“Yeah, but I don’t want you falling and that hard head cracking Ethel’s sidewalk.” Douglas Gray stood to one side as they passed.

He was shorter than Jesse, closer to Lisa’s height. He moved with a controlled ease that might have led one to believe he’d been trained as a classical dancer. In fact, the movements came from his extensive training in martial arts. As a Secret Service agent, he not only guarded his charges with a gun, he could kill twenty-seven ways with his bare hands.

Then Detective Mancini stepped out on the porch. “Glad to see you’ve been released, Jesse. I’m sure you’re anxious to get to your room and rest. Miss Draper, Mr. Gray, why don’t you help him upstairs? I need to speak to Miss Crestwater for a few moments. In private.” He retreated into the foyer but stopped to make sure the three roomers did as he ordered. When they reached the upper landing, he turned to Ethel. “Follow me back to the kitchen, please.”

He led the way and stopped at the refrigerator. However, Ethel went passed him to check the back hall.

“Everything’s been cleaned up,” she complained.

“Well, forensics got what they needed. Actually, Tepper said Lisa picked up the broken glass and swept the floor. She told Tepper she didn’t want you coming home to a mess. She also called a window service.”

“But I didn’t get to see it for myself, Frank.”

“They’ll have photographs. I’ll send you copies”—he paused and stared at her—“when you start being straight with me.”

She looked up at him, trying to read what was behind his deadpan expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did you give Jesse a revolver? Why did you think he’d need it?”

“I didn’t think he’d need it. Not for protection. He discovered Jonathan’s body. He was shaken up, and I had to go to Richmond. I thought it might make him rest easier.”

“So, there was nothing here, nothing of Finch’s that you thought someone might come back for?”

“No. You searched his room.”

“Right, but I didn’t search your room. I didn’t search your Ruth Bader Ginsburg workout basement where Jesse was found unconscious.” He walked back to the kitchen with Ethel close on his heels. “And I sure as hell didn’t think I’d have to search this.” He bent down, grabbed a handful of newspapers from the recycling bin, and tossed them at Ethel’s feet. The rolls of counterfeit hundreds lay exposed where Jesse had placed them.

Ethel moved to the stove. “Let me put the kettle on, Frank. A good cup of tea will calm you down. And then I’ll explain.”

Chapter 15