Fatal Affair

by Marie Force

  A few other numbers popped up with enough regularity to warrant a follow up. Sam made a list and turned it over to one of the other detectives who had been assigned to assist her.

  Grabbing another soda and a stale bagel left over from yesterday, she stopped to brief Chief Farnsworth before heading out to meet Freddie on Capitol Hill. A crush of reporters waited for her outside the public safety building. When she saw how many there were, she briefly considered going back to ask a couple of uniforms to help her get through the crowd. Then she dismissed the idea as cowardly and stepped into the scrum.

  “Sergeant, how close are you to naming a suspect?”

  “How was the senator killed?”

  “Who found him?”

  “What do you think of the headlines in today’s paper?”

  That last one made her stomach roil as she could only imagine what the papers were saying about the detective the department had chosen to lead the city’s highest profile murder investigation in years. She held up a hand to stop the barrage of questions.

  “All I’ll say at this time is the investigation is proceeding, and as soon as we know anything more, we’ll hold a press conference. I’ll have no further comment until that time. Now, would you mind letting me through? I have work to do.”

  They didn’t move but also didn’t stop her from pushing her way through.

  Rattled and annoyed, Sam got into her unmarked department car and locked the doors. “Fucking vultures,” she muttered.

  Outside the Hart Senate Office Building, she dropped two quarters into the Washington Post box and tugged out the morning’s issue where a banner headline announced the senator’s murder. In a smaller story below the fold, a headline read, Disgraced Detective Tapped to Lead Murder Investigation. Sam released a frustrated growl when the words appeared jumbled on the page as they often did during times of stress or exhaustion. Goddamned dyslexia. Taking a deep calming breath, she tried again, taking the words one at a time the way she’d trained herself to do.

  The story contained a recap of the raid that had led to the death of Quentin Johnson and stopped just short of questioning her competence—and the chief’s.

  “Great,” she muttered. “That’s just great.” Tossing the paper into the trash, she took the elevator to the second floor where Freddie enjoyed a glazed donut while he waited for her.

  “Did you see the paper?” he asked, wiping the sticky frosting from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  She nodded brusquely, and before he could get into a further discussion about the article, she brought him up to speed on the possible break-in at Nick’s, the autopsy and the phone records. Gesturing to the door to Senator O’Connor’s suite of offices, she said, “Let’s get to it.”

  After a thorough look through the remaining items in John’s office where they found nothing useful to the case, Sam and Freddie worked their way up from administrative assistants through legislative affairs people to the staff from the senator’s Richmond office to the communications director. They asked each of Senator O’Connor’s employees the same questions—where were you on the night of the murder, did you have a key to his apartment, what do you know about his personal life, and can you think of anyone who might’ve had a beef with him?

  The answers were the same with few variations—I was here working (or at home in Richmond with my husband/wife/girlfriend), I didn’t have a key, he guarded his privacy, and everyone liked him, even political rivals who had good reason not to.

  “Who’s next?” Sam asked, feeling like they were spinning their wheels.

  “Christina Billings, deputy chief of staff,” Freddie said.

  “Bring her in.”

  “Ms. Billings,” Sam said, gesturing the pretty, petite blonde to a seat across the conference room table. Sam always felt like an Amazon next to tiny women like her. “Let me begin by saying how sorry we are for your loss.”

  The sympathy brought tears to Christina’s blue eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Can you tell us where you were the night of the senator’s murder?”

  “I was here. With the vote the next day we had so much to do to get ready for the aftermath—press conferences, appearances on talk shows, interviews… We were doing everything we could to ensure the senator got the attention he deserved.” Her shoulders sagged, almost as if life had lost its purpose. “He’d worked so hard.”

  Intrigued by the gamut of emotions emanating from Christina, Sam said, “You were here in the office the entire night?”

  “Except for when I left to get food for everyone.”

  “What time?” Freddie asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe around eleven or eleven-thirty?”

  Freddie and Sam exchanged glances.

  “Where did you get the food?”

  She named a Chinese restaurant on Capitol Hill, and Sam made a note to check it out later. “Did you go anywhere else?”

  “No. I picked up the food and came right back. Everyone was hungry.”

  “Do you have a key to the senator’s apartment?” Freddie asked.

  Nodding, she said, “He gave it to me some time ago so I could pick up his mail and water the plants when he was in Richmond or Leesburg.”

  “When was the last time you used it?”

  Christina thought about that. “Maybe three months ago. He’s been in town for most of the session working on gathering the votes needed for the immigration bill.”

  “What do you know about his personal life?” Freddie asked. “Was he dating anyone?”

  Her expression immediately changed from grief-stricken to hostile. “I have no idea. I didn’t discuss his love life with him. He was my boss.”

  Something in the tone, in the flash of the blue eyes, set off Sam’s radar. “Ms. Billings, were you romantically involved with the senator?”

