‘So what do you make of it?’ Wyatt said. They had called their connection for the forensic team. It would be a clandestine clean-up team under strict orders not to inform the local police about the murder. Landry would handle it.
‘Well, if we’re to believe Applebaum, his limousine had the correct mileage so he drove the route and returned the car,’ Holland said.
‘We know Harris Kaplan didn’t board his plane. That was on our initial information sheet. He was a no-show.’
‘Snyder might not have known that,’ Holland mused.
‘Then why kill him? He did his job and that was that. No, he had to have been party to the change of plans,’ Wyatt said.
‘Well, then whatever Snyder was given to cooperate wasn’t enough for the person who arranged it to feel secure,’ Holland said, gazing down at Snyder’s corpse.
The electricity had kept his complexion crimson. While it was passing through his body, it appeared to arrest the progress of death. With the wire disconnected, Snyder’s complexion was sinking rapidly into the pallor of rigor mortis.
‘Now they do feel secure. Dead men tell no tales,’ she added.
‘Maybe they do,’ Wyatt said. ‘Let’s start with cell phone and land phone traces and then go through the apartment. I’ll start on the phones,’ he said, taking out his palm computer. Then he looked up. ‘And let’s not assume it’s a they, remember?’
‘No. What do you mean?’
‘Maybe Harris Kaplan arranged for this disappearance himself, as the director implied.’
‘And killed Snyder?’
‘It’s a great cover-up. It sure looks like someone did Kaplan in and then arranged to cover his tracks by eliminating Snyder, who knew the truth. That could be it or Kaplan could have done all this to convince us he’s been kidnapped or done in.
‘This guy doesn’t look like he put up much of a fight,’ Wyatt continued. ‘We’ll have to see what was in his body. Chances are he was drugged first. Maybe, he and Kaplan had a drink together to celebrate or something and he slipped him something, undressed him and put him in the tub. Harris Kaplan’s seen enough murder cases and heard enough evidence to know how to go about it.’
‘I don’t know. You thought of the breaker immediately. It doesn’t seem to me that whoever did it was all that concerned with making it look like an accident.’
‘Which underscores my idea that whoever did it wanted us to think he was murdered, knew we’d come to the right conclusion. And you don’t kill the driver unless you’re afraid he’ll tell someone the truth.’
‘Still, that’s pretty drastic action to get yourself out of a government program,’ Holland said. The way he looked at her unnerved her. ‘What?’ she demanded.
‘There’s an additional piece of information that was left out of the briefing. I received it immediately after I informed Landry Connors of Snyder’s death.’
‘What piece of information?’
‘A sizeable amount of money was deposited in an account Harris Kaplan had created for himself in Switzerland.’
‘What? Why was that left out of the initial briefing?’
‘Maybe they just found out or maybe Landry likes to keep us completely objective,’ Wyatt replied. ‘It could be he thinks he should hold back information that would put us on one train of thought over any other.’
‘Well, you just ruined that. I can’t be objective now. Under those circumstances, it does appear he’s creating his own disappearance. What about his family, however, his wife? Surely, we have her under surveillance.’
‘Not anymore,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
He turned his palm computer toward her and she stepped up and looked at the screen.
‘Subject’s wife found raped and murdered in her home,’ he said, reading it to her as well.
She stepped back as if the brutalized victim were about to leap out at her, but rebounded quickly.
‘It might be totally unrelated.’
‘Might very well be. There’s a witness who claims he saw her stalked at the grocery store parking lot. And then again, maybe there is more to this PJ than we know yet.’
‘Meaning he had his own wife eliminated? Left his children?’
‘This could be an isolated instance of a PJ gone awry or it could be something more insidious, something much bigger.’
‘So we either have a guy who’s gone psychotic on us or some sort of revenge by a convicted felon?’
‘Are there any other possible motives?’
‘Like what?’
He looked like he was depending on her to produce the answer.
‘On second thought, let’s just investigate these ideas first,’ he replied. ‘If we get too far afield with our theories and imaginations, we might miss something very obvious, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe,’ she said. She didn’t like the way he was making her feel more like the amateur here. For now, at least, she envied him his cool objectivity. Nothing seemed to faze him.
He went to his handheld and plugged a set of earphones into it.
