The assisted-living “home,” with its mangy gray-and-white wallpaper and antiquated alarm system, looked like a cross between a rabid raccoon and an aging guard dog. The staff were about as friendly. Despite Drayco having the okay from Barney Schleissman’s family and Sarg holding out his FBI bona-fides, it took one receptionist, two nurses, and one administrator before Drayco and Sarg were led to Schleissman’s room.
They’d expected to see a man similar to the other shuffling, empty-eyed residents they’d passed in the hallways, but in the middle of the studio-sized space sat a surprise. Schleissman had on a full three-piece suit, was perched in a chair where he could watch a documentary on aircraft carriers, and pinched the nurse’s rump as she turned to leave.
He greeted them as if they were old friends. “My son said you were coming to chat about Jerold, the poor chap. Always thought he’d outlive me and make it to the century mark. Sorry I couldn’t make the funeral. They won’t let me drive anymore.” He leaned over with a conspiratorial whisper, “But I took the groundskeeper’s golf cart for a spin last month.”
It was hard not to like this man. Had his family cast him into the facility because he cramped their lifestyle—or, perhaps, to get their hands on his estate? “Mr. Schleissman—”
“Call me Barney.”
Drayco smiled. “Barney, it is. We hoped you could tell us more about Jerold. And his co-workers or any reason he might be a target for murder.”
“Went to one of Jerry’s recitals a while ago, that music group of his. I recall that young Chinese who’s engaged to Ashley. What was his name? Something like hurry-up, hurry-up. And that young woman, that mulatto, she was a chatty one. Asked me about Rena. Reminds me a bit of her, too.”
Drayco winced at the “mulatto” term, maybe a hint of Schleissman’s era or mental slips. “By Rena, you mean Rena Quentin?”
“Who else? That Rena thrived on taking control of any project and whipping it into shape. Kind of a control freak. Real OCD. Liked showing she could play right up there with the Big Boys. Must have made it harder with that sexual harassment thing. Took us all by surprise. Seemed so out of character for both.”
“He never discussed it?”
“Jerry kept his cards so close to his vest, they kinda merged with his DNA.”
“That’s why he left the TSA, wasn’t it, the harassment charge?”
“If you listen to the rumor vine. But he seemed kinda happy about it, almost giddy. Like he’d been waiting for an excuse to leave.”
“And he never talked about threats or stalkers?”
“Au contraire, mon frère.” Schleissman winked. “That’s French. Means no, bro.”
Drayco and Sarg had both stayed standing due to the lack of chairs, but now chose to sit on the bed. Sarg spoke up from the corner where he’d wedged himself. “What about his wife Ophelia, Mr. Schleissman? She was murdered a year after they got divorced. Must have been hard on Jerold.”
“Sad, very sad. Didn’t see it coming. The murder, that is. The divorce, well, that was a long time in the making. That Ophelia, she was a gold digger. His daughter, too. That’s women for you. Always wanting equal rights while holding their hands out for money.”
“Ashley believes Jerold killed her mother, Mr. Schleissman. Do you agree?”
“Seems unlikely. Guess I was a little too hard on Ashley just now. Don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but living with those two hot-tempered parents of hers couldn’t have been easy. They were like that. Passionate about life, just not each other. Jerry was the weaker of the two, mind you, which is why I can’t see him killing her. Ophelia walked all over him. But she was sexy and beautiful. He always did say he liked his women pretty and domineering.”
Schleissman winked at them. “Always wondered if he was into that M&M stuff, you know, the leather and whips.”
“Mr. Schleissman, did Jerold mention the name Maura McCune?”
“Can’t say I recall it.”
“Or possibly Iago Pryce or Alistair Brisbane?”
“Sorry. They friends of Jerry’s, too?”
“Possibly. Did you see signs of a gambling habit? Or a side business?”
“Gambling? We had office pools and bet on golf games. He lost most of ’em. Maybe he played the ponies, I suppose. I didn’t go with him if he did.”
