“Button man for Rosselli,” White said.

“The publicity guy at the studio wondered if the Mob killed Chris Powell to help Frank,” Charlie said. “They were romantic rivals, and Powell was some rising star. But we’ve seen zero evidence of that and frankly, if they were going to start killing off Sinatra rivals, Hollywood would become Stalingrad.”

“The Mob killing Powell seems a real stretch,” White said. “Where’d you get that from?”

“Manny Fontaine,” said Margaret. “United Artists’ publicist. Picture a gentile Sammy Glick.”

White nodded.

“He thinks Frank does this a lot,” said Charlie. “He told us the Mob muscled Tommy Dorsey to release Frank from his contract. And that Frank was supposed to costar with Powell in some new picture—”

“Come Blow Your Horn,” said Margaret.

“The Neil Simon play,” said White.

“Right,” said Charlie, “but Frank didn’t want Powell to costar. And now the problem’s solved.”

“Hard to believe he’d have him whacked for that,” said White. “He has enough juice in Hollywood to get a no-name pushed off a picture.”

“True,” said Margaret. “We heard some other things about Powell that might be relevant to his murder. Or not.”

“Apparently he was joining some trendy new self-help religion,” Charlie said.

“From the Dianetics guy,” added Margaret, then clammed up as the waitress appeared to refill their coffees.

White put down his coffee cup and took out a notepad. Charlie watched him jot down Hubbard Dianetics Powell.

“The Scientologists,” White said.

“Yeah, that’s them,” said Charlie.

“That’s interesting,” White said. “They’re wired. Their first church was built on primo real estate in DC.”

White offered them a quick overview. The founder of the Church of Scientology, a charismatic science fiction writer named L. Ron Hubbard, came to prominence with his bestselling book Dianetics: The Evolution of a Science, the latest of many self-help books for a nation wounded by World War II and rattled by Cold War fears of a pending nuclear apocalypse.

“He writes to us a lot,” White said. “To the FBI specifically. For about a decade now.”

“Why?” asked Margaret.

“Hubbard’s a staunch anti-Communist and, candidly, something of a loon.”

“What does he write you about?” asked Margaret.

“In his first letter, he accused more than a dozen members of his Dianetics foundations—including his own wife—of being Communists,” White recalled.

“Completely normal,” said Charlie sarcastically.

“Yes, and like any stable person, he accuses his critics of being enemies of America,” White said. “He keeps writing us, calling people who criticize the ‘religion’ he founded Communist-connected personnel. That’s the term he uses, over and over.”

“Are they?” asked Charlie.

“No.”

“Cuck-oo,” chimed Margaret.