Page 34 of Dead Fall

As good a tool as it was to put pressure on the manager to elicit fuller and more rapid cooperation, it had cost them time. Once the interviews were over and they had stepped outside, about to hand Burman’s ticket to the valet in order to search his car, they saw D.C. Metro Homicide Detective Greer at the other end of the parking lot with a tow truck. He had served the Tesla dealership with a warrant and they had helped him electronically locate the vehicle.

That’s where Carolan had screwed up. If he had divided the workload with Fields, she could have already gone through the car from top to bottom. She was good and there was no telling what she would have found. Now he was going to have to depend upon professional courtesy from the D.C. Metro police to fill him in.

Any hope he’d had of driving off without an encounter was dashed when Greer noticed the pair and waved them over.

“Let me do the talking,” Carolan had instructed Fields.

When the three met in the center of the parking lot, the detective remarked, “What a coincidence.”

“Half-price oysters,” the FBI man stated. “We never miss Fridays at the Commodore.”

“Bullshit. Even at half price, neither of you could afford this place. What are you doing here?”

“We got a tip.”

“From who?”

“It doesn’t matter. Burman was seen having dinner inside last night. We came to check it out.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” the cop asked.

“Right after we checked it out. I was going to text you from the car.”

Greer wasn’t buying it, but he played along. “And?”

“Burman had a lot to drink. According to the staff, he was pretty intoxicated. Definitely too drunk to drive. He left his car here and took an Uber instead.”

“Who was he the guest of?” Greer asked. “You can’t get in that place unless you’re with a member.”

“Former Senator Greg Wilson.”

“Greg ‘Grab Ass’ Wilson?Thatformer United States Senator?”

Carolan didn’t care for the language, especially in front of Fields, but he nodded anyway. They were talking about the same person.

“Why was Burman having dinner with him?”

The FBI agent shrugged. “Who knows? Wilson’s a lobbyist now. Burman was a rich businessman. They could have been talking about anything.”

“Have you talked to Wilson yet?”

“He wasn’t even on my radar until ten minutes ago.”

“Who do you think the ex-Senator is likely to be more forthcoming with,” Greer asked, “the Bureau or D.C. Homicide?”

Carolan didn’t even need to think about it. “The Bureau,” he replied. “No question.”

“Why?”

“Before he lost his seat, he was assigned to the Select Committee on Intelligence. He’s always had a pretty good relationship with the FBI.”

“I want to know the minute you’re done interviewing him. I also want to be cc’d on your notes.”

“No problem,” said Carolan, who then pointed at the tow truck leaving the lot and asked, “Is that Burman’s vehicle?”

The detective nodded. “We’ll see if there’s any physical evidence inside or if the GPS turns up anything of interest.”

“When were you going to tell me that you had located his vehicle?”