As he shook her hand, he quickly studied her. She wore the usual FBI blue suit and white blouse. But the creases were flat and the fabric wrinkled. He assumed she wasn’t sloppy but had been on the steps and floor trying to help Cooper. And Ethel had said she was out of town for the weekend, so she might have driven in from several hours away.

“Agent Draper.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Why don’t you have a seat and fill me in on what’s transpired?” He took the adjacent armchair and pulled his notepad and pencil from his pocket.

In an unemotional, professional manner, Lisa Draper told Mancini how she’d returned from a weekend in Philadelphia, planning to go straight to her office, but had heard news of a shooting on North Highland Street as she drew near the District. She’d called her supervisor, saying she’d be late, and he told her a Secret Service agent was alleged to be the victim.

Mancini made a note in his pad. “What time was the call?”

“Around ten thirty. I was about an hour away.”

“So, weren’t you already late?”

“I’d always planned to come in closer to noon. But I wanted to give myself more leeway in case I found there was a connection to this house. I doubt there are a lot of Secret Service agents on this street.” She shook her head. “I was afraid it could be either Jonathan or Douglas.”

“And Douglas is?”

“Douglas Gray. He also rooms here. He’s new to the service. Normally, he’s with the vice president’s family.”

“Normally?”

“The Secret Service has had to juggle schedules. The past few weeks both the president and vice president have been traveling to different destinations. A relentless twenty-four/seven demand for protection stretches manpower. Advance teams are needed before either the president or vice president arrives. As a junior man, Douglas is stateside, and he’s found it easier to rent at Ethel’s than to try and find a long-term living arrangement. At least until he has a more stable assignment.”

“And what’s your specialty?”

“Corporate fraud, embezzlement, money laundering. Think of me as a forensic accountant armed with a pencil and a pistol.”

Mancini smiled. “I imagine you’ve brought more criminals to justice with your pencil.”

“By a long shot. But my pencil wouldn’t have been of much use if I’d been here instead of Jesse. Of course, Jesse had a pistol, for all the good it did him.”

Mancini’s eyes bored into hers. “What? Nobody said Jesse had a gun.”

Lisa Draper shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone yet. I was going to ask Ethel. Jesse had a .38 Special tucked in his front pocket. I removed it with a tissue and placed it on a shelf downstairs. I didn’t want the EMTs to touch it.”