“He liked to drink,” Carol said, softly recalling her only encounter with him. “I don’t suppose they’ll do an autopsy.”
“I doubt it. No reason.”
“Do you think it was the CIA?” she asked.
“You got me. It sounds like a perfectly legitimate accident, drinking and driving too fast for conditions.”
“But you weren’t with us at The Morning After. Terry was scared shitless Janet Rood would have the CIA do him in.”
“It appears as if the First Lady succeeded. One way or the other, she got to him. He was a man on the run, probably making his escape while we waited for him at Le Club.”
Carol’s eyes welled up. “He was a sleazeball, but he had a certain charm and he was talented. I told you about the little parody I saw him do on the President. He was utterly convincing and he already was three sh
