Chapter Nine #2
“Dream on and stuff another doughnut into your piehole. While you’re at it, do a run on the financials of Monique and Robert Lawson and Leslie and Chad Dennis in California.”
Freddie popped the last doughnut in his mouth and got busy working on his smart phone.
“And speaking of discretion, don’t tell anyone I had you do that while we were on the clock.”
“We’re riding in the car, and I’m looking at my phone while we go. No rule against that.”
“Thanks, Freddie.”
“Sorry about the sugar dust.”
“You’re gonna clean it up.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The traffic finally let up a bit as they crossed the 14th Street Bridge, but came to a dead stop on George Washington Parkway. “We shouldn’t have done this first thing.”
“I tried to tell you that.”
“When did you try to tell me that?”
“When I got in the car and said traffic is going to be a bear at this hour.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“Yes, I did, and besides, you already knew that. You’ve lived here all your life.”
“Stop talking sense to me. It’s irritating.”
His low snort of laughter had her holding back a smile.
Sparring with him made their dreadful jobs and long days together so much more fun than they would’ve been otherwise.
In the back of her mind, she knew she was too close to him on a personal level and probably should switch up their team to make him someone else’s partner, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“How do you think Gonzo’s doing?” she asked, eager to change the subject of her own thoughts.
“So much better than he was.”
“Yeah, but with the trial looming, do we need to be worried?” Sid Androzzi, also known as Giuseppe Besozzi, would be tried for the murder of Gonzo’s former partner, Detective AJ Arnold.
As the only witness to the shooting that had ended Arnold’s life, Sergeant Tommy Gonzales was the U.S. Attorney’s star witness.
“I think his recovery is solid, and he’s stronger than he’s been since it all happened.”
“Hard to believe it’ll be a year next month.”
“I know. In some ways, it feels like five minutes, and in other ways, it’s like we haven’t seen Arnold in years.
” He glanced over at her. “Tommy asked Elin to help him organize the road race he wants to do in Arnold’s memory.
They’re targeting the spring to hold the first one, hoping it’ll be an annual event with the goal of raising money for after-school programs for middle and high school students. ”
“Yes, I heard about that. Sign me up to help.”
“In your copious spare time?”
“I’ll make time for that and lend my, you know, platform to help make it huge.”
“You say ‘platform’ like it’s a dirty word.”
“If I had my druthers, I’d have no platform. But since I can’t have my druthers and be married to Nick, the platform is what it is, and it’s mine to use on whatever I want, such as a road race in honor of our beloved colleague.”
“Your support will make a huge difference.”
“Nick and I will run the race.”
“Wait. What?”
“I said Nick and I will run the race. Do you need to get your hearing checked?”
“You’re going to run a 5K?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Um, okay,” he said, clearly trying not to howl with laughter.
“How far is that, anyway?”
Freddie lost it laughing. “Three-point-one miles.”
“No biggie.”
“You’d better start training now, killer.”
Sam made a mental note to get her ass on the treadmill ASAP. “I don’t need to train for that. I can run three miles in my sleep.”
“And when you come in last place, what will your platform have to say about that?”
“Shut up.”
“What? It’s an honest question.”
“Are you going to run it?”
“Of course I am. Arnold was one of my best friends.”
“So you’ll be giving up your doughnut and junk food habit while you train?”
“Why would I need to do that?”
“So you don’t drop dead?”
“Dude. I run three miles every day of my life and haven’t dropped dead yet.”
“Well, that’s a freaking miracle considering your hellacious diet.”
Sam pulled into the parking lot at the National Pipefitters Association on Mount Vernon Avenue shortly after nine thirty, having sacrificed forty minutes of her life she’d never get back to travel four miles. “Someone needs to do something about the traffic situation in this area.”
“That’s a novel idea. I’m sure no one has thought of it.”
“You’re being very sassy today, young Freddie,” she said as she followed him from the car to the association’s main door.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“That’s Lieutenant Obvious to you, Detective Clueless.”
“Like you ever let me forget that.” He rang the doorbell outside the association’s main door.
“Hear that? A regular, normal doorbell that goes ding-dong and lets people know someone is at the door. You don’t need gongs and symphonies and cymbals to get that job done.”
“I hope your fount of wisdom never runs dry, Lieutenant. I benefit from it every day.”
“Quit your sucking up and ring it again.”
“Maybe louder would be better in this case.” Sam looked up to see the building had a second and third floor. She made a fist and pounded on the door. “Police, open up!”
“Um, can I help you?” a female voice said from behind them.
As Sam spun around to find a young woman holding a tray with four coffees, it occurred to her that they could’ve been attacked from behind. But then she saw Vernon leaning against the black Secret Service SUV that had followed them to Alexandria and knew he wouldn’t have let that happen.
“Oh my God. You’re the first lady!”
“Do you work here?” Sam asked, gesturing to the door.
“Yes, I do. I went to get coffee.”
“We need to speak to someone in charge.”
“Ah, sure. Come in.”
Sam stepped aside to allow the woman to use her key in the door.
“What’s this about?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say.”
“You investigate murders, right?”
“I do.”
She put the tray of coffees on a reception desk. “Has someone been murdered?”
“Could I please speak to your boss? I need the big boss.”
“Yes, of course.” The young woman picked up a phone and pressed a button. “Joyce, the, um, first lady is here to talk to you about a murder.”
Sam wanted to commit murder herself as she glared at the woman, who seemed to wilt ever so slightly. “Tell her Lieutenant Holland from the Metro PD would like to speak to her right away.”
“Did you hear that?” After a pause, the woman said, “Okay. I will.” When she put down the phone, she gestured to a closed door across the hall. “You can wait for her in there. She’ll be right down.”
“Tell her to hurry up. We’re busy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She held up a pad of paper and a pen. “Could I get your autograph?”
Normally, she acquiesced to those sorts of requests on the job, but today she wasn’t in the mood. “Sorry, I can’t right now.” She pretended to take a call on her cell phone as she walked into the conference room where Freddie was already seated. “What’s up?”
“You talking to me or some imaginary person on the phone?”
“I’m on a very important call, so shut your yap.”
“Sure, you are.”
“Why do people have to do that whole first lady thing? Why can’t I just be Lieutenant Holland on the job?”
“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you expect an answer?”
She slapped her phone closed with the satisfying smack she loved so much. “I want an answer! The whole world knows what I do for a living—and what my side hustle is. Why do we have to talk about it everywhere I go?”
“Again, is that rhetorical, or are you looking for an answer?”
“You’re being a serious smartass today.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, laughing. “It just surprises me that you’re still shocked when people mention your so-called ‘side hustle.’”
“How long is that going to go on?”
“Still rhetorical?”
“Shut up and eat another doughnut.”
“Is it lunchtime yet? I know some good places here in Del Ray we can hit.”
“It’s nine o’clock!”
“Never too early for first lunch.”
“Where is this woman? I’m getting annoyed.”
“You hit annoyed the second the receptionist said, ‘first lady.’”
Sam went to ask the receptionist where the boss was and nearly collided with an older woman who was coming into the room. Somehow she managed to avoid crashing into her, avoid falling and stick the landing all in one smooth move.
“I’m Joyce Dougherty, the CEO.”
“Lieutenant Holland. My partner, Detective Cruz. Could we speak in private, please?”
“Of course.”