Chapter Fifteen
Freddie got busy on his phone. “Reading from their website, ‘The World Bank Group is one of the world’s largest sources of funding and knowledge for developing countries. Its five institutions share a commitment to reducing poverty, increasing shared prosperity and promoting sustainable development.’”
“Huh, well, that sounds like a noble cause.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it, that we hear about things all our lives but never have any real idea what they’re about.”
“I read this article recently about how much most people will never know and how the things we do know are a microcosmic sample of all things we could possibly know.”
“That’s interesting. For example, I will never be a brain surgeon.”
“And for that, everyone with a brain is thankful.”
Sam laughed. “Yes, they are. I’ll never understand engineering, most things about science and math. Ugh, math is my nemesis.”
“We’ll never know any language other than our own and some Spanish in my case, how manned space travel works or anything useful about engines.”
“I can’t build anything, draw anything and I can’t read music to save my life. I tried when I was in sixth grade and played the flute.”
“You played the flute?”
“Briefly. Add that to the list of things I’ll never be able to do.”
“I played the trumpet—badly—for a year. This exercise is rather demoralizing.”
Sam snorted. “Because we’ve basically discovered that at the end of the day, we’re a couple of dumb shits.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m known for being quite brilliant.”
“Sure you are.”
“We’re quite brilliant at what we do, a job most people couldn’t do if they tried.”
She nodded. “True.”
“The article talked about how everyone brings something unique to the table and each of those special skills form the fabric that brings us together as a society. What I can’t do, that guy over there can, and so on. Society works because we all have different talents.”
“This is a very deep conversation to have before lunch.”
“It all started because you asked what they do at the World Bank.”
“I guess we should expect some bureaucracy and roadblocks in a place like that.”
“Probably.”
The thought of obstacles exhausted her. She deeply resented the inevitable bullshit that got in the way of investigating homicides. Shouldn’t murder victims take precedence over anything else? One would think so. One would be wrong.
“I heard Conklin wants to talk to you again,” Freddie said after a long silence.
“Yeah.”
“You want me to take that for you? No need for you to have to be in a room with him if it’s too much for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Sam—”
“I said it’s fine. I refuse to give him any more power over my life than he’s already had. He’s just another scumbag to me now.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Let’s get this done.”
They parked in the visitor lot and walked to the main doors, where they were immediately confronted with robust security.
Even though the guard recognized Sam, he put them through the paces anyway, which is exactly what he should’ve done.
She didn’t have a beef with that kind of roadblock.
Security was a necessary evil in today’s world, so she followed directions, surrendered her firearm—albeit reluctantly—walked through the metal detector and signed in to receive a visitor’s badge.
Fifteen minutes later they were in an elevator being escorted to Massey’s office by a young woman named Isabel, who’d been introduced to them as an intern.
She cast side-eyed glances at Sam the whole time they were in the slow-moving elevator.
“Something on your mind, Isabel?”
The young woman’s face turned bright red. “I’m so sorry. I’m in awe of you, and it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m studying criminal justice at the University of Virginia. I want to be you when I grow up.”
Freddie choked on a laugh and then coughed, trying to mask his laughter.
“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.”
Isabel escorted them to the legal department and gestured toward the receptionist who stood between them and the man they’d come to see.
Sam’s disdain for flying and needles was topped only by her dislike of receptionists, who often tried to stop her from doing her job. That never went well. For them.
“Thank you.” She handed Isabel her card. “Get in touch if I can do anything to help you.”
Isabel took her card and held it as reverently as a newborn baby. “Seriously?”
“Sure. I remember what it was like to be starting out. Everyone needs a mentor. Text me so I have your number, and I’ll get in touch when things calm down.”
Isabel’s eyes sparkled with the starting of tears. “This means so much to me. Thank you so much.”
“No problem.”
After the young woman had walked away, Freddie glanced at Sam. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“My goal in life.”
“That was nice.”
“I’m a nice person.” Her phone chimed with a message from Isabel, gushing about her excitement to have met Sam. She held it up for Freddie to see, grinning.
He rolled his lips in, as if wisely trying to hold back whatever he was dying to say.
