Internal Affair. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ moment. “You’ll have to forgive my partner, Congressman. He left his manners in his other squad car. I’m afraid this is official business. We need to ask you a question.”

      “Ask away.” Lacing his hands together, Wiley sat on the edge of his desk as if he was about to enter into a conversation with lifelong friends. “I believe in fully cooperating with the police.”

      She held up the digital photograph that had been printed less than half an hour ago. “Do you know this woman?”

      Patrick watched the congressman’s eyes as he took the photograph in his hands. There was horror on his face as he looked at the dead woman. “Oh, God, no.” He turned his head away.

      “Are you sure?” Patrick pressed, his voice low, steely. “She was found in your car.”

      Light eyebrows drew together in mounting confusion. “My car? My car’s right outside.” He pointed toward the window and the parking lot beyond.

      Patrick’s expression didn’t change. “Navy blue sports car. Registered to you.”

      A light seemed to dawn in the older man’s face. “Oh, right.” As if to dissuade any rising suspicion, the man explained, “I have more than one car, detectives. I’ve got five kids, three of them drive. Of course, there’s my wife,” he tagged on. “But she prefers the Lincoln.” He paused, sorting out his thoughts. “And then, sometimes I let one of my people borrow a car when they’re running an errand for me.”

      Patrick made a notation in his notepad, deliberately making the congressman wait. “So at any given time of the day or night, you don’t know where your cars are.”

      Wide, muscular shoulders rose and fell beneath a handmade suit. “I’m afraid not.” Maggi began to take the photograph back, but Wiley stopped her at the last moment. “Wait, let me look at that again.” The air was still as he studied the face in the photograph more closely. After a beat, the impact of death seemed to fade into the background. And then recognition filtered into his eyes. “This is Joan, no, Joanne, that’s it. Joanne Styles.” Wiley looked first at Maggi, then Patrick. “She works for me.”

      “Worked,” Patrick corrected, taking the photograph back.

      Disbelief was beginning to etch itself into the congressman’s handsome face. “What happened to her?”

      Patrick gave him just the minimal details. “She was found in the river this morning, in your sports car. It appears she went over the side of the road sometime last night.”

      Veering to the more sympathetic audience, Wiley looked at Maggi. “She drowned?”

      “Someone would like to have us believe that,” Patrick interjected, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.

      Confusion returned. “Then she didn’t drown? She’s alive?”

      “Oh, she’s dead all right,” Patrick confirmed emotionlessly. “But she didn’t die in the river. She died sometime before that.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “Neither do we. For the moment.” Patrick pinned him with a look. “Where were you last night, Congressman, if you don’t mind my asking?”

      The congressman’s friendly expression faded. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I do mind your asking.”

      “Just doing our job, Congressman,” Maggi interjected smoothly, her manner respectful. “Pulling together pieces of a puzzle. It might help us find Ms. Styles’s killer if we could reconstruct the evening.”

      “Yes, of course. Sorry,” he apologized to Patrick. “This has me a little rattled. I never knew anyone who was a murder victim before. I was at a political fund-raiser at the Hyatt Hotel.” He looked at Patrick and added, “With several hundred other people.”

      “Was Ms. Styles there?” Maggi prodded gently.

      “I imagine so, although I really couldn’t say for certain. All of my staff was invited,” he explained.

      “Looks like those several hundred people certainly didn’t help keep her alive, did they?” Patrick asked.

      “If we could get a guest list, that would be very helpful. Could you tell us who was in charge of putting the fund-raiser together?” Maggi felt as if she was tap-dancing madly to exercise damage control.

      “Of course. That would be Leticia Babcock.” Picking up a pen, Wiley wrote down the name of the organization the woman worked for. Finished, he handed the paper to Maggi. He glanced at Patrick, but his words were directed to the woman before him. “Anything I can do, you only have to ask.”

      Patrick took the slip of paper from Maggi and tucked it into his pocket. His eyes never left the congressman’s face. “Count on it.”

      Chapter 5

      Hurrying to catch up to her partner, Maggi pulled the collar of her jacket up. It began to mist. The weather lately had been anything but ideal.

      “You get more flies with honey than with vinegar, Cavanaugh.”

      Patrick reached his car and unlocked the driver’s side. He looked at her over the roof. “I’m not interested in getting flies, Mary Margaret, I’m interested in getting a killer.”

      She blew out a breath as she got in on her side. “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

      Patrick closed the door and flipped on the headlights. The sun had decided to hide behind dark clouds. They were in for a storm. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

      Her father had named her after his two sisters. She wished he’d been born an only child. “Yes it is. That doesn’t mean I like hearing it—” Maggi turned in her seat to glare at him as she delivered the last word “—Pat.”

      The nickname she tossed at him was fraught with bad memories. Only his father had ever called him that, when the old man was especially drunk and reveling in the whole myth of “Pat and Mike,” something Patrick gathered had come by way of a collection of Irish stories about two best friends. According to Uncle Andrew, a number of Irish-flavored jokes began that way, as well. In any case, he and his father didn’t remotely fit the description of two friends, and it was only when he was in a drunken haze that his father could pretend that he’d created a home life for his family. In reality, home life was just barely short of a minefield, ready to go off at the slightest misstep.

      Maggi sighed, trying to regain some ground. “All I’m saying is that the congressman was a great deal more cooperative when you weren’t glaring at him.”

      He started up the car and got back on the road. “That’s what you’re here for, right? To win him over with your sunny disposition.”

      “Attila the Hun’s disposition could be called sunny compared to yours.”

      To her surprise, she heard Patrick laugh softly to himself. “Looks like our first day isn’t going very well, is it?”

      She trod warily, afraid of being set up. “Could be better,” she allowed. Maggi caught his grin out of the side of СКАЧАТЬ