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Gallagher said, his voice catching for a fraction of a second at the end. “I recognize most of the things on there. The top number happens to be the combination to her bicycle lock. Four-nine-three-nine was her PIN number for automatic teller machines. The bottom number is the code that turns off the security system I installed at her apartment.”
    â€œWhat about ‘Kissinger’?” Marjorie asked.
    â€œSecurity system again,” Gallagher said. “It’s a disregard code. If the alarm goes off, the office calls your place pronto. If you say, ‘Everything’s okay,’ the office assumes there’s a guy standing there with a knife at your throat and calls the cops. If everything really is okay and you’d just set the alarm off by mistake, you give your disregard code and the office forgets the whole thing. Sharon picked ‘Kissinger’ for hers.”
    â€œThe second number looks like a padlock combination, too,” Marjorie said.
    â€œCould be,” Gallagher agreed. “Might be a gym locker or her bin in the storage area of her building, or something else.”
    â€œWhich leaves ‘Highways to Indians,’” Michaelson said.
    â€œDon’t have a clue about that one,” Gallagher said, shrugging.
    â€œProvocative,” Michaelson said.
    â€œIf that means it smells funny, I agree with you,” Gallagher said. “Why would she have gone to the trouble to mail this thing off to me just before she came out to this conference?”
    â€œAn obvious possibility is that she didn’t want it to be found if someone searched her apartment,” Michaelson said.
    â€œSearched it either while she was away or after something happened to her here,” Gallagher added. “It looks to me like she thought that whatever she was peddling out here was risky. And it looks to me like maybe she was right.”
    â€œAll the more reason to take my advice,” Michaelson said.
    â€œWhy? What’s going to change in a week?”
    â€œIn a week the police might be in hot pursuit of a murderer, if there was a murder. You can probably sell security systems better than they can, and they can probably investigate murders better than you.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Gallagher said. “And what if in a week they’ve just shrugged it off? Unexplained death of a nobody from out of town. Heart stopped beating. One a those things. Sharon Bedford becomes three pages stuck in a manila folder in some file cabinet.”
    â€œIn that case,” Michaelson said after a delicate pause, “if you still want to go after it, I’ll help you.” Crossing the room, he handed Gallagher his business card. “Give me a call. I know my way around Washington. I have a long memory, a fat Rolodex, and a lot of chits to call in.”
    Gallagher accepted the card and pressed one corner thoughtfully against the dimple in his chin.
    â€œWhy are you offering to do something like that?” he asked.
    â€œI’m not really sure,” Michaelson said with a brief shrug. “Maybe I had a few more beers than usual because of a woman once.”
    â€œThe offer’s good only if I take your advice, is that it?”
    â€œQuid pro quo, as we used to say in the foreign service.”
    â€œAll right,” Gallagher said decisively, holding out his hand, “you got yourself a deal. Three hours ago I’d’a bet next month’s paycheck there wasn’t a better salesman than me in Charleston tonight, and son of a gun if I wouldn’t have lost.”
    They shook hands. Gallagher touched Michaelson’s card just above his right eyebrow by way of taking his leave of Marjorie, and left the room. Marjorie waited for five seconds after the door had closed behind him before she spoke.
    â€œYou’ve abused subordinates, the English language, yours truly, and a lot of other things over a woman,” she piped then