Marin was surprised by the intensity of his question. “I told you, no.”
He looked out the window and sighed heavily. “There was no fire here this morning, Chef,” he said. “It was a false alarm. A prank, it would seem.”
Her head spun when she sat up too quickly in her chair. She’d been so overwrought stumbling over Seth’s dead body that she hadn’t even asked about the fire. “Someone pulled the fire alarm?”
The detective eyed her carefully. “Yes. The one on the penthouse floor.”
“What!” Her stomach rolled, and she had to sit on her hands to keep their trembling under control. “You have to have a key to get up to my floor. Even when using the stairs.”
“So I understand.”
“Well, I don’t!” Marin cried. “I don’t understand any of this. People around me are dying all of a sudden! And I can’t make any sense of it!”
The detective left his chair and came around the table to sit next to Marin.
“You don’t have to make any sense of it. That’s my job,” he tried to soothe her. “Like I said, I think you’ve just had a run of bad luck by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ll figure it out, though. You just need to get some rest now.”
Marin glanced at the clock on the wall.Seven thirty-five.She needed to get to work on the Easter luncheon the First Family was expecting later that day. “I need to get to the White House.” She tried to stand up, but her legs didn’t seem to be getting the message.
“You just sit. Someone from the White House is on the way here now. They’ll drive you.”
“No!” Marin surged to her feet, grabbing onto the table for support. The last person she wanted to see was Griffin Keller riding in like a white knight. “I can get myself to the White House.”
“All the same,” the admiral chimed in from behind her. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ride with me. I can make that an order if I have to, Chef. Please don’t force me to do so.”
“I wish you had let me go upstairs and change out of my pajamas,” Marin said when they arrived at the White House ten minutes later. She didn’t bother apologizing for her churlish tone. Her SpongeBob pajama pants were embarrassment enough.
The admiral smiled. “They’re nothing I haven’t seen before. My daughter took a similar pair to college this year.” He took her elbow and helped her up the steps.
“Marin!” Her aunt Harriett, the First Lady, charged out of the usher’s office. “Sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around Marin, holding her tightly. It was too much. Marin dissolved into tears again.
Time seemed to be hopping because the next thing she knew, they were standing in the Queen’s bedroom on the second floor. The ornate four-poster bed swam before Marin’s misty eyes.
“I need to be in the kitchen,” she stammered.
“Not today,” Aunt Harriett insisted. “You, my girl, are going to rest.”
One of the maids arrived with towels and a glass of water.
“Thank you,” Aunt Harriett murmured, taking the glass from the maid. She handed it to Marin, opening her other hand to reveal a small pill. “Here, take this.”
Marin blanched. “What is it?”
“Something to help you sleep. From the looks of you, sixteen hours ought to do it.”
“You’re drugging me?”
“I may be the First Lady, but I’m also your godmother. And I still have a license to practice medicine. Don’t forget I used to treat your diaper rash, young lady.”
She reluctantly took the pill from her aunt’s hand and swallowed it with a gulp of water.
Her mother’s best friend gently brushed the hair out of Marin’s eyes. “You’ve had quite a week. Let me take care of you. Your mother would do the same for my family if it came down to it. There are toiletries in the bathroom. Don’t be shy about asking for whatever you need. I’ll just be down the hall.”
When Marin emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Arabelle was leaning against one of the Queen Anne chairs, wearing a frilly pink dress, shiny white Mary Janes, and carrying a pile of books in her hands.
“Arabelle, don’t you look beautiful in your Easter dress.”
“I have a hat that goes with it, but Momma says I can’t wear it until we leave for church. She said I wasn’t supposed to come in here because I’ll wrinkle my dress, but Grandma Harriett said it would be okay if I read you some stories. Would you like that?”