Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [53]
Jeanine guffawed. “Fat chance of that ever happening.”
Mitzi’s pained expression told Jeanine that her friend had more on her mind, so Jeanine asked.
“Daddy says he thinks this detective is also looking into why Louise went to prison. The stabbing of that guy.”
“I see.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing to it,” Mitzi said. “Daddy says not to worry. But—but I am worried, Jeanine.”
“Your father is right,” Jeanine said. “Go on, eat your soup before—” She laughed. “I was going to say before it gets cold, but it already is.”
For the rest of the meal the first lady kept the conversation away from the topic of Brixton and his visit to the headmistress of the Christian Vision Academy. Mitzi had visibly relaxed and they laughed at gossip each had to spread about Washington bigwigs, which included tales of sexual indiscretions. By the time Mitzi left the White House she was in considerably better spirits than when she’d arrived.
Jeanine attended a last-minute meeting in preparation for the dinner that night with the Israeli prime minister. Before heading to the family’s private quarters to change for the evening, she took Lance Millius aside. “Do me a favor, Lance, and have someone check out a private detective in Savannah named Robert Brixton. Just a favor for an old friend.”
She walked away, leaving him looking after her quizzically.
CHAPTER 19
Mitzi’s emotional wires were crossed when she returned from lunch.
The conversation with Jeanine had been soothing but only to an extent, and Mitzi’s contribution to their light banter toward the end of lunch had been forced. Her father, too, had been comforting. She knew him to be a man of action. He’d do whatever he could to blow away this unwelcome intrusion into her structured, satisfying life.
But alone in her study—and without their dismissals of her fears to hang on to—the feeling of dread that had consumed her earlier in the day returned, and memories of twenty years ago dominated.
• • •
She was seventeen years old on that hot, humid summer night in Savannah. She’d told her parents that she was going to spend Saturday night at Jeanine Montgomery’s house but failed to mention that Jeanine’s parents would be away overnight and wouldn’t be back until Sunday.
She and Jeanine had been close friends since grade school. Mitzi’s mother often joked that the girls were joined at the hip, like Siamese twins. Their parents were also friends. Ward Cardell had made a fortune in Savannah real estate. Warren Montgomery was a successful banker, although most of his wealth had come through an investment firm he headed. The Cardell and Montgomery families were scions of Savannah society, movers and shakers, powerful forces behind elected officials. Numerous civic organizations listed Montgomery and/or Cardell on their letterheads, and their yearly financial contributions to area charities were unfailingly generous.
Their parents approved of the relationship between the girls, each of whom was an only child. Mitzi tended to be somewhat flighty, a nervous young girl with a sweet disposition who tended to talk fast. Jeanine was a cooler head, more sophisticated than her bosom buddy yet appropriately immature at eighteen. Their parents considered them exemplary examples of young southern womanhood, well mannered and bright, their outlook on society properly shaped by their parents’ staunchly conservative politics. Most of all, the girls were considered levelheaded, at least when compared to other female teenagers who the Montgomery and Cardell families considered prime examples of wasted youth, those who hung out with the wrong people at places like Augie’s, an infamous teen hangout. Ward Cardell had tried to have the club shut down and almost succeeded. But some slick legal maneuvering by the club’s attorney staved off the closure and it continued to draw large crowds each night.
Mitzi had dinner with the Montgomerys at their home on that Saturday. After dinner she and Jeanine went to Jeanine’s bedroom to listen to a Black Sabbath album that Jeanine