“Damn,” Kevin said. “You’re not going to make me feel guilty about speaking ill of the dead, are you? Because no matter how much of a jerk he is, I didn’t want him dead—just elsewhere. What happened to him, anyway?”
“Someone bludgeoned him with Josh’s hockey stick.”
His mouth fell open, and he stared at me for a few seconds until Widget nudged his hand, begging for more of the croissant.
“That’s not good,” he said as he handed over a bit of croissant. “It’s going to be a big headache for Chief Burke, given how many enemies Ian must have had.”
“Maybe we can help him,” I said. “And by ‘we,’ I actually mean you. Could you do a little research on some of Ian’s enemies?”
I was getting good at explaining all the dirt on AcerGen that Festus and Stanley had uncovered. And I hardly had to look at my phone anymore to forward my audio files of Ian’s phone calls. When I finished, Kevin nodded and looked thoughtful.
“The Cyrus Runk case,” he said finally. “Guess I should tell Casey we won’t be covering that one on the podcast for a while, no matter how much our fans want us to. Not until Mutant Wizards is free and clear of AcerGen.”
“Was it a case you were planning on covering?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Wasn’t that interesting at first—just a nasty, brutal murder.”
“In Virginia,” I pointed out. “Your turf.”
“Yeah,” he said. “In Buchanan County down in southwest Virginia, the part that could just as easily have ended up as Kentucky or West Virginia. Inconveniently far away if we needed to do boots-on-the-ground research, and besides, there was nothing really special about the original crime. We don’t cover cases just for the gore. We only heard anything about it because they found the killer through DNA, but even that’s not really big news anymore. But when Runk’s conviction got overturned, Casey thought would be a good hook for an episode about false confessions. Guess I’ll tell him to put that one on ice for the time being.”
“Or use some other case as a hook,” I said. “Plenty of people out there in prison on false confessions.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Is it just me, or is it weird that AcerGen would have helped the police with the DNA match,” I asked.
“Very weird,” Kevin said. “And part of the reason we should cut ties with them, the fact that they keep doing stuff like that. Most places doing consumer DNA have strict privacy rules. Law enforcement is pretty much limited to searching CODIS and a couple of databases where you opt in by uploading your own DNA profile.”
“Well, maybe Cyrus Runk has got it wrong,” I said. “Maybe the police found him some other way.”
“Or maybe he’s got it right and Ian ignored his own company’s policy. Sounds like his kind of stunt.”
“Let Festus know what you find out,” I said. “More fodder for terminating the AcerGen contract.”
“And maybe a motive for Runk to terminate Ian.”
“Yeah.” Not a pleasant idea. “I noticed you said ‘they keep on doing stuff like that.’ Does that mean you know of other times AcerGen has played fast and loose with their customers’ privacy?”
“That’s the only case I know of for sure,” Kevin said. “But I’ve overheard occasional bits of conversation between the Canadians that are making me wonder, so I’m going to do some snooping. I mean, if Ian’s managed to tick off multiple convicted murderers I bet the chief would like to know about it.”
I nodded.
“I did overhear something yesterday,” he said. “A couple of the Canadians were talking about some woman who was hopping mad that AcerGen found a half brother she never knew she had. A brother who was only about six months older than her. And it wasn’t so much finding out that her late father wasn’t a model of marital fidelity that upset her—supposedly the half brother is bad news.”
“Maybe she should blame her father instead of AcerGen,” I suggested.
“Right,” he said. “And maybe herself for getting in touch with the guy.”
“Maybe he got in touch with her.”
“Doesn’t work that way,” he said. “Both parties have to be willing to talk to each other for them to release contact information.”
“That’s probably the way it’s supposed to work,” I said. “But what if AcerGen broke that rule, too?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That would be a big problem. And given how much of an idiot Ian is, it’s possible. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“One more thing,” I said. “Can you see what you can find out about a woman named Katherine Anne Koenigslutter?”
“Can you spell that?”
“I can try,” I said. “But I couldn’t guarantee that I had it right. She set off Vern’s spidey sense last night by driving past our house a couple of times in her rental car. Aida got her name from a traffic stop, and the chief asked if we knew anything about her. I don’t.”
“I’ll find her,” he said.
“But before you start, go up and talk to the chief,” I said. “He should be finished with Michael pretty soon. You can tell the chief more than we ever can about Ian’s interactions with people at work.”
“And finger any Mutant Wizard employees who might have it in for him? Great.”
“Having it in for him is one thing,” I began.
“And killing him’s another. I get it.”
“By the way,” I said. “Whoever Ian was talking to said something about their lab having quality control issues. Have you heard about that?”
“No,” he said. “But I’ll see what I can find out.”
“What kind of problems could that be?”
“Well, you could ask Great for more information,” he said, using the boys’ nickname for their great-grandfather. “His DNA lab’s doing some pretty cutting edge things these days, and he likes to stay well informed about what they’re up to.”
“I want a short, practical answer, not an hour-long lecture,” I said.
“Good point.” He chuckled. “Okay, possible quality control issues. The one that seems most likely to me is that if the lab didn’t have good procedures they might have problems with cross contamination, either between two samples or between a sample and a staff member. Then again, if they’re really incompetent, it might be as basic as mixing up the labels, so they’re giving the right results to the wrong person.”
