Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,5

figure out a way to lose him once and for all. And as she took another bite of her sandwich, an idea occurred to her.

“Excuse me, Miss Kelly—”

“Call me Grace.”

“All right—Grace. I’m Jackie. You see that man over there?” She directed the actress’s attention to the man seated several tables from them.

“Yes?”

“He’s been following me all over town this afternoon. I’m afraid he might be some kind of masher. Or worse. I have to get away from him. But that will require some assistance. Would you be willing to help me?”

“Of course,” said the actress with relish. “We Tracy Lord fans have to stick together.”

“Good. Now, this is what I would like you to do.”

In a low voice, Jackie briefed the actress on her plan. When she was finished, she held out her hand again.

“It was very nice meeting you, Grace.”

“Nice meeting you, Jackie.”

“The best of luck with your acting career.”

Jackie left the actress some money to pay her bill, then abruptly picked up the Hermès bag, got up from the table, and headed swiftly toward the door. It was past rush hour, and outside there were plenty of available cabs coming down the street with their roof lights on.

As Jackie scooted out the door, Mr. Seersucker stood up quickly, threw some money down on the table, then prepared to follow her.

At the same time, the actress stood up and called out to Jackie, “Oh, miss, you forgot your—”

She then rushed to the door, putting her on an interception course with the man, who was still trying to rise from the table. As she came level with the table, the actress reached out with her hand and deliberately knocked over the coffeepot, spilling its steaming contents all over the lap of the man’s trousers. He let out a scream of pain followed by a series of curses as the scalding-hot liquid soaked through the material of his trousers to his skin, his stream of invective shocking the secretaries and elderly society matrons seated around him.

Instantly he was surrounded by waitresses attempting to blot the stain with napkins taken from nearby tables. Mr. Seersucker tried to extricate himself from their grasp and fight his way through them to the door, but his struggle was in vain.

All this was observed fleetingly by Jackie through the restaurant window as she simultaneously tried to flag down a cab. A yellow Checker stopped for her with a screech of brakes, and Jackie told the driver her destination: “Pennsylvania Station.”

As she glanced back through the cab’s rear window, she could see the actress looking out through the restaurant window and giving her the high sign. Mission accomplished.

Arriving back at Pennsylvania Station, Jackie had plenty of time to board her train, the Congressional, for her return to D.C. Once on the train, she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It had been a long and exhausting day, made stressful by the strange man who had been tailing her. But she had managed to lose him and now here she was, going home with the Hermès bag still in her possession.

The train left the station on time, and through the dusk, Jackie could see the marshlands of New Jersey passing by outside the window. Suddenly, there was the reflection of another person in the glass, and Jackie whipped her head around and was shocked to see the man she thought she had lost now sitting right across from her. In the lap of his trousers was a conspicuous stain.

Mr. Seersucker caught her looking and said, “I hope you’ll pay for my dry cleaning, Miss Bouvier.”

Jackie’s heart plummeted. The man knew who she was. Now she would have to figure out some new scheme to separate herself from him. And she was fresh out of ideas.

The man settled himself in his seat. He must have known what she was thinking. “You can relax, Miss Bouvier,” he said. “I’m from the Farm. That was a clever stunt you pulled back at the restaurant. Looks like you passed your first test with flying colors.”

II

Washington, D.C., May 1951

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Jackie told herself as the front door clicked shut like an exclamation point. She drew in the early evening air filled with the fragrance of gardens in bloom and the spice of a new adventure. This was the big night. A date that Jacqueline Lee Bouvier hoped would not live in infamy. She had to make a good impression on Jack Kennedy when the Bartletts