“Believe me, baby, if I had a sex life, I’d tell you all about it, too. But this is business—company business. If Darlene says it’s okay for me to talk with you about it, the first thing I’ll do is get you on speed dial.”

“Good thing I love you,” Nicole said.

Kim embraced her. “Good thing you do,” Kim said.

*   *   *

THE OTHER two women arrived together, just a couple of minutes later. Per her agreement with Kim, Nicole led them to the far end of the bar so that Kim could speak to a man who seemed interested in her. The new arrivals, giddy to be drifting away from the responsibilities of their lives, acted as if they had just been told of their friend’s engagement.

As soon as the three women had melted into the evening crush, Kim moved back from the bar, slipped the coaster from her purse, and read it one more time.

Sec’y Evans has been framed. I must speak to Darlene Mallory in secret. If you agree to help arrange the meeting, go put a dollar in the jukebox.

Kim nodded to no one in particular, replaced the coaster in her bag, and moved slowly across the room toward the jukebox. There was no sense in trying to pick out the writer of the note. Kim was convinced now that he was clever enough to keep himself disguised or concealed until he was ready to disclose himself and his purpose.

It felt strange to know that he was out there someplace, watching. Clearly, he had done his homework. Darlene was the one closest to the president who might be willing, at least, to listen to what this man had to say.

Kim made her way to the jukebox, taking several furtive glances over her shoulder. What if the note was true? What if Russ Evans had been railroaded into resigning? She approached a man leaning up against the brick wall, drinking a Heineken—tall, intelligent, with razor-cut chestnut hair. He looked at her unabashedly as she neared. A chill ripped through her. Their eyes met. She was just about say something, when a flashy blonde in a tight white sweater came and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He gave a What can you do? shrug, and Kim slunk back into the crowd.

It had been foolish of her to suspect the man. Whoever wrote the note was frightened enough to take these sorts of precautions. He wouldn’t be standing around making eye contact with her.

More people had crammed into the darkened lounge area, making it impossible for her to observe them all. She stopped in front of the wall-mounted jukebox, rifled through her purse, and pulled a crisply pressed dollar bill from her wallet.