Death of Secrets Read Online Free Page A

yet."
    Kathy smiled. "It almost sounds like you want to date
him."
    "No, I want to be your wingman. Get out there."
    Kathy put on the club's uniform, which was all black and too
short, and headed out to get to work.
    A couple hours later, at her first break of the night, Kathy
disappeared into the employees’ lounge and kicked off her shoes. But she’d
barely even sat down when another waitress walked past and dropped a folded
piece of paper in her lap. She didn’t need to read it.
    "Buy you a drink?" were the only words on the paper.
    She lifted herself off the couch, and left the employee lounge.
Leaning against the back corner of the club, she looked at the Congressman for
a while.
    Seems like a nice guy whenever we talk. Trying to do something
he believes is right with his job. Nice looking. But who is he really? Who is
he deep down?
    She walked over to Mike’s table.
    He asked, "How’s it going tonight?"
    She shrugged, sat in the chair across the table from him, and
leaned back, crossing her arms. She made a noncommittal noise that fell short
of an actual word by way of answering his question.
    "Kathy, what’s wrong?"
    She smiled at him and tried to open up her body language a bit.
"Nothing, Mike. Just a bit tired."
    "Seriously, Kathy, I can tell you’ve got something on your
mind. You can tell me."
    She didn’t answer Michael, staring off into the distance,
sipping the vodka cranberry he’d had waiting at the table for her.
    He reached across the table to touch her hand lightly.
"Kathy, you know I want to help."
    She sighed. Michael seemed nice enough. She was upset about the
break-in, and taking it out on him.
    She made herself smile at him. "Thanks for being patient
with my mood. I’ll come out and spend my lunch with you. We'll talk then."
    That gave her time to think it over.
     
    ***
     
    Sam Franken’s eyes kept wandering away from the shift
commander. There’d been nothing new in the briefing so far, and he was
expecting nothing new before it ended. But it was bad form to be too obvious
about ignoring it, so he snapped his eyes back to the front again.
    "… Finally, the string of burglaries around Dupont Circle
got longer by one last night, so obviously the perp is still at large.
Jefferson, Berenbaum, you’re riding out there tonight, so keep your eyes open.
    "Any questions? Dismissed."
    The shift commander turned around and the assembled police
officers rose to their feet. Franken walked toward the door, but stopped when
the commander waved at him. "I wanna talk to you before you go,
Franken."
    In the commander’s office, he took a chair and waited to hear
what this was all about. The shift commander was Lieutenant Eric Washington,
short and fanatical about physical fitness. His reputation as a hard nose was
legendary in the precinct.
    "What’s this crap you filed last night?" Washington
asked, easing his rear down into the chair behind his desk.
    "What’s wrong with the report, sir? Did I miss a section
of the form?"
    "No, idiot! You didn’t miss a section of the form, you
filed a possible homicide when you should have filed a false alarm
report!"
    "Well, sir, the witness…"
    "Was obviously some drunk college kid. Dead bodies don’t
get up and walk away leaving no trace of blood behind!"
    "Well, I figured she just made a mistake about whether he
was dead or still kicking…"
    "More likely she made a mistake about whether there was a
body at all. Fix this screw up, Franken. Change this report to a false alarm."
    He knew better than to argue. He stood up, promised to make the
change, and headed for his desk.
     
    ***
     
    Wind scratched at the windows of his fifth floor office,
wanting to get in. D.W. Tilman was not a man given to staring out windows, but
as Wednesday evening became Wednesday night, it seemed appropriate.
    He didn't like to be in this late if he didn't have to. Many
executives allowed their position of power to capture them, but Tilman didn't
count himself among that number.