She began by searching the pockets of Snyder’s clothes that were in the bathroom. As she worked, she glanced at his bulging eyes. He seemed to be watching her every move. She pulled out his wallet and dropped it on the floor, along with a set of keys and a billfold, and then a slip of folded paper.
‘I have a number he called the day of the pick-up,’ Wyatt said. ‘But the trace is telling us it was a throw-away phone.’
She squatted by the wallet, billfold and folded paper after she determined there was nothing in the clothes. The paper had the printed heading Globe Tavern, along with the address and phone number. Scribbled on it was one word: Iodine. She handed it to Wyatt.
‘Short shopping list if that’s what it is,’ he quipped. His eyelids blinked rapidly for a moment. The he smiled. ‘People write things down so they don’t forget them.’
She stood up and nodded.
‘Code word?’
‘Could be.’
‘What about the place?’
‘Hopefully, he was there when he wrote it.’ He turned his hand-held, knelt by the tub, and took a digital picture of Snyder’s face. ‘We’ll find out about it. Maybe someone remembers him and the person he was with. If not, maybe they serve good food and we won’t have wasted time.’
She looked at Snyder. His eyes were pure glass—death seemed to be literally crawling under his skin.
‘I’m not that hungry anymore.’
‘Sure you are. You simply forgot,’ he said.
‘Oh really? Next thing you’ll be telling me is when I should go to sleep.’
He considered her. ‘In about seven hours, for sure,’ he said and she laughed.
I’m either going to hate this guy or really get to like him, she thought and wondered if either choice was bad.
They searched the rest of the apartment, but came up with nothing else that they thought was related to the case. Two men from the agency arrived and they signed off the scene.
‘I always wonder what they do with the bodies when there is a covert clean up,’ Holland said as they got into the car. ‘The next of kin have to be informed. People will have questions, yet it never appears in any newspaper or on any radio or television news.’
She glanced at Wyatt, but he didn’t even shrug. He looked preoccupied, his face forward, his eyes barely moving. For a moment she had the chilling feeling that he resembled Snyder’s corpse. She was not used to being ignored.
‘Huh?’ she pursued sharply.
He turned, gazed at her a moment, and then shrugged. ‘If we concern ourselves with the work of lower echelon people, we’ll be distracted from our objective,’ he recited.
‘Lower echelon?’
‘Well, what would you call them? You wouldn’t want to be assigned that work, would you?’ he asked. He didn’t sound critical. Actually, he sounded curious. It was like he wanted to be sure of his own reaction.
‘Hell, no. I’d take a job as a sales girl in a department store first.’
Wyatt nodded. ‘Yes, I can see why you’d prefer such employment in that case.’
‘I’m just kidding, Wyatt. I wouldn’t give up my career if I had that assignment occasionally. For Christ sakes, don’t tell me you’ve never been told to do something you didn’t appreciate.’
He looked like he was thinking about it.
‘Forget about it,’ she said. ‘I forget what the hell I was talking about anyway.’
‘You were wondering about the bodies. I’d say they would be held on ice until there was a clear understanding of what would be permissible to reveal and what wouldn’t, and then they would be delivered to a funeral parlor or whatever and the next of kin would be contacted. Someone would be assigned to explain what had happened. In this case,’ he continued, again with that tone of condescension that really made her feel like a first-year academy student, ‘it could be passed off as a home accident. Obviously, it would not be in the interest of the agency to reveal the man was murdered. That would bring up other questions, possibly alert local law enforcement agencies, and the whole thing could be exposed. We already know what the consequences of such a revelation would be. Landry has made that more than perfectly clear and implied we’d pay dearly.’
‘Thank you, Professor Know-it-all.’
‘I was simply trying to provide an answer to your question,’ he said, but not with a defensive tone. It was more like another factual or logical explanation.
‘Like I just said, forget about it,’ she told him.
‘OK,’ he replied.
She felt herself grinding her teeth and stopped it immediately. Her dentist had already given her fair warning and suggested if she didn’t stop doing that, he would have to prescribe a tooth guard.
Their GPS quickly directed them to the shortest route to the Globe Tavern. It was on Santa Monica Boulevard in what was the West Hollywood area of Los Angeles. Holland realized immediately that it was still an area with a large gay population. Men were strolling along the sidewalks holding hands. There were clubs with names like Boys Night Out, Sweet Pete’s and House of Studs. All the clothing stores had male mannequins and there were banners announcing meetings to be held for discussions of topics that would interest the gay community.
