The Basement jazz club in Georgetown lived up to its name. Hidden away on Cady’s Alley, far from the trendy restaurants and boutiques of M Street, it lay beneath a building left over from the industrial water-district days.
Drayco stopped short at the top of the stairs that led to the entrance. Taking separate cars only postponed the inevitable confrontation. “Okay, out with it. What’s rattled your cage?”
Sarg thrust his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth. “You. And this insane quest. It’s like one of those infinity strips, folding back into itself. We haven’t found anything that proves this wasn’t a murder-suicide. In fact, all arrows point in that direction. As much as I hate to admit it, and I really, really do hate to admit it, the Metropolitan Police and the college are p
