Chapter 24
The conversation with Nick stayed with Sam long after he went back to work. She was still getting used to the rules of a real relationship. When she was married to Peter, she’d made an art form out of keeping things from him. His propensity to overreact and overanalyze every little thing made him the last person she wanted to share anything with. Nick was nothing like Peter, but old habits were hard to break.
Chewing on her pen as she stared at the computer screen, Sam thought about Nick leaving the Capitol to come have it out with her when he no doubt had a million other things to do. That was another way he wasn’t like Peter who had loved to give her the silent treatment—sometimes for weeks on end—rather than taking the initiative to talk about whatever was on his mind.
The two men were so diametrically different it was pointless to compare them. Then why, she wondered, was she holding out on moving in with Nick? If she already knew he was nothing like Peter, and since he had proven as much—many times over—what was the hang up? “Hmm,” she said. “Definitely something to think about.”
“Talking to yourself, boss?” Freddie asked, returning from the coffee shop on the corner with a tray containing two tall cups.
Sam stood up and reached for the tray. “I’m going to send you home if you keep pushing it.”
“I went to get coffee.” He flashed the smile that made even the strongest of women go weak in the knees. “Relax, will ya?”
Sam took a sip of her coffee and was surprised by an unexpected surge of emotion. “You scared me,” she said, her voice hoarse as she glanced over at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“If you ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll kill you with my own hands, do you hear me?”
“If I ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll deserve it.”
“At least you know you’re stupid,” she muttered. “That’s something.”
“Hey!”
“And what’s the cell phone rule?”
“Believe me, I’m never going to forget that, either.”
“Humor me.”
“Shut the freaking phone off before you sneak up on a perp.”
“Here I was thinking you were coming along so nicely, and then you go and screw up so monumentally. And to go in without backup! Don’t even get me started on that!”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“I appreciate what you were trying to do and why you were trying to do it, but don’t risk yourself like that again. You’re no good to me dead.”
“Gee, I’m really feeling the love, Lieutenant.”
“Good.” She met his chocolate brown eyes with an intense stare. It was as close as she would ever come to telling him how she felt about him.
Freddie cleared the emotion from his throat. “So what happened with Nick before? I’ve never seen him so pissed.”
“He heard about the IAB hearing—through the grapevine.”
“Ouch,” Freddie said with a wince. “I hate to say I told you so, but, I told you so.”
“Shut up.”
“You should’ve told him the day Stahl gave you the summons.”
“While I appreciate your sage relationship advice, I’d much rather talk about you and your fuck buddy.”
His face turned bright red.
“Ahh, now we’re getting somewhere.”
“That’s not what she is,” he stammered.
Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh no?”
He shook his head. “I like her.”
“You like banging her.”
“Do you have to be so crude?” he huffed.
Sam pretended to give that some serious thought. “Um, yeah. I do.”
“Can you try to be serious for just a minute?”
She could see there was something he wanted to say so she did her best to wipe the smug grin off her face.
“I wasn’t expecting to like her so much,” he said haltingly. “It wasn’t supposed to be about that.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Cruz, you can’t fall for the first chick you ever bang—”
His face lit up once again. “I’ve asked you not to use the Lord’s name in vain, and she’s not the first.”
Sam shot him a look intended to remind him of who he was dealing with. “Whatever you say, stud. I just hope you’re being careful. Women like her aren’t looking for forever.”
“Neither am I.”
“If you say so.”
“Why do you have to be so cynical? Isn’t it possible that maybe she’s the one for me?”
“No, it’s not possible. Life doesn’t work that way. You can have some fun with her but be prepared for her to get bored and move on. That’s how it goes.”
“Are you prepared for Nick to get bored and move on?”
The barb shot straight to her heart. “That’s different. We’re older and ready for a serious relationship.” God, at least she hoped so. “You need to test the waters a little more before you start thinking permanent.”
“I tested the waters and ended up getting shot.”
Snickering, Sam said, “That could really only happen to you.”
