“If the murderer feels safe, she could slip, make mistakes. The women involved with your brother are going to want that blackmail evidence, Mr. Pruitt. There are pictures, notes, CDs. We know that, but we don’t know where they are. We believe the murderer-as well as the other women involved in your brother’s life-will likely take some major risks to find that evidence. To destroy it.”

The detective took his turn. “Your brother’s next-door neighbor,” he said, “is twenty-eight…”

“That’s the Sophie Campbell you mentioned?” Cord asked.

“Yes. She works as a translator for Open World. She’s been with that organization since she graduated from college. She does extensive translating projects for them, often on-site. For the last nine months or so, she’s been living in Foggy Bottom, gathering stories from women survivors in World War II. She speaks Russian, German, Danish.”

Cord’s head was swimming. “I don’t understand why you keep bringing up this woman-unless you either believe she was one of the women Jon was blackmailing, or that she’s the killer.”

“We don’t know either of those things,” Ferrell said. “But we do believe she’s the key to your brother’s killer in some way.”

“Why?”

“We’re not really at liberty to say,” the detective said cautiously, but again, the private cop proved more frank.

“We’re uncertain to what extent this young woman is involved. What we do know, however, is that she was the only consistent person in your brother’s life. She was in and out of your brother’s place quite frequently. In fact, she’s the only one who had a key, as far as we know.” The older man hunched closer. “We need your help, Mr. Pruitt. We need your help to solve this…and we need your discretion.”

Cord frowned. “I still don’t know what you’re asking me to do. If you need my permission to go through Jon’s place, fine, you’ve got it. I assume you’d have that legal right, regardless, in a crime situation-”