Noah was right. Stein was very smart—and very much a jerk.
“I would have cut her loose then,” Stein was saying, “because it seemed to be exactly what it was on the surface. A hot young chick sleeping with power. She was in no position to influence legislation, she’s a fucking secretary, doesn’t even have to register. But it came back to her knowledge of a particular bill Crowley killed in committee.”
“You’ve lost me,” Noah said.
“She went into the interview all charming, tits perky, eyelashes fluttering, but she was no bimbo. Too smart. We were just chatting, I made a comment about one of her company’s clients, an upstart company, and she immediately corrected me. The client was no longer with DSA, and the product they made wasn’t a computer chip, but a specialized lens for space telescopes.”
“Why’s that important?”
“It was obscure. Some things she may know, but in that detail? Considering her employer told me she was essentially the receptionist? So I asked some other questions, confirmed that she was sharp. So I’m thinking, maybe it wasn’t so much influence peddling on Crowley’s part, but maybe this girl had some other boyfriends on the side. Maybe she gathers up information like we gather up evidence, sees what fits and what doesn’t. Campaign secrets and whatnot.”
“Is that a crime?” Lucy asked.
“Maybe, maybe not. Depending on what she does with the information. If there’s money involved. If there’s national security at risk. So I asked some things I knew weren’t true, and one thing I knew was true—that she’d been involved with Congressman Randy Bristow at one point. That tidbit came from a contact of mine in the White House, who had seen the two up close and personal after a fundraiser. I asked her about a bunch of guys I doubted she’d screwed, then Bristow, and she denied it. No reason to, really—Bristow isn’t married, he can screw anyone he wants. But she cut me off, asked why I needed to know about her past sex life, she wasn’t on trial, yada yada.”
“You were fishing,” Lucy said.
“I’m damn good fisherman, sweetheart,” he said, grinning at her in the rearview mirror.
Noah jumped in. “And then you brought in the U.S. Attorney.”
“Information is power in this town, and that pretty little girl had access to a lot of information.”
“There was nothing on her computer,” Noah said.
“But you didn’t find her phone, did you? And she could have a laptop somewhere, or save everything to a disk. Maybe she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Maybe she was. Now she’s dead.”
Noah glanced over his shoulder as if warning Lucy to keep her mouth shut.
“Turning up dead right before a meet with the U.S. Attorney’s office?” Stein continued. “That tells me she knew something. Maybe she wasn’t the bad girl in this picture, but knew who was being naughty.”
Lucy’s irritation faded when the manner of death clicked into place. “The killer made her death look like attempted rape. Pulled down her shorts, but no penetration and no bruising on the inside of her thighs.”
Stein paled. “Well, I, uh, will leave those details to you.”
“Hear me out,” she continued. Stein pulled into a red zone near an office building only blocks from the Capitol complex. “Her death was odd, don’t you think, Noah? Strangled from behind. Little or no sexual gratification. And Josh said she lied about something she didn’t have to, and was scheduled to talk to the U.S. Attorney. Why was she killed now and not three weeks ago when the scandal first broke?”
“The theory makes sense,” Noah said, “but doesn’t it seem unwise on the killer’s part to kill her when she was an interested party in an ongoing investigation?”
“Not if the information she would have shared was criminally damaging,” Stein said.
Lucy couldn’t believe she and the bombastic agent were in agreement. “Desperate measures,” she said. “If he felt there was no other way to silence her. Maybe she couldn’t be bought off.”
“Speaking of buying her off,” Stein said, “I have my team going through her finances. That condo cost her far more than she’d make on a secretary’s salary. Might be she comes from a wealthy family, or maybe she just has a lot of men keeping her in style.” He laughed.
The two minutes Lucy had respected Josh Stein ended.
The three of them walked through the glass doors of a renovated corner office building. Part of the structure was reinforced marble—very likely the original structure—and part was completely new, made to blend in with the old. The result was surprisingly attractive.
Stein showed his badge to the guard and they were sent to the penthouse suite of offices where Devon Sullivan & Associates resided.
In the elevator, Stein said, “DSA is a medium-sized lobbying firm representing local governments, small unions, and private businesses, primarily in the tech industry. Their second-largest client in terms of dollars spent is a city in California—which happens to be in Alan Crowley’s district. See why the affair may not be so simple after all? Definitely an affair to remember.” He laughed at his own joke. Neither Lucy nor Noah joined in, but Stein didn’t notice.
Devon Sullivan greeted them when they stepped out of the elevator. She was attractive in both manner and dress. Mid-fifties, tastefully dyed dark blond hair, and hazel eyes behind purple Donna Spade glasses. Her red-rimmed eyes suggested she’d already heard about Wendy James’s murder.
“It’s so awful. Please, come to my office.”
She led them across the lobby, through glass double doors, and past her secretary. “Jeanie, please hold all calls for now.” She closed the door behind them.
