Read The Witch of Watergate for Free Online Page A

Evans' lips, one of those
secretive cryptic Madonna smiles. But the woman kept her silence.
    "Unless one shows up somewhere," Fiona replied.
"She might have mailed a note to someone."
    He stroked his chin while she tracked his logic. Without a
note, a judgement of suicide could be merely a subjective call. An
investigation, on the other hand, would stir up the media, create a mystery
good for a running story of many days' or weeks' duration. A note would preempt
such a possibility. If they flushed out a true murder so much the better. If
they solved it? Bingo.
    "Barring such a note, I'd say we have our work cut out
for us." His exhilaration bordered on ecstasy. "Considering all the
big shots she's shot full of holes, I'd say we'd have a suspect list as long as
an ape's arm."
    "Lots of grist for the mill, Captain," Fiona
said. No point in being coy about it. More fun in it than doing naturals.
Again, she looked at Evans, who had maintained her Madonna smile. Of one thing
Fiona was certain. She felt no comraderie with this woman, no sense of sharing
or partnership. She debated asking him at that moment for Cates, but held back.
No sense raining on his parade.
    "We'll run a tight ship on this one, FitzGerald."
The statement was barked out as an order, setting the parameters. His eyes
shifted to Evans, then back again to Fiona. "We three. No outside
verbalizing." He pronounced it "verbalahzing." She took the
hint.
    "You'll be apprized of every detail, Captain."
She pronounced it "apprahzed."
    If she was voting at this moment, she'd vote suicide. But
that was too pat. She'd been through that before, only to be fooled. Clever
killers could make things look like a suicide. Unless an autopsy revealed that
the woman was dead before she went over. That would be another ball-game
entirely.
    The Eggplant started to pace the room again. She could tell
he was still mulling it over, considering possibilities.
    "You found no sign of a struggle?"
    "Only that." She moved her head in the direction
of the overturned pots.
    "Any theories come to mind?"
    "Not yet," Fiona said, turning once again to look
at Charleen Evans. She seemed to be watching and listening to their exchange
with detached bemusement.
    "They hear she died, they'll be dancing round the
flagpole," the Eggplant said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a
panatela but he didn't light up. "I've asked Doc Benton to do the autopsy
himself. Considering the traffic, I'd say that was an accommodation."
    "He's that kind of a man," Fiona said. Dr.
Benton, the Medical Examiner, was her friend, mentor and confidant. No one
could learn more from a corpse than Dr. Benton.
    "This is your turf, FitzGerald—I want you to really
give this one a ride." For the first time in the conversation he turned to
Evans. "And a real opportunity for you too, Evans. Let's show them what
the girls can do."
    Shit , Fiona thought. Why go
and spoil it? Here she was playing the game exactly as if he had scripted it
himself and he goes back to the macho-pig business. She pulled a face to show
her obvious displeasure. If he saw her reaction, he didn't let on. Instead, he
looked at his watch.
    "I'm going to hold a press conference downtown in a
couple of hours. Meantime I want everything you can get ... without, I repeat,
without spilling the beans on the lady's identity. Not till we've had our say.
I want those bastards to understand that they're dealing here with a
first-class police department. Capish?"
    "You'd better put a lid on the doorman," Fiona
said. "He's a real glory hound."
    "Him? We've got him on ice downtown. Taking his
statement. Loves to talk."
    When he was purring, the Eggplant was, most of the time, a
step ahead of her.
    "And the old folks downstairs?"
    "Likewise."
    In his sly way he had bounced it against her for
confirmation that he was taking his best shot. She knew why he was waiting the
two hours, but saw no harm in it. It would be at least two hours before the
reporters and TV crews