Yes, thought Jesse. If it had been random. But Finch’s dying message to Ethel suggested otherwise.

victim was secret service. i think involved a case no danger to me. May need to give police your name

He sent the message knowing she’d flip out. Tracy Lorton had been his girlfriend since their junior year at Berkeley. She’d gone on to the London School of Economics, and he’d chosen American University. The distance and time difference meant their dates were Skype, texts, and phone calls. He liked Tracy, but she would have been perfect if she had more of a sense of humor. Check that. More of his sense of humor. But Jesse had to admit there was nothing funny about having your name tied to a murder investigation.

WHAT???? came her immediate response.

just a formality first on the scene they’ll want to know why I was up at half past 4

u r a witness? sure u not in danger?

can’t ID anyone.

But the thought flooded his brain—the killers don’t know that. What if they think Finch said more than he did? He mentally added that question to his list for Ethel. Then he texted:

got to go. u Skype at 10 my time?

yes miss u xoxox

c u soon xoxoxo

He closed the app and turned on his computer to look for any online mention of the shooting. Maybe in the greater Washington area it wasn’t news.

Ten minutes later he heard the stairs creak under the heavy tread of Detective Mancini’s shoes. He heard Ethel say, “Jesse’s room is on the right whenever you want to speak to him. Or you can talk in the kitchen, and I’ll go to the basement for my RBG workout.”

Jesse eased to the door, hoping he’d be able to hear them from Finch’s room.

“RBG workout?” Mancini asked as they passed.

“Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Every morning. Never miss it. If it worked for her, and she was even older than I am, then it should work for me. You could stand to lose some of that paunch, Frank. Bring some sweats sometime, and I’ll show you the drill.”

Mancini’s silence told Jesse that Ethel had struck a nerve. After that, their voices became too faint to understand.

Officer Garcia straightened up as he saw Detective Mancini approach. He wondered why the old lady was with him. Surely the extra gloves and shoe covers weren’t for her.

“Officer Garcia, I’d like you to meet Ethel Crestwater. She owns this house and should be able to tell me if anything is missing from the victim’s room.”

“Ma’am,” Garcia said respectfully. He turned to Mancini. “Sir, I found the door closed and have kept it that way. Mr. Cooper has remained in his room at the other end of the hall.”

“Good work. And you have the gloves and booties?”