"Accident prone. You know, everything happened to him. Like those mushrooms he got sick on just before he left home; falling off the porch. No wonder he didn't want to leave home."
They drove in silence for some time, Kessler intent on the evening flood of traffic, Margaret almost drowsing in the evening sunlight and the cool of the breeze in her hair. When Kessler pulled up at a drug store she said, "What?" sleepily.
"Phone call I have to make. You wait here," he said. She nodded.
Kessler got through to Senator Brogan's office quickly. "Hello, Miss Persons? I'm glad you're still there. This is Bob Kessler. Do you have any idea where the senator is now? Good, would you put me through to him?"
Brogan sounded anything but sleepy. "Yes Bob? Finally wind it up?"
"I think maybe I have," Kessler said. "I've seen Miss Schmitt."
"Ah, Spencer's old flame? And what did you learn?"
When Kessler was finished telling him there was a long pause. "Are you still there, George?" he asked.
Brogan's voice was heavy. "Yes, Bob, I'm still here. Where are you calling from? A public phone? Well, I think maybe you'd better come up here. We have more to say than you have dimes and it won't hurt to keep this to ourselves if we can—or till we're sure. Better bring your complete files. Good. One point, though! Did anything I said this afternoon help? I wondered. I couldn't really believe it myself. If you'd said something, I wouldn't have felt I was going crazy. I've been sitting here wondering if I should see a head doctor."
Margaret smiled philosophically when Kessler told her he had to go back to see Brogan. "Some second honeymoon," she complained. "Well, anyway, what about that drink and a steak dinner. I'll get us a hotel room. Maybe tomorrow, like I always say."