“We’re having problems in the Red Room again,” Paul continued. “Did you cut the power there?”
Manny and Vince were about to head downstairs, but Curly stopped them with an unintelligible command. “What did you two do to the Red Room’s power?” he asked.
Manny looked at Vince, who shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vince said.
Manny lifted his hands. “No idea. But we’ve got a lot to do, so…”
They were almost to the steps. “Hang on, there,” Curly said, his voice raised. He swore under his breath. The scar that stretched across his head reddened and a vein throbbed at his temple. “Listen,” he said to Paul, “I’ve been at this all day. I checked the Red Room, everything’s hot. You tell me something’s wrong. I check it again, and there’s still nothing wrong. You think maybe your staff don’t know the difference between the on and off switch?”
Ever unflappable, Paul shook his head. “I checked it myself, Curly. In fact, I just came from there. We have no power in the Red Room.”
Curly raised a hand to his two assistants, then pointed down. “You go see what’s what. And I want a complete report.”
“Hold off on that a minute,” Paul said, preventing the two men from leaving yet again. “I’m also here to inform you about a change in plan. I’ve just gotten word that the First Lady will not be entertaining here this afternoon. We will not have the traditional decorator tour after all.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Not just for my team’s sake, but for that of the First Lady. She needed a break, and it seemed that finally she’d be able to get one. “We aren’t serving, then?” I asked.
Paul shook his head. “Today is off. Completely.”
Pulled from his mesmerizing study, Marcel straightened. “The house is not needed for today?” he asked. With an indignant tug of his tunic, he shot blazing eyes at Paul. “Why was I not told sooner?”
Paul raised his hand in a placating gesture. “I just found out. There have been… developments… in Mr. Baxter’s funeral arrangements.”
My hand immediately flew to my pocket, where I’d stowed the letter from Sean. “Developments?”
I knew Paul was reluctant to share any information he didn’t deem necessary. “Mrs. Campbell has opted to spend more time with the president’s family. She’s needed there.”
“Did they say anything more about whether they’re investigating this as a homicide?”
Paul looked away. “We’ll let you know more when we can, Ollie.”
Curly had lowered his chin and now sent us piercing looks as he rolled his head back and forth between us, his eyes wide with boredom. “And this affects the electricity how?”
Marcel muttered to himself about being left out of important decisions, but he’d gone back to studying the gingerbread house and was mostly quiet. Yi-im stood away from us, his hands clasped at his waist.
Tiredness settled around Paul’s expressive eyes as he addressed Curly’s concerns. “I’m bringing you all up to date right now. A memo will go out shortly. Please plan to have everything ready for display on Tuesday.”
I piped up, “The day we reopen to the public?”
Marcel muttered. Paul nodded. “We plan to tie the opening ceremony for the holiday season with the decorator tour. The only difference between the two events is size. And once we put both together, don’t be surprised if Tuesday turns out to be a wild media event.” He relaxed his features. “Curly, you’ll see to the Red Room?”
“These two will see to it right now. And I guarantee I’m going to check it myself when they’re done.”
Only too happy to get the heck out of there, Manny said, “Okay, thanks.” He looked to Curly. “We good to go?”
Curly jerked a thumb. “Get.”
Vince started toward the Red Room, but Manny tugged his arm. “We got to check it from downstairs, first.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Paul clapped his hands together, thanked us all, and left.
Curly looked like he was ready to depart, but I stopped him. “I think Marcel needs help getting this into the Red Room. Don’t you, Marcel?”
Our pastry chef seemed to become suddenly aware of the recent departures. “I cannot do this alone. Where are the other two?” he asked.
If laser-eyed stares could kill, I would have been dead on the floor. Curly worked his jaw. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, taking a position at one end of the house. He ordered Yi-im to the opposite side and told Marcel to push the cart.
“But there are so few of us,” Marcel said. “How can we-”
“Just push the damn thing,” Curly said.
Marcel closed his mouth, fixing the other man with a glare of condescension. “But of course, you have no appreciation for art.”
Curly ignored him.
We all quickly realized that Marcel had neither the upper body strength nor the inclination to push the heavy load across the massive hall. I was about to suggest that we ask a couple of other staffers to help when Yi-im took over for Marcel, and I took Yi-im’s position. As though the huge structure weighed nothing, he pushed it smoothly and quickly into the Red Room, where we left it in the room’s center. Kendra had given us strict instructions not to place it on its display table yet. That would come later, after she’d ensured that everything was exactly where she wanted it.
As we left Marcel to coo over his creation a bit longer, and Yi-im to continue to assist in his quiet, capable way, I tried one of the room’s lights. It went on, nice and bright. “Looks like your guys got the power going in here again.”
“Couple of idiots,” Curly said.
We were in the cross hall now. “Hey,” I said, turning. “The Red Room is right above the Map Room.”
Curly didn’t stop walking.
“Curly.”
Impatiently, he turned.
I took that as an invitation to continue. “The Map Room is the room Gene was working on when he got that power surge.”
“So?”
“Remember? The day of the electrocution, the Map Room had gone powerless.”
“I don’t remember,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said, recollection dawning on me. That was the day Curly’s wife had been taken to the hospital. “You weren’t here. The Map Room didn’t have power. Gene thought it had been taken care of, but when it wasn’t, he set out to fix it himself.”
Curly’s calloused fingers skimmed his scar. “I don’t know what this has to do with anything.”
“Don’t you see? Whatever killed Gene may be happening again. Remember those floating neutrals I asked you about?”
Curly scowled, throwing his hands violently sideways-as though swatting a giant fly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You learn one little thing, you think you’re an expert. I told you once: You show me your electrician’s card, and only then I’ll start listening to what you have to say.”
“But-”
“Just…” He shook his head, and held up his hands, swatting the air again. This time when he turned and left, I didn’t call after him.
CHAPTER 17
BACK IN THE KITCHEN, I GAVE MY TEAM THE news. “Slow down, everyone. Today’s reception has been canceled.”
Relief brightened their faces as they all stood back from their tasks and took a breath. Agda stared a long moment. “I stop now?” she asked.
“We all stop now,” I said.
“What are we supposed to do with all the extra?” Bucky asked. “Look at how much we’ve already done.”
He had a point. There were hundreds of appetizers lined up on enormous baking sheets, waiting to be served. “Let’s freeze what we can,” I said, letting them know that the event had been rescheduled for Tuesday. “And we’ll take the rest down to the cafeteria to share.”
“Tuesday?” Bucky said. “Won’t that be a madhouse?”
The general public-those who had the foresight to prearrange a visit-and congressional leaders and their families were all due here to vie for photo-ops at the opening ceremony. The event today was supposed to have been for the local press and other highfalutin magazines. Dubbed the Decorator Tour, the Sunday event traditionally gave the world a sneak peek at the year’s White House extravaganza.