Dead Even by Mariah Stewart

case?”
    “No, not at all. It makes perfect sense. You know the players. You have the history.”
    She stared at him.
    “And you’re a damned good investigator. You’re a natural for this one, Cahill. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled. “So. You make the call. What next?”
    “We go to Ohio. We chat with Mrs. Channing, Mr. Unger. I don’t know that either of them will have much to contribute. Channing left home as soon as he graduated from high school, and I don’t think he’s seen Unger since the man was arrested for murdering his mother. But since we have nowhere else to start, I say, let’s break out those frequent flyer miles and give it a shot.” She finished her coffee. “I’ll check in with John and let him know what we’re doing. Meanwhile, I have a meeting with the chief of the Fleming Police Department.”
    Miranda slid her purse from the back of the chair where she’d hung it, then stood.
    “So, while you’re finishing your breakfast and getting ready to leave, I’m going to have a chat about Archer Lowell.”
    “You’re going to ask him to keep an eye on Archer for us while we’re gone?”
    “Her.” Miranda grinned. “I’m going to ask her to keep an eye on him for us.”
    “Sure you don’t want me to come along?”
    “What for? I think I can handle a conversation with the local chief all by myself. Good to know you’re here, though, in case I need backup.”
    “Well, then, I guess I have time to sample the eggs Benedict, after all.” He looked pleased at the prospect.
    “Just as long as you’re ready to roll when I get back.”
    “You know where to find me.” He smiled and returned to the buffet.
             
    The Fleming Police Department was housed in what must have been at one time an elegant private home. Of course, that time had been well over a hundred years ago. Fleming had an abundance of old buildings, and it appeared to Miranda that the borough had made an effort to repurpose as many of them as possible.
    Chief of Police Veronica Carson was waiting, as promised, promptly at eight-fifteen.
    “So, Special Agent Cahill,” the chief said after Miranda had introduced herself, “what can the Fleming PD do for the FBI?”
    Ignoring the tiny bite in the question, Miranda sat where she’d been directed to sit.
    “Actually, I’m here to share information with you.” Miranda crossed her legs and settled into the chair.
    “Oh?”
    “We’ve been following a case for several months,” she explained. “It has, ultimately, led us to Fleming. We thought you should know.”
    “Go on.” Chief Carson removed her glasses and laid them on her desk. Without breaking eye contact with Miranda, she buzzed the receptionist and asked that coffee for two be brought into her office.
    Miranda explained the connection between Fleming and Archer Lowell, Vince Giordano, and Curtis Channing.
    “I followed those cases.” Chief Carson nodded. “I know Sean Mercer down in Broeder quite well. He’s a great cop. And I’ve known Evan Crosby for years. He’s at the National Academy right now, I heard, for some special training.”
    “He is. It was my good fortune to work with him on the Lyndon case. I worked with Chief Mercer on the Broeder case, as well. They’re both top-notch.” Miranda turned as the door opened and the woman she’d met minutes earlier at the front desk brought in two mugs of steaming coffee.
    “Did you make this, or did Sergeant Foley make it?” the chief asked.
    “I made it,” the woman told her.
    “Thanks. Foley’s coffee could peel the paint off a cruiser.” Veronica Carson smiled for the first time since Miranda had entered the room. She passed a mug to Miranda, who moved closer to the desk to take it from her hands.
    “So, Agent Cahill,” she continued. “I have to think this visit is more than merely giving me a heads-up.”
    “Yes, to be truthful, I was hoping to enlist your assistance in this case.”
    Chief Carson sipped at