Affairs of Steak by Julie Hyzy

wouldn’t have the local news station on speed dial.”
    “We can have you arrested for threatening us,” I said.
    “I don’t think so,” he said almost apologetically. “I mean, all I’m saying is that the news media folks have a right to know you two were in the vicinity.” He pointed the phone at me. “And with your reputation—”
    Sargeant jumped on that one. “This is all your fault,” he said to me. “You get involved in the White House business far more deeply than you ought. I never should have agreed to accompany you the other day. You’re trouble with a capital
T
.”
    “Gee, thanks, Peter. Now tell me how you really feel.”
    Milton shifted foot to foot. He was losing us. “How long were the two people dead?” he asked me.
    I took a step back. “Listen, I think we all need to—”
    “Because I think the guy who bumped us is the guy who killed them.”
    “What are you talking about?” I asked.
    “Remember the guy who almost knocked Petey over?” He hesitated a moment. “You got upset with me for shouting at him.”
    “You think that’s the killer?” I asked. Even as I heard the skepticism in my voice, my brain zinged into high gear. Hadn’t the stranger stopped and looked back at us when Milton shouted?
    “I do,” Milton said with some pride.
    Sargeant threw his hands in the air. “Bah,” he said. He began to walk away.
    “Even better,” Milton continued, “I think I saw him again.”
    “Where?”
    Sargeant had made it about fifteen feet. “Are you coming?”
    I ignored him to focus on what Milton was saying. “I saw him walk by the restaurant where I work. Couple of times. I’m sure it’s him. I’m gonna follow him next time.”
    “You should go to the police,” I said.
    “And tell ’em what? Wouldn’t that be a fast track to getting your names in the paper?”
    Sargeant had doubled back. “I don’t want my face in the paper.”
    “It’s more important to follow any leads. The chances of that being our guy…” I let the thought hang.
    “It
is
the guy,” Milton said, “I can feel it. And from the look on your face, you can, too.”
    “Then go to the police.”
    He shook his head. “Ain’t happening.”
    “Then I will,” I said.
    “In the meantime,” Milton said, “don’t forget who gave you this information. Maybe you can put in a good word for me with the chief usher.”
    I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “You sent a resume?”
    Milton brightened. “I did. He should have it by now. With a good word from you—”
    Sargeant looked ready to pop. I headed off any further outbursts, explaining, “Paul Vasquez is out for a while.” I couldn’t very well let on that Doug Lambert had taken over when most of the White House staff hadn’t yet been informed. Time to sell the party line. “He’s on vacation fora few weeks. He won’t be able to look at it until he gets back. And I’m not exactly sure when that will be.”
    Milton’s face fell. “Do you promise to talk to him about it when he gets back?”
    Sargeant pivoted. “I’m going in. With or without you.”
    “I will talk with the chief usher about you at some point,” I said. “I can’t promise more than that right now.”
    “Will you recommend me for the job?”
    “Can’t promise. All I can do is make sure he sees your resume.”
    “What if I bring you more information about the guy who bumped us?”
    “Milton,” I said, repeating words that had been directed to me more times than I could count, “stay out of it.”
    I signaled to the guard to show Mr. Folgate out. “I’ll be in touch,” Milton said.
    The tenseness of the conversation had made me forget the cold. Now, as I returned to the White House, I felt it whip my hair around and race down my neck, making me shiver.
    The trees offered little protection from the slicing wind and I ducked my head, hurrying back. Just as I passed a giant tree, someone jumped out at me.
    My hands went up and I screamed. A half-second