“Glad to amuse you.”
“Oh you do. That you do.” She laughed at the tortured expression on his face. “Thanks for the laugh, Cruz. I really needed that.”
His scowl answered for him.
“Now let’s figure out who Sanducci’s disciples are.”
Gonzo parallel parked on New York Avenue, in one of the rougher neighborhoods along a main artery into and out of the city. Since McBride had been working the case, Sam had asked him to partner up with Jeannie for the duration of the Sinclair investigation. He studied the storefront and then looked over at her. “Nice digs.”
“I guess his parents are only willing to pony up for bail and lawyers, not real estate.” Jeannie reached for the car door handle. “What time did you ask Diandra to meet us at HQ?”
“In an hour, so let’s see what Sanducci has to say and get out of there.”
“I’m with ya.”
The office had the temporary feel of a campaign headquarters, but with the unpleasant decor of posters featuring aborted fetuses. Packing boxes were scattered about, the floor littered with Styrofoam noodles.
Gonzo turned away from the images when his stomach turned with disgust.
A blonde woman who seemed barely old enough to be out of high school greeted them. “May I help you?”
They flashed their badges. “Tony Sanducci, please.”
“Um, sure. Just a minute.” She returned five minutes later with an aging preppy who seemed better suited to the Yale campus than this squalid storefront. He flashed the matinee idol grin that guys like him used to skirt the rules. Gonzo hated him on sight. “Tony Sanducci?”
“That’s right.” He extended a hand.
Gonzo flashed his badge. “Detectives Gonzales and McBride.”
Sanducci’s hand fell to his side. “What can I do for you?”
“Going somewhere?” Gonzo asked, gesturing to the boxes.
“We don’t have much of a cause here anymore. We’re just waiting to see who Nelson comes up with next.”
“Must’ve broken your heart to hear that Sinclair had been killed.”
“I didn’t want him to be on the Supreme Court, Detective, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
“Didn’t you?”
The amiable smile faded. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Gonzo read him some of the more inflammatory passages from the Post article.
“So?”
“Where were you the night Sinclair was killed?”
Taken aback, Sanducci said, “I was here all night. I have a cot in the back where I stay when I’m in the city. Helps to keep the expenses down.”
“By yourself?”
Sanducci cast a quick glance at the teenybopper who ran the office. It was fleeting, but Gonzo saw it.
“That’s right.”
“Would you like to continue this conversation downtown, Mr. Sanducci?”
He ran his hand through well-coifed dark hair. “Listen,” he said in a low voice. “I have a wife, four children. It’s a fling. Means nothing.”
Gonzo wondered if it meant nothing to the child he was sleeping with. “What’s her name?”
“Does she really have to be brought into this?”
“Yeah, she really does.”
With a deep sigh, he said, “Cindy, can you come over here for a minute, please?”
As if God himself had summoned her, Cindy came scurrying across the big open room.
Gonzo wanted to barf at the worshipful gaze she directed at Sanducci.
“Yes, Tony?”
“Honey, would you mind telling these fine police officers where you were the night Julian Sinclair was killed?”
Her eyes bugged, and for a moment she seemed too stunned to speak.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”
“We were…I was…here.”
“You were together all night?”
Humiliation radiated from her. “Yes.”
“And your full name?” Gonzo asked.
“Cynthia Kaine.” She spelled her last name.
Glancing at Sanducci, Gonzo said, “And how old are you, Cindy?”
“Eighteen.”
“And how old are you, Mr. Sanducci?”
“How is that relevant?”
“Answer the question.”
“Forty-four.”
Gonzo made sure the disgust showed on his face. “I see.”
Jeannie had Cindy write down her address and phone number before dismissing her.
Sanducci gave Gonzo a “guys will be guys” smile that Gonzo wanted to punch off his smug face. “We can keep this between us, right?”
“I’ll need a list of your employees, members, followers, whatever you call them.”
“That list is private,” Sanducci sputtered.