She waited for Wyatt’s comment about it. He was looking at everything with not so much disapproval as astonishment. Could it be that he was unaware of the nature of this LA neighborhood?
‘You knew this was a gay area, didn’t you?’ she finally asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘It’s just my first time here.’
‘But you’ve seen similar gay communities, I imagine.’
He didn’t respond. His little silences were beginning to get to her. It was like riding in a car with a persistent mosquito.
‘There it is,’ he said, nodding to the right. The facade of the Globe Tavern was reminiscent of an old English pub. There was even an imitation plaque of authenticity claiming the pub had been there since 1835.
‘1835? I doubt that,’ Holland said, as she pulled to the curb.
‘It’s possible,’ Wyatt told her, getting out of the car. ‘The Old Spanish Trail began about 1829 and ran to Los Angeles. If it did exist, however, it was probably nothing more than a tent then.’
‘What are you, a history buff or something?’ she asked, coming around the car to join him.
‘I remember what I remember,’ he said, as if he had a very selective memory.
They entered the tavern. The floor was covered in sawdust and the bar was built out of hard, knotty cherry wood. Old-fashioned style imitation candle lamps threw a dim yellow glow over the bar area. Six wooden handles for draft beer were prominent at the center. To the left were two dozen wooden tables and chairs. The walls were decorated with swords, shields and funny signs announcing things like the cost of pig’s feet and warning against spitting. Forty or so patrons were at the bar and tables, all men. The waiters and the bartender were dressed in a reproduction of seventeenth-century garb.
‘There’s a theory that Shakespeare was gay, you know,’ Wyatt whispered to her. ‘And that’s the real reason he deserted his wife and children.’
‘Really?’ she said dryly. ‘You’re just a bank of endless interesting trivia.’
‘I know,’ he said without smiling. ‘Sometimes, I’m surprised myself.’
What’s that mean? she wondered as they approached the bar.
Holland was conscious of the eyes on them. There was no way for them to have entered the place inconspicuously. Women were scant along the strip, except for in the lesbian clubs, and they were both dressed too conservatively to be identified as anything but outsiders.
The bartender had a beautifully trimmed carrot-orange goatee and a full, thick head of brownish-red hair tied in a long ponytail. Although he wore a loose-fitting blouse, it was easy to see he was buff, with thick shoulders and a narrow waist.
‘What will it be, laddie?’ he asked, smiling at Holland.
Wyatt flipped his palm computer open and leaned over the bar. In his left hand, he held out his identification. The bartender looked at that first and then at Wyatt.
‘We need information,’ Wyatt said. ‘About this man,’ he added and brought up the picture of Snyder he had just taken.
The bartender looked at it, his eyes widening. It wasn’t difficult to see that Snyder was dead.
‘That’s Pete Snyder,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Holland said, moving alongside Wyatt. ‘When did you see him last?’
‘He was here last night,’ the bartender said. He looked to his right nervously.
Wyatt picked up on it quickly. His eyes followed the bartender’s gaze, honing in like a heat-sensitive missile on a tall, dark-haired man in a heavy conversation with two others.
‘What time?’ Holland continued.
‘From nine to about eleven, eleven-thirty.’
‘Did he make a call from here or receive a call that you know about?’ Wyatt asked him.
‘I did see him on his cell phone. Don’t know how he could have heard anything. The place was jammed. It was hard to hear your own thoughts.’
He looked again at the tall, dark-haired man.
‘Did he leave with that fellow?’ Wyatt asked quickly. He faced the bartender when he asked. It was obvious the bartender didn’t want to indicate anyone or be responsible for leading them to anyone, but he had, as Wyatt would say later, ‘shown his cards’ when he glanced over instantly at the dark-haired man.
‘Hey, I just see people walk out of here. I can’t say who leaves with whom.’
‘What’s his name?’ Wyatt demanded.
‘Who?’
‘We don’t have time for any flirtations,’ Holland said. ‘You don’t want to be any more involved in this than we’re asking you to be, believe me.’
The bartender swallowed hard. Someone was calling for a beer.
‘Allan Davis,’ he replied and moved down the bar.
