“And that’s supposed to be good enough?”

Raise your voice … .

“How do I know we weren’t shot at and chased off the road and she … because of what she was doing at the Kennedy-Warren?”

That’s it … .

“Maybe she’s dead because of something she was doing for her job? Don’t you think her family should know? Was someone after those books? Or the fucking sweaters? Why don’t you tell me what the fuck’s happening? Or should I tell the police that they ought to be looking for …”

Muff the name … .

“This Dr. Charles Whoever? Should I?”

“It’s interesting that you haven’t already,” Grayton said.

“I thought I’d talk to Wenner first.”

“Why?”

“Just in case … .”

“There was some trouble? So have you called him?”

“Not yet.” And before Grayton could ask why not, Addis answered the question: “Stephanie said you were on the way over.”

“Well, frankly, I don’t know what she was up to. I’m going to talk to Director Wenner, and we’ll piece it together. Maybe those notebooks will turn up.”

Sure.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Grayton continued. “I think your instincts were sound—about checking with Wenner. I’m sure he’ll thank you … . By the way, when did you and she first—”

Stephanie McGreer looked into the room. “M. T.’s on the phone,” she said to Addis. “You can take it in the den.”

She stared at Grayton and led Addis away. More “fucks” were coming out of the kitchen. Addis sat at the desk and picked up the phone. Stephanie left the room. He didn’t say anything at first.

“Nick, hello. Is that you? … Nick?”

“Hello.”

“How are—”

“Fine.”

“And she’s …”

O’Connor had to know.

It was on the fucking news.

“Where are you?” Addis asked.

“Back at Blair House.”

“Who’s there?”

“Margaret. She told me to tell you that if you need any help—”

“Thank her for me. And who else?”

“The usual. Jack. Whalen’s here. You know.”

“And Dan?”

“Yes.” A stretch of silence passed.

“Jack’s really upset,” O’Connor said. “He wanted to talk to you. But Margaret put him to bed.”

“Where’s Lem?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in a while. It’s been a busy night … .”

“He didn’t go to the studio?”

“No.”

“And the show went okay?”

“Considering.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You sure you’re alright?” O’Connor asked. “Anything I can do? Want me to come over?”

“What’s planned for tomorrow?”

He picked up a piece of yellow construction paper that was on the desk. Stripes of red and blue paint ran across the page. Sparkles were in the paint. “I love Daddy,” was written on the bottom.

“Mainly, the Children’s Aid Fund lunch. It’s at the Mayflower.”

Shit … . Where he had stayed?

“And she’s okay with that?” Addis asked.