“She had that problem before your move to D.C?”

“Yes-only not to this degree. Not to where it was affecting her … mental capacities.”

So that was it: Jo Forrestal was drinking herself into the laughing academy.

I asked, “How’s all this manifesting itself?”

The slash of a mouth flinched in something that wasn’t exactly a frown but sure wasn’t a smile. “I’d prefer you speak to Jo and learn for yourself. She has a job for you.”

I frowned. “She has a job for me.”

He pointed with the pipe stem. “Yes, and I want you to take it, and take it seriously. If you don’t investigate thoroughly, if we only pay lip service to her concerns, we would be courting disaster.”

Now I was completely confused. “What concerns?”

But he would say no more; he wanted me to hear it from Mrs. Forrestal’s lips.

And I did, the following morning, only not with her husband around. Forrestal was otherwise occupied, off rebuilding the Navy’s fleet or something. The heat hadn’t let up and I was looking like a tourist in my maize sportshirt, tan linen slacks and brown-and-white loafers as I made my way toward a specific picnic table in Rock Creek Park, as instructed.

On my way from where I left the rental Ford off the intersection of the parkway and New Hampshire Avenue, I passed a white marble statue of a heroic figure poised on tiptoes with arms outstretched, as if about to dive over the landscaped bank into the nearby river, where no boats-pleasure or otherwise-disturbed the glassy surface. A memorial to the victims of the Titanic disaster.

I was settling in on the bench at the rustic table, wondering if I’d just encountered an omen, when the gently building sound of hoofbeats announced the arrival of my client’s wife. On the bridle path just below the slope of this picnic area, Jo Forrestal trotted up, or rather the black stallion she was astride did. She pulled back on the reins of the sleekly beautiful animal, bringing it to a stop, and swung her leg over, stepping down with the grace of a ballerina and the confidence of the experienced horsewoman.