Sam approached the receptionist, a young woman identified as Ashley by the nameplate on the desk. She flashed her badge. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, DC Metro Police. This is my partner, Detective Cruz. We’re here to see Mr. Massey.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
That was one of Sam’s favorite receptionist questions. “Nope.”
“I’m afraid he’s in meetings and can’t be disturbed.”
Sam took a seat on the corner of Ashley’s desk. “You know what I love about that answer?”
Ashley’s gaze darted to Freddie, as if he might save her. He wouldn’t. “Um, no?”
“It totally discounts that fact that someone has to be dead for me to show up here wanting to talk to your colleague. Do you understand that someone is dead? Someone has been murdered, and my job is to figure out who did it?”
Ashley swallowed hard. “I, um, let me check to see if he can make himself available.”
“You do that.”
She got up and scurried away.
“Magnanimous and scary all in the same two-minute period.” Freddie shook his head. “I stand in awe of your never-ending range.”
Sam was endlessly amused by him, not that he could ever know that. “I may be seen as a one-trick pony, but I’m a pony of many facets.”
“Indeed you are, Lieutenant.”
“Props on your use of magnanimous. That’s a big word for a young grasshopper like you.”
“Aw, gee. Thanks, Mom.”
Ashley returned a few minutes later, noticeably paler than she’d been before Sam arrived to make her day.
“H-he’ll see you in his office in five minutes.”
“Tell him to make it two minutes. We’re busy people.”
“O-okay.” She took off again.
Still perched on the corner of Ashley’s desk, Sam folded her arms and got comfortable for the two minutes she was giving these people to get their shit together. “Sometimes this job is fun.”
“Most of the time it sucks donkey balls.”
“That’s my line, and it’s trademarked. You’re not allowed to use my stuff without permission.”
“So sue me.”
“I may do that.”
As long as they had their ability to spar and joke, they were able to get through the worst days on the job.
Some might find it disrespectful. Those people could kiss her ass. Until they’d walked a mile in her shoes or Freddie’s or any of the people who hunted murderers for a living, they would never know how incredibly difficult and heartbreaking it could be.
“I wish I could go to Patrick Connolly’s funeral.”
Freddie seemed surprised to hear that. “How come?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Something about Roni has stayed with me.”
“It’s such an awful thing, but are you sure it’s in your best interest to take that on when you’re in the midst of your own awful thing?”
Sam shrugged. “I wish I could be there to support her.” She glanced at the clock on the far wall. “I think their two minutes are up.” She started walking in the direction Ashley had gone, scanning the nameplates outside each office until she found Massey’s.
An older woman with a stern face and sturdy body sat at a desk outside.
Sam walked right by her.
Most people would knock before opening a closed door. Sam wasn’t most people. She opened the door to find Massey in an embrace with Ashley.
Very interesting. After their encounter on the street last night, the sight of him made Sam’s skin crawl. She was still getting a weird vibe from him. Whether that vibe was related to Tara’s death or not remained to be seen.
“Leave,” she said to Ashley.
Her green eyes flashed with outrage. “You can’t come in here—”
“Detective Cruz, would you mind setting our friend Ashley straight on what I can do?”
“Um, she can arrest you if you don’t shut up and get out of here.”
God, he was good.
Thankfully, Ashley took his advice, casting one last lovelorn look over her shoulder at Massey on her way out.
Freddie closed the door behind her.
“Is all of this necessary?” Massey asked. “Coming to my workplace and flashing your badges around?”
“Is it necessary, Detective Cruz?”
“Clearly it is or we wouldn’t be here. Does your boss know you’re fooling around with your assistant?”
His eyes narrowed into a look of pure fury. “What do you need? I have very important meetings today.”
“We could always do this at our place, if you’d prefer,” Sam said.
He blanched. “Do what? I had nothing to do with Tara’s death. I told you that.”
“Talk to me about your financial situation,” Sam said.
At that, he lost some of his rigidity. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Not sure yet. That’s what we’re trying to find out. How does a guy like you with a fancy law degree from—” She leaned in for a closer look at the diploma on his wall. “Yale and a big job at the World Bank end up on the verge of bankruptcy.
“I got into some trouble with gambling.” His teeth were gritted with outrage. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Murder makes everything my business.”
“I think you secretly enjoy the little power trip you get from throwing that badge around.”