The doorman opened the door with a “Welcome to the Copley Plaza Hotel,” and we went in. The Copley is somewhat similar to the Ritz: they were both standing long before I was born; they’ll still be here long after I’m gone. And if the employees at the Copley don’t seem as plucky as those at the Ritz, it’s probably because they have less to be plucky about. The Copley’s still trying to bounce back from its status as the city’s most forgotten hotel. Its latest multimillion-dollar refurbishment will have to go a long way to erase its once dark corridors and staid-to-the-point-of-death atmosphere from people’s minds. They started with the bar, though, and they’ve done a good job. Instead of George Reeves and Bogey, I always expect to see Burt Lancaster as J. J. Hunsecker holding court at a table, a preening Tony Curtis at his foot. I mentioned this to Angie as we entered.

She said, “Burt Lancaster as who?”

I said, “Sweet Smell of Success.”

She said, “What?”

I said, “Heathen.”

Jim Vurnan didn’t rise to meet me this time. He and Sterling Mulkern sat together in oaken shadows, their view protected from the trivialities of the outside world by dark brown slats. Pieces of the Westin Hotel peeked in through the window slats, but unless you were looking for it, you wouldn’t notice. Which is just as well I suppose the only hotel uglier than the Westin in this city is the Lafayette and the only hotel uglier than the Lafayette hasn’t been built yet. They noticed us about the time we reached their booth. Jim started to get up, but I held up my hand and he slid over to make room for me. If only they made dogs and spouses as accommodating and loyal as they made state reps.

I said, “Jim, you know Angie. Senator Mulkern, this is my partner, Angela Gennaro.”

Angie held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Senator.”

Mulkern took the hand, kissed the knuckles, and slid along his seat, leading the hand with him. “The pleasure is completely mine, Ms. Gennaro.” That smoothie. Angie sat down beside him, and he let go of her hand. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Partner?” He chuckled.

Jim chuckled too.

I thought it rated a slight smile. I sat beside Jim. “Where’s Senator Paulson?” I asked.

Mulkern was smiling at Angie. He said, “Couldn’t get him away from his desk this afternoon, I’m afraid.”

I said, “On Saturday?”

Mulkern took a sip of his drink. “So, tell me,” he said to Angie, “where is it that Pat’s been hiding you?”

Angie gave him a brilliant smile, all teeth. “In a drawer.”

“Is that a fact?” Mulkern said. He drank some more. “Oh, I like her, Pat. I do.”

“People usually do, Senator.”