"Gotta work," I told her.
"You look like you have a fever."
I nodded and made my way down the block to the corner of Third Avenue. Midge followed me, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Haven't seen much of Bridgett for the last week. You're still friends?"
"She's been working out of town," I said. When Midge had first moved into the building, Erika had been living with me, and she had assumed Erika was my sister. Erika, in turn, had implied that our relationship was far more intimate than that, and it had taken several months before Midge realized the joke. As a result, Midge was careful in how she referred to Bridgett, always as my "friend," although given the lack of insulation between floors there was not a doubt in my mind that she knew what the relationship was.
Midge helped me hail a cab on the corner, and as I climbed in she wished me a good day and headed off in the direction of the East River. I told the cabbie that I wanted to go to the Edmonton. The traffic was still light, and the cabbie sped enthusiastically. He had to wake me up when we reached the hotel, and I paid him and headed through the lobby, and maybe it was the extra ten minutes of sleep, but I felt significantly better.
Moore let me into the suite after making the appropriate checks through the spyhole, and as I passed him, he echoed Midge.
"Christ, you look like warm shite."
"Fuck you very much. Is there coffee?"
"Cart just came up."
He followed me into the sitting room, where Chester was working at the desk. I could hear a shower running in Lady Ainsley-Hunter's bedroom, and I used my head to indicate the door, which was a mistake, because the headache – that had been just waiting for an excuse – took that as its cue to make a grand entrance.
"Natalie in there?"
"Of course." Moore grabbed the cup out of my hand. "Tea for you, mate."
"Coffee's fine."
"Tea is better for you." He took a fresh cup and used the second pot on the cart to fill it, then squeezed the juice from a lemon wedge into the tea.
"You're so British," I grumbled, taking the cup and a seat. " 'Morning, Peter."
" 'Morning, Tinkerbell," Chester said. "You do look a sight."
"I look worse than I feel."
Moore had been having eggs and hash browns and sausage, and a bowl of oatmeal, and the sight of it made my stomach look for a place to hide somewhere behind my liver. I averted my eyes as he wolfed down a couple of forkfuls.
"We should move me off the perimeter today," I told Moore. "Give it to Natalie."
"It takes a wise man to admit it when he can go no farther," he said. "Though I'm inclined to tell you to just head the hell home and get some sleep."
"My head's clear and I'm moving fine. We'll just swap me with Natalie today, and I'll back you up on the close support."
Moore appraised me like I was a recruit on his parade ground. Then he grunted. "We'll run with it. But if you start to head south, you notify, understood?"
"Yes, Sergeant." I finished the tea and stood to refill the cup. "Shall we get to business?"
Moore wiped his mouth with the napkin, nodding, then pushed his plate away. "Fiona, you want to come over here?"
Chester moved from the desk to the couch, bringing one of the typed sheets with her. "Her Ladyship's schedule for the day, gentlemen. She begins with an appearance on Talk New York! at ten, but the show's producer has asked we have her at the studio no later than nine to give him time to go over the questions she'll be asked. She's been invited to stay for the whole hour, after which Her Ladyship is free until one this afternoon, when she will lunch with the lieutenant governor and members of his staff at the Four Seasons. At two-thirty she has promised to attend a benefit auction for the International Red Cross in Scarsdale. The rest of her afternoon is free until six-thirty, when she will speak at NYU on grassroots political action as a means of fighting child exploitation. The lecture is supposed to end at eight, but in all likelihood, Her Ladyship will want to entertain questions as long as she can. When she is finished, however, she has promised to join some of the students for drinks at a local pub – excuse me, local bar."
While she spoke, Moore and I consulted our notes, checking off each item as it was listed.
"Scarsdale is new," I said.
"It was added last night, after dinner," Chester said, nodding. "The invitation was presented to her in person, just before we left."
"Checked it already," Moore said. "It's up-and-up."
"Well, it's a problem," I said. "It'll take an hour, probably longer, to get from that lunch midtown to Scarsdale. That's without serious traffic."
"But it's possible?"
"She won't have much of a meal," I said. "It'll be a rush."
"She can be a few minutes late," Chester said.
"I'll let Dale know. If he can find a route he likes, it'll fly."
"Agreed," Moore said. "The NYU lecture and drinks to follow, you know the location?"
"There's a bar in the neighborhood that I like. The Stoned Crow, it's small, entrance is on Fourth Street. Gets a regular crowd most weeknights, but there's a space in the back that's easy enough to secure. There's a pool table back there, some booths, a dart board. It'll be fine. We scouted it week before last."
"How do you want to handle the guests for that?"
"Well, we could search them."
"Her Ladyship would rather if you didn't," Chester said. "These are the people who make Together Now work. She doesn't wish to do anything that might alienate them."
I looked at Moore, shrugged. "Eyeballing works, too."
"All right," he agreed. "Anything else?"
"Not for now."
Moore checked the Rolex on his wrist. "I've got oh-six-twenty-three."
I checked my own watch. "I agree."
"How long is it going to take us to get to the studio?"
"Maybe thirty minutes. It's pretty much a straight shot over to the West Side."
"Then we'll egress at oh-eight-thirty."
We all seemed happy with that, so Chester headed for Lady Ainsley-Hunter's bedroom to inform her of the itinerary and I got up to use the phone on the desk, dialing Dale's cellular. He answered immediately, and I told him the news about Scarsdale, and he was surprisingly obliging about the whole thing.
"I'll pull the maps now," he said. "Anything else?"
"There'll be a change in the rotation. Natalie's going to take the perimeter today, I'll be backing up Moore with Lady Ainsley-Hunter."
"I'll pass it along to Corry when I see him. When do you want us there?"
"Quarter past eight. Radio when you're in position."
"See ya then."
I hung up the phone, drained the last of the tea in the cup, and refilled for a third time from the cart. "You were right," I told Moore. "The tea's helping."
"That's the restorative power of a cuppa." He glanced over at Lady Ainsley-Hunter's door, making certain it was still shut. "Any news on the Keith front?"
I tore open a packet of honey with my teeth, then said, "Bridgett and Special Agent Fowler are in New Jersey. Joseph Keith – or someone using his Visa card – bought a suit at a mall off Route Seventeen yesterday morning."
"A suit?"
"A three-piece suit, navy blue, and two dress shirts, three ties, a package of cotton handkerchiefs, and a pair of burgundy leather dress shoes. And some cufflinks."
Moore rolled his eyes. "Well-dressed stalker."
"Well, you know, they were married," I said.
"Who was married?" Lady Ainsley-Hunter asked.
She had just emerged from her bedroom, Natalie and Chester following. She was wearing a white shell with a mock turtleneck collar that left her arms bare, and light silk pants the color of an avocado's flesh. She'd touched her cheeks, lips, and eyes lightly with makeup, and had spent some time on her hair, as well. In each earlobe was a small pearl on a stud, and its companion necklace was visible at her neck. Her feet were bare.
Lady Ainsley-Hunter looked expectantly from me to Moore, giving each of us time to come up with an answer. When neither of us did, she smiled.