Jacobs waded into the pool again carrying a small round tray that held the new drink and the folder and, from his pocket, a pack of Marlboro Reds. Sinatra lit the cigarette with the gold lighter Jacobs handed him at the precise moment he needed it. He inhaled deeply, then took a gulp of whiskey. Then he lit the folder on fire.

“Mr. S.—” protested Jacobs.

“I got it, George,” Sinatra said, holding up the cardboard so as to catch as much of the flame as possible.

“What is that?” asked Charlie.

“The only two remaining photographs and the negative of your very brief moment in the hot tub with Lola,” Sinatra said, dropping the destroyed remnants back onto the tray.

“Thank you, Francis,” Margaret said.

“Not a thing, Margaret,” Sinatra said. “This is a good boy you have here. And now this photo is gone forever.”

“That’s an incredible gift, Frank,” Charlie said. “Thank you.”

“No worries, pally,” Sinatra said, raising his glass.

“Makes me feel sheepish asking one last favor of you, though.”

“Don’t,” Sinatra said. “Shoot.”

“I had a tough reelect in 1960, as you might imagine, with your boy at the top of the ticket,” Charlie said. “I was worried, so I did something I normally wouldn’t do: I took my dad’s advice. I hired a consultant he recommended.”

He looked at Margaret, to whom he had finally told the story during their drive. She nodded supportively.

“He was a slippery fella,” Charlie said. “I didn’t know how slippery until after the election when I had to cash the metaphorical checks he wrote. One of the unions in my district had come through in a big way. They now wanted some favors.”

“Right,” Sinatra said. “Momo said something about this that night in Vegas.”

“It started small—stuff to help workers,” Charlie said. “Better workman’s comp, oversight on safety regs. Then one night came the ask I dreaded: to pressure the U.S. attorney, who I had helped get the job, to back off on an extortion case.”

Sinatra smirked. He could relate. “What did you do?”

“Nothing yet,” Charlie said. “I put it off for as long as I could, hoping it would resolve itself.”

“That’s what I did too,” Sinatra said.

“He also drank a lot more,” Margaret added. “Which was similarly effective.”

Sinatra laughed. “That was also part of my brilliant plan.”

Charlie smiled. “And then this all happened and I’ve been busy. But now that it’s over…”

“Right,” said Sinatra. “The bill collector still gonna come calling.”

“I need you to tell Momo something,” Charlie said. “Among the documents in the safe at Tarantula’s was a file about him.” Sinatra raised his eyebrows. “All sorts of details about all sorts of stuff.”

Sinatra waited.