Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

mind letting me through? I have work to do.”
    They didn’t move but also didn’t stop her from pushing her way through.
    Rattled and annoyed, Sam got into her unmarked department car and locked the doors. “Fucking vultures,” she muttered.
    Outside the Hart Senate Office Building, she dropped two quarters into the Washington Post box and tugged out the morning’s issue where a banner headline announced the senator’s murder. In a smaller story below the fold, a headline read, Disgraced Detective Tapped to Lead Murder Investigation. Sam released a frustrated growl when the words appeared jumbled on the page as they often did during times of stress or exhaustion. Goddamned dyslexia . Taking a deep calming breath, she tried again, taking the words one at a time the way she’d trained herself to do.
    The story contained a recap of the raid that had led to the death of Quentin Johnson and stopped just short of questioning her competence—and the chief’s.
    “Great,” she muttered. “That’s just great .” Tossing the paper into the trash, she took the elevator to the second floor where Freddie enjoyed a glazed donut while he waited for her.
    “Did you see the paper?” he asked, wiping the sticky frosting from his mouth with the back of his hand.
    She nodded brusquely, and before he could get into a further discussion about the article, she brought him up to speed on the possible break-in at Nick’s, the autopsy and the phone records. Gesturing to the door to Senator O’Connor’s suite of offices, she said, “Let’s get to it.”

    After a thorough look through the remaining items in John’s office where they found nothing useful to the case, Sam and Freddie worked their way up from administrative assistants through legislative affairs people to the staff from the senator’s Richmond office to the communications director. They asked each of Senator O’Connor’s employees the same questions—where were you on the night of the murder, did you have a key to his apartment, what do you know about his personal life, and can you think of anyone who might’ve had a beef with him?
    The answers were the same with few variations—I was here working (or at home in Richmond with my husband/wife/girlfriend), I didn’t have a key, he guarded his privacy, and everyone liked him, even political rivals who had good reason not to.
    “Who’s next?” Sam asked, feeling like they were spinning their wheels.
    “Christina Billings, deputy chief of staff,” Freddie said.
    “Bring her in.”
    “Ms. Billings,” Sam said, gesturing the pretty, petite blonde to a seat across the conference room table. Sam always felt like an Amazon next to tiny women like her. “Let me begin by saying how sorry we are for your loss.”
    The sympathy brought tears to Christina’s blue eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
    “Can you tell us where you were the night of the senator’s murder?”
    “I was here. With the vote the next day we had so much to do to get ready for the aftermath—press conferences, appearances on talk shows, interviews… We were doing everything we could to ensure the senator got the attention he deserved.” Her shoulders sagged, almost as if life had lost its purpose. “He’d worked so hard.”
    Intrigued by the gamut of emotions emanating from Christina, Sam said, “You were here in the office the entire night?”
    “Except for when I left to get food for everyone.”
    “What time?” Freddie asked.
    “I don’t know. Maybe around eleven or eleven-thirty?”
    Freddie and Sam exchanged glances.
    “Where did you get the food?”
    She named a Chinese restaurant on Capitol Hill, and Sam made a note to check it out later. “Did you go anywhere else?”
    “No. I picked up the food and came right back. Everyone was hungry.”
    “Do you have a key to the senator’s apartment?” Freddie asked.
    Nodding, she said, “He gave it to me some time ago so I could pick up his mail and water the plants when he was in Richmond or Leesburg.”
    “When was the last time you used it?”
    Christina thought about that. “Maybe three months ago. He’s been in town for most of the session working on gathering the votes needed for the immigration bill.”
    “What do you know about his personal life?” Freddie asked. “Was he dating anyone?”
    Her expression immediately changed from grief-stricken to hostile. “I have no idea. I didn’t discuss his love life with him. He was my boss.”
    Something in