THE D.C. Metropolitan Police Department headquarters was located on Indiana Avenue, near the D.C. Superior Court building. It was named after Henry J. Daly, who’d been a homicide sergeant with twenty-eight distinguished years on the police force before an intruder had gunned him down in the building. It was a multistory structure with lots of people in uniform coming and going. And lots of people not in uniform hanging around either waiting for court time next door or else cooling their heels while friends or relatives had some quality face time with the cops inside HQ. The probation and parole offices, along with the Department of Motor Vehicles, were also located in the Daly Building. That pretty much guaranteed that no one going in or out of the place was particularly thrilled to be there.
The chief’s office was in a secure area and one had to pass locked doors and lots of cubicles containing people who brought guns with them to work. The office was a corner suite; the door was a keyed entry. The room was large with nice moldings and two windows. A wall of shelves contained ceremonial mugs and hats, stuffed animals, and stacks of newspapers and official reports. The American flag was in front of one window. There was a small sitting area with an ornate chess set on a coffee table. A plasma screen on a hinged arm hung on one wall. There was also a large wooden desk that had seen a lot of wear and tear over the years. This included numerous coffee cup rings marring the surface and probably a few hundred angry fists slamming down on the wood.
Beth sat on the “chief” side and Mace on the other.
“I took a leap of faith letting you tag along,” Beth said as she stared at the stacks of files and phone messages on her desk. “It apparently was a mistake on my part to believe that you might just remain quiet and unobtrusive. I’m not sure how I miscalculated considering it’s only happened a few thousand times before.”
“It just popped out. I’m sorry.”
Beth pointed to the pile of phone messages. “Your little ‘pop’ has already gotten a lot of attention. The mayor, in fact, wants to know why a recently released convicted felon was even allowed near the crime scene, sister or not.”
“I’m really sorry, Beth. I don’t know why I did it.”
“Just go see Altman tonight and become gainfully employed.”
“Is he still at G-town? Because the address you gave me is in McLean.”
“He’s on sabbatical but the address is for his home.”
“McLean? Fancy area. They must be paying professors better these days.”
“Wait a minute, didn’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“Altman is one of the wealthiest people in the Washington area.”
“How’d he make his money?”
“He didn’t.”
Mace gave her sister a funny look. “What?”
“You used to be a pretty good detective. You’ll figure it out.” Beth pointed to the door. “Now go, I have to play police chief for a while.”
Mace headed to the door but then turned back. “I am sorry about today, sis.”
Beth smiled. “If that’s all I had to worry about, it would be a very good day.”
“What about Mona and the mayor?”
“The mayor’s a good guy. I can deal rationally with him.”
“And Mona?”
“Mona can go screw herself.”
The secure door clicked open and Beth’s assistant, Lieutenant Donna Pierce, looked in. “They’re here for the meeting, Chief.”
“Send them in.”
The door opened wider and a man with white hair and dressed in a custom-tailored pinstripe suit walked in, followed by a fellow in a baggy gray suit who limped awkwardly, his fat briefcase in his right hand.
The white-haired gent put out his hand. “It’s been too long, Beth.”
“Crazy schedules all around, Sam.”
“Hello, Chief,” said Jarvis Burns, the man in the baggy suit.
“I don’t think either of you ever met my sister, Mace.”
“Mace, this is Sam Donnelly and Jarvis Burns.”
Donnelly gave Mace a searching look. “I’m really surprised we’ve never run into each other before.”
“I’ve been away for a while.”
“I know. What happened to you was a case of prosecutorial overreach. That is my personal opinion,” he hastily added. “Off the record.”
“We know the president loves Mona,” Beth said grudgingly.
“And I serve at his pleasure,” added Donnelly.
When Mace looked at him inquiringly Beth explained, “Sam is the DNI, Director of National Intelligence.”
“Yes, but Jarvis here does all the heavy lifting,” amended Donnelly. “I just try to keep everyone playing nicely together.”
“Then I’ll let you and Beth get to it.”
“Nice meeting you, Mace,” said Donnelly while Burns opened his briefcase. But his gaze trailed her until the door shut.
“She just got out, didn’t she?” said Donnelly as he seated himself at Beth’s small conference table.
“That’s right.”
“Any plans?”
“Some things in the works.”
“I hope things come together for her.”
“They will.”