“I met Dulles through Jack at a thing a couple years ago,” Sinatra said. “Dulles asked me to introduce Maheu around, I did, and business was done. This was before the Bay of Pigs.”

“But aren’t you worried about getting in trouble with the law?” Margaret asked.

Sinatra raised his head. “Jack is the law,” he said.

“So Jack himself asked the CIA to ask the mobsters to kill Castro?” Charlie asked.

Sinatra lifted up his sunglasses, looked at Charlie, then lowered them again. “I thought you did oversight in the House,” Sinatra said.

“Kennedy would claim he didn’t know about any of this, anyway,” Margaret said. “Plausible deniability.”

“And Bobby wouldn’t necessarily know,” Charlie said. “CIA wouldn’t tell FBI. Competing agencies, plus everyone hates Hoover. Though Bobby would learn enough to wonder.”

“Bingo,” said Sinatra. “You’re getting warmer.”

“So that’s what Bobby actually wanted us to investigate,” Charlie said.

“Warmer still,” said Sinatra.

“Why not stop it?” Margaret asked.

Sinatra cocked his head like a cat contemplating whether to pounce. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “CIA works for Jack, Momo’s a friend, Castro’s a tyrant. You want me to stop the president from protecting us from a Commie? That’s not my table, Charlie.”

“So why do you have a recording of Rosselli, Giancana, and Maheu talking about this all?” Margaret asked.

“Frank wired this whole place, ostensibly in preparation for the president’s visit,” Charlie recalled. “And got the private recordings pressed into an LP.”

“Yep,” said Sinatra.

“You know about the files Charlotte Goode gave us, right?” Margaret asked.

“Is that the stuff Manny and Les chased you down for?” Sinatra asked. “About those twisted parties?”

“So you knew about that too?” Margaret asked.

“I know about Charlie taking the boys to that freak show at Disneyland,” Sinatra said. “As for Les Wolff, it’s been said he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side. But I didn’t know any more than that.”

“Younger side?” asked Margaret.

“Yeah, some guys like ’em young, what can I tell you,” Sinatra said. “I mean, Natalie Wood was a teenager when Bob Wagner married her. Chaplin’s wives were kids. Elvis has that young girl squirreled away for him once she’s ripe. It’s not my thing, as you know, but good Christ, look at Lolita!”

“It’s reprehensible,” said Margaret. “I just don’t even remotely understand this. Fifteen-, sixteen-year-olds are children.”

“Don’t tell me, Mags, I’m with you,” Sinatra said. “Tell society.”

“What did Peter and Sammy tell you about Disneyland?” Charlie asked.

“Private party on Tom Sawyer’s Island,” Sinatra said, “young girls. Rich guys. You got in a fight. Saved your niece. That’s about it.”

“But you say you’ve heard about Les Wolff and girls on the younger side,” Margaret noted. “What had you heard?”