“Sarah, did I catch you before you left the office?” Fenway stepped into the street, expelling the stale air from the temple ballroom from her lungs, her phone pressed to her ear.
“I was just about to lock up.”
“What would you say to a little overtime tonight?”
Sarah chuckled. “Exactly how little are we talking about?”
“I need a trace on a call that went into 9-1-1 around five o’clock this afternoon.”
“That shouldn’t take long.”
“We probably need a search for DMV records, too.”
“Easy as pie.”
“And fill out a warrant application.”
“Oh, I see you’ve saved the best for last.” Sarah sighed. “You’re just lucky I don’t have a date tonight.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Which is why you should be at Dos Milagros enjoying your double taco special instead of—wherever you are.”
“The Monument Brotherhood Temple on First Street.”
“What are you doing there? I didn’t think they allowed—”
Silence.
Fenway cleared her throat. “I think it’s a little different when one is a law enforcement representative.”
“Sure,” Sarah said quickly, the sound of a pen scratching on a pad. “I’ll trace the 9-1-1 call regarding the Monument Brotherhood. And what about the warrant?”
“It’s for searching the Monument Brotherhood Temple.”
Sarah sucked in her breath sharply. “That’s a can of worms. Are you sure?”
“The dead body has its skull bashed in, Sarah. Evidence of a crime—very clear basis for probable cause. We’re about to ask to perform a search of the temple, but Dez thinks they’re going to insist on a warrant. So I figured I’d get a head start on it.”
“You mean you figured that I’d get a head start on it.”
“At time-and-a-half.”
“Well—yeah.” Sarah laughed. “What shall I put in the description?”
“We’re searching for the murder weapon: a blunt object with a gemstone-like head.”
“Gemstone-like…” Sarah trailed off, then coughed lightly. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re asking for the Bloodstone Scepter.”
Fenway paused. “How do you know about the Bloodstone Scepter?”
“Years ago, the Monument Brotherhood had a chapter in Windkettle. My dad was a member. He had some of his brothers over to the house for meetings after some storm damage to the building. They thought I was in bed.”
“Ah.”
“Every chapter has a scepter like that.”
“Do you know where it’s kept?”
“Uh—not really. But I know the High Worshipful Master has command of the Scepter. So I guess they either keep it under lock and key at the temple or the master keeps it with him. Maybe he takes it home.”
“Then perhaps you can fill out a second warrant application for Redmond Northwall’s house, too.”
“Do you want the whole county to get pissed off at you, Coroner?”
Fenway scoffed. “Surely not everyone in town is associated with the Monument Brotherhood.”
“Now that your dad has retired...” Sarah lowered her voice. “Your father came into Estancia before I was born and started Ferris Energy. I’ve heard stories—the Brotherhood used to run the town. You had to be a member if you wanted to get elected to anything in the county.”
“Then my dad changed all that?”
“When you run one of the largest independent oil firms in the country, you don’t need ties into the Brotherhood. And that means their influence faded pretty fast. No one needed the brotherhood to get a job at Ferris Energy or to do business with anyone at the company.”
Fenway let a long, low whistle. “I had no idea.”
“But now that Ferris Energy got sold to Sierra Madre last month, there’s a power vacuum. And I think the Brotherhood is trying to take over again. They want the influence in Estancia that they had before Ferris Energy came to town—they’ve been waiting for this moment for decades.”
“Be that as it may,” Fenway said, “we’ve got a dead Brotherhood member at the temple, and we need to find the murder weapon. I don’t care if it turns out to be the Holy Grail—if it’s at the temple, we have to find it.”
“I’ll need your signature on the warrant.”
“Let me know when it’s ready—I’ll run over. Do you have everything else you need?”
“Just a couple of questions on the form,” Sarah said. “The offense is murder?”
“Homicide. On the form, list out the code sections for both murder and manslaughter. This wasn’t an accidental death.”
“There’s a section on the form to list the facts the application is based on.”
“The dead body of Frank Mortimer. And the size and shape of the wound in the back of his skull.” Fenway ran a hand over her hair and almost jumped—instead of her usual locks, it was just short, rough fuzz. Her adventure in Los Angeles, when she’d shaved her head, hadn’t been more than three weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. She shook her head to clear the memory from her brain.
“Oh—one more thing, Sarah.”
