a knock on the door preceded a younger man into the room. “You wanted to see me?” He did a double take when he saw Sam.
She got that a lot these days.
“These MPD detectives are investigating the murder of Ginny McLeod. They’re wondering where I was on Sunday afternoon.”
“Uh, you were here. From about eleven to seven or so, when we finished up.”
“And your name is?” Sam asked.
“Rob Heinke.”
“Spell the last name for me.” Sam wrote it down. “And your phone number?”
“Why do you need that?” Townsend asked.
“In case we have other questions.”
“Like what? He told you I was here from eleven to seven. What other questions would you have for him?”
Sam glanced at the younger man, who seemed undone by the entire thing. “Your number.”
He looked to Townsend before shifting his gaze back to her and reciting the number.
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“You can go on back to work,” Townsend said.
Heinke hightailed it out of there as if his ass was on fire. She had that effect on people.
“I don’t know what else you would need from him.”
“We’ve learned to gather all the information we might ever need,” Sam said. “So we don’t have to backtrack.”
“I didn’t kill her, but I’m glad someone else did.”
“I’ve heard that from others.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear it a few more times before you’re done.”
“Where would we find Tina?”
Townsend seemed hesitant to provide the information, but pulled out his phone and scrolled through to find her in his contacts. “She works at home in Rockville.” He gave them the address. “Please don’t tell her I sent you. The poor woman has had enough to deal with without thinking I’ve turned on her too.”
“Why would it matter if you turned on her?”
“Because we’re friends. After what Ginny put us all through, some of us have become close in our shared agony.”
“How close are we talking?” Sam asked.
He stared at her, all but simmering with rage. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means. Were you or are you more than friends with Tina?”
“I, uh, I don’t have to answer that. My personal business is just that.”
“Not during a homicide investigation, it isn’t. Answer the question, or we’ll take you in for a formal interview downtown. Your choice.”
“How is this relevant to the investigation?” he asked, sounding incredulous.
“Everything is relevant when it involves a homicide, Mr. Townsend. We’d appreciate it if you’d answer the question and stop wasting our time.”
“I… I became friends with both of them—Jack and Tina—after we started to fear we’d been scammed.”
“How did you meet them?”
“They went to the press about their suspicions. This was when we were still trying to get the Feds to take us seriously. Long before the official investigation began. When I saw them quoted in an article about a potential real estate scam, I reached out to them, and we began talking. We had a lot in common.”
Townsend paused, ran a trembling hand over a face marked by exhaustion and tension. “Jack… He was out of his mind over it. Everything he’d worked so hard for, just gone. And for a long time, no one seemed to care. We had what we believed was proof she’d stolen hundreds of thousands from us, and we couldn’t get the FBI to take our calls or to listen to our complaints, even with one of us having a friend who was an agent. We filed reports with our local police departments, who gave the matter a cursory glance. It was all so frustrating, especially since Ginny was still living large while we were coming to the realization that we’d been totally fucked over by a friend. It was all so unbelievable.”
Sam took copious notes as he spoke.
“We became friends and allies in our efforts to get justice for ourselves and what we knew had to be other victims. And then… Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Tina called me with the horrible news that Jack had taken his own life.” Townsend’s eyes filled with tears. “That news hit me like a fist to the gut. I couldn’t breathe.”
Sam gave him a minute to collect himself, waiting as patiently as she could for him to get to the point.
“I went to see Tina that night, to offer what support I could, and I started visiting her regularly, looking out for my friend’s widow.”
“Did your wife visit her too?”
He shook his head. “She chose to take more of a hands-off approach to the entire situation. She