Chapter 93

“Jealous? This heap of yours is at least two years old.”

“This ‘heap,’ as you call my vehicle, gets me where I need to go. Now shut up. I have to concentrate on my driving. You know all the nuts take to the road on holidays.” Plus the snow, as light as it was, would cause havoc.

“Yes, Mark.” He gave me that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth smile and then began humming to the music on the radio. After another ten minutes he said, “Ah. We’re here.”

I put on the turn signal and entered the parking lot of Arlington National Cemetery.

Mrs. Mann arrived shortly after we did. Jefferson Sebring got out of his cream-colored Mercedes, opened the passenger door, and helped her from the backseat.

It had stopped snowing, so I didn’t bother asking Quinn if he wanted to take an umbrella for her.

She was wearing a Russian sable coat that, according to Quinn, had been left to her by her mother after she had passed away.