“Yes, I do.”

“We will never speak a word of what goes on with you, and Jimmy knows I’ll cut his tongue out if he ever talks about you to anyone.”

“He means it, too,” Jimmy said, wide-eyed.

Sam laughed. “Excellent mentoring, Vernon.”

“I do what I can for the people.”

“Everyone is using my lines lately.”

“They’re good lines,” Vernon said as he followed her and Gonzo up a flight of stone stairs.

“I know. That’s why I trademarked them.”

Chapter Twenty

Sam rang the doorbell, which chimed loudly inside the house. “Another day, another doorbell that would scare the crap out of me if I lived here. Why do people want doorbells like that?”

“Um, so they can hear them?” Gonzo replied.

“There’s hearing them and then there’s being attacked by them.”

A woman came to the door. “May I help you?”

Sam showed her badge while Gonzo did the same. “Lieutenant Holland, Sergeant Gonzales, Metro PD, to see the family of Cory White.”

“What’s this about?”

“I just told you what it’s about.”

“They’re not taking visitors.”

“We’re not visitors. We’re cops.”

“Wait here.” The woman slammed the door in their faces.

“Was it something I said?” Sam tried to peek into the side windows to see where the woman had gone.

“Do you think she’ll be back?” Gonzo asked.

“She’d better be. I’m giving her five minutes to produce a person named White, or I’ll be ringing that air raid siren doorbell again and again and again until I drive them out.”

“And you wonder why your charm is lost on people,” Gonzo said.

“I don’t wonder.”

Four minutes and thirty seconds later, the door opened. A man with a thick shock of white hair glared at them. “What’s this about?”

Sam held up her badge and introduced them. “We’re investigating the death of Cory White. Are you a relative?”

At that, his expression softened ever so slightly. “He was my son. Why are you investigating it? We already know what happened. He overdosed.”

“May we come in for a moment? We have some questions and would appreciate your cooperation.”

“This is not a good time.”

“I understand, and we’re very sorry to intrude, but this is a Homicide investigation, so it needs to be now.”

They engaged in a staring contest until he blinked and stepped aside to admit them.

“What do we have to do with homicide? Cory overdosed. He was an addict for years.” The man led them into an elegant sitting room, the type reserved for company that never came.

“Could we please have your name?” Sam asked.

“Gerald White.”

She and Gonzo sat across from him on a settee so delicate, Sam feared it would break under their combined weight.

“Can you tell us about the day Cory died?”

His erect posture sagged a bit. “He… He lived in our pool house.”

“How old was he?”

“Twenty-five as of Christmas.” With a small smile, he added, “He was our Christmas baby, the youngest of our six children.”