I tell the hostess I would like a table for two. She seats me, smiling sweetly. It’s only a few minuteslater that the doorbell dings and Walsh strolls ifuckingThe man is on time to the minute. He’s got thekind of smile that’s believable, maybe even genuine.
Then again, how often does he get the chance to try to mess with the popular wife of his most hatedopponent?
“Thanks for meeting with me,” he says as he sits down.
“I didn’t do this for you.”
He offers a sedate tilt of the head. “I know that, believe me. You did this for yourself. To find out justwhat you got yourself into.”
I eye him evenly. Clean-cut, handsome, graying in the elegant way that certain men do. “How do youknow I’m not in on it?”
“Because I know people. Just how I know that Mr. Vaknin is bad. One look, and I knew. Y
