“She’s an ex-cop. If she found a burglar she’d hold him for the police whether she shot him or not.”

“She shot a person she thought was a burglar, learned she’d shot a Fed, and ran because she was scared,” Sparks said.

“What if it was self-defense? What if they were searching for something they thought Cutler had? She comes home and they try to force her to tell where it is and somehow she gets the drop on them.”

“What were they looking for?”

“If the intruders were Secret Service, it has to be something that connects Walsh to…Jesus, Maggie, Walsh worked for Farrington’s campaign, and the Secret Service guards the president.”

“PIs take pictures of people they’re following,” Sparks said.

Evans was quiet for a moment. “If Cutler was hiding pictures in this place they’d have found them. It’s too small.”

“Unless Cutler interrupted the search before they got them.”

“Or Cutler has them someplace else.”

Evans’s cell phone rang and he snapped it open. While he was talking, Sparks looked around more carefully than she had the first time they’d gone through the apartment. She noticed that all of the trash baskets had been emptied and there were no scraps of paper with writing on them anywhere in sight. She pulled open the drawers of a desk in the living room and found them empty. And she didn’t see a computer. Whoever had gone through the apartment after the police left had been very thorough.

“I had someone run Cutler’s phone records for her cell and home phones,” Evans said when he finished the call. “Fredricks looked them over and came up with something interesting. Does the name Dale Perry ring a bell?”

Sparks thought for a moment before shaking her head.

“He’s an attorney with a lot of political contacts, including several in the White House.”

“There’s the Secret Service connection again,” Sparks said.

“Cutler’s called him a few times this year and twice the week before Walsh was murdered. Some of the calls were to Perry’s private line at his office or his cell phone.”

“Why would a small-time PI be calling a big shot lawyer with ties to the White House?”

“Let’s ask him.”

“One other interesting thing,” Evans said. “I asked Fredricks to get me Cutler’s file from the cops.”

“What’s it say?”

“That’s what I’d like to know; it’s classified.”

“I bet this place is bigger than my apartment,” Maggie Sparks said as she looked around the reception area of Kendall, Barrett and Van Kirk.

“I bet they pay more rent than you do, too,” Evans said.

“I bet I could retire on what they pay in rent for a year.”

Their ruminations on the reception area of Dale Perry’s law firm ended abruptly when a stunning blonde with a deep tan walked into reception dressed in a fire-engine red dress and sporting a lot of gold jewelry.

“Agents Sparks and Evans?” she asked, flashing a radiant smile that would have lit up the room in a blackout.

“I’m Keith Evans, and this is Margaret Sparks.”

“I’m Irene Miles, Mr. Perry’s personal secretary.”

I’ll bet you are, Maggie Sparks thought. Out loud she said, “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Miles. We’d like to speak with Mr. Perry.”

“He’s waiting for you,” Miles said. “Would you like some coffee or tea? I can also bring you a caffe latte or a cappuccino.”

The agents passed on the refreshments then followed Miles down a carpeted hallway where they found Dale Perry waiting in a large corner office decorated tastefully with antiques. Before leaving, Miles motioned the agents to a place on a couch under an exquisite oil painting of a French country village that looked a lot like a Cezanne Evans had seen in the National Gallery. The window behind Perry’s desk had a view of the White House. Evans wondered if Perry and the president flashed coded messages back and forth when the lawyer was lobbying for one of his clients.

“Thanks for taking the time to see us, Mr. Perry.”

The lawyer smiled. “When the receptionist told me who was in the waiting room I got curious. It’s not every day I get a visit from the FBI.”

Evans smiled back. “Let me put you at ease. We’re not here to arrest you. Your name popped up in an investigation, and we’re hoping you can help us.”

“I will if I’m able.”

“Thanks. Do you know a woman named Dana Cutler?” Evans asked.

Perry’s smile stayed on his lips but he shifted in his seat. “She’s a private investigator.”

“Does she work for your firm?”

“She’s not employed by Kendall, Barrett, but I have contracted with her on occasion when I needed help on a project.”

“Has she worked for any of the other partners?”

“I don’t know.”

Perry definitely looked uncomfortable.

“Doesn’t Kendall, Barrett have in-house investigators?” Maggie asked.

“We do.”

“Then why would you need Miss Cutler?”

Perry wasn’t smiling anymore. “If I answered that question I would have to violate the confidences of my clients. That would be unethical.”

“I can understand your concern,” Evans said, “but we’re worried about Miss Cutler. Her name came up in connection with a murder investigation. We tried to interview her, but she’s missing. We’re concerned for her safety.”

“Who was murdered?”

“A young woman named Charlotte Walsh. We have reason to believe that Miss Cutler was following her. Was she tailing Miss Walsh on your instructions?”

“I just explained that I can’t discuss the firm’s business.”

“Then she was working for the firm on this case?”

Perry looked annoyed. “I didn’t say that. I am forbidden by the rules of conduct that govern my profession to either confirm or deny any involvement Miss Cutler may or may not have had with this Walsh individual.”

“Would you be willing to tell me the last time you spoke to Miss Cutler?”

“No.”

“Don’t you want to help us find her? She may be in danger.”

“I’ll help any way I can as long as it doesn’t involve discussing the business of Kendall, Barrett. In my opinion, your inquiry is doing just that.”

Evans frowned. “How can the business of your firm possibly be affected by you telling me the last time you spoke to Dana Cutler?”

“Are you aware that I am a personal friend of the attorney general and the director of the FBI?”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“I feel your questions are verging on harassment. I’ve taken time from my day to talk to you, but I am very busy and this interview is terminated.”

Evans stared directly at Perry for a moment. Then he stood up.

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to provide more assistance.”

Evans smiled. “Don’t worry, sir. I thought this meeting was very informative.”

Perry must have pressed a button under his desk because Irene Miles opened the door and held it in a way that suggested she expected them to leave. Sparks and Evans didn’t say a word until they were standing at the elevator bank.

“I think we just got the bum’s rush,” Maggie said.

“That we did, but Perry told us more than he wanted to.”

“He’s worried about something.”

“That’s for certain, and it concerns Charlotte Walsh.”

Evans was about to follow up on his thought when his cell phone rang. He looked at the readout.

“We’ve got to go back to headquarters,” he said as soon as he broke the connection. “That was Kyle. They’ve figured out how to find the Ripper.”