‘Let’s get him isolated quickly,’ Wyatt said, moving to page one, step one of interrogation procedures. Holland nodded.
Wyatt turned and started for Allan Davis so overtly, conversations around the man stopped and others turned to look.
‘Allan,’ Wyatt practically shouted. He held out his hand and the confused man put his own out timidly. ‘How are you?’
Wyatt seized Davis’ hand and pulled him forcefully toward him, placing his left arm around the man’s shoulders so he could turn him away from the others. He whispered in his ear and then laughed and, still keeping his arm firmly over his shoulders, directed Davis toward the door. Holland went ahead and the three of them stepped out.
‘What the hell is this?’ Davis asked.
Holland showed him her identification and he relaxed his shoulders.
‘FBI? What do you want from me?’
‘Where did you go with Pete Snyder after you left the Globe last night?’ Wyatt asked him.
‘Why?’ Davis returned to his defensive posture of indignation.
Wyatt flipped open the palm computer and showed him Snyder. Davis squinted, studied it a moment and then snapped his head back like someone afraid he would be stung.
‘What is this? What happened to him?’
‘He’s dead,’ Holland said.
‘Jesus.’
‘Where did you go?’ Wyatt asked with more authority.
‘We went to my place to celebrate.’
‘Celebrate what?’ Holland asked quickly.
‘He said he had just received notification that he had inherited fifty thousand dollars from a great-aunt who had died. We were planning on taking a trip down to Key West next week.’
‘What time did he leave your place?’ Wyatt asked.
‘Not until nine the next morning. What happened? I mean, what did they do to him?’
‘Why do you say they?’ Wyatt asked quickly.
‘Just a figure of speech. I don’t know anyone who would want to hurt Pete. Despite his size, Pete was too easygoing to make enemies.’
‘Tell us more about this inheritance. How did he find out about it?’ Holland asked.
‘He said his great aunt’s lawyer had gotten in touch with him and he was to go receive the check this week. Jeez, poor Pete. Who would do that? How was he killed?’
‘Did he mention the lawyer’s name, anything?’ Wyatt asked, instead of replying.
Davis shook his head slowly.
‘Did you hear him use the word “iodine” in any way?’
‘Iodine? No, I…’ He paused and then nodded slowly. ‘That was it. That was the lawyer’s name. I remember now. He said an attorney named Iodine.’
‘Do you remember where he was from? Where the aunt was from?’
‘Minnesota, I think. Minneapolis. How was he killed?’
‘We’re not sure yet that he was killed, Mr Davis. Murdered, that is,’ Wyatt said, glancing at Holland. It was always best to hold back information when questioning suspects or people who could provide leads. ‘It might have been an accident.’
‘What kind of an accident?’
‘Accidentally electrocuted while taking a bath,’ Wyatt said.
‘That’s unusual,’ Davis countered quickly.
‘Why?’ Holland asked.
‘Pete didn’t take baths. He read this article about sitting in your own dirt or something. Everyone teased him about it. He only showered.’
‘This one time he did,’ Holland said.
Davis kept shaking his head.
‘We understand he received a phone call while at the bar last night. Do you by chance know who called him?’ Wyatt asked.
Davis paused and then shook his head. ‘He did receive a call, but he didn’t say anything about it and I didn’t ask. We were sorta making up after an argument and I knew he had someone after him.’
‘After him?’ Wyatt asked, grimacing.
Holland turned to him sharply. ‘I think he means romantically.’
‘Oh. Is that what you meant?’
‘Yeah.’
‘OK. Here’s my card,’ Wyatt said. ‘If you think of anything else relating to this aunt, this lawyer or the events that occurred during the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, call.’
‘I’m sick to my stomach,’ Davis said, looking at the card. ‘None of this is registering. We were supposed to hook up in an hour.’
‘Did you try to phone him?’ Holland asked.
Davis looked up. ‘He was working. I don’t call him when he’s working.’ He paused and shook his head slowly. ‘I mean, he was supposed to be working.’
‘Did he talk to people about his work, what he did?’ Holland asked.
‘Well, everyone knew he drove a limousine.’
‘What about passengers, whom he drove?’
‘No, he didn’t talk much about that.’
‘Much?’ Wyatt asked.
‘Pete wasn’t any sort of gossip. He hated gossip.’
