Being an aggressive 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, her beat up Land Rover and her house by the river filled with old things, and her handsome doctor boyfriend Giuseppe Romolo. She hated people who victimize the vulnerable, and sometimes she went outside of the law to see that they were punished. Mary Jane died while 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.
