Murder in the CIA by Margaret Truman

Author:Margaret Truman [Truman, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5280-8
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

16

“Eric Edwards?”

“Yes.”

“This is Collette Cahill, Barrie Mayer’s friend.”

“Hi, how are you? My secretary told me you’d called. I assume you got my message in Budapest?”

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner but I’ve been busy.”

“I understand.”

“I still can’t believe she’s dead.”

“Hard for any of us to believe it. Barrie talked a lot about you. I suppose you were her best friend?”

“We were close. I was wondering if we could get together for a drink, or lunch, or whatever works for you. Will you be in Washington long?”

“Leaving tomorrow. You on vacation?”

“Yes.”

“How’s things in Budapest?”

“Fine, except for when I heard about Barrie. Are you free for lunch?”

“No, unfortunately I’m not. I’m on a tight schedule.”

“Time for a fast drink this afternoon? I’m free all day.”

“Well, I suppose … how about six? I have a dinner date at seven.”

“That’d be fine.” She realized she was not about to generate enough interest from him in an hour to result in an invitation to the BVI. “Actually,” she said, “I’m not being completely honest. I do want to talk to you about Barrie, but I also would love some good advice on the BVI. I’m spending part of my vacation there and thought you could recommend a good hotel, restaurants, that sort of thing.”

“Happy to. When are you leaving?”

Some quick thinking. “In a few days.”

“I’ll give it my best shot when we meet tonight. On a budget?”

“Sort of, but not too tight.”

“Fine. Like sailing?”

Collette had never been out in a sailboat. “Yes,” she said, “I love it.” She knew she should qualify her answer. “I really don’t know much about it, though. I’ve only been a few times.”

“Let’s see if we can’t arrange a day trip for you. I’m in the yacht-chartering business.”

“I know. It sounds …” She laughed. “It sounds wonderful and romantic.”

“Mostly hard work, although it does beat a suit and tie and nine to five, at least for me. Any suggestion where to meet tonight?”

“Your choice. I’ve been away from Washington too long.”

“Might as well come over here to the Watergate. Would make my life a little easier. Come to my room. I’ll have something sent up. What do you drink?”

“Scotch and soda?”

“You got it. See you at six, Room 814.”

She drove to Barrie Mayer’s literary agency where Marcia St. John and Carol Geffin were behind their desks. Tony Tedeschi, one of the associate agents, was burrowing through a file cabinet in the corner.

St. John, a lanky, attractive mulatto, who’d been there the longest, greeted Cahill soberly.

“I heard,” Cahill said.

St. John shook her head. “First Barrie, now David. It’s incredible.”

Tedeschi said, “How are you, Collette?”

“Okay, Tony. The question is how are you?”

“We’re holding up. Have you heard anything new about David?”

“No, just the TV and newspapers. What are the funeral plans?”

“Not set yet,” St. John said. “How’s Budapest?”

“Fine, last I saw it.” Collette looked at the door leading to Barrie’s private office. It was open a crack and she saw a figure cross the room, then disappear. “Who’s in there?” she asked.

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