Devon Sullivan’s office was as large as Wendy’s living room and just as contemporary, with a wide expanse of windows and lots of sparkling glass. The view looked down on one of the large roundabouts, and if Lucy stood just right, she could see half of the Capitol. One wall was a bookcase with numerous political biographies and larger legal tomes. A few pictures decorated the shelves, mostly of Devon Sullivan golfing or with clients, and one of her at a shooting range, framed with a small engraving, “Virginia State Trooper Widows & Orphans Charity Shoot-Out, 2008.”
Ms. Sullivan motioned for them to sit, and she took a position in front of her desk, not behind it. Lucy glanced at the desk, which was devoid of all papers except for closed file folders. A picture of two young boys sat in the corner. Children or grandchildren, Lucy couldn’t tell.
“I’m still trying to understand what happened. The press, as you know, never gets things completely right. But Wendy was murdered?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stein said. “I appreciate you making the time for us.” His tone was reserved and respectful, opposite of his earlier demeanor.
“Anything you need.”
“When news of the affair between Ms. James and Congressman Crowley first broke, I spoke to your office manager about her employment. He indicated that she’d worked here as a secretary for about two years.”
“Correct.”
“Were you concerned when she didn’t come in for work yesterday morning?”
Ms. Sullivan blinked rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fired Wendy last week.”
The information surprised all of them, but Josh Stein most of all. “When?” he asked brusquely.
“Tuesday morning. I would have fired her on Monday, but she called in sick. I think she knew. I didn’t have a choice—I don’t think she did anything wrong, but her judgment was flawed. My business is built solely on my reputation. Her situation had gotten out of control, and I had concerned clients. I gave her a very nice severance package, and a letter of recommendation.”
“What exactly did she do for you?”
“Mostly answered phones, greeted clients, made copies, and assisted with events. Wendy was very good at it.”
“Why did you feel the need to fire her?”
“Reputation,” she repeated.
“Did you know she was having an affair with Alan Crowley?”
“Could she have accessed sensitive information that she may have leveraged with Congressman Crowley or others?”
“Others?”
“We’re keeping a broad mind.”
“I suppose she could have accessed any of the files here, but most of our records are public, as required by law.”
“Did you, or anyone on your staff, ask Wendy James to unduly influence Alan Crowley or any other sitting member of the House of Representatives?”
Ms. Sullivan was taken aback by the question, and Lucy was surprised as well. Stein slipped it in smoothly, in the same tone and manner as his initial softball questions.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.
“Would you mind if I spoke to your staff?”
She hesitated, the first sign that she was nervous about something. It could be natural, stemming from the tragic situation, or it could be more calculating. Lucy wasn’t certain.
“Of course you may, but if it’s about my clients, I need to be present.”
“Just about Wendy, who she dated, if anyone knew about the affair.”
Devon Sullivan didn’t relax. “I suppose. When?”
“Now would be perfect,” Stein said.
“I’ll make the conference room available.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.
Stein grinned and said in a low voice, “I’m going to give Ms. Sullivan a rectal exam.”
“Excuse me?” Lucy said.
“You think a lobbyist like her didn’t know her secretary was doing the horizontal bop with a player like Crowley? Hell no.”
“Murder is a long way from political corruption,” Noah said.
Stein shrugged. “Maybe. Probably no connection. But you shouldn’t be surprised how fast people tell the truth when they think they’re facing more serious charges. Anything going on in this company, I’ll find it.” He glanced at his watch. “We still have time to catch Crowley at his office. Damn, I love my job.”
Lucy barely refrained from grimacing. Stein was too giddy about his work; she wondered if he cared anything about the victim—or if winning was the only thing that mattered.
* * *
They could easily have walked from DSA to the Capitol, but Stein insisted on driving even though it was close to five in the afternoon and the roads were crowded. It took him fifteen minutes to find a parking place—a white-zone reserved for Capitol Police.
He slid his official federal business placard on the dash and got out of the car, whistling.
Lucy decided that she didn’t care how smart Josh Stein was, or his case clearance rate, she did not like a man who whistled while investigating murder.
They walked toward Crowley’s office in the Rayburn building. “Josh,” Noah said, “I let you lead with the lobbyist, let me take the lead with Crowley.”
“I’m on a roll, Armstrong. Think I can’t handle a homicide investigation?”
“I think you’d be great, but you’ve been an agent how long? Fifteen years? How many homicides?”
Stein didn’t say anything.
“If you have a question, jump in, but if you don’t mind…” he let his comment hang.
Stein jerked his thumb toward Lucy. “Why’s she here again?”
“Slater wanted a forensic analyst.”
“Is she going to be asking questions? Slater told you we are under the gun. Every step watched by everyone, including press.”
“I understand exactly what we face.”
“Noah,” she began.
He shot her a look that told her to remain quiet. She was going to suggest she wait outside, knowing that Stein didn’t want her involved, and not wanting her presence to jeopardize the case—even though she didn’t know how that would happen.
