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did you put this event on your schedule? Who knew about it?”
    “We only scheduled it two days ago, when I secured an important endorsement. It wasn’t secret—we sent out a press release, the hotel knew because they provided the food and room, my staff, it was in the paper this morning and a radio announcement—my press secretary can tell you everywhere the information ran.”
    Anyone could have heard about it. “What exactly did you see when you came in?”
    “Nothing except the reporters. I was about to tell them to head to the ballroom—they weren’t supposed to be in the lobby, but herding reporters is like herding sheep. They like to think they can get the scoop. One goes to the entrance, they all follow, like lemmings.”
    “And?”
    “And as I was about to speak, this woman—someone told me her name was Alexandra Morgan—jumped onto the table in the center of the lobby. My first thought was she was an aggressive photographer trying to get a good photo.”
    “Did you see the shooter?”
    “No—because Ms. Morgan made quite a spectacle yelling something—I believe it was get down —and then she jumped on me. Pushed me to the ground.  I heard the gun shot.”
    “How many?”
    “Two, I think.” He paused. “Yes, two. One before she jumped on me, and one right after.”
    “And then?”
    “And then she ran after the shooter, or so I was told.”
    “You have a security detail?”
    “CHP handles Capitol security. This was a campaign related event, so I had two private security who come with me.”
    “Have you been threatened?”
    “I have private security mostly to help keep things moving, avoid being stuck, assessing venues, advance work, things like that.”
    “I repeat, have you been threatened? Letters? Calls?”
    “My staff would turn over any threatening calls or letters to the CHP. You’ll have to talk to them. I was a prosecutor for fifteen years. I have my fair share of enemies. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill me.”
    “I need to talk to your staff, particularly the two who were walking with you—Thorne and Huang.”
    Hart hesitated, just a moment, then said, “Is there a reason why?”
    “I need to talk to everyone, Mr. Hart. You know that. You were a prosecutor.”
    Hart tensed, but Jim didn’t care. He wasn’t going to coddle the politician, and he wasn’t going to slack off, especially a high profile case like this. His boss was going to be a stick up his ass until they had the shooter in custody.
    “They’re both in the next room. So can I assume that the woman, Ms. Morgan, didn’t get a good look at the shooter?”
    “We have security footage.”
    “Of course. Thank you, Detective.”
    “Just make yourself available when I need you.”
    Jim turned away. He really distrusted politicians. Especially men like Travis Hart.
    Melanie Thorne was still upset, but after Jim talked to her, he realized she knew less than Hart about what happened. She’d been talking on the phone when they entered and wasn’t paying attention.
    Then Jim talked to Eric Huang. The legislative consultant was a tall, skinny Asian kid with glasses and a suit. He looked young, but his driver’s license indicated that he was thirty. He seemed cagey, nervous, and his hands were shaking. He’d noticed everything that Hart noticed, but more. He had seen Alex pushing through the crowd before jumping onto the table. He’d also seen the shooter standing at the railing on the second floor landing.
    “Did you see a gun?”
    “No—I just remember when the woman climbed onto the table, I looked at her and I saw a man standing at the railing. He wore a dark hoodie and seemed out of place. The woman yelled to get down, and I dropped immediately. And then everything happened fast.”
    Huang also heard two gun shots, and when Alex got up he, too, was ushered with his boss into another room, and then they all came upstairs.
    “You seem nervous,” Jim said.
    “Nervous? I’m