"You wrote this editorial, Frank?"
"Yes," he said.
"This paragraph about crime going down twenty-five percent in Minnesota, that's still bothering me. Why did you just talk about Minnesota?"
Lonergan said, "It was a suggestion from the Ice Princess."
"That's ridiculous," Matt Baker snapped. "I'll talk to her."
Leslie Stewart was on the telephone when Matt Baker walked into her office.
"I'll leave it to you to arrange the details, but I want us to raise as much money for him as we can. As a matter of fact, Senator Embry of Minnesota is stopping by for lunch today, and I'll get a list of names from him. Thank you." She replaced the receiver. "Matt."
Matt Baker walked over to her desk. "I want to talk to you about this editorial."
"It's good, isn't it?"
"It stinks, Leslie. It's propaganda. The president's not responsible for controlling crime in Washington, D.C. We have a mayor who's supposed to do that, and a police force. And what's this crap about crime going down twenty-five percent in Minnesota? Where did you come up with those statistics?"
Leslie Stewart leaned back and said calmly, "Matt, this is my paper. I'll say anything I want to say. Oliver Russell is a lousy president, and Gregory Embry would make a great one. We're going to help him get into the White House."
She saw the expression on Matt's face and softened. "Come on, Matt. The Tribune is going to be on the side of the winner. Embry will be good for us. He's on his way here now. Would you like to join us for lunch?"
"No. I don't like people who eat with their hands out." He turned and left the office.
In the corridor outside, Matt Baker ran into Senator Embry. The senator was in his fifties, a self-important politician.
"Oh, Senator! Congratulations."
Senator Embry looked at him, puzzled, "Thank you. Er - for what?"
"For bringing crime down twenty-five percent in your state." And Matt Baker walked away, leaving the senator looking after him with a blank expression on his face.
Lunch was in Leslie Stewart's antique-furnished dining room. A chef was working in the kitchen preparing lunch as Leslie and Senator Embry walked in. The captain hurried up to greet them.
"Luncheon is ready whenever you wish, Miss Stewart. Would you care for a drink?"
"Not for me," Leslie said. "Senator?"
"Well, I don't usually drink during the day, but I'll have a martini."
Leslie Stewart was aware that Senator Embry drank a lot during the day. She had a complete file on him. He had a wife and five children and kept a Japanese mistress. His hobby was secretly funding a paramilitary group in his home state. None of this was important to Leslie. What mattered was that Gregory Embry was a man who believed in letting big business alone - and Washington Tribune Enterprises was big business. Leslie intended to make it bigger, and when Embry was president, he was going to help her.
They were seated at the dining table. Senator Embry took a sip of his second martini. "I want to thank you for the fund-raiser, Leslie. That's a nice gesture."
She smiled warmly. "It's my pleasure. I'll do everything I can to help you beat Oliver Russell."
"Well, I think I stand a pretty good chance."
"I think so, too. The people are getting tired of him and his scandals. My guess is that if there's one more scandal between now and election, they'll throw him out."
Senator Embry studied her a moment. "Do you think there will be?"
Leslie nodded and said softly, "I wouldn't be surprised."
The lunch was delicious.
The call came from Antonio Valdez, an assistant in the coroner's office. "Miss Stewart, you said you wanted me to keep you informed about the Chloe Houston case?"
"Yes..."
"The cops asked us to keep a lid on it, but since you've been such a good friend, I thought - "
"Don't worry. You'll be taken care of. Tell me about the autopsy."
"Yes, ma'am. The cause of death was a drug called Ecstasy."
"What?"
"Ecstasy. She took it in liquid form."
"I have a little surprise for you that I want you to try... This is liquid Ecstasy... A friend of mine gave me this..."
And the woman who had been found in the Kentucky River had died of an overdose of liquid Ecstasy.
Leslie sat there motionless, her heart pounding.
There is a God.
Leslie sent for Frank Lonergan, "I want you to follow up on the death of Chloe Houston. I think the president is involved."
Frank Lonergan was staring at her incredulously. "The president?"
"There's a cover-up going on. I'm convinced of it. That boy they arrested, who conveniently committed suicide...dig into that. And I want you to check on the president's movements the afternoon and evening of her death. I want this to be a private investigation. Very private. You'll report only to me."
Frank Lonergan took a deep breath. "You know what this could mean?"
"Get started. And Frank?"
"Yes?"
"Check the Internet for a drug called Ecstasy. And look for a connection with Oliver Russell."
In a medical Internet site devoted to the hazards of the drug, Lonergan found the story of Miriam Friedland, the former secretary to Oliver Russell. She was in a hospital in Frankfort, Kentucky. Lonergan telephoned to inquire about her. A doctor said, "Miss Friedland passed away two days ago. She never recovered from her coma."
Frank Lonergan put in a telephone call to the office of Governor Houston.
"I'm sorry," her secretary told him, "Governor Houston is on her way to Washington."