‘OK,’ Wyatt said. ‘You have my card. Thank you.’
He and Holland turned.
‘Wait,’ Davis called after them. They both turned back. ‘Am I possibly in any danger?’
‘Why would you be?’ Wyatt asked. He took a step toward him.
Davis stared a moment and then shrugged.
‘We were close,’ he offered. ‘I don’t know. Jealous lover?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Wyatt said. ‘Something turns up, something you think is suspicious, however, don’t hesitate to call. You never know about these things.’
They got into the car. Davis watched them a moment and then, his head lowered, returned to the tavern to share his news and grief with sympathetic ears.
‘A lawyer named Iodine?’ Holland asked.
Wyatt was working his palm computer. ‘I’m on it, but I don’t expect anything. There are four attorneys with the name Iodine. One in Florida and two in Oregon. Looks like a father-son firm. And one in New York. Wall Street firm. We’ll check them out, but I think this is someone who also has a sense of humor,’ he added.
‘Sense of humor? Why?’
‘Iodine? The last case Harris Kaplan was on was a murder trial and the defendant’s name was Samuel Halogen.’
‘So?’
‘Iodine is a nonmetallic element belonging to the halogens,’ he replied.
She pulled her head back and looked at him. ‘You just happened to know that, to have that information at your fingertips?’
He shrugged. ‘I was a good science student. I was selected to attend Roc Shores, remember?’
‘Why didn’t you mention this before, when we first saw the word on the slip of paper?’
‘I sent what we found in the apartment back to the agency and they just reminded me who the defendant was in the case Harris Kaplan was adjudicating,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I just forgot.’
‘I can’t imagine you forgetting anything, Wyatt. It sounds like a stretch anyway. It’s probably just some kind of weird coincidence.’
‘Maybe. But I don’t have much faith in coincidence. Look hard enough and everything has a reason or a cause.’
‘Like using the name Iodine as a joke? Please.’
‘Maybe someone’s testing us.’
‘You and your testing.’ She thought a moment and then shook her head. ‘You think they reminded you about Halogen to see if you would put it together with Iodine?’
He said nothing.
‘I don’t know where you’re coming from with this theory. Why would you—or me for that matter—both of us seasoned agents, be tested, Wyatt?’
‘The agency is constantly re-evaluating itself and its employees. Complacency is the mother of all failure,’ he recited.
‘I don’t mind periodic evaluations. Of course, that’s necessary, Wyatt, but as I said before, they’re treating us like first-year recruits, unsure of our loyalties and discretion, not to mention our abilities. I’m going to call Landry Connors and let him know how I feel about this on a need-to-know basis crap. Give us everything or take us off the damn case.’
‘Maybe he’ll do just that,’ Wyatt said. ‘Take us off the case.’
‘How could he justify it?’
‘We failed a test of obedience, following orders. This is a pretty high-priority case, a highly classified investigation, which makes it a real opportunity. I don’t see it the way you do. I see them choosing us because they have great confidence in us. Get pulled off of this and you’ll be doing those lower echelon jobs we discussed. We’re fine,’ he assured her.
‘Fine?’ she muttered. ‘I feel like a puppy following tidbits being led down some path.’
‘As long as it’s to a good conclusion, what’s the difference?’ he asked.
‘Self-respect,’ she replied and turned the engine on again. ‘Turn on your thesaurus. You’ll find the words dignity and pride alongside it.’
She glanced at him. He looked like she had struck a chord. Maybe he’s human after all, she thought.
Maybe.
Although right now, she wouldn’t bet a nickel on it.
His phone vibrated so loudly she could hear it. He quickly read the screen.
‘What now?’
‘Toxicology report.’ He read silently and then reported, ‘Snyder was drugged first, as we suspected.’
‘I still don’t understand why anyone would make it look like Snyder had an accident when it was so easy for us to discover he’s been murdered.’
‘Amateur perhaps,’ Wyatt offered. ‘Perhaps Harris Kaplan wasn’t as proficient at committing a crime as he was at adjudicating a crime.’
‘Or, if Landry’s suggestion is true, the ones taking revenge on Kaplan were the amateurs.’
Wyatt smiled. ‘Either way, it could make things easier for us, dealing with amateurs.’
She nodded, thoughtfully.
And although she had no reason yet to think it, she muttered, ‘Maybe not.’