  Christina pushed back the chair and stood up. “I’m done.”

  “The hell you are,” Sam snapped. “Sit down.”

  Trembling with rage, her lips tight, Christina turned and met Sam’s steely stare with one of her own. “Or what?”

  “Or we’ll do this downtown. Your choice.”

  With great reluctance, Christina returned to her seat, her body rigid, and her hands clasped together.

  “Before we continue, I’ll advise you of your right to have counsel present during this interview.”

  Christina gasped. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not at this time, but you may request an attorney at any point. Do you wish to continue without counsel?”

  Christina’s nod was small and uncertain. Her posture had lost some of its rigidity at the mention of lawyers.

  “I’ll ask you again,” Sam said. “Were you romantically involved with the senator?”

  “No,” Christina said softly.

  “Did you have feelings of a romantic nature for him?”

  Christina’s eyes flooded. “Yes.”

  “And these feelings were unrequited?”

  “I have no idea. We never discussed it.”

  “How did you feel about him dating other women?” Freddie asked.

  “How do you think I felt?” Christina shot back at him. “I loved him, but he didn’t see me that way. To him I was a trusted aide and a friend he could count on to pick up his mail.”

  “What were your specific duties as his deputy chief of staff?” Sam asked.

  “I oversaw his daily schedule, kept his appointment calendar, supervised the administrative assistants, and basically managed his time.”

  “So you worked closely with him?” Freddie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “More closely than Mr. Cappuano?”

  “On many days. Yes.”

  “And in all this time you spent with him, he had no idea how you felt about him?” Sam asked.

  “I went to great lengths to hide it from him and everyone else. He was my boss. I felt like a bad cliché.”

  “So no one else knew?”

  �
�Nick had figured it out, but I didn’t know that until after the senator was…killed,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  “Why didn’t you leave?” Sam asked, working hard to contain her fury at Nick for keeping this from her.

  “Because he needed me. He said he’d be lost without me.” Christina shrugged. “I know that sounds so pathetic, but it was better than nothing.”

  “Was it?” Sam asked.

  “If you’re implying I killed him because he didn’t notice me as a woman, you’re way off.”

  “People have killed for less.”

  “I didn’t. I loved him. Receiving that phone call from Nick was the single most devastating moment of my life.” After a long moment of silence, Christina started to push back her chair. “May I go?”

  “Before you do,” Freddie said, “let me ask you this—you say you kept his schedule and managed his life. Did I get that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So wouldn’t you know who he was seeing outside the office?”

  Christina’s jaw clenched with tension.

  “Is that a yes?” Freddie asked.

  “There were several,” Christina finally said.

  “We’ll need a list,” Sam said. “I’d also like a list of anyone else you know of who had a key to his apartment and his appointment calendar for the last six months—by the end of the day, please.”

  With a curt nod, Christina got up.

  “Stay available,” Sam said before the other woman could leave the room.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what you think it means.”

  The moment the door slammed shut behind Christina, Sam turned to Freddie.

  “I know what you’re going to say.” He counted off on his fingers. “A break in the alibi at the same time as the murder, a key to the apartment, unrequited love…”

  “It’s almost enough to arrest her,” Sam said.

  “Except?”

  Sam sighed. “I believed her when she said his death was the most devastating thing that’s ever happened to her.”

  “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t responsible for it.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I’ll do some digging around in Ms. Billings’s background.”

  “Freddie, you read my mind. We also need to look into who would stand to gain financially from the senator’s death.”

  “Would the chief of staff know that?”

  “He might. He’s next. Do you want to go grab some lunch before we get to him?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Freddie stretched, rubbing his belly with glee. “Something for you?”

  “A salad.” She slapped a ten-dollar bill into his hand. “Low-fat dressing.”

  He made a disgusted face. “Coming right up.”

  The moment he was gone, Sam marched into Nick’s office and slammed the door.

  “Well, good afternoon to you, too, Sergeant,” he said with a small, private smile that let her know he’d been thinking of her since they’d kissed the night before.

  “Save the charm for someone who’s interested.”

  He raised a swarthy eyebrow in amusement. “Oh, you’re interested. But if you want to play hard to get, don’t let me stop you.”

  “What happened last night can’t happen again.”

  “It can, and it will.”

  “Not until this case is closed, Nick. I mean that.” Deciding it was time to move past their personal debate, she planted her hands on her hips. “Were you planning to mention that your deputy was in love with the senator?”

  Nick looked stricken. “She told you that?”

  “I got it out of her. One of my special talents.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said dryly.

  “Why didn’t you think it was important enough to share with me?”

  “It was personal, and I didn’t see how it was relevant.”

  “Everything is relevant, Nick! This is a homicide investigation!”

  “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me that it would matter.”

  “She left here to get food at the exact time the M.E. has placed the time of death. She had a key to his place. She was in love with him.”