“What if that happened in Cyrus Runk’s case?” I asked.
He frowned for a few seconds, then shook his head.
“Unlikely,” he said. “Because AcerGen didn’t give the police Runk’s DNA—they didn’t have it to give. They handed over his cousin’s DNA profile, and the police checked the cousin’s male relatives until they found Runk. Then they did their own test on Runk, and it turned up a complete match. And the cops would have had their testing done by the state crime lab, which is pretty well regarded.”
“So we don’t have to worry that AcerGen might have accidentally framed an innocent man.”
“No way. Besides—”
He looked down at his phone and winced.
“Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just another message from our stalker.”
“What do you mean, ‘our stalker’? Who’s being stalked?”
“Virginia Crime Time.” He rolled his eyes. “Some woman who’s decided Casey is her soulmate.”
“Then why is she messaging you?”
“She’s not messaging me—she’s messaging the podcast’s Facebook account,” he said. “And Casey’s kind of freaked by the whole thing, so until we figure out how to shake her off, I’m handling our social media. Major pain in the you-know-what.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “And maybe a little worrisome.”
“A little.” He looked—at least for Kevin—curiously thoughtful. “But you know something? Hearing the news about Ian kind of puts it all in perspective. If the worst thing happening to us is some chick getting a crush on Casey sight unseen—well, it sure beats Ian’s week.”
“Sight unseen? You guys don’t have photos to let your fans know what you look like?”
“Not yet.” He looked uncomfortable. “I suppose eventually, if our audience keeps growing, we’ll do stuff like starting a YouTube channel, or making an appearance at places like CrimeCon. At least I might. I think Casey would rather stay out of the limelight indefinitely. But right now, even I kind of like just being mysterious and anonymous.”
I nodded. I could understand. I didn’t miss the days when fans stalked Michael, thanks to his acting appearances on a syndicated sword-and-sorcery TV show that had become a surprise cult favorite. He still attracted a certain amount of attention because of his good looks, but the show had been off the air long enough that only the occasional die-hard fan would still gasp and exclaim “The wizard Mephisto!” when she saw him.
“Katherine Anne Koenigslutter,” Kevin muttered. “What if she’s Cat Lady?” He glanced up and saw my puzzled face. “That’s the screen name our stalker uses. CatLady517. Cat’s a nickname for Katherine, right? Online she mostly just goes by Cat Lady. She keeps saying she’s going to come and see us—see Casey, actually. I just figured that was wishful thinking. But what if she has actually figured out where we are?”
“Let the chief know,” I said. “They’re already on the lookout for Ms. Koenigslutter. If she’s dangerous, they can deal with her. Or any other suspicious strangers who show up at our door.”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a few slow, deep breaths. Was he actually listening to Rose Noire and taking yoga breaths to calm himself?
Then he opened his eyes, set Widget down, and stood up.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
Widget and I followed him upstairs.
Kevin and I loitered in the front hall until Michael emerged from the dining room. Kevin marched in with Widget on his heels and shut the door.
“You look done in,” Michael said.
“Said the pot to the kettle,” I replied. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You have classes.”
“Not till noon.”
“Noon, and two, and three, right?” I asked. “Not much time for a nap. Get some sleep, if you can.”
“And leave you to deal with whatever the chief needs for his investigation?”
“Only until a few more larks get up,” I said. “Then I’ll draft someone to replace me and take a nap myself. Correction—I think what I plan to do counts as going back to bed.”
He smiled slightly, nodded, and trudged upstairs.
Things were slow for a while. Kevin was in the dining room with the chief for so long that I began to get genuinely curious about what he could possibly be saying.
But then Kevin could give the chief chapter and verse about Ian’s and AcerGen’s relationship with Mutant Wizards. Given the long hours they were working, he’d probably gotten to know the Canadians much better than I had. And as long as he was in with the chief, I didn’t have to worry about finding the next possible witness.
After a while, Caroline came downstairs.
“What’s going on out at the ice rink?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did the siren wake you up?”
“No, my bladder did,” she said. “If there were sirens I slept through them. But on my way back from the bathroom I glanced out the window and saw that all the lights around the rink are on and Horace is crawling around the ice with his camera. Police or ambulance?”
“Both,” I said. “Someone did Ian in with a hockey stick. Are you planning to go back to bed?”
“Not sure I can after hearing that news. Do you need me to do anything?”
“I’ve only had two hours of sleep,” I said. “Can you take over my job? Which is to grab everyone as they wake up and send them in for the chief to interview.”
“Of course,” she said. “Shoo.”
I trudged upstairs. Michael was fast asleep and not quite snoring. I kicked off my shoes and then fell into bed fully dressed. The warmth of the electric mattress pad was comforting and I just didn’t want to deal with taking off my clothes, which had warmed to body temperature, and putting on chilled pajamas. Besides, it would save time when I woke. And I’d be ready if any fresh crises happened before I’d slept my fill. For a few minutes I worried that my busy brain would keep me awake in spite of my exhaustion. I kept wondering what the chief was doing … what Horace was finding … whether they’d located Katherine Anne Koenigslutter … whether Cyrus Runk was in jail … should I text Festus and ask him to find out?
I was too tired even to pull out my notebook. I’d probably remember it in the morning.