Sarah chuckled. “You really want to get your money’s worth from my overtime tonight, don’t you?”
“See what information you can find on Frank Mortimer. All I know is that he looks like he’s in his fifties, and he’s a member of the Monument Brotherhood.”
“Got anything else to go on? A driver’s license with an address, maybe?”
“He didn’t have a wallet on him, but he had a BMW key.”
“This regarding the DMV search you mentioned earlier?”
“Right. Maybe DMV records will show something useful.”
“License plate number?”
“Uh…” Fenway scratched her head. Dez had said the BMW was parked out front. She looked up and down the street. About eight spaces away from the spot directly in front of the building entrance was a silver BMW 328i convertible.
“I think I see the car. Hold on.” Fenway walked over to the BMW and read Sarah the license plate number.
“Okay, I’m on it,” Sarah said. “I’ll call you when the warrant application is ready for a signature.”
They said their goodbyes and Fenway tried to peer inside the car. Its side windows were tinted, and she couldn’t get a good look. From what she could make out, the front seats were clean, and the car was well-maintained. Not exactly laden with clues, but maybe the trunk or the glove compartment would reveal something.
No matter; Mortimer’s keys were in his pocket. Once the CSI team had taken the body to the M.E.’s office in San Miguelito, she could take his keys and search his car—or CSI could do it—before they took the contents of his pockets as evidence.
She turned back to the building—and almost bumped into Dez.
“What are you doing here?”
Dez clenched and unclenched her fists. “I’m locked out.”
“Locked out? Of the crime scene?”
“That’s right.”
“How did that happen?”
“Just after I cordoned off the crime scene, Chad—that’s the one with the goatee—asked if he could speak to me outside. I figured he had something important to say if he didn’t want to be in the building to do it. So I followed him out the side door, the exit on Guadalupe Avenue—and he tells me the temple is a sacred place, blessed by a bunch of people I’d never heard of, and that an investigation is unwarranted. I told him we’d be as respectful as possible, but this is a murder. He just turned and walked away.”
“And they locked you out?”
“That’s right. When I went back to the side door, it was locked, and then I went around to the front, and it’s locked too. And no one’s answering.”
Fenway frowned and crossed her arms. “All right. I didn’t want to do this, but they’re all behaving like hostile witnesses. You said Chad’s the one who walked you out?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if we can prove that he colluded with Brad and Tad—”
“Ben and Travis.”
“—in locking you out of the building, but we can certainly go after the other two.”
“Obstruction?”
“Right. Section 184—and Redmond Northwall too. And I want to scare them when we pull them in. Maximum fine and penalty—I think it might be a full year in jail.”
Dez’s upper lip curled. “I don’t know. I agree with you that they should be punished to the full extent of the law, but I’m not sure how likely it is to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father might have done a lot to reduce the influence of the Monument Brotherhood, but it doesn’t mean they’re gone. Lots of local politicians still belong. Sheriff Donnelly’s father, for example.”
Fenway turned to look down First Street, her eyes losing focus. “Maybe that’s why we don’t have any deputies here to back us up.”
“I don’t know if I’d jump to any conclusions.” Dez put her hands on her hips. “But I’ll concede with any other crime scene, other deputies would have gotten here by now—car crash or not.”
“We’ve got to try to get back in there, Dez.” Fenway turned to the building and glared at it. “And if we get stopped, at least we’ll have a paper trail.”
Dez cocked her head. “I’ve lived in this town a lot longer than you have. You want to make some very powerful enemies, you keep going down this road.”
“Do you have a better idea? You don’t want to simply ignore that we have a dead body in that building, do you?”
“Maybe,” Dez said, crossing her arms, “we get someone they know and like and respect to talk with them. Get them to see that we need to get in there and do this properly.”
“Who are you thinking? Sheriff Donnelly? See if she can talk to her father?”
Dez bit her lip. “I’m not sure she’d come down on our side on this. Gretchen’s great, don’t get me wrong, but confronting her father—that’s a lot of political capital to spend. Besides, Gretchen’s the wrong gender.”
“Oh. Right. The good ol’ boys’ club.”
Dez tapped her foot on the sidewalk. “I think it might be a good idea to get someone who can speak their language.”
“A white male, you mean. Sergeant Trevino?”
