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“Loud argument.”
“Passionate subject,” I said. “And Bree’s under a lot of pressure from the top brass to make something happen, something that shows the public that DC Metro is still on top of things.”
“Like what?” Jannie asked as we ran past the armory.
“Like clearing a major murder case. The Tommy McGrath murder case.”
“Are you close to making an arrest?”
“No, because the prime suspect shot himself yesterday.”
Jannie shook her head. “I don’t know how you deal with that kind of stuff.”
“Like anything, it takes practice.”
“So why did he shoot himself? Because you suspected him and he knew you were after him?”
“That’s what Bree thinks,” I said. “It’s also what Chief Michaels thinks.”
“But you don’t?”
I struggled with how much to tell her. “There are other explanations of why the suspect would want to commit suicide.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Oh.”
“And no more questions about that, okay?”
“Sure, Dad. I was just interested.”
“And I appreciate your interest in that and in getting me out of bed this morning.”
We ran to the National Arboretum, and on the way back, the running wasn’t half the torture I’d expected. When we passed Chung Sun Chung’s store, the line for lottery tickets was ten-deep, so I skipped it and we went home.
Nana Mama was up cooking scrambled eggs and bacon, and Ali was engrossed in Origins. I went upstairs; Bree was in the shower.
“Hey,” she said when I climbed in.
“Sorry we argued last night.”
Bree nodded, hugged me, and said, “I still think Howard did it, shot Tom, Edita, and then himself.”
“Or Howard shot himself because he had stage four lung cancer. Or he was telling you the truth about not owning a Remington 1911.”
“Or he was lying about it.”
“Or he was lying about it. Or he didn’t kill anyone, and someone associated with the Phoenix Club did. Truce until we know more?”
Bree hugged me tighter. “Being chief of detectives is hard.”
“I think you’re doing a great job.”
“Chief Michaels doesn’t think so.”
