Murder Inside the Beltway Read Online Free PDF Page A

minutes later, Archer accompanied her to the reception area. The smile he flashed was as white as the monogrammed shirt he wore. “I understand you want to see me,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
    “We just need a few minutes with you,” Jackson said, extending his hand and introducing Hatcher and Hall. “You have a conference room that’s not being used?”
    “This won’t take long, will it?”
    No one replied.
    “This way,” he said, and led them to a large conference room, where they sat at a huge oblong cherry table. “What’s this about?” he asked once they’d settled in the guest chairs.
    “We’re investigating a murder that happened last night,” Hatcher said. “In Adams Morgan.”
    “A murder?” Archer said, brow furrowed. “That’s terrible. But what does it have to do with me?”
    “The victim was a prostitute,” Jackson said. “Her name was Rosalie Curzon.”
    The three detectives sat silently and waited for him to respond verbally, although anything he might say was negated by the knowing expression on his deeply tanned face.
    “Are you suggesting that I knew this woman?” he finally said.
    Hatcher offered what passed for a smile. “Are you suggesting that you
didn’t
know her, Mr. Archer?”
    “What if I did? I mean, I had nothing to do with her murder, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
    “When did you last see her?” Jackson asked.
    Archer pressed his eyes shut as though that would help jog his memory. When he opened them he said, “Months ago. At least two months ago.”
    “Sure about that?” Mary Hall asked.
    “I can’t be sure about a date,” he said, “but I know it was a long time ago. How did you know I knew her?”
    “You starred in one of her movies,” Hatcher said.
    “Her movies?” He slapped the side of his head. “Oh, no, don’t tell me she made tapes of her…”
    “Johns,” Hatcher filled in for him.
    “Jesus,” he muttered, and laughed. “I can’t believe this.”
    “Where were you last night?” Hall asked.
    “Last night?”
    “That’s what the lady said,” Hatcher growled.
    “I was… let me see… I was with my wife. Hey, there’s no need to drag my family into this… is there?”
    “Where were you and your wife last night?” Hall followed up.
    “We went out to dinner. I worked late and—”
    “How late?”
    “I don’t know, eight, eight-thirty.”
    “Anybody here testify to that?” Jackson asked.
    “Sure. No. I mean, the place cleared out around seven. I was here alone after that.”
    “Sure you didn’t decide to drop in on Ms. Curzon before having dinner with your wife?” Hatcher said. “You know, get a piece before hooking up with the missus.”
    “I resent that,” Archer said, not sounding as though he did. It seemed the thing to say.
    “
She
resented getting her head bashed in,” Hatcher said. “How’d you end up with her, Mr. Archer? You look up hookers in the Yellow Pages?”
    “I don’t think I should be talking to you,” Archer said. “I don’t like the way this is sounding.”
    “Please answer Detective Hatcher’s question,” Jackson said. “How did you first become a client of Ms. Curzon’s?”
    “A friend of mine told me about her.”
    “Who was that?” Hall followed up.
    “I don’t want to involve other people.”
    “Suit yourself,” said Hatcher. “Maybe your wife will remember the names of your friends.”
    “This is harassment,” Archer said.
    They stared at him.
    “All right, a friend of mine named Jimmy told me about Rosalie.”
    “Jimmy have a last name?”
    “Patmos. Jimmy Patmos. He’s Senator Barrett’s chief-of-staff.”
    Hall noted the name on her pad.
    “Look, if you talk to him, don’t say that I gave you his name, okay? I do a lot of business with him and the senator.”
    “Know of anyone else who availed themselves of Ms. Curzon’s services?” Jackson asked.
    “No.”
    Hatcher stood and tossed his card on the table. “Give me a call if you think