He made a gurgling noise. “Oh, yes. Hello.”
I pressed the phone tight against my ear. “All you can say is ‘Hello’? After leaving me a threatening message, you can only say, ‘Hello’?”
He dropped his voice. “You weren’t supposed to call on this number.”
“Oh, yes,” I said loudly as I strode south toward the White House. “That, too. What do you think I am, some simpleton? Just because I was involved in a couple of”-I lost my intensity for a moment, thinking about my involvement in other situations-“incidents at the White House, doesn’t mean that I care to participate in your crazy schemes. And I don’t-”
“Please,” he said, interrupting me. “Can you call me back on that other number?”
What the heck was wrong with this guy? Convinced he was even more touched in the head than I’d originally assumed, I was tempted to hang up. But I couldn’t. No matter the state of his mind, this fellow held the power to mess up my life. And Tom’s career. Before I hung up, I knew I had to impart one very important piece of information.
Using the same name for Tom that Liss had when he accosted me on the train, I said, “You need to know that ‘MacKenzie’ and I are no longer involved.”
Dead silence.
“Liss?” My footsteps made soft scratches on the sidewalk as I kept up a quick pace. “Are you there?”
A click and then my phone went dead. I muttered an angry expletive as I dialed my voicemail account and listened to his message again. This time I memorized his “preferred” phone number and dialed it as soon as I terminated the call.
“Olivia?” he asked when he answered. “Thank goodness.”
“What is wrong with you?” I asked. “I have no intention of turning this into a chatty phone conversation. So just listen. The ‘relationship’ you threatened to make public is no longer an issue.”
Dead silence, again.
If this unscrupulous, unprincipled blabbermouth hung up on me a second time, I swore I would march down to the newspaper office to confront him personally. He surprised me by whispering, “Hang on one second.”
Moments later, the quiet background on his side of the connection was replaced by the sound of traffic and wind. “You there?” he asked.
“Not for long.” I wasn’t exaggerating. I’d made the trek from the station to the White House gate in record time. Anger does that for me.
A crowd lined up along the White House fence startled me for a moment, and I slowed my pace. But then I remembered what day it was. Egg Roll tickets would be handed out today and hundreds of people were already lined up-some of them having camped out overnight just for the chance to be part of Monday’s festivities. Bundled up against the morning chill, they sat in small groups-in lawn chairs, or huddled in sleeping bags on the cold sidewalk.
“Listen,” Liss said.
“No, you listen. Did you not hear what I just said about my relationship with Tom?” I clenched my eyes shut. I’d been careful not to use his first name in this conversation. Too personal. But I’d gotten so worked up with all the interruptions that I’d lost that small measure of control. I coughed and clarified. “I am no longer involved with Mr. MacKenzie.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
This man was definitely crackers. “The heck you are,” I said. “If it weren’t for you threatening to make it public-”
“That’s not what I want to talk with you about.”
I was within thirty feet of the gates. I kept my voice low to prevent eager ticket-seekers from overhearing my conversation. But most looked too sleepy to care. “In case you didn’t understand me the other day, I have no desire to talk with you. About anything. And now that you no longer have Mr. MacKenzie to hold over my head, our conversations are finished.”
“But don’t you want to know who killed Minkus?”
I stopped walking. “Like you have that information. Give me a break. If you knew, you’d tell the world.”
“Knowing something and proving it are two completely different things. You’ve learned that, haven’t you, Olivia?” Now that he was standing outside his office building-an assumption I made based on the ambient noises and his intense desire for privacy-his voice took on a condescending air. “Wouldn’t it help you-and help your assistant Bucky-if the real guilty party were brought to light?”
“When I find out,” I said, “and I say ‘when,’ not ‘if,’ it will be through proper channels, not through some delusional journalist’s mad ravings.”
He made a noise that sounded like, “Tsk.”
“Have a good day,” I said, for lack of a better send-off.
“Wait.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Well then maybe your mother does.”
My hand tightened on the phone. “Don’t you ever-”
“She really likes that Zenobios Kapostoulos, doesn’t she?” he asked. “But I believe you know him better as Kap.”
I was stricken silent until I remembered that we’d all been in the same small group at the Minkus wake. “You are mistaken,” I said. “Yet again.” I resumed walking to the gate.
“Am I?” His voice resumed its playful arrogance. I hated it. “Then I assume your mother didn’t tell you about her dinner date last night.”
“How the hell-?” I stopped myself, took a deep breath, then continued. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to poke into my family’s life?”
“Your mother’s friend Kap is involved with Minkus’s death.”
“What?” I asked. “How?”
“Oh, so now I have your attention.” I heard him lick his lips. He must have covered the mouthpiece, because suddenly the background noises grew quiet and hollow. “I don’t know precisely. Yet.”
My mind raced as I tried to piece things together. “Kap wasn’t at the dinner Sunday. He couldn’t have done it.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure he wasn’t at the dinner.”
He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. How sure are you that he didn’t do it?”
I wasn’t. “Then why don’t you tell me how he did?”
“I can’t. But what I can tell you is that Kap isn’t working alone. And I don’t even believe that’s his real name.”
I glanced at my watch. I needed to be in the kitchen posthaste. Not standing out in the chilly morning, listening to outlandish scenarios. This moment held a peculiar sense of déjà vu.
I started toward the gate again. “I gotta go.”
“Wait,” he said, so quickly and forcefully that I stutter-stepped. “Phil Cooper.”
“What about him?”
He heaved a huge sigh. “I didn’t want to get into this right away, but I’ll tell you.”
“Then hurry up.”
“I have reason to believe that Phil Cooper committed the actual murder.”
“You just said Kap did it.”
It sounded like he licked his lips again. He’d be chapped before he knew it. Good.
“I said Kap was involved. Listen, please. The two of them are meeting today.” He started talking very quickly. “I have a source.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because another one of my sources trusts you. And through you-through your mother, to be precise-I can gain access to Kap.”
This was getting totally out of hand. I would not allow him to involve my mother. “I’m done,” I said loudly. I excused myself to make my way through the line of waiting people, then slipped my employee ID through the card reader at the gate. “Good-bye.”
“Kap and Cooper have ties to the Chinese government. They took Minkus out.” His words were tinctured with an air of desperation. “I have a source that can prove this. I know I’m right. And you’ll be reading about it in my column soon. Why not help me? You like all that attention, don’t you?”
I passed the guard in the front gatehouse, who had been watching my animated movements with a look of concern. Giving him a little wave, I said into the phone: “No, I don’t. And to be perfectly frank, I’m convinced that Liss is not more.”