Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

moment before he gestured for her to proceed.
    “Where were you on Tuesday evening between ten p.m. and seven a.m.?”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    Turning to Freddie, she said, “Am I serious, Detective Cruz?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I believe you’re dead serious.”
    “Answer the question, Senator.”
    Teeth gritted, Stenhouse glared at her. “I was here until ten, ten thirty, and then I went home.”
    “Which is where?”
    “Old Town Alexandria.”
    “Did you see or speak to anyone after you left here?”
    “My wife is at home in Missouri preparing for the holidays.”
    “So that’s a ‘no’?”
    “That’s a ‘no,’” he growled.
    “How did you feel about the immigration bill Senator O’Connor sponsored?”
    “Useless piece of drivel,” Stenhouse muttered. “The bill has no bones to it, and everyone knows that.”
    “Funny, that’s not what we’ve been told, is it Detective Cruz?”
    “No, ma’am.” Freddie flipped open his notebook and rattled off the statement the president had issued days earlier, calling the immigration reform bill the most important piece of legislation proposed during his first term.
    Stenhouse’s glare could’ve bored a hole through a lesser cop, but Sam barely felt the heat. “Were you irritated to see Graham O’Connor’s son succeeding in the Senate?”
    “Hardly,” he said. “He was nothing to me.”
    “And his father? Was he nothing to you as well?”
    “He was a prick who overstayed his welcome.”
    “How did you feel when you heard his son had been murdered?”
    “It’s a tragedy,” he said in a pathetic attempt at sincerity. “He was a United States senator.”
    “And the son of your longtime rival.”
    Awareness dawned all at once. “Did he tell you I did this? That bastard!” He stalked to the window and stared out for a moment before he turned to them. “I hate his fucking guts. But do I hate him enough to kill his son? No, I don’t. I haven’t given Graham O’Connor a thought in the five years since we saw the last of his sorry ass around here.”
    “I’m sure you’ve had cause to give his son more than a passing thought in the same five years.”
    “His son was in the Senate for one reason and one reason only—his pedigree. The O’Connors have the people of Virginia snowed. John O’Connor was even more useless than his father, and that’s not just my opinion. Ask around.”
    “I’ll do that,” Sam said. “In the meantime, stay available.”
    “What does that mean? Congress will be in holiday recess after tomorrow. I’m heading home to Missouri the day after.”
    “No, you’re not. You’re staying right here until we close this case.”
    “But it’s Christmas! You can’t keep me here against my will.”
    “Detective Cruz, can I keep the senator here against his will?”
    “I believe you can, ma’am.”
    “And do we have a jail cell with his name on it if we hear he leaves the capital region?”
    “Yes, ma’am. We absolutely do.”
    Stenhouse breathed fire as the detectives had their exchange.
    Sam took three steps to close the distance between them. Looking up at the senator, she kept her expression passive and calm. “Neither your rank nor your standing mean a thing to me. This is a homicide investigation, and I won’t hesitate to toss you in a cage if you fail to cooperate. Stay available.”
    With that, she turned, nodded at Freddie to follow her, and left the room.
    She was gratified to hear Stenhouse yell to his assistant, “Get Joe Farnsworth on the line. Right now!”

    Terry O’Connor spent the days he was sober in a closet-sized office on Independence Avenue. Judging from the lack of anything much on his desk, Sam deduced the job was bogus and most likely a favor to his illustrious father.
    Terry’s already pasty complexion paled when the detectives appeared at his door.
    “Good morning, Mr. O’Connor,” Sam said. “We’re sorry to interrupt your work, but we have a few follow-up questions for you.”
    “Um, sure,” he said, gesturing to a chair.
    Sam took the chair while Freddie hovered in the doorway.
    “I have to leave soon,” Terry said. “We’re going to Richmond.”
    “Yes, I know. We won’t keep you long. Have you made any headway in producing the woman you were with on the night of the murder?”
    Terry seemed to shrink further into his chair. “No.”
    “Did you kill your brother, Terry?”
    Misery turned to shock in an instant. “No!”
    “You had good reason to