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McLean.
They were in southeast D.C., where eight of the run-down row houses would still not have equaled the square footage of the Dabneys’ mansion.
The police were there and the house in question was strung off with yellow tape stretching and pitching in the wind.
“How’d you find out so fast?” asked Decker as he, Brown, and Jamison stared over at the front entrance. Gawkers were out and looking around curiously at all the police activity.
Brown said, “I’ve got a contact at the metro police. She knew about my interest in the Dabneys. When the call came in and they found out where she worked, my contact called me. I phoned Bogart. He should be here shortly.”
A gurney was wheeled out of the front of the house with a body in a black body bag.
“What do they know so far?” asked Jamison. “How was she killed?”
“Metro is keeping a tight lid on this, and they will until the Bureau shows up. DIA doesn’t carry as much weight with the locals as the FBI.”
“Well, here they come,” noted Decker as Bogart’s car pulled up and he and Milligan jumped out and hustled over to them.
Brown explained things in a few sentences and Bogart and Milligan headed over to the officer in charge. They watched as the FBI agents flashed their badges and made their pitch. The body language of the officer changed immediately. He pulled a notebook from his pocket and he started talking.
Five minutes later Bogart and Milligan returned to them.
“Okay, small-caliber gunshot to the back of the head,” said Bogart. “Looks like a professional hit. She’s been dead about six hours, which puts her death at about two in the morning. So far they’ve found no one who saw or heard anything.”
“Forced entry?” asked Decker.
“They’re still checking. Nothing so far indicates that, but it’s not been confirmed.”
“Would she have let the person in?” asked Brown.
“If her death occurred shortly after the person came, who would she let into her house at two a.m.?”
“Someone she knew really well,” said Decker.
“This may not even be connected to our case,” said Milligan, looking around. “This is not exactly a safe area.”
“If it was a break and enter they would have taken things,” said Decker. “Anything missing?”
“Nothing obvious, but they’re still looking. She might have had enemies. Or the person might have gone to the wrong house.”
“Or she was killed because she knew something about our case,” said Decker.
“But what could she know?” asked Jamison.
Brown said, “She worked at the Dabneys’. Saw them every day. She might have overheard something. Seen something.”
“But why kill her now?” asked Decker. “We’ve been investigating this case for a while now and nothing happened to the woman. Why now?”
“Meaning something changed?” said Bogart.
“The probabilities lie there, yeah,” said Decker. “Do the Dabneys know about this?”
“I doubt it,” said Bogart.
“We’ll need to tell them. And confirm they all have alibis.”
“You think one of the daughters or their mom came over here in the middle of the night and blew out their housekeeper’s brains?” said Milligan dubiously.
“I know that one of the daughters got her father implicated in an espionage scheme that ended with his murdering someone who was spying on this country and then killing himself. So I would say nothing is out of the realm of possibility with that family.”
Milligan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look so dubious anymore either.
Bogart said, “Todd and I will stay here and learn what we can. Why don’t you all head over there now and do the interview.”
“Works for me,” said Decker. “But you think I can poke my head into her house for just a minute?” He followed Milligan and Bogart back over to a pair of homicide detectives who had just appeared in the doorway of the murdered woman’s home.
That left Brown and Jamison alone.
The latter looked at the former.
“About our earlier discussion,” began Jamison.
Brown looked at her. “You were right about some things and wrong about others. I’ll let you figure out which is which.”
And that’s all she would say.
* * *
“Cissy’s dead?”
Ellie looked at the three of them sitting across from her in the library as though they were aliens just landed on earth.
Decker said, “She was murdered. Shot in the head. Looks to be a professional hit. Do you have any information that could help us on that?”
“I can barely process what you’re telling me,” said Ellie, who looked nearly paralyzed. “I… thought she was here. I just assumed she had come to work, like she always did.”
Jules, Amanda, and Samantha were standing beside their mother, still clad in their robes. All of the daughters looked visibly upset. Samantha was quietly crying. Amanda was leaning her head against Jules’s shoulder. Only Jules seemed in control of herself. She stared resolutely at Decker.
“Are we in danger?” she said.
Decker looked at her. “It’s possible. We can have an agent posted outside the house.”
“Let me ask you another question,” said Jules. “Where is Natalie?”
“She’s in France,” said her mother. “She left yesterday.”
Jules kept her gaze on Decker. “She’s not in France. Corbett texted me last night. She never got on the plane. She called him and said there was a change of plan.”
“What change of plan?” exclaimed Ellie. “What is going on? Where is your sister?”
Jules said, “That’s what I’m asking them. Because Natalie also told Corbett that she had run into some ‘legal trouble’ when leaving the country.”
Brown spoke up. “I’m with DIA, Defense Intelligence. We were investigating your husband for possible espionage, which turned out to be the case.”
“But he was helping out Natalie’s stupid husband,” said Jules.
“No, unknown to your father, he was helping out Natalie. She had the gambling problem, not Corbett. She got your dad involved to solve her debt problem.”
“That’s crap,” snapped Jules. “What proof do you have?”
“We have definitive video proof plus your sister’s confession. She’s already done a deal in exchange for leniency.”
Ellie nearly collapsed off her chair. Jules caught her and shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing telling her stuff like this with no warning?”
“I was just answering your question,” replied Brown. “But you need to know that the police will be coming here to interview you about Cecilia Randall’s death. They’ll want to know if you know anything about it.”
“What could we possibly know?” demanded Jules.
“They’ll also want to know if you have alibis for when she was killed.”
“You can’t possibly think that we had anything to do with Cissy’s death,” said Ellie. “She…she was part of our family. She helped raise the girls, for God’s sake.”
“The police will still ask for alibis,” said Decker. “It’s standard procedure.”
“When was she killed?” asked Jules.
