Her tadpole eyebrows shot upward. “It’s about time,” she said, but when she trundled out the door, she did so with a cheerful thump in her step. Before Bruce and Scott left, I pulled them over to enlist their help, explaining—as well as I could without divulging the truth about the FBI operation—that plans had changed and that Liza and I would be staying late tonight, attending Bennett’s reception. “This reception will probably be a chi-chi-pooh-pooh affair, won’t it?” Bruce asked. “I suppose.” Giving me a discreet once-over, he asked, “Don’t you need us to bring you anything? A change of clothes, perhaps?” I stammered. I couldn’t very well tell him that the FBI planned to keep Liza holed up out of sight and station me in their observation room, so I said, “That would be great. I don’t know what of mine might suit Liza though, so don’t go to any real trouble.”
