ana walked into Tom Hawkins’s office. “Tom, I’m on to something interesting. Before Frank Lonergan was murdered, he went to the home of Carl Gorman, a clerk who worked at the Monroe Arms. Gorman was killed in a supposed boating accident. He lived with his sister. I’d like to take a crew over there to do a taped segment for the ten-o’clock news tonight.”

“You don’t think it was a boating accident?”

“No. Too many coincidences.”

Tom Hawkins was thoughtful for a moment. “Okay. I’ll set it up.”

“Thanks. Here’s the address. I’ll meet the camera crew there. I’m going home to change.”

When Dana walked into her apartment, she had a sudden feeling that something was wrong. It was a sense she had developed in Sarajevo, a warning of danger. Somebody had been here. She walked through the apartment slowly, warily checking the closets. Nothing was amiss. It’s my imagination, Dana told herself. But she did not believe it.

When Dana arrived at the house that Carl Gorman’s sister lived in, the electronic news-gathering vehicle had arrived and was parked down the street. The ENG was an enormous van with a large antenna on the roof and sophisticated electronic equipment inside. Waiting for Dana were Andrew Wright, the soundman, and Vernon Mills, the cameraman.

“Where are we doing the interview?” Mills asked.

“I want to do it inside the house. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Right.”

Dana went up to the front door and knocked. Marianne Gorman opened the door. “Yes?”

“I’m—”

“Oh! I know who you are. I’ve seen you on television.”

“Right,” Dana said. “Could we talk for a minute?”

Marianne Gorman hesitated. “Yes. Come in.” Dana followed her into the living room.

Marianne Gorman offered Dana a chair. “It’s about my brother, isn’t it? He was murdered. I know it.”

“Who killed him?”

Marianne Gorman looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Did Frank Lonergan come here to see you?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “He tricked me. I told him where he could find my brother and—” Her eyes filled with tears. “Now Carl is dead.”

“What did Lonergan want to talk to your brother about?”

“He said he was from the IRS.”

Dana sat there watching her. “Would you mind if I did a brief television interview with you? You can just say a few words about your brother’s murder and how you feel about the crime in this city.”

Marianne Gorman nodded. “I guess that will be all right.”

“Thank you.” Dana went to the front door, opened it, and waved to Vernon Mills. He picked up his camera equipment and started toward the house, followed by Andrew Wright.

“I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” Marianne said.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. It will only take a few minutes.”

Vernon entered the living room with the camera. “Where do you want to shoot this?”

“We’ll do it here, in the living room.” She nodded toward a corner. “You can put the camera there.”

Vernon placed the camera, then walked back to Dana. He pinned a lavaliere microphone on each woman’s jacket. “You can turn it on whenever you’re ready.” He set it down on a table.

Marianne Gorman said, “No! Wait a minute! I’m sorry. I—I can’t do this.”

“Why?” Dana asked.

“It’s…it’s dangerous. Could—could I talk to you alone?”

“Yes.” Dana looked at Vernon and Wright. “Leave the camera where it is. I’ll call you.”

Vernon nodded, “We’ll be in the van.”

Dana turned to Marianne Gorman. “Why is it dangerous for you to be on television?”

Marianne said reluctantly, “I don’t want them to see me.”

“You don’t want who to see you?”

Marianne swallowed. “Carl did something he…he shouldn’t have done. He was killed because of it. And the men who killed him will try to kill me.” She was trembling.

“What did Carl do?”

“Oh, my God,” Marianne moaned. “I begged him not to.”

“Not to what?” Dana persisted.

“He—he wrote a blackmail letter.”

Dana looked at her in surprise. “A blackmail letter?”

“Yes. Believe me, Carl was a good man. It’s just that he liked—he had expensive tastes, and on his salary, he couldn’t afford to live the way he wanted to. I couldn’t stop him. He was murdered because of that letter. I know it. They found him, and now they know where I am. I’m going to be killed.” She was sobbing. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me about the letter.”

Marianne Gorman took a deep breath. “My brother was going away on a vacation. He had forgotten a jacket that he wanted to take with him, and he went back to the hotel. He got his jacket and was back in his car in the garage when the private elevator door to the Imperial Suite opened. Carl told me he saw a man get out. He was surprised to see him there. He was even more surprised when the man walked back to the elevator and wiped off his fingerprints. Carl couldn’t figure out what was going on. Then the—the next day, he read about that poor girl’s murder, and he knew that this man had killed her.” She hesitated. “That’s when he sent the letter to the White House.”

Dana said slowly, “The White House?”

“Yes.”

“Who did he send the letter to?”

“The man he saw in the garage. You know—the one with the eye patch. Peter Tager.”