By six a.m., thousands of day laborers congregated in Home Depot and 7-11 parking lots spread throughout the metro area—hopeful penitents at the Feast of St. Paycheck waiting for a blessing. Wearing patched coats and shod in steel-toed construction boots, they scarfed down coffee, breakfast taquitos, and yellow and pink pan dulces while keeping an eye on every single vehicle passing by.
If the men were lucky, they’d get hired for the day at minimum wage and not be stiffed or become a victim of crime. When they swarmed around Drayco’s car as he stopped to ask if they’d seen his quarry, he hated to disappoint them. But he got what he was seeking.
The man Drayco had tracked down was not likely to be a crime victim, more than able to hold his own. And thanks to another of the day laborers who’d been helpful—in exchange for a couple of Andrew Jacksons—Drayco now knew the man’s full name.
Drayco spied his pray, a man dressed all in black. He rolled down his car window to motion for the man to come over. “Looking for a job? Hop in.”
The man hesitated, then joined Drayco and immediately slid his seat all the way back. Drayco also had problems in cramped spaces with his long legs, but he wasn’t six-eight. “Greetings, Iago Pryce. I could pay you for the day, but I have a feeling you don’t need it.”
Drayco pulled his Generic Silver Camry into a parking garage in Shirlington and turned off the engine. Iago crossed his arms over his wide chest, no small feat. “Howdja find me?”
“You dropped a bus ticket stub at my home. Plus, you had dirt under your fingernails like a workman and mud on your shoes despite the fact it hasn’t rained in a week. You also had the distinct aroma of sewage cologne, so I looked at the bus line and scoped out day laborer spots near the water pollution control plant. A day laborer job is a perfect cover for someone who moves around a lot. And you do move around a lot, don’t you? Following Maura McCune?”
Iago didn’t reply, grabbing a handful of pepita seeds from his pocket and tossing them into his mouth.
“Has she been in the U.S. for the past thirty years or just the last two?”
Still munching on the seeds, Iago replied, “Like you said, moving around.”
“And you follow her. Are you some kind of official bodyguard?”
Iago turned his head sharply. “How much do you know about her?”
“Not much, which is why I’m here. If you’re supposed to be keeping Maura out of trouble, why don’t you just go to the police and say—truthfully or not—Maura was with you and couldn’t have committed the murder?”
Iago uttered a derisive laugh. “Even if it was true, I don’t exist.”
“That means you weren’t with her that night. How can you be so certain she’s not guilty?”
More silence, except for the sound of Iago’s chewing.
“I’m guessing you have several identities like she does. Okay. What’s with ICYHWM and E.E. Cummings?”
“You found her apartment.” Iago picked at his nails, but it would take a lot more than that to get the dirt out. “I met her at a poetry slam, went for one date. She said she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything. I followed her, found out what she does for a living, who she is.”
“That’s more than my father discovered.”
“He doesn’t care like I do.”
Bodyguard or stalker, Iago still represented the first crack in the wall of mystery surrounding Drayco’s mother. But he wanted more. Much more. “Let’s talk about what she does for a living. Petty theft, cons, fraud. Am I warm?”
“What difference does it make? Everybody gambles with something. It’s all in the cards or numbers. Sometimes you win the lottery, sometimes you don’t.”
“It matters because you said Jerold was a ‘colleague’ of Maura’s. And she was angry with him for two-timing her.”
“Maybe they were partners, maybe they weren’t. It’s not relevant. She didn’t kill him over it. Look, I’m your friend as long as you try to help her. But if you change your mind and try to prosecute her, you’ll see me again, all right. But you don’t want to see me again that way. Trust me.”
Drayco ignored the threat. “Maura arrived in the U.S. about the same time as her twin brother Alistair, isn’t that right?”
Iago pushed open the car door and stepped out, bending down so he could see Drayco, still inside. “Best you forget that name. Throwing it around can be bad for your health.”
He didn’t slam the door but shut it quietly and deliberately. By the time Drayco started his car and pulled out of the garage to follow, Iago was nowhere in sight.
So much for tailing the guy. Drayco had a pretty good idea Iago wouldn’t return to this location and gave it his best shot, driving around for a half hour. No luck. Maybe he should have followed on foot, but if Iago hopped onto a bus, Drayco would have been spotted right away.
He wasn’t surprised Iago would know about Alistair Brisbane, but did Brisbane know about him? Or about Maura, for that matter. Iago didn’t fit the circle of powerful friends Drayco glimpsed from that one newspaper article. How did all the puzzle pieces fit together?
He pulled the car over to text a message to a friend he hadn’t seen in a while. He needed answers, and he needed them soon. Taking into account the time difference between the States and Scotland, it was only late morning there, so no tirades about waking up his friend. But if anyone could track down a phantom in the Scottish netherworld, it was Brody McGregor.
First, he had another meeting with the ghost from his past.