Dez shook her head. “Nope. Now, he might not be sheriff anymore, but your boyfriend—”
“McVie? You want McVie to talk to the Monument Brotherhood?”
“That’s right.”
“We were just talking about how they wouldn’t even invite my rich father to join because he was married to a Black woman. If you haven’t noticed, Dez, McVie is dating a Black woman, too.”
“It’s different. They already accept him. He had to talk with them on several cases over the years when he was sheriff. He’s one of the few law enforcement people they would talk to. And unlike Mark, he knows their language. He knows how to persuade them.”
Fenway frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. But I think it’s our best bet.”
Fenway pointed at Dez. “Then you call him. I don’t want him thinking I’m playing the girlfriend card with this one.”
Dez laughed. “Playing the girlfriend card? Come on. Play the county coroner card. Giving him the opportunity as a P.I. to assist the sheriff’s office? We’ll owe him access on a future case—and he’ll jump at the chance to get it.”
Fenway nodded. Dez was right—Fenway needed to lead the investigation. “Let me give these bros one more chance to do this the right way.” She strode up the sidewalk to the entrance of the Monument Brotherhood Temple, then pulled on the heavy wooden door: locked. She searched for a bell—there was none. Fenway looked back at Dez, who gave a slight shrug of her shoulders.
Fenway rapped on the door with her knuckles, barely making a sound, the heavy door solid and unmoving.
“Open up, Mr. Northwall. Police!”
Silence. The street in front of the temple was eerily quiet, too. Fenway knocked again—the same weak rapping sound.
“Mr. Northwall! You’re obstructing a police investigation!”
Still nothing. She waited a moment, then pulled out her phone and called McVie.
It went to voicemail.
“Craig, call me back. I’ve got a—a bit of a situation here. Might need your, uh, input.”
Fenway hung up. She hated how nervous she sounded on the message. She shook her head to clear her mind, then called Sarah.
“Something else?” Sarah asked when she answered.
“Change the warrant application for Dez, not me. She’s on her way to sign it.”
“Yeah, I figured the Monument Brotherhood would insist on a warrant.”
“They didn’t even mention a warrant—they locked us out of the temple.”
“What? Weren’t the deputies there securing the scene?”
“No.” Fenway thought for a moment. “Call Judge Harada and ask her to sign it.”
“Judge Harada? I don’t think I know her.”
“She was just appointed—I think she moved here from the Bay Area. If there’s any judge who doesn’t have a history with the Monument Brotherhood, it’s her.”
“Makes sense. I should have it ready in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” Fenway hesitated. “And in addition to the search warrant for Redmond Northwall, add an arrest warrant, too.”
“For Redmond? Are you sure?”
“He’s obstructing an investigation. Penal code section 148.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Fenway.”
“We can talk about it later—I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”
“Okay. I’ll add it to the list.”
Fenway ended the call, then she turned and walked to Dez. “Head back to the office. Sarah’s filling out a few warrant applications and they need your signature.”
“A few?”
“A search warrant for the temple, one for Northwall’s house, and an arrest warrant for Northwall.”
“Is that a good idea?” Dez pursed her lips. “Arresting a software CEO who’s also the leader of—”
“He’s keeping us from a dead body, Dez. Just because he’s a special snowflake doesn’t mean he gets a free pass to keep us from investigating a murder.”
“I’m not saying he gets a pass. Just that there might be a better way.”
Fenway looked up at Dez. “I’m open to better ways. I don’t want this to get political any more than you do.”
Dez was silent.
“Well,” Fenway said, “maybe we’ll think of something. Even if we get the warrant, it doesn’t mean we have to use it.”
Dez motioned to the temple with her head. “You sure you don’t want me to stay here, make sure no one leaves? Someone might abscond with the murder weapon.”
“You can’t cover all the exits—whoever’s in there might have already left when Chad came out and talked to me. And we’ve left the exits unattended for so long, the killer may be gone by now.” Fenway thought for a moment. “In fact, maybe I should see if Redmond Northwall has gone home.”
“Probably worth checking out.”
“On your way to the office, call dispatch again—see if they can spare anyone from the crash in P.Q. to come here.” Fenway scratched her head; her hair prickled her palm. “And call Deputy Salvador. If she’s available, have her look up the Northwalls’ address and tell her to meet me there.”