  Nick’s handsome face went pale. “You can’t possibly be suggesting—”

  “I can, and I am.”

  “There’s no way, Sam. She adored him. She was devoted to him. She could never have harmed him.”

  “How well do you know her?”

  “I’ve worked with her for five years. She’s a great colleague and friend.”

  “What do you know about her background?”

  “She grew up in Oregon, came here for college, and has been working for the legislative branch since she graduated. She’s worked her way up from the admin level.”

  “You trust her?”

  “Implicitly.”

  “What level clearance does she have?”

  “Secret.”

  Sam tugged the notebook from her back pocket and made a note to get a hold of the background check Christina Billings would’ve been required to undergo for a government security clearance. “What about you?”

  “Top secret.”

  “As of when?”

  “As of the senator’s appointment to the Committee on Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs. Before that it was secret.”

  “Who else has top secret?”

  “Only the senator.”

  “Who’re his heirs?”

  Nick considered that. “Well, I suppose it would be his niece and nephew, Emma and Adam.”

  “But you don’t know for sure?”

  He shook his head.

  “Who would?”

  “Probably his father and their attorney, Lucien Haverfield.”

  Sam wrote down Haverfield’s name.

  Freddie came into the room carrying two bags of take out. “Start without me, boss?”

  “We’re talking heirs,” Sam told him. “Mr. Cappuano believes it’s most likely the senator’s niece and nephew.”

  “Makes sense,” Freddie said. “Are we doing this here or in the conference room?”

  Nick gestured to a small table. “Here is fine with me.”

  “Let me grab the recorder,” Freddie said.

  “Do you mind if we eat in here?” Sam asked Nick. “Detective Cruz gets cranky if he doesn’t get his mid-day influx of grease on time.”

  Nick smiled but Sam noticed his eyes were tired and sad. “No problem. I eat at that table more often than I do at home.”

  “Speaking of home, did you notice anything else out of place or missing?”

  He shook his head.

  “Let me know if you do.”

  “So you believe me? That someone broke in.”

  She replied with a small nod and had trouble meeting his intense gaze, startled to realize she was afraid of what she might find in those incredible hazel eyes.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Freddie said when he returned with the recorder.

  Sam cleared her throat. “No. Let’s get this done. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

  Chapter 9

  After a quick stop at the Chinese restaurant on Capitol Hill where they confirmed that Christina Billings had in fact picked up take-out around eleven the night before last, Sam drove Freddie back to the office.

  “So,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about before?”

  “What?”

  “You and Cappuano. I felt like a third wheel on a hot date.” Sam shot him a glance. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, gee, let’s see.” Counting on his fingers, he said, “Pregnant pauses, simmering gazes, and of course the entertaining innuendo. Need I continue?”

  Unnerved that Freddie had noticed the sparks flying between her and Nick, she realized she should have known her savvy partner would have tuned in to what she had tried so hard not to encourage during their hour-long interview with Nick. The effort to keep things
professional and focused had left her drained. “You’re imagining things.”

  “No, I’m not. What gives, Sam?”

  “Nothing. I barely know the man.” That much was true—sort of. “Whatever you think you saw was the result of your overactive and undersexed imagination.”

  “Wow,” Freddie said on a long exhale. “Who said anything about sex?”

  Simmering with retorts she didn’t dare pursue, Sam pulled into the parking lot at the public safety complex.

  Before she could get out, Freddie stopped her. “What happened on that trip to Loudoun County yesterday?”

  “Nothing.” Now, that was true.

  “I’m your partner, Sam.” He gripped her jacket to keep her from escaping. “Talk to me.”

  She tugged her arm free of him. “There’s nothing to say! We’ve got a million things to do, and you’ve got time to grill me about something you’re imagining?”

  “I’m a trained observer—trained in large part by you. I don’t care what you say, there was enough heat in that room to burn down the capitol.”

  Sam fumed in silence. This was exactly why she told Nick that what happened the night before couldn’t happen again. She didn’t need any more aggravation right now.

  In a softer tone Freddie said, “Whatever’s going on, I hope you’re being careful. You’ve got a lot at stake right now.”

  “Thanks, Freddie. I’m glad you reminded me of that. Otherwise I might’ve forgotten about the child who died on my watch.”

  “Sam—”

  “We have work to do.”

  “I’m on your side. I hope you know that. If you want to talk—”

  “Thank you. Can we get to work now?”

  With a deep sigh, he reached for the door handle.

  Sam stalked inside, again pushing her way through the gaggle of reporters gathered in the foyer. Leaving them wanting and frustrated gave her tremendous joy.

  She felt bad about being so testy to Freddie who’d been a pillar of support in the wake of the Johnson case, but she didn’t want to hear what he’d have to say about her past relationship with a witness—a relationship she hadn’t disclosed, knowing that if she did, she’d be taken off the case. That couldn’t happen. She desperately needed a big win on a high-profile case like this one to get her career back on track.