“She was manually strangled.”

“Who would’ve done that? What about that cop she was battling with over the kid?”

“He has an alibi.”

“Of course he does. That guy hates her guts. Who else would benefit from her being dead more than him?”

“That’s what we’d like to know.”

“It’s him! It has to be him! She was making trouble for him! It was all over the news. He was in bed with that judge, and he cheated her out of her baby.”

“Mr. Phillips, Detective Sergeant Gonzales is a decorated police officer. We have no reason whatsoever to suspect him.”

“Sure, you don’t,” he said bitterly. “My sister never had a chance against that decorated police officer who used his connections to steal her baby away from her.”

Sam glanced at Freddie, who gave her a look that told her his thinking matched hers—they were wasting their time here.

“I’d like to know who else Lori had problems with.”

He shook his head. “No one that I know of.”

“Would your mother know?”

Shrugging, he said, “Doubtful. Lori didn’t air out her troubles with us. We went for months without even knowing where she was. Turns out she was in rehab.”

“Why did she have your car?”

“I let her borrow it while hers was in the shop. I have a truck from work, so it was no problem to let her have it for a few days.”

“We’ll need someone to identify and claim the body after the autopsy is completed. Would you be able to do that?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said with a sigh. “Better me than my ma.”

Sam handed him the notebook she carried with her. “Can you write down your phone number so we can notify you?”

He took the notebook from her, wrote the number and handed it back to her. “Did she suffer?”

Sam hated that question and never knew exactly how to answer it—truth, partial truth or outright lie? Of course she’d suffered. She’d been murdered. “Some, maybe, but we can hope it was over quickly.”

He nodded, seeming somewhat satisfied with that. “I hate to ask about my car...”

“It’ll be released to you as soon as it’s been fully processed.”

“Thank you.”

Sam handed him her card. “Please call me if you think of anything else that might be relevant to our investigation.”

“I will.”

“The first few hours of a homicide investigation are extremely critical, so we ask that you refrain from speaking publicly about your sister’s murder until we release her name.”

“I assume I can tell my ma?”

“Yes, but please ask her to refrain from any public statements, as well.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam and Freddie left the house and returned to the car.

“You think they’ll keep a lid on it?” Freddie asked.

“I certainly hope so. The longer we can keep the media out of this, the better our chances of figuring out who killed her before the press ruins Gonzo’s life.” Sam’s phone rang with a 202 number she didn’t recognize. “Holland.”

“Mrs. Cappuano?”

Sam winced at the rarely used salutation. “That’s me.”

“This is Lilia Van Nostrand.”

“Who?”

“Your chief of staff, ma’am.”

She sent a baffled glance to Freddie. “My chief of what?”

“Staff. At the White House?”

“Oh. Yeah. That.” After a long, uncomfortable pause, Sam said, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling about our staff meeting tomorrow at nine a.m.”

“We have a staff meeting tomorrow at nine a.m.?”

“Yes, I left a message last week about it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get it.” She grimaced at Freddie, who hid a smile behind his hand.

“Can you make the meeting?”

“No, I’m sorry I can’t. I’ll be working at nine tomorrow morning on a homicide investigation.” In other words, important stuff, Sam thought.

“Oh, well, this is a dilemma indeed. Your staff is looking forward to meeting you and receiving direction from you.”

“How did I end up with a ‘staff’ anyway?”

“We worked for Mrs. Gooding, and Mrs. Nelson assumed you’d appreciate the guidance of a seasoned second lady staff.”

Mrs. Nelson assumed, did she? “Could I call you back? I’m right in the middle of something at the moment.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“Right. Okay. Bye then.” She slapped the phone closed. “Oh my freaking God.”

“Sam.”

“What? Mentioning the name God is not taking His name in vain. That was my chief of staff at the freaking White House wanting to know if I’ll be at the nine a.m. staff meeting in the morning. I have a freaking staff.”

“Don’t you mean another freaking staff?” Freddie asked, pointing to himself.

“This is not a joking matter.”

“Oh, but it is. It really, really is.”

Glaring at him, she said, “Shut up.” She opened the phone and hit the name of the person who was usually number one on her list of favorites.

Nick answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath. “Hey, babe.”

“What’re you doing that has you breathing hard?”

“Working out,” he said with a laugh, “so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“My mind is nowhere near the gutter. It’s actually at the White House.”

“Huh?”

“I just got a call from a fancy-sounding dame with a fancy-sounding name who claims to be my ‘chief of staff.’ Know anything about that?”

“I heard they were retaining Mrs. Gooding’s staff for you in case you wanted an experienced team. I told you that.”

“Um, when did you tell me that?”

“I don’t know the exact date and time, but we had a conversation about this.”

“Was I asleep? Unconscious? In a sex-induced coma perhaps?”

“Ugh, jeez,” Freddie mumbled. “Young ears.”

Sam made a face at him while Nick laughed at her question. “You were wide awake and appeared to be listening.”

“Well, I wasn’t! And now I’ve got Lilly Von Noodle calling me about meetings at the White House! I don’t want to go to meetings at the White House!”

“That’s not her name, is it?”

“How the hell do I know what her name is? I’ve never heard of her until she called to tell me she’s my so-called chief of staff. Joe Farnsworth is my chief of staff—the only one I need.”

“Samantha, take a breath, will you please?”

“Don’t use that tone with me. I’m not a child.”

“Okay, don’t breathe then, but don’t call me when you pass out.”

“Nick, this isn’t funny! These people expect me to come to a meeting to give them ‘direction.’ What direction am I supposed to give them? And hello, I have a job and a homicide to contend with that indirectly involves one of my closest colleagues while my actual chief is fighting for his career. I don’t have time for this!”

“I’ll talk to Nelson’s people and see what we can do, okay?”

“Yes, okay, as long as you get me out of any meetings over there.”

“I’ll do what I can, but we did talk about you taking on a minor role as second lady before we agreed to accept Nelson’s offer.”

“A minor role doesn’t include staff, Nick!”

“Yes, it does,” he said with a low chuckle that infuriated her even further if that was possible. “Who do you think will do all the work?”

“What work is involved in a minor role?”

“Babe, can we talk about this when you get home?”

“There’s that tone again.”

“What? All I’m saying is I’d rather talk to my wife in person than on the phone when she is upset and yelling at me. How is that a tone?”

“All right, fine. I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

“Great, I’ll look forward to it.”

“I will not.”

“I thought you always looked forward to talking to me.”

“Not about this crap.”

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

“I’m supposed to call the Von Noodle lady back. What do I do about that?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“No meeting tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

“Are you patronizing me?” she asked.

“Would I dare do that to my lovely wife who comes packing heat?”