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Chapter 27
I enjoyed mywalk back to the hotel to get my rental car. The sky was clear. I felt sunshine on my face. I had leads to follow. And I’d achieved a small measure of revenge. I chuckled every time I thought about Jeremy Pugh’s wrist. And the Ranger had been just so casual in the way he’d blocked that punch. Clearly he knew that by never punching Jeremy Pugh himself, he had committed no crime.
By early afternoon, I’d driven past the address for Donald Minshew three times. I hadn’t seen any cars in the driveway or anyone in the front yard. This part of the Capitol Hill neighborhood was beautiful, and the Minshew town house was no exception. It was three stories tall, with wide balconies on the second and third floors. The front yard was awash with imported flowers and colorful plants. I noticed tulips and some kind of tall tropical-looking flower. They must have installed a heater system. The flowers looked healthy now, but I didn’t think many of them would make it through the winter. That was what I’d call conspicuous consumption. Texas style.
I parked more than a block away. Part of it was stealth, part of it embarrassment at the car I’d rented. After I maneuvered my way out of the car, I took a moment to straighten my shirt and pants.
My research on Donald Minshew was slim. He had no arrests, but the lobbyist had been censured twice for reasons that weren’t clear to me. Fat, balding, and a little over fifty, with the red face of a serious drinker, he looked in his pictures like a caricature of an oil lobbyist.
And he was obviously rich. Not just I have a vacation home rich, more like I have a Gulfstream to fly to my private island rich. I already hated him.
I rang the bell and waited by the wide oak front door with hand-etched frosted glass. One side of the door had an etching of an oil well gushing oil. The other side was a wild horse rearing up.
There were two different security cameras as well as a Ring video doorbell. I knew I was being observed from inside the house. After almost a full minute, I heard several of the locks on the door move.
I was momentarily surprised when a beautiful woman with wild reddish hair opened the door and said, “May I help you?”
“I, um…” Her blue eyes locked onto mine. I guessed she was in her late thirties. She had a slight bump in her nose from a break years ago. It gave her an interesting profile. Finally, I was able to spit out, “I’m looking for Donald Minshew.”
The woman didn’t say a word. She just stared at me. Eventually, she said, “And you are?”
I fumbled to grab my badge quickly. I pulled it from my rear pocket and showed the badge with the credentials to her. She welcomed me inside. She had the kind of long, droopy robe I’d seen only in movies. It was almost like she was playing a role.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m Don’s wife, Ellen. Just curious, what’s a New York City detective want with my hubby?”
“Just a few quick questions.” I didn’t want to give away any hints just yet. I changed the subject. “You have a lovely home.”
She turned and took my arm. “I’m very proud of this place. My husband won’t be home until around eight-ish. Can I give you a quick tour? Of course, this is just our home while Congress is in session. Our main house is about forty minutes outside Dallas. That’s where we have a little bit of land and some horses.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I do have some questions. You think I could meet your husband at his office?”
“Why would you want to do that? I assume you want to talk about my relationship with Emily Parker. Don really doesn’t know much about her.”
