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“I heard Morse was quite a force.”
“He was. When the campaign started, a guy named Doug Denby was Ritter’s chief of staff and also his de facto campaign manager. When the campaign started gaining momentum, Ritter needed someone full-time who was really seasoned. Morse fit that bill. The whole campaign was energized when he showed up. He was a fat guy with a motor that never quit, really flamboyant and theatrical. Always munching candy bars with his left hand and talking on a cell phone with his right, barking orders, working the media. I don’t think he ever slept. Denby played second fiddle to Sidney Morse. Hell, I think even Ritter was intimidated by him.”
“How did Morse and Bob Scott get along?”
“They didn’t see eye-to-eye on everything, but that was okay. Like I said, Bob was going through a rough divorce, and Morse had a younger brother—Peter, I think his name was—who was involved in some bad stuff that was really stressing Sidney out too. So he and Scott had some common ground there. They got along pretty well. Now, Morse and Doug Denby didn’t really get along. Doug was the issues guy, sort of an old-school southerner with views that maybe would have been in the mainstream fifty years ago. Morse was the flash, the guy from the West Coast, the showman, getting Ritter in the public eye, on all the talk shows, putting on quite a production. Real quickly the flash became more important than the issues on the campaign trail. Ritter couldn’t win anyway, but he was a big ham, not so unusual for a TV preacher. So the more his face and name got out, the better he liked it. From what I could tell, the main strategy was to shake up the big boys—and they sure did that, thanks to Morse—and work deals with them later on. It got so that Ritter just did what Morse told him to do.”
“I’m sure Denby didn’t take that very well. What ever happened to him?”
“Who knows? Where do old chiefs of staff go? Anybody’s guess.”
“I take it since you had morning duty, you probably went to bed early the night before?”
King stared at her for a long moment. “After I was off duty, I hit the gym in the hotel with a couple of guys from my shift, had an early supper, and, yeah, I went to bed. Why are you interested in all this, Agent Maxwell?”
“Please, call me Michelle. I saw you on TV after Jennings was killed. I had heard of you at the Service. After what happened to me, I had an impulse to learn more about what happened to you. I felt a connection.”
“Some connection.”
“Who were the other agents assigned to Ritter?”
He looked sharply at her. “Why?”
She looked at him with an innocent expression. “Well, maybe I know some of them. I could go and talk to them. See how they dealt with what happened.”
“I’m sure it’s printed in some report somewhere. Go look it up.”
“It would save me time if you’d just tell me.”
“Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”
“Okay, was Joan Dillinger one of the members of the protection detail?”
At this King rose and went over to the window, peering out for a few moments. When he looked back, he was scowling. “Are you wired? Either strip and show me you’re not or you can just jump back in your scull and row your ass right out of my life.”
“I’m not wired. But I will strip if you really think it’s necessary. Or I could go jump in the lake. Electronics and water don’t really go well together,” she added pleasantly.
“What do you want from me?”
“I’d like an answer to my question. Was Joan assigned to the detail?”
“Yes! But on a different shift from mine.”
“Was she at the hotel that day?”
“It seems to me that you already know the answer, so why are you asking?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Take it any way you want.”
“Did you two spend the night together?”
“Next question and make it a good one, because it’ll be your last.”
“Okay, right before the shot was fired, who was on the elevator when it opened?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
