up. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have a very good feeling about today,” she said, patting her fanny pack. “I want to be ready.”

“Good,” I said. “Maybe I can take you to see more of Washington.”

“Wow,” Mom said, scanning the article. “According to this, the two men who were killed had been wanted for questioning by the United States. The Chinese government is now saying it was the Americans who assassinated them instead.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Read it yourself.”

I did. The story was written by a U.S. correspondent clearly attempting to distance himself from any factual inaccuracies. He repeatedly talked about his sources and suggested, more than once, that presented facts should not be taken as true until proven. But, he also discussed the wild claims of the Chinese government and what it might mean to the United States if their allegations were true.

“So,” I said, slowly, trying to distill the information down to its key points. “They’re saying that they sent spies here and once we discovered them, we went over there to kill them? That seems so wrong.” I shook my head. “That can’t be the whole story.”

Mom and Nana looked at me.

“Think about it. If they have two spies who have given them information on the United States -and God help us if they got anything important-why would there be any need to kill them? The two men were back in China, for some time. I’m sure they had been debriefed. What possible motive would the United States have to kill them at that point?”