Affairs of Steak by Julie Hyzy Page A

later, I was furious. “Peter, you scared me.”
    He seemed surprised by my reaction. “I was waiting for you.” Hands shoved into his pockets, his nose was bright red.
    “My lucky day.”
    “Are you really going to tell the police what Milton told us?”
    “It would be foolish to ignore a clue.” I mulled it over. The police didn’t know me and they might not understand the significance of Milton’s report. “I’ll tell the Secret Service. They’ll know what to do with it.”
    That shut Sargeant up for a minute. Unfortunately, not long enough. “You’re just going to get in deeper, you know. I think we should both just forget Milton’s visit here.”
    “Why are you so against him? He’s your family.”
    Sargeant didn’t answer.
    “Look,” I continued, “I don’t see him as White House material, either, but it wouldn’t kill you to be nicer to him.”
    “He will never work in the White House.”
    “What did he ever do to you?”
    The look in Sargeant’s eyes was one I’d never seen before. Angry, yes, but also oddly vulnerable. “Nothing I care to discuss with you.”

      CHAPTER 8      

    FRIDAY MORNING, VIRGIL WAS HUMMING when he returned from preparing breakfast upstairs.
    “How did it go yesterday?” I asked.
    “Very well.”
    “No trouble getting the camera crew in?”
    “None whatsoever.”
    I was surprised to hear it. Yesterday had been a zoo, which meant that our Secret Service agents were ten times more likely than usual to push back. Getting interviewers and camera crews in on such short notice was unheard of.
    “Peter Sargeant made sure they got whatever clearances they needed,” he said.
    That couldn’t be right. “How? He didn’t leave the kitchen.” That had been the standing joke yesterday, that Sargeant simply would not leave. That is, until he and I had gone outside to talk with Milton right about the same time Virgil was being interviewed.
    “He must have made a call, or sent an e-mail, or…Idon’t know. Whatever he did, he got me what I needed. That’s what counts, right?”
    None of my business. I shrugged. “I suppose.”
    The phone rang and Bucky answered. “For you,” he said when he hung up. “Doug would like you upstairs right away.”
    Being summoned to the usher’s office “right away” sounded ominous.
    “What’s up with Paul, anyway?” Bucky asked. “It’s not like him to stay away during a White House crisis. I expected him to rush back from wherever he was as soon as the news broke.”
    I held up my hands in a helpless gesture. “Maybe he can’t get away?”
    “Paul not putting the White House first on his list of priorities? Nah, I think something is up.” He looked at me shrewdly. “Is there?”
    Avoiding answering, I held my hands up in a helpless gesture, untied my apron, and washed my hands. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    Doug looked up from his paperwork as I entered his office. I wondered if I’d ever get used to seeing him sitting behind Paul’s desk. “Good morning,” he said. “Have a seat.”
    I did. “Is this about me talking to the Secret Service yesterday?” I asked. “Because I stopped by here a couple of times to let you know about it, but you weren’t in.”
    I could tell I’d confused him. “Secret Service? What are you talking about?”
    “Yesterday,” I said, “I alerted the Secret Service to a possible clue in the double-murder case.”
    Doug perked up. “What are you talking about?” he said again.
    I took a deep breath. “It’s a long shot, and maybe not even very reliable, but I promised Paul I would keep you informed. Yesterday, Peter and I…”
    “What about me?”
    Doug smiled as Sargeant entered. “Thanks for joiningus. I have some important news to discuss with both of you. But first, Ollie, please continue.”
    Sargeant’s expression darkened as I told Doug about Milton’s visit the day before. By the time I’d finished explaining the encounter, Sargeant wore a