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CHAPTER 5
JUST AFTER SEVEN O’CLOCK THAT EVENING, the assistant usher showed up at the kitchen. I had already sent Agda home, but Cyan, Bucky, and I were still hard at work, trying our best to catch up.
The first thing out of my mouth was, “How’s Gene?”
Bradley hesitated.
There’s a sorrow people get in their eyes when news is very, very bad. I’ve seen it often enough to recognize the look even before I hear the words. Bradley’s eyes held that look now.
“Gene didn’t…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
I dropped the knife I was holding, and steadied myself against the stainless steel counter. Staring down, I was vaguely aware of Cyan’s gasp-and of Bucky backing up to sit on a nearby stool.
Cyan snuffled, but I couldn’t look at her just now. I forced myself to focus on Bradley. “Electrocuted?” I asked.
“The hospital said the damage was incredible. They were surprised he hadn’t died on the scene… that he lasted as long as he did.”
In unspeakable pain, no doubt. The little I knew about electrocution was enough to realize it was a ghastly way to go.
We were silent for a long moment, until I had to ask. “There’s no co
Bradley grimaced, taking his time before answering. “We don’t believe so. There will be a full investigation into the electrical system. In fact, that’s going on right now. The Secret Service can’t overlook any possibility of a correlation, of course, but preliminary findings suggest this is just a terrible coincidence.”
I stared down at the diced mushrooms before me and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember what I’d pla
“We’ll be sure to keep everyone informed about arrangements.”
I nodded.
“Go home,” I said to Bucky and Cyan as soon as Bradley was gone.
Cyan’s eyes were red. “But…”
“We aren’t going to get anything done tonight,” I said. “Not after this. I’ll clean up. It’ll give me a chance to clear my head. You guys go home now. We’ll just work harder tomorrow.”
For once Bucky didn’t fight me.
When they were gone, I stood in the silent kitchen, reliving Gene’s final minutes in the White House. Could I have reached him sooner? Would it have mattered? Fragmented recollections raced through my brain, out of order and seemingly without purpose. Why had I noticed that the laundry lady’s hairnet made her ears stick out? Why did it matter that the drill Gene had been holding cracked the marble floor when it fell? Why did I notice that salt was the top jar in the bowl that Cyan had erroneously carried out to us?
Instead of noticing these unrelated, irrelevant details, why hadn’t I done more for Gene?
I closed my eyes, pressing fingers into my eye sockets, as though that could wipe the visions of his stricken body from my memory. Maybe, if I pressed hard enough, I could wake myself up and discover this terrible day had been a figment of my imagination. Maybe-
“Ollie?”
Startled, I jumped. Sparkles from the sudden release of eye pressure danced before me, but I recovered. “Mrs. Campbell,” I said, ready to jump into action. “What can I do for you?”
Waving away my concerns, she made her way around the stainless steel worktable. “How are you doing?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I bit my lip.
By then she’d reached my side and placed a warm hand over mine. “I wanted to see you because…”
Words didn’t often fail the First Lady. She looked away.
When she faced me again, her eyes were shiny. She took several deep breaths before she spoke again. “I want to share something with you-something not a lot of people know.” She took another deep breath and I got the impression she was steeling herself. “A very long time ago, when I was a teenager, a friend of mine drowned. We weren’t twenty feet apart, Ollie, not twenty feet. We were in a public pool being watched over by lifeguards, and Do
I didn’t know what to say.
She gave me a wry smile. “Everyone told me that I wasn’t to blame. But I didn’t believe them. I was seventeen, you understand, and I knew, I just knew, that she’d died because I hadn’t been more careful. It was my fault.”
Politeness urged me to contradict her, but good sense warned me not to.
“I lived with the guilt for a long time.” She sighed. “A very long time. It wasn’t until years later that I found out Do
My throat raw, I managed to say, “Thank you.”
WHEN I FINALLY REACHED MY APARTMENT building that night, I’d taken to heart what Mrs. Campbell had said, yet I felt strongly that it hadn’t really been Gene’s time. With the new knee, his determination to be part of the White House Christmas preparations, and the intensity with which I knew he approached safety issues, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right. With wonderment, I realized, too, that it had been just this morning that the First Lady and I had been sequestered with Sean in the bunker. It seemed like it had been weeks.
James sat in the front lobby. Although my building’s owners hadn’t hired James to sit at the front desk and screen visitors, they encouraged his continued cooperation by reducing his rent. A win-win situation. James, with his fixed income and empty apartment since Millie died, enjoyed the constant busyness. The building’s owners liked the idea of the added, albeit limited, security James provided at the front door.
Though his build was slight, James had a deep voice. He greeted me with a gusty, “Hiya, Ollie! How’s the president today?”
I answered as I usually did. “Great. He sends his best.”
James laughed at our little joke. “You’re home kinda late,” he said. “I bet it’s a lot of work to prepare for a White House Thanksgiving.”
James loved any presidential tidbits I cared to share, and although I never gave him information that couldn’t be found online or in the newspapers, he always felt as though he was getting the scoop from me. I started to answer, but a random thought stopped me. “Is Stanley around?”
“I saw him go up a little while ago. Why? You having power problems in your apartment?”
I shook my head. “I just want to ask him a couple questions.” Realizing swiftly that Gene’s death would make the early news tomorrow, I added, “We had an accident at the White House today and I just want to pick his brain a little.”
“An electrical accident?”
“Yeah, but if Stanley ’s done for the night…” I let loose a sigh of frustration. Stanley was another of our building owner’s priceless finds. He took care of building maintenance in return for a small stipend and free rent. I wondered if, when I retired, the mighty owners would consider putting in a restaurant on the main floor and give me free rent, too. “I’ll try to catch up with him tomorrow.”