“Do you know how Bill and Billy found out that the homicide investigation was closing in on them?”

“They were here, both of them. Billy got a phone call and started screaming at the person on the other end. He ran out of here, and the next time I saw him was at the morgue.”

“You don’t know who called him?”

She shook her head.

“About what time was it when he received that call?”

“Around eight.”

“I really appreciate your help, and I’m sorry again for your losses.”

“Thank you for that and all you did to get justice for Hugo and the others.”

“I’ll have my friend Dr. Harry Flynn stop by to see you.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“The media is going to descend again once the word gets out about Bill. If there’s somewhere else you can go, this might be a good time to get out of town.”

“I’ll go to the house in Aspen. Tomorrow.”

“Could you please write down your phone number in case I need to reach you again?”

She took the notebook from Sam as Edna appeared in the doorway looking nervous and undone.

“Edna?” Marissa asked. “What is it?”

“They call from Mr. Bill’s office building. They say he’s dead.”

“Yes, he is. That’s what Lieutenant Holland has come to tell me.”

“It’s too much,” Edna said, shaking her head in dismay. “It’s all too much.”

“Can you tell me where Mrs. Springer was last night from around ten o’clock until this morning?”

“She was here. We got food from the China Express and we watched one of those silly TV movies. What was it called?”

“Her Secret Stalker,” Marissa replied.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“And neither of you left all evening?”

“No,” Edna said. “We stay home.”

Marissa sent her housekeeper a warm smile. “Edna has been my savior through all of this. I couldn’t have managed without her.”

“Thank you for your time, Marissa. I can see myself out.”

Chapter Eighteen

Sam was on the phone before she reached her car. “The wife was having him followed,” Sam told Farnsworth when she got him on the line. “I’m going to track down the investigator now.”

“Wow, that could be a big break.”

“I know. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she told me. So get this—she also said Bill Springer was well aware of his son’s illegal activities and was complicit in many of them.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Marissa said something else about the night before Billy was killed. He and Bill were at the house on MacArthur and Billy got a phone call right around eight. He apparently went ballistic and ran out of there. The next time she saw him was in the morgue. I think that was the call where he found out we were closing in on him for murder.”

“We’ve gone through all his phone records.”

“We should go through them again. We’re missing something, and now we’re able to isolate when Billy Springer received the tip.”

“I’ll pass that on to McDonald.”

“I’m having a thought.”

“Are you planning to share it?”

“Stahl.”

“Sam, come on. I know you’ve had a beef with the guy—”

“Is that what you’d call him coming to my house and trying to kill me? A beef? It’s been much more than that. Think about how many leaks we’ve had in the last year since you replaced him with me in Homicide. Think about how many times he’s tried to haul me before the rat squad only to have you intervene. Remember the phone call to the media we caught him making from HQ during the Vasquez case?”

“I remember all of it. So what’s your point?”

“He’s going down on the assault charges. There’s almost no chance that he won’t do some time with Secret Service agents as witnesses to what happened at my house and members of the department planning to testify to the hard-on he’s had for me since I took over his command.”

“Gross choice of words, but okay, so?”

“Believe me, everything about him is gross to me too. Anyway, Malone and I went to his house last night. No sign of him.”

“I’ll ask Patrol to look for him.”

“Keep this between us for now. It’s only a hunch.”

“It’s a hunch worth looking into.”

“Can you send me to the pit?”

“Hang on a second.” The phone clicked onto Hold and that awful music. She needed to talk to him about that. “McBride.”

“Hey, it’s Holland.”

“Morning, Lieutenant. Saw you on the news. You were awesome.”

“Thanks. That Monica what’s her name is a bimbo.”

“You made her your bitch.”

Sam laughed. “So listen, I need some info on a private investigator named James Donlon.”

“Let me see what I can find.”

Sam stayed parked outside the Springer home on MacArthur while Jeannie clicked away on the computer.

“He has an office on Rhode Island Avenue. I’ll text you the details.”

“Thanks. Tell Arnold I need the info from Lori’s text messages and the rest of the data dumped from her phone ASAP.”

“Got it, will do.”

“So, tomorrow...”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there at some point.”

“You’ve got other stuff to do.”

“I want to be there to support you.”

“I appreciate that, but Michael and my mother will be with me, so do what you need to until you have to testify.”

“I’ll be there. Anything new to report?”

“Tyrone and I are going to talk to the people at Lori’s church this morning. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

“I’ll be in after a while, and I hear Gonzo’s coming back today because he can’t bear to sit on the sidelines for another minute.”

“Did he get medically cleared?”

“Nope, but a little detail like that isn’t going to stop him.”

“I can’t say I blame him. If I were being accused of the things people are saying about him, I’d want to do something too.”

“Same. Just don’t let on I said that. I can’t act like I approve of him coming back without the okay.”

“My lips are sealed. I’ll call you after we leave the church.”

“Sounds good.” She hung up with Jeannie and placed a call to Harry while she drove to Rhode Island Avenue.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. C?” Harry asked.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything for you.”

Sam told him about Marissa Springer and asked if he’d be willing to stop by to see her.

“I can get there tonight.”

“I’m not sure what she needs, but she looks like hell. I don’t think she’s been sleeping since everything happened with her sons. And today, her husband was found dead, not that she’ll be shedding any tears over that. Apparently they were estranged.”

“Bill Springer is dead?”

“Yep, but that’s not for public consumption yet.”

“I won’t say anything. Damn. What happened to him?”

“I can’t say.”

“I understand. I’ll take care of her. Will I see you at the White House thing later?”

“I hope so.”

“Can you believe your husband went to work at the White House this morning?”

“He did? I somehow managed to block that out.”

His guffaw echoed through the phone. “You’re too funny, Sam. See you later.”

“Thanks again, Harry.”

“Anytime.”

The office of James Donlon, private investigator, was located in a run-down strip mall. On one side of the office was a pizza and sub shop, on the other a massage “studio.” The word made her laugh as she imagined what kind of massages went on in a storefront that had curtains pulled tight over the windows. On any other day, she’d want to take a closer look. Today, she didn’t have time.

She walked into Donlon’s office like she owned the place and came face-to-face with one of her favorite things—a receptionist.

“Help you?” the woman asked.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Donlon.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Sam placed her badge on the counter above the receptionist’s desk. “I don’t need an appointment.”

“One moment please.” She got up and walked to the back of the space and into a room with a door that closed behind her.