Addis walked the path that led from the driveway. He remembered the late-night sessions that Whalen hosted here during the campaign. In leather chairs in the library, Hanover, Addis, Finn, McGreer, Whalen, Margaret, and the others strategized and fine-tuned the campaign. Whalen’s father had been the chief counsel to one of the oil companies that used to run the state, and he left his only child with a fortune. Whalen had devoted a portion of that inheritance to Hanover’s first political campaign, when Hanover ran for attorney general and attacked the system that had done so well for the Whalens.

The front door was open. Addis shouted hello. No one came. He went to the back and found Whalen and his wife Amelia in the sunroom. The stereo was playing Bach. Whalen was helping Amelia get comfortable on a flower-patterned couch. Addis had not seen her since the inauguration. Her hair was gone, her skin pale yellow. Cancer had been traveling through her body: first, breast, then lymph nodes, and, most recently, throat. Addis waited by the door until Whalen finished arranging the pillows for Amelia.

“Flip,” he said. “I let myself in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah, buddy,” Whalen replied. “Mi casa es … you know. Come here.”

The two men embraced. There was little between Whalen’s chest and back. Addis wondered if Whalen was getting slimmer. One good squeeze, and he would break like a breadstick.

Addis bent down and kissed Amelia on the cheek. It was hard for her to speak. She forced out a scratchy “hello” and then grabbed his hand. He felt her fingers trembling.

“Good to see you,” Whalen said. “Here, sit. Can I get you anything?” Addis shook his head. “You know we were sorry we couldn’t be in Washington for the … . But”—he looked at his wife—“we couldn’t because … She had a few bad days.”

“Everyone knows,” Addis said. “They do.”

“Yeah.” Whalen stared out of the room and toward a flock of grackle on the back lawn. He was wearing a jacket and a tie. Even at home, Whalen always dressed up.

“How’s she doing?” Whalen asked.

“Pretty well, I think.”

“Ready for the run?”

Does he mean me or her?

“I don’t know. I’m staying clear. What does she tell you?”

“And how’s Jackie-boy?”

“He’s holding up. Spending a lot of time with Lem.”

Whalen shot out a laugh. “That Lem. Always by their side.” He pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it.

“Don’t smoke’em,” he said. “Just chew’em … . What can I do for you, Nick?”

“It’s about that reporter. The one asking about that land deal in Rapides.”

“Yeah, he came by. I’d gone to the store. Patty, the cleaning woman, let him in. I came back and found him trying to talk to Amelia about all that. I escorted him out. Roughly, too.”