Schleissman frowned. “Now that you mention it, right before he left, he was making a lot of phone calls. More than usual. He hadn’t stepped outside the office for one second before he was glued to the phone. Sometimes, he’d excuse himself for a private chat.”
He rubbed his chin. “Maybe he was just setting up his retirement portfolio. Maybe it was that side business you mentioned. We kinda lost touch after he left. I called him a few times. He was always busy, he said.”
The elderly man had gradually slumped lower in his chair and was looking a lot less energetic than when they’d arrived. “Now where is that nurse? She was here a second ago.”
Drayco looked at Sarg and nodded toward the door. Drayco smiled at Schleissman. “Thanks for speaking with us, Barney. Don’t go stealing any more golf carts.”
Schleissman smiled up at him. “Golf carts? I haven’t been on one of those in years. Do tell Jerold and his lovely wife Ophelia I said ‘hi’ when you see them.”
Sarg looked as grateful as Drayco to escape the life-sucking claustrophobic air of the facility. They sat on a bench outside, and Sarg said, “Guess you don’t want to think about your mother and all that ‘M&M’ business. But you can’t discount it.”
Drayco drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the bench, half-listening to Sarg.
“Okay, junior, what’s eating you?”
“Hmm?” Drayco focused on Sarg’s searching eyes.
“I know that look. You’ve got one of your crazy theories percolating in the puzzle-cortex part of your brain.”
“Do I?” Drayco gave Sarg his best cryptic smile. “It might have to do with a few phone calls I made to some coroners’ offices this morning. Or, as you say, I’m just trying to push Maura ‘M&M’ images out of my head.”
Sarg didn’t smile back. “Goddamn you, junior. You’re not withholding on me again, are you? Payback for me telling Brock about Iago and Brisbane?”
Drayco hopped up and held out his hand to Sarg. “Withholding? You make it sound like I’m the IRS.”
Sarg hesitated before taking Drayco’s outstretched hand and allowing himself to be hoisted to his feet. “You know what they say—the only two certainties are death and taxes. This case has given us the death part, but I doubt Jerold paid taxes on his fraud income. Nor his partner if you still think he had one.”
“Oh, I’m convinced he had a partner, all right.”
“Really?” Sarg raised both eyebrows practically to his hairline. “Based on what? The word of Maura and Iago? Not exactly solid sources.”
“You said it. The puzzle-cortex.”
Sarg snorted. “Is that where the synesthesia comes from?”
“That would be the freak-cortex.”
“Ah, that one. Think I remember it from psych class.”
They both turned at the sound of giggling behind them. An elderly man who’d managed to slip through the front doors was being herded inside by two linebacker-sized orderlies. Sarg shook his head. “You know everything Schleissman said is suspect, don’t you?”
“Even on cloudy days, a few rays of sunlight can shine through.”
Sarg put his hand lightly on Drayco’s arm. “Look, junior. You gonna be fine on your own tomorrow? Onweller is pushing me to wrap up my work on that kidnapping case.”
“Kidnapping? I didn’t know that was your current project.”
“The Iowa PD found the guy, but we’re trying to tie him to a couple of other older abductions.” Sarg added, “I hate kidnapping cases.”
He didn’t have to say why. Sarg’s physical wounds had healed from that three-year-old disastrous kidnapping case of theirs, but the bleeding from the emotional cuts hadn’t stopped. With him or with Drayco.
“I meant what I said. About that Pryce guy. And if Brisbane is worse, watch your back. Or wait until day after next, and we’ll work on this together, ’kay?”
“You’re in more danger driving home through the mixing bowl and down I-95.”
Sarg slapped his forehead. “That reminds me. Elaine wants Crêpes Suzettes for dinner. I gotta pick up some brandy. What you havin’? Something on a bun just for a change?”
“I’m meeting someone. Although there may be buns involved.”
Sarg gave him a sharp look. “Anyone I know?”
“Yes.”
Sarg took the hint and headed to his car. If Drayco hurried, he’d just make it in time.