laughed.
The two minutes Lucy had respected Josh Stein ended.
The three of them walked through the glass doors of a renovated corner office building. Part of the structure was reinforced marble—very likely the original structure—and part was completely new, made to blend in with the old. The result was surprisingly attractive.
Stein showed his badge to the guard and they were sent to the penthouse suite of offices where Devon Sullivan & Associates resided.
In the elevator, Stein said, “DSA is a medium-sized lobbying firm representing local governments, small unions, and private businesses, primarily in the tech industry. Their second-largest client in terms of dollars spent is a city in California—which happens to be in Alan Crowley’s district. See why the affair may not be so simple after all? Definitely an affair to remember.” He laughed at his own joke. Neither Lucy nor Noah joined in, but Stein didn’t notice.
Devon Sullivan greeted them when they stepped out of the elevator. She was attractive in both manner and dress. Mid-fifties, tastefully dyed dark blond hair, and hazel eyes behind purple Donna Spade glasses. Her red-rimmed eyes suggested she’d already heard about Wendy James’s murder.
“It’s so awful. Please, come to my office.”
She led them across the lobby, through glass double doors, and past her secretary. “Jeanie, please hold all calls for now.” She closed the door behind them.
Devon Sullivan’s office was as large as Wendy’s living room and just as contemporary, with a wide expanse of windows and lots of sparkling glass. The view looked down on one of the large roundabouts, and if Lucy stood just right, she could see half of the Capitol. One wall was a bookcase with numerous political biographies and larger legal tomes. A few pictures decorated the shelves, mostly of Devon Sullivan golfing or with clients, and one of her at a shooting range, framed with a small engraving, “Virginia State Trooper Widows & Orphans Charity Shoot-Out, 2008.”
Ms. Sullivan motioned for them to sit, and she took a position in front of her desk, not behind it. Lucy glanced at the desk, which was devoid of all papers except for closed file folders. A picture of two young boys sat in the corner. Children or grandchildren, Lucy couldn’t tell.
“I’m still trying to understand what happened. The press, as you know, never gets things completely right. But Wendy was murdered?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stein said. “I appreciate you making the time for us.” His tone was reserved and respectful, opposite of his earlier demeanor.
“Anything you need.”
“When news of the affair between Ms. James and Congressman Crowley first broke, I spoke to your office manager about her employment. He indicated that she’d worked here as a secretary for about two years.”
“Correct.”
“Were you concerned when she didn’t come in for work yesterday morning?”
Ms. Sullivan blinked rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fired Wendy last week.”
The information surprised all of them, but Josh Stein most of all. “When?” he asked brusquely.
“Tuesday morning. I would have fired her on Monday, but she called in sick. I think she knew. I didn’t have a choice—I don’t think she did anything wrong, but her judgment was flawed. My business is built solely on my reputation. Her situation had gotten out of control, and I had concerned clients. I gave her a very nice severance package, and a letter of recommendation.”
“What exactly did she do for you?”
“Mostly answered phones, greeted clients, made copies, and assisted with events. Wendy was very good at it.”
“Why did you feel the need to fire her?”
“Reputation,” she repeated.
“Did you know she was having an affair with Alan Crowley?”
“No. I would have told her to knock it off or leave. My staff knows how important image is in this business, when lobbying already has as bad a reputation as used-car salesmen and
The two minutes Lucy had respected Josh Stein ended.
The three of them walked through the glass doors of a renovated corner office building. Part of the structure was reinforced marble—very likely the original structure—and part was completely new, made to blend in with the old. The result was surprisingly attractive.
Stein showed his badge to the guard and they were sent to the penthouse suite of offices where Devon Sullivan & Associates resided.
In the elevator, Stein said, “DSA is a medium-sized lobbying firm representing local governments, small unions, and private businesses, primarily in the tech industry. Their second-largest client in terms of dollars spent is a city in California—which happens to be in Alan Crowley’s district. See why the affair may not be so simple after all? Definitely an affair to remember.” He laughed at his own joke. Neither Lucy nor Noah joined in, but Stein didn’t notice.
Devon Sullivan greeted them when they stepped out of the elevator. She was attractive in both manner and dress. Mid-fifties, tastefully dyed dark blond hair, and hazel eyes behind purple Donna Spade glasses. Her red-rimmed eyes suggested she’d already heard about Wendy James’s murder.
“It’s so awful. Please, come to my office.”
She led them across the lobby, through glass double doors, and past her secretary. “Jeanie, please hold all calls for now.” She closed the door behind them.
Devon Sullivan’s office was as large as Wendy’s living room and just as contemporary, with a wide expanse of windows and lots of sparkling glass. The view looked down on one of the large roundabouts, and if Lucy stood just right, she could see half of the Capitol. One wall was a bookcase with numerous political biographies and larger legal tomes. A few pictures decorated the shelves, mostly of Devon Sullivan golfing or with clients, and one of her at a shooting range, framed with a small engraving, “Virginia State Trooper Widows & Orphans Charity Shoot-Out, 2008.”
Ms. Sullivan motioned for them to sit, and she took a position in front of her desk, not behind it. Lucy glanced at the desk, which was devoid of all papers except for closed file folders. A picture of two young boys sat in the corner. Children or grandchildren, Lucy couldn’t tell.
“I’m still trying to understand what happened. The press, as you know, never gets things completely right. But Wendy was murdered?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stein said. “I appreciate you making the time for us.” His tone was reserved and respectful, opposite of his earlier demeanor.
“Anything you need.”
“When news of the affair between Ms. James and Congressman Crowley first broke, I spoke to your office manager about her employment. He indicated that she’d worked here as a secretary for about two years.”
“Correct.”
“Were you concerned when she didn’t come in for work yesterday morning?”
Ms. Sullivan blinked rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fired Wendy last week.”
The information surprised all of them, but Josh Stein most of all. “When?” he asked brusquely.
“Tuesday morning. I would have fired her on Monday, but she called in sick. I think she knew. I didn’t have a choice—I don’t think she did anything wrong, but her judgment was flawed. My business is built solely on my reputation. Her situation had gotten out of control, and I had concerned clients. I gave her a very nice severance package, and a letter of recommendation.”
“What exactly did she do for you?”
“Mostly answered phones, greeted clients, made copies, and assisted with events. Wendy was very good at it.”
“Why did you feel the need to fire her?”
“Reputation,” she repeated.
“Did you know she was having an affair with Alan Crowley?”
“No. I would have told her to knock it off or leave. My staff knows how important image is in this business, when lobbying already has as bad a reputation as used-car salesmen and
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