She wished Noah had given her a better understanding of their role working with the White Collar division, as well as how he intended to question Congressman Crowley. She disliked the power plays between the two divisions, with the uncertainty of who was really in charge. And she didn’t like this side of Noah.
Lucy followed Noah and Stein through security, then upstairs where they were ushered immediately into Congressman Crowley’s private office.
Crowley had been in Congress for more than twenty-two years, withstanding several partisan shifts of power. His office was decorated with furniture that was a little too big for the space, including a tall glass cabinet packed with awards and trinkets. His desk was cluttered with three pen sets, paperweights, and a variety of odd items, many with gold plates identifying a place or event. Most of the photographs had Crowley in golf gear with people more famous than he.
Noah introduced the three of them.
Crowley said, “I spoke with your superior earlier today.”
“We have some follow-up questions. I’m sure you understand.”
“Why isn’t Agent Slater handling this? He told me he was in charge.” Crowley’s tone was offensive, but his posture was defensive—his body was turned a few degrees away from them, his hands bounced a pen off the desk blotter, his eyes went from agent to agent, then glanced at the door.
He was nervous.
“He’s the Supervisory Special Agent for the Violent Crimes and Major Offenders squad,” Stein said. “I’m his counterpart, the SSA for White Collar Crime and Political Corruption.”
Crowley’s face reddened. He dropped the pen. “I will answer questions about my relationship with Wendy, but you’re stretching to imply there was anything but a consenting adult relationship.”
“Your relationship with Ms. James is public record at this point,” Stein said. “We need to determine if there was anything inappropriate or illegal. It’s odd that she ends up dead three days before her scheduled meeting with the U.S. Attorney. What information might she have been wanting to share?”
So much for letting Noah take the lead, Lucy thought. She wanted to pull Stein aside and explain to him that anyone with basic understanding of psychology could see that Crowley considered himself a leader and wouldn’t be a pushover, just on the basis of what his office showed. His overabundance of awards and pictures was “name-dropping.” The best way to get him to cooperate would be to stroke his ego and let him think he was the one solving the case, all the while answering their very specific questions. Going on the attack right out of the gate was a big mistake.
Crowley leaned forward, both hands palm down on his desk. “I will tell you exactly what I told Agent Slater, since it’s obvious that your office doesn’t share information. I was in a committee meeting yesterday morning. The last time I saw Wendy was a week after the newspaper reported our affair. She called and wanted to meet at her apartment. I agreed to meet in public, at Dupont Circle. I brought my chief of staff with me, so no one could take pictures and accuse me of continuing the affair. We talked about nothing important because she was mad I brought Denise. We haven’t spoken since.”
He looked from Stein to Noah, then said, “I’m upset that she was killed, but her murder has nothing to do with me.”
“Sir,” Noah said, trying to settle him down, “we are simply trying to put together Ms. James’s movements over the last few days. If she ever indicated that someone was following her, maybe an ex-boyfriend she told you about, or—”
“If you have any specific questions, I will answer them through my lawyer.”
Stein said, “You understand that your refusal to cooperate makes you suspect.”
“You can leave now.”
They stood up and started toward the door. Lucy caught Noah’s eye. “Apartment?” she mouthed. He either ignored her or didn’t understand.
She turned around and faced Crowley. “Sir,” she said in her most diplomatic voice, “did you usually meet with Ms. James at her apartment?�
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“My attorney,” he repeated without looking at her. He pretended to read a document on his desk, but his hands were shaking and he had to put the paper down. For a split second, she thought he was scared. Not that he might get caught at something, but maybe … was he scared someone was after him?
“Please, this is important. You must have cared about Wendy at one point.”
He looked at her, sorrow crossing his face for a split second, before his arrogance buried it. She implored him with her eyes, even though how he had handled the affair made her want to slap him.
“I truly did. We usually met at her apartment on Park Way.”
“Which apartment number?” she pretended to forget and flipped through blank pages in a notebook.
“Seven-ten. How does that help?” he asked, curious.
“Just fact-gathering, sir. Thank you.”
As soon as they were in the hall, Stein turned to Lucy and said, “What the hell were you doing? He cried uncle and you bat your eyes at him?”
“I did not,” she defended. “I needed to know where they met for sex. It was obvious to me it wasn’t in the apartment we walked this morning—and apartment seven-ten is not hers. It’s not even on the same floor.”
“Like you can tell after ten minutes in her apartment whether she brought men there? Why does it matter where they screwed?” Stein was livid. “I had Crowley panicked and asking for his lawyer, and you act like the good cop? You don’t even have a badge!”
Noah said, “Let’s take this outside.”
“I had this under control. If this case is blown, it’s on you, Armstrong. You brought Nancy Drew into this investigation.”
They stepped into the elevator. Noah gave a staff member a look that had the young man waiting for the next ride.
When the door closed, Noah said, “You pushed him too hard, too fast.”
“That’s how you have to deal with these people. They’re all guilty of something.”
“You don’t believe that.”
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