Dunne asked about Allison Meade. Silva said that Allison had introduced her to First Ladies, that she and Allison had kept their work a secret from their friends and families, that Allison worked more than she did.

“She’s prettier than me. Or, I guess, was. Her eyes—they were different colors, blue and gray. You wanted to keep looking at her, to figure that out. She was good when people got pissed off. You know, when they thought they were getting something they weren’t. She’d talk to them, sexy-like. Let them smell her. And they would … you know. As long as they didn’t get her messy. Sometimes she’d play S&M games with them. But the rule was: You can’t touch. You can’t be busted for prostitution, then, Raymond told us. He was the guy who ran this thing. He said he’d can us if we did tricks. But Allison was real cute. So some guys called back for her, even if they couldn’t do everything. And that was fine with me. There were few guys I ever wanted to see again. Most were greasy—guess I shouldn’t say that, but they were—foreigners, junior diplomat types, the World Bank and all that. It wasn’t an ego thing for me if they didn’t ask for me again. Really, it wasn’t.”

Addis tried to imagine Allison Meade. He had seen a wire photo; it did not compare with Silva’s description of her friend. He wondered what he and Dunne would do with this information. Could they not immediately relay it to the proper authorities? He had never practiced law. But shit, he thought, there had to be some statute about interfering with a federal investigation.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Dunne asked

“In psych class, the day before …”

“And she said nothing about any upcoming jobs?”

“No. Sometimes she’d tell me. Sometimes she just smiled at me like she had this story to tell but she wouldn’t tell it.”

“And she never mentioned to you anyone who sounded like the suspect in the assassination? You’ve seen the pictures?”

“Yeah, sure. And, no, she never said anything about anyone like that. How come you guys with all your computers and everything can’t find out who this guy is?”

“We will,” Dunne said.

“He does all the talking?” she asked Addis, nodding at Dunne. She was pulling at the ends of her hair.

“Right now, he’s doing most,” Addis said. She was angling for a certain kind of notice from Addis. He leaned across the table, brushed her hand with his, and asked if he could use the phone. She smiled and said yes.

Good touch, Dunne thought.