Casey took a sip of his drink and said nothing.
"Well, Milly and Jim Scott have had quite a time. At the beginning, Jiggs, it was really torrid. I don't know anything about Mrs. Scott, but the General sure fell hard for Milly. And she almost loved him. I'm not sure she ever really loved anybody, but she came close with him. She was forever calling me up and swearing me to secrecy and rattling on about him. I've been at her place several times when the General was there. I must admit he's most impressive, even if he's not my type."
Casey interrupted. "You think Scott ever considered a divorce?"
"Never," said Shoo flatly. "And Milly didn't want that. She's really a career woman. She's insane about that magazine. She likes the excitement of an affair, but marriage, no." Shoo peeked at him over the rim of her glass. "I wonder if I'll get like that, Jiggs?"
"No," he said, imitating the stern father. "We're going to get you married, young lady. Are Scott and Milly still going strong?"
"Not really. Oh, he calls up, and he was here a couple of weeks ago to see her. But it's cooled off some. Milly says he seems preoccupied about something. The last time, she said, Scott had his aide, somebody named Murdock, I think, with him, and they really just used her apartment for some kind of military business. You know, those things always end, and knowing Milly, I'm surprised it lasted this long. I think she's secretly flattered at being the occasional mistress of such an important military man."
Casey's eyes were on the painting of the two bulls. Why green horns? he mused. The talk of this romantic liaison had set his mind wandering and he had to force himself-back to business.
"Is there any evidence of all this?" he asked.
"Evidence? What do you mean?"
"Anything written down on paper or something."
Shoo pulled back her shoulders in feigned distaste. "Now really, Jiggs, if you're suggesting that I stoop to stealing love letters for you ..."
"I don't mean letters," he said, "and I don't want you to steal anything. But is there an autographed picture, or a gift that could be traced to General Scott through a bill of sale or anything like that?"
"Oh." Shoo thought a moment. Then she began to giggle. "I don't suppose I ought to tell you this," she said, "but it's so funny. Milly is really a character. She's so feminine and arty and chi-chi, you know, but, God, is she close with a buck! Anyway, she makes gobs of money, and she was crazy to find some new deductions this winter when she made out her tax return. I don't know whether her lawyer advised her on this- I doubt it-but she deducted three thousand dollars for entertaining General Scott last year."
"She did?" Casey was really surprised. "How could she get away with that?"
"Why, military fashions, dear." Shoo threw back her head and hooted. "Isn't that a scream? She decided if she were questioned she'd say she had to entertain General Scott to get the latest word on what the service wives and girls in uniform, the Waves and all, were wearing. I just loved her for it. Imagine deducting a love affair. I think it's a howl. Nobody but Milly could think it up."
"Did she get away with it, or doesn't she know yet?"
"The story gets even funnier. She filed early, and in March an internal revenue man came around to see her. He wanted her to explain the deduction, and she told him just what I told you. The next thing, she got a note from the tax people saying she couldn't do it and she owed another two thousand or so in taxes.
"Well, Milly got her back up and said nuts, and if the government wanted to sue her, go ahead and sue. I guess the affair was cooling off anyway and Milly was just mad enough to fight. Of course, I knew she didn't have a leg to stand on, but you can't tell Milly a thing where money is concerned."
"So what happened?" Casey tried to make his interest sound casual.
"So they compromised!" Shoo broke down in bubbly giggles again. "Isn't that a riot? A little man in the office downtown, all kind of bashful and double-talky, said nobody would want to embarrass General Scott or Miss Segnier, and what would she think if they let her deduct fifteen hundred and pay taxes on the rest? So, she did. She paid about a thousand dollars-she's in one of those dreadful brackets-but everybody's happy. Milly saved a thousand, the government got a thousand, and so far as I know General Scott never heard anything about it. I just love it."
"I thought they had to make those compromises public," Casey said.
"Oh, those are the big ones, where everybody gets lawyers and sits around with portfolios and things," Shoo said. "This was just a little private thing between Milly and the nice little man in the tax office."
Casey let the talk drift back into personal chitchat. Shoo asked about his boys, and whether he was being a good boy himself in Washington. She herself, it seemed, had been on the brink of marriage last year, but discovered just in time that the young man wanted to be "humdrum and dreary and have a lot of babies and live way out in Fairfield County."
She sighed theatrically. "You just can't trust men, not even the best of them... . And now, Jiggs, instead of going out and spending a lot of money that Marines don't have, I suggest we be cozy here and let me whip up a nice steak from the freezer."
Casey hesitated. He knew he shouldn't be seen in a New York restaurant if he could help it. On the other hand, the aftermath of a candlelit dinner-for-two here might be more than a man on a mission for his country could handle. He had hoped to compromise on some little cubbyhole restaurant with few patrons.
"Okay," he said. "I'd like that, if you promise you won't do anything elaborate."
"I don't know how to do anything elaborate-in the kitchen." She kissed him on the forehead and went out. He could hear the icebox door open and pans rattling.
"Listen, Shoo," he called. "While you're busy, I'll just run down to the corner and make a call. I have to check in with some people."
"Use my phone in the bedroom, Jiggs," she said. "I promise not to listen, even if it's a call to Mrs. Casey."
"No, this is business, and we're supposed to use public phone booths."
Shoo put her head around the door. "My, my, aren't we being mysterious? I don't think it's very nice, but if that's the way secret agents carry on, go ahead. Back soon?"
"Sure." Casey rebuttoned his shirt collar and fixed his tie. He nodded to the doorman as he left the building and walked toward Lexington Avenue. From a phone booth in a drugstore on the corner he called the White House, asked for Miss Chervasi and was switched to Esther Townsend.
"This is Casey, Miss Townsend."
"Well, everybody's busy. We just had a nice call from Paul, from over the water."
"Did he get it?" asked Casey.
"The Man is feeling much, much better, thanks. And you?"
"Look, Miss Townsend, I'll bring back the details tomorrow. But take him this message: Millicent Segnier deducted quite a bit of dough on her federal tax return for entertaining our friend. It's not quite the kind of evidence we're looking for, but it might be very helpful if we get into a jam. I think the Secretary ought to call for that return. That's M-i-1-l-i-"
"I know how to spell it, Colonel. I'll tell him right away. Anything else?"
"Not yet."
"Well, wipe off the lipstick before you come home. 'Bye, Colonel."
Dinner at Shoo's was predictably intimate. One candle flickered on the table, and after a steak and salad, she brought out a bottle of brandy. They sipped it in the living room, Shoo sitting on the floor with her head against Casey's knee.
"I like this, Jiggs," she said. "I've been here before."
Her low voice and the dim light lulled Casey. He had taken off his coat and now he loosened his tie again. Talk about disarmament treaties, he thought, if I'm not careful I'm going to be disarmed without a treaty. He pulled himself out of the peaceful mood.