The hostess understood.
Then she looked back at me.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harrison.”
She lowered her voice.
“Your husband asked us to make sure you don’t disturb the private dinner.”
I stared at her.
Behind her stood the enormous brass doors leading into The Obsidian Room.
Beyond those doors was my husband.
His boss.
The mysterious ring.
And possibly millions of dollars in stolen money.
I smiled.
“That’s all right.”
The hostess looked relieved.
Until I reached into my purse.
Pulled out my federal badge.
And placed it on the marble counter.
Her entire expression changed.
“I’m afraid,” I said calmly, “I’m not here as his wife tonight.”
I looked toward the closed doors.
“I’m here as Special Agent Clara Harrison.”
And somewhere on the other side of those doors…
my husband was about to discover that the woman he had spent five years underestimating had been investigating him all along.
