Being a pushy private investigator in Washington D.C. doesn’t win you many friends, and being a woman makes it worse. Sitting here in the dark waiting for the men who are coming to kill me, I thought I would pass the time by writing my obituary. Mary Jane Morris was thirty-eight years old. Disillusioned with lawyering, she became a private investigator. She was a good friend and a bad enemy, and had a fair amount of courage and some talent in reading people and solving mysteries. She loved her dogs, kayaking, single-malt scotch, and her handsome doctor boyfriend Lorenzo Romolo. Mary Jane's latest case was investigating her partner's death and a conspiracy to cheat veterans of their medical care and benefits. I have to stop now because the dog is growling and someone is at the door.