"Duly noted; I'll let the crime-scene team know."
"My team will work with them," she said.
"That's not necessary, Holly."
"Yes, it is. The bystander who was murdered was my fiance."
" Jackson? Oh, my God, Holly, I'm so sorry."
"Be advised right now," she said, "my department will work the homicide. I'm happy to have your people's advice, but-"
"Holly, the homicide is ours, too, since it was part of the bank robbery."
"Harry, I'm asking you, don't fight me on this."
He was silent for a moment. "All right, it'll be this way: officially, it's according to the book. Unofficially, and I mean unofficially, your people work side by side with mine, on both the robbery and the homicide. All statements to the public come from this office. The U.S. Attorney gets the call on the prosecutions. You'll have to rely on my word and my judgment about the way we handle the evidence. That's the best I can do."
"All right," she said tightly. "But I want your word that no information, no evidence will be withheld from me. I get the reports simultaneously with you."
"I can arrange that. Are you all right, Holly?"
"I'm…" She had almost said "fine," but that would be dishonest. "I'm managing," she said.
"I know you will. I'll give my personal attention to the case from this moment forward. If there's anything you need from me, you have only to ask."
"Thank you, Harry," she said. "I'll expect your people."
"They'll be there inside of three hours."
"Bye." She punched off. "Hurd, take me to the back door; I don't want to be seen at the station in this dress."
"Sure."
They drove the rest of the way in silence, then Hurd dropped her off.
Holly walked through the back door of the station, followed by Daisy, and down the rear hallway to her office, closing the door behind her. She locked the door and got out of the dress, then went to a closet for a uniform. Shortly, she was dressed for business in khaki shirt and slacks. "Stay, Daisy," she said to the dog. She took a deep breath and opened the door that led into the squad room.
There was more than the usual hubbub; witnesses were lined up on benches down one wall, and somebody was bringing them coffee and sandwiches. Holly was pleased that her people had been thoughtful.
Then they noticed her, and the room grew quiet. "Carry on," she said to them. "Do it
right." She walked over to Hurd's office, rapped on the door and opened it. Hurd was behind his desk. Across from him sat a blond man in his early forties, wearing what Holly recognized as a Hawaiian shirt belonging to Hurd. Both men stood up.
"Please sit down," Holly said.
"Chief," Hurd said, "this is Mr. Barrington. He was in the bank when the robbery took place."
The man held out his hand. "How do you do?"
Holly took his hand. He seemed very quiet and self-possessed for someone who had just witnessed a bank robbery and a murder. Suddenly, she realized why he was wearing Hurd's shirt.
"Mr. Barrington," she said, "you were wearing a yellow knit shirt this morning?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for trying to help him. I'm very grateful to you."
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said.