She started the car. “You know, you can feel free to jump in when we’re interviewing people.”

“And interrupt your groove? I wouldn’t dream of it. Quite a pleasure to watch you work, Sergeant Holland. Shame on me if I spend a day with you and don’t learn something.”

“Are you sucking up?” She shot him a suspicious glance as she drove through Belle Haven. “What do you want?”

“Other than lunch, I couldn’t ask for anything more than I already have. Where are we heading now?”

“We’ve got two more ex-girlfriends to knock off the list, and then I’d like to have a word with Noel Jordan.”

“Are we going to ask the exes about their sex lives?”

“Damn straight.”

He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

Tara Davenport, age twenty-four, worked the lunch shift at a high-end restaurant that catered to the Capitol Hill crowd. Sam presented her badge to the maître d’. “We need a few minutes with Tara Davenport.”

“She’s working. Can you come back at end of shift? Around five?”

“This isn’t a social call. I can speak with her in a private space you’ll provide or I can haul her out of here in cuffs and take you with us for interfering with a police investigation. What’s it going to be?” Looking down his snooty nose at her, the stiff said, “Wait here and keep your voice down, will you?”

“Mean and scary,” Freddie murmured, drawing a laugh from Sam.

“Thank you.”

“You would see that as a compliment.”

“How else should I see it?”

They watched the stiff tap a slender but well-endowed young blonde on the shoulder and point to Sam and Freddie. He signaled to them, and they followed Tara to the back of the busy restaurant. On the way, more than a few patrons took notice of them. For some reason, that pleased Sam, so much so she hitched her hands into her pockets and put her weapon and badge on full display.

“Class act, Sergeant,” the maître d’ seethed.

“The next time myself or any of my colleagues appear at your door, perhaps you’ll consider cooperating.”

“You have fifteen minutes. After that you’ll need a warrant to set foot in here again.”

“Will I need a warrant if I wish to return for a follow-up visit, Detective Cruz?”

“No, ma’am, in most cases an informal interview of a potential suspect in a homicide investigation doesn’t require a warrant.”

The stiff paled. “Homicide?”

“Step aside and let me do my job,” Sam said in a low growl. “So much as knock on that door and I’ll haul your skinny ass downtown and put you in a cage with some guys who’d love nothing more than to make you their bitch.”

He swallowed hard and moved to let them by.

“Mean and scary,” Freddie said again.