When Clarissa answered the door at One Observatory Circle, she looked like hell. So bad that even the lone Secret Service agent simply gawked in surprise.
Rose ushered her inside quickly and shut the door behind them.
Clarissa’s long hair was in such disarray that it looked tattered. She wore a La Perla chemise and a man’s thick bathrobe completely askew and missing its belt. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with lack of sleep.
“This won’t do, Clarissa.”
She looked around as if bewildered.
“I was…cleaning up. Upstairs. I have to…” Then she turned and simply walked toward the staircase.
Rose had been here for a few parties. Rather than following, she turned left through the dining room with its twelve-seat mahogany table, brass chandelier, and broad fireplace. Past that, the pantry kitchen
