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for so long—he was a Rhode Island boy, too, I understand. . . .”
    “And a Brown grad as well.”
    “Yes, I saw that someplace. You must have known him well.”
    “We knew each other, yes. We have lost touch in the years since the President died.”
    “You and Kendall weren’t close friends, then?”
    “We were both closer to the President than we were to each other.” Norton appeared to choose his words carefully.
    “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find him, would you?”
    “He’s in a nursing home.”
    “Do you know where that nursing home might be?” Simon had the distinct feeling he was being played with, and he didn’t like it.
    “He’s in Saint Margaret’s, in Linden.”
    “Linden, Maryland?” Simon’s brows rose.
    “Yes. I think I recall hearing something about Kendall having been ill and living with a nephew for a time; then the nephew was transferred to Houston and he made arrangements for Kendall to be moved to Saint Margaret’s.”
    “No children?”
    “No. Kendall never married.” Norton paused before asking, “I suppose you’ll be seeing him as well as Huntley?”
    Simon laughed. “With any luck.”
    “Who else do you have there?”
    “The only other person I have on my short list is Adeline Anderson.”
    “The reporter for the
Washington Press
who covered the capital social scene back in the day.” Simon could almost see Norton nodding his approval. “Good choice. She knew everyone in town back then, knew what they were doing and who they were doing it with. It was said that if Addie Anderson didn’t know about it, it hadn’t really happened.”
    “I thought she’d be helpful in setting the stage. The social stage, that is.”
    “She will be, I’m sure. Now, I think she’s living out in—”
    “Already found her, thanks. And I have calls in to Congressman Hayward and the former First Lady, as well as Sarah Decker, the former First Daughter.”
    “Well then, it sounds as if you’re off to a fine start.”
    “I am, thank you.”
    “If you need my help don’t hesitate to call me.”
    “I don’t expect to.” Recalling his manners, Simon added, “But appreciate the offer.”
    “Well then, keep in touch.”
    “Will do.” Simon hung up the phone.
    He’d no sooner put the phone on the table when it rang again.
    “Mr. Keller? Sarah Decker returning your call.”
    “Yes, of course. Mrs. Decker, thank you for calling back so promptly.”
    “I understand that you’re doing a book about my father.”
    “Yes, I . . . Excuse me, how did you know that?”
    “My mother mentioned it. I believe she spoke with Philip Norton over the weekend—”
    “Oh?” Simon frowned, vaguely annoyed by this news.
    “Mother said that you’d probably be calling to set up an appointment to chat.”
    “Yes. I was hoping to schedule some time to spend with you, at your convenience, of course.”
    “I know that everyone in the family is excited about your book, so I certainly want to cooperate. Did you have any particular date in mind?”
    Simon heard what sounded like pages turning softly in the background.
    “The earliest date that you are available would be fine. Whatever works best for you.”
    “In that case, how does next Tuesday look?”
    “Next Tuesday is fine.” Simon didn’t have to check his appointment book. Even if he had scheduled something previously, he’d have broken it to meet with Sarah Decker.
    “Is one-thirty good?”
    “Perfect.”
    “Great. You have our address?”
    “I do.” He read it off to her from a slip of paper he’d tucked into his shirt pocket after he’d placed the call to her earlier in the day.
    “I’ll look for you on Tuesday afternoon,” she told him. “Now, don’t hesitate to call if something comes up.”
    “Nothing will come up,” he assured her.
    Nothing was going to come up that would prevent his interview with Sarah Decker, former First Daughter and sister to the man who would be president. Simon would be