“Then we’ll get a subpoena. Until it comes through, we’ll put you up downtown. Your choice.”
Sanducci fumed for a long moment. “Cindy,” he said through gritted teeth. “Print out the A list.”
She stared at him.
“While you’re at it,” Gonzo said, “print out the B, C and D lists, too.”
Sanducci’s lips turned white and his cheeks flamed with color. “Do it.”
Cindy got busy at her workstation.
“Must’ve been a letdown,” Gonzo said, nodding to the posters and pickets lining the wall, “to make all these plans and then have nothing to protest.”
Sanducci shrugged. “There’re others on Nelson’s short list who we don’t want on the court any more than we wanted Sinclair. That’s why we’re still here.”
“Will you have them killed, too?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Don’t you?”
“I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Maybe you suggested to one of your followers that it would be better if Sinclair was dead?”
“I told you,” Sanducci said, his preppy veneer crumbling. “We didn’t want him on the court. That was it.”
Gonzo took the lists Cindy handed to him. “Stay local,” he said to Sanducci on his way out the door.
On the sidewalk, Jeannie took a deep breath of fresh air. “I need a shower,” she said, shuddering.
“Me, too.”
“But he didn’t kill Sinclair.”
“No, but maybe someone on these lists did.” He checked his watch. “We have just enough time to drop them off to the lieutenant and Cruz before our meeting with Diandra Sinclair.”
“You read my mind, Detective.”
“This is such bullshit,” Sam said as she paced the length of her father’s living room, gripping the lists Gonzo had brought her. “I’m stuck here when we’re finally getting somewhere on Sinclair.”
“Want me to make a phone call?” Skip asked.
“No,” she said with an emphatic glare. “Don’t even think about it. That won’t help.”
“You could make the call,” Gonzo suggested. “Farnsworth is the only one who can override IAB. Tell him you’ll serve out the suspension when we close Sinclair.”
“Stahl would accuse me of using my connections.”
“So what?” Freddie said. “If it’ll get you back on the streets when we need you, why not do it?”
“Perhaps,” Jeannie said with a mischievous grin, “you could lead Farnsworth to believe that it was his idea to defer the suspension.”
“Oh.” Sam snapped her fingers. “I like how you think.” She reached for her cell phone to call the chief and put the phone on speaker so the others could hear.
“Lieutenant,” Chief Farnsworth said when his assistant put Sam right through. “I believe you’re on vacation today.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What can I do for you?”
“You can get me back on the streets. Sinclair is hot right now. It’s not doing the department any good to have me stuck at home.”
“While I agree with you, IAB—”
“Screw IAB! I’m in the middle of a case! I’ll serve out the suspension after we close Sinclair. Hell, I’ll give you four days unpaid at the end. We’ve got all kinds of leads I could be following, suspects to interview.”
“You have plenty of qualified people working for you, Lieutenant. Delegate.”
“They need me, Chief. Let me finish this case, and then I’ll serve my sentence in silence. You won’t hear a word from me.”
“That’ll be the day,” he muttered. After a long moment of silence during which Sam’s stomach pinged with pain, he said, “You’ll have trouble with Stahl.”
“I already have trouble with Stahl, but if you were to say you called me and ordered me back to work to close Sinclair, well then, there’s not much he can say.”
“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
“Actually, in this instance, Detective McBride is the clever one.”
“Whose idea was it to allow women on the force?”
She smiled. “Is that a yes?”
“I’m ordering you back to work until Sinclair is closed, at which time you’ll serve a three-day suspension. The extra day is for manipulating your favorite Uncle Joe.”
Sam smiled. “You’re the best.” She swallowed hard before she added, “Any word from the deliberations this morning?”
“Not yet. I’m sure you’ll hear from Conklin the minute he has any news.”
What was taking so long? “Yeah.”
“Get me an arrest, Lieutenant. The press is on me like white on rice.”
“I’m all over it.” She ended the call and turned to the others. “Let’s go.”