As Finne’s eyes trained upon the men in the room – those with the most to benefit from the President’s demise, Sarah’s attention was drawn to the beautiful evening gowns worn around her with agonizing jealousy. Surpassing the First Lady’s choice in attire, the Vice President’s wife, Christie Stallworth stood out in elegance, Sarah judged. Though Christie was one of Sarah’s favorite tabloid celebrities. Sarah knew she was a party girl, and she had always wanted to be by her side in the daily photographs that detailed her jaunting lifestyle.
Sarah was mesmerized by her presence and could not turn her attention to anyone else.
“Who’s that pig she’s hanging out with?” Sarah asked with disdain for the heavy-set man who was obviously out of Christie’s league.
“I saw the same thing. Good eye.” Finne replied. “That’s Defense Secretary Gautrachs.”
“That’s the guy she’s sleeping with?” Sarah gasped sharing the intimate knowledge she possessed from her dedication to the smut journalism.
“That’s the rumor. But, I didn’t think they were so obvious in public.”
“Anywhere. He’s gross!”
While bantering over tomorrow’s likely gossip, Sarah and Finne saw an exchange between the two that was the most unusual and certainly suspect.
DEFSEC Gautrachs had passed discreetly something to Mrs. Stallworth in a hand-to-hand exchange that was obviously not intended to be noticed. After receiving the item, Christie Stallworth hugged the Defense Secretary and deposited an item into his tuxedo jacket pocket with the speed and subtlety of a subway pick pocket.
“Something’s up.” Finne surmised.
Christie Stallworth left the encounter with DEFSEC Gautrachs and proceeded to the women’s room left of Finne and Sarah’s position. Without hesitation nor instruction, Sarah followed.
Finne stood alone and continued scanning the room with particular attention to the Defense Secretary.
Sarah entered the women’s bathroom just as Christie was dismissing the Secret Service agent posted within.
“I’ll be right out. I broke a nail.” Mrs. Stallworth explained.
“Oh, I hate that.” Sarah interjected hoping to finally meet Christie.
“Yeah, it sucks. I ‘ve got what I need. Thanks.” Mrs. Stallworth replied sternly as if to cut of any further conversation.
Sarah got the hint and headed into the middle stall as if she had come in for that reason. Squatting above the toilet feigning actually using it, Sarah stared through the gap between the stall door and wall infatuated by Christie’s near presence.
Mrs. Stallworth began applying polish from a simple grey bottle, the brand of which of Sarah could not recognize.
Sarah leaned closer to see what she was missing. As she did, she noticed that Christie’s nail wasn’t broken nor was the polish she already had on scarred in any way. Even stranger, Christie was using exceptionally deliberate in her application and reapplication of the bottle’s clear liquid only upon her right index finger nail. Again and again she applied the polish with precise strokes of the applicator brush. Finally she stopped and blew her finger dry before leaving.
Sarah exited the stall and returned to Finne’s side wondering if what she saw was anything worth noting and relaying to Finne.
“Did you have to pee?”
“No. I just wanted to see what Christie was doing?”
“Who?”
“Christie Stallworth, duh!”
“And?”
“Nothing. She was fixing her nail.”
“Try to stay focused on the whole crowd not just her. You followed her in there like a puppy would.”
“Shut up. I did not.” Sarah groaned. “Where’s pig face? Is he up to anything?” she added to change the subject.
“He retreated to that side of the room and hasn’t looked back since.” Finne returned gesturing toward the Defense Secretary’s location.
The sound of crystal chiming hushed the gathered luminaries and drew everyone’s attention to President’s delicate chiming of a silver spoon against the champagne flute in his hand.
“I’d like to make a toast. Please everyone!” the President announced requesting silence.
As the crowd gathered closer to the President preparing to celebrate a toast with him to the night’s honorees, several porters crossed the room passing out similar crystal flutes of champagne to all.
The President began to speak then the silence he was granted was shattered with a girlish squeal to his side. Mrs. Stallworth had dropped her glass and screeched in a very “look at me,” attention whoring manner.
“Wow! What a mess.” Finne said to Sarah under his breath.
Before Sarah could object her voice stalled as she watched Christie’s acting out across the room.
Mrs. Stallworth took the President’s glass from his hand and with no regard for etiquette or protocol joked that he need get another.
The crowd laughed.
Sarah’s jaw dropped.
Handing the glass back to the President, Sarah watched Christie deliberately insert her index finger into the Champaign she returned to him before taking another for herself from the attending porter nearby.
Sarah knew what was happening, but she was frozen in shock as her brain processed how to react. Before she could gather breath enough to speak, the President ended his toast and drank from his glass along with everyone else.
“The glass…” Sarah tried to explain to Finne.
“What…?”
Before Finne could finish his question, more screams burst about the room. Finne looked back to see the President drop to the floor flopping in uncontrollable spasms and obvious agony. Then he stopped. Stopped spasming. Stopped groaning. Stopped breathing. The President was dead before any medical attention could be given.
National Security protocols were employed. The room was cleared of guests through the main entrance, while the Vice President was evacuated out the back, along with the Defense Secretary and House Speaker.
“It was Christie!” Sarah was finally able to say. She poisoned him.
There was too much chaos for anyone else to hear Sarah’s audacious accusation. But Finne did. He tugged Sarah by the arm and led her out the rear evacuation route. Motorcade doors were slamming. Finne saw Mrs. Stallworth follow her husband and the Speaker into the executive limousine.
DEFSEC Gautrachs was led away in his own motorcade.
Finne was stunned. It happened. The President had been assassinated.
Standing together in the center of the parking lot as the country’s remaining leadership sped away with screaming sirens, Finne turned to Sarah and asked, “Are you sure?”
