blankets in his bedroom, as it seemed each time he emerged from beneath the covers, he got the shivers again.
What an irony. For fifteen months he’d been locked up in a Cuban jail cell, sweltering in the relentless heat and tormented by fantasies of a tall, ice-cold glass of water. God must have a strange sense of humor, for now Luke never wanted to experience ice water again.
By Monday he was ready to take possession of the new office. The faster he could get the Washington bureau for Modern Century magazine established, the quicker he could launch his bid to knock a handful of congressmen out of office. The November elections seemed a long way off, but researching these men’s weaknesses and beginning the subtle campaign to take them down would need careful planning.
His desk, the meeting table, and the shelving had already been delivered to the new office, but the books, typewriter, telephone, and office equipment all needed to be lugged in. The most difficult item to navigate up the twisting stairwell was the six-foot bulletin board. Luke banged his shin three times on the journey to the third floor.
“Where do you want it?” Gray asked when they finally got the bulletin board inside the office.
“On the wall behind the desk.”
It was a large room with two windows overlooking a working-class part of town. The desk was on one side of the office, the table in the middle, and the hip-high bookshelves lined the walls beneath the windows. There was a separate table for a telephone and typewriter. For now Luke was the only reporter, but if the Washington bureau proved fruitful, there might someday be more.
The board was soon hung, and the first thing Luke tacked onto it was a list of five congressmen’s names. Beside it he pinned a postcard of the Philadelphia skyline.
Gray cocked a brow as he studied the list of congressmen. “I already know why you want Clyde Magruder out of office, but what’s wrong with the guy from Michigan?”
“He’s in Clyde’s back pocket,” Luke replied. “All these men are following Magruder’s lead in blocking reform of the food and drug industry. If any congressman looks the other way while manufacturers dump chemicals into the nation’s food supply, I’m going to ensure he loses the next election.” He gave an angelic smile and placed a hand over his heart. “My civic duty.”
Gray stared at the postcard of Philadelphia, his face suddenly sad. “Luke . . . I think you need to ease up. What happened to those people in Philadelphia wasn’t your fault.”
Philadelphia would forever represent Luke’s greatest shame. Five years ago, their family had briefly tried to forge a truce with Clyde Magruder. Luke had been chosen to lead the charge because there was too much bad blood among the other members of their family. The Delacroixs and the Magruders would never be friends, but the hope was to ease the tension with a modest joint venture. The plan would combine the Delacroix reputation for quality with the Magruders’ ability to mass produce food. Clyde Magruder proposed a line of pricey coffee, using the Magruder packaging facilities but branded with the Delacroix name. Both companies stood to gain.
Luke held his nose and worked with Clyde on a distribution plan. Gray imported the finest coffee beans from Kenya, and the Magruders did everything else. They rolled out the new line of coffee in Philadelphia, a city famous for its fine coffeehouses.
Luke should have known better than to trust Clyde Magruder, who adulterated their top-notch coffee with cheap ground chicory and artificial flavorings to mask the chicory aftertaste. The resulting coffee tasted fine, with a smooth flavor and enticing aroma, but the cannisters bore no indication that there was anything but coffee inside. The chemical combination proved fatal to three people within a week of the coffee going on sale. While most people could easily digest the cheap concoction cooked up in the Magruder factory, some people had sensitivities to chicory root that proved fatal.
Three people died because of that coffee. All of them had family, friends, and children. The devastation left in the wake of the tainted coffee would ripple through those people’s lives for decades, and no, Luke couldn’t blithely forget about it.
“Could you help me with this box of books?” Luke asked. He didn’t really need help with it, but he’d do anything to divert the conversation from Philadelphia.
Gray moved the box over to the bookshelves. “You’ve been taking risks and pressing