After his late-night mopping exercise, Drayco had tackled a Chopin ballade with such force, he’d apologized to his piano afterward. Maybe that was why the instrument had sounded off, lacking its usual colors, almost flat, even though he’d had it tuned two months ago. His unsatisfying playing had been followed by more failed research attempts that kept him up until three, making him oversleep this morning and barely making it to his appointment on time.
Sarg didn’t look too irritated at the fifteen-minute delay in picking him up from Union Station, giving Drayco’s Starfire a little pat before he climbed in. “You should treat me to a second breakfast. Let me guess—I’ll bet you had a fluffernutter. Or some equally awful creation.”
“I’ll have you know I had sausage, eggs, and a biscuit.”
“The Sunday morning McDonald’s drive-through special?”
“Microwaved. What did you have, caviar toast points?”
“Tarragon omelet. After the Army, I swore I’d never eat crap-on-a-cracker food again.”
That was an image Drayco didn’t need. “Didn’t the Rangers get special chow?”
“By special you mean MREs? You should take a cooking class, junior.”
“They’d throw me out. Though I might sail through Can Opening 101.”
Sarg grinned. “It does my soul good to know you suck at something.”
After navigating through surprisingly heavy traffic on Route 50, they made it to an eight-story, glass and concrete tower in Arlington that looked like every other glass and concrete tower developers erected in the region these days.
The sign outside this particular line of condominiums said Glencroft Shores—another bit of developer whimsy. The nearest body of water was a good six miles with Lake Barcroft to the west or the Potomac River to the east. The unit prices didn’t reflect that, starting in the upper six figures—if Jerold was broke, how could he afford one of these?
A light blue Ford sedan pulled in next to them, a woman with blond hair behind the wheel. She rolled down the window and called out, “It is all right if I park here?” Drayco pointed to another guest space, and she headed for it.
Sarg peered at him. “Not that I mind, because I like her—but what’s Deputy Tyler doing here?”
“She’s getting a J.D. part time and came into town early this weekend to cram for a test. She’s helping Benny out, Benny’s helping me out. I told her she could come along.” When Sarg peered down his nose with one of his “are-you-shitting-me” looks, Drayco added, “It’s not what you think.”
Sarg muttered, “I think it’s exactly what I think.”
Drayco ignored him and pulled out the key to Jerold Zamorra’s condo. Like the police report indicated, it had a back entrance opening out to a wide alley that led to an underground parking lot. It was daylight, meaning it wasn’t possible to see burned-out lights. But due to the building’s overhang, if the closest exterior light were out, it would make for a dark scene. Easy to get in and out unnoticed.
Unlike Jerold’s brother’s beige-y neutral place, this one was painted in odd color combinations, green, purple, orange. The few furniture pieces looked like Ikea catalog rejects, and the floor was a faux-wood vinyl. A musty, rancid smell similar to decaying meat filled the air, but it was competing with the pungent scent of Pine-Sol.
The police report showed the forensic techs had used oblique lighting and electrostatic dust lifters looking for latent shoe prints, but other than those of the police crew, they found only Jerold’s and Maura’s. The same as with the fingerprints.
Nelia gave a quick glance around, “The police have already been through this place? And Ashley and Edwin, too? Can’t imagine there’d be any clues left.”
Sarg replied with a bow toward Drayco, “But The Brain hasn’t been through it yet.” He opened a small box he’d brought with him and passed it over to Nelia and Drayco. “Don’t forget your gloves, kids.”
Drayco started with the kitchen, the site of the murder. Despite someone mopping up most of the blood—the crime scene techs or maybe a cleanup crew Ashley had hired—it was easy to tell where Jerold fell. The bottom cabinets still had dried blood stains, and a few flecks lined the cracks in the tile grouting. That explained the odors.
Despite Halabi’s prickly attitude, the man had a stellar reputation, and his crew had done their job well. Not seeing anything of interest, Drayco returned to the living room to rejoin Sarg and Nelia.
He walked over to a wall with a frame holding a matted document of some kind. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a pair of state lottery tickets. Some kind of joke? Had Jerold won one dollar and framed the winning ticket on a lark? The date on the tickets went back three years.
Sarg pulled out his notebook to write down the numbers, prompting Drayco to ask, “Why not type them into your cell?”
“Because this notebook doesn’t need charging and doesn’t have any parts that can fail.” Sarg returned the small pad to his shirt pocket. “By the way, that Iago guy you told me about over the phone this morning? I ran his description through various channels. Nada. Should be easy enough to track one NBA-sized thug. Or so you’d think.”
Hearing Sarg had also struck out made Drayco feel a bit better. And even more intrigued. “Like Maura McCune, a man who doesn’t exist.”
Sarg picked up a succession of three glass snow globes, examining each in turn. “Doesn’t mean he’s not our murderer.”
“Why threaten me if he thought I was trying to prove Maura guilty? Her conviction would take him off the hook.”
Nelia stopped next to an aquarium and pointed. “Funny you should mention hooks. Dead fish. I thought it smelled a little, well, fishy in here.”
Drayco joined her and bent over to look inside the tank. Then he pushed up his sleeve and reached into the tank to grab something from the bottom.
She scrutinized the object in his hand. “One of those fake rocks. How did you know? This one is the best I’ve ever seen—it’s so realistic, you can’t tell it apart from the real ones.”
“Not just a fake betta boulder, either.” He flipped it over and pried open the bottom, pulling out a key hidden inside.
She said, “A small key like that—”
“Safe deposit box, storage unit, gym locker? Must be hundreds of banks and storage units in the area.”
“Perhaps Ashley or Edwin Zamorra might know something.”
Sarg piped up, “Or Drayco’s mother.”
Nelia headed to another glass tank in the corner of the room and pulled out a snake. “A bloodred corn snake. And it’s still alive.”
Drayco and Sarg looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Seeing their reaction, Nelia glared at them. “I like snakes. And no penis jokes, please. As the lone female deputy in my department until recently, I get plenty of those.”
Sarg stifled a smile, but Drayco sucked in a breath. The thought of Nelia being subjected to sexual harassment made his blood boil. She was respected by her colleagues for the most part, but one of her fellow male deputies recently got a stone-stud earring and suggested she call him “the stud.” He’d have to talk to Sheriff Sailor about that.
“This little guy should get fed once every four or five days. Someone must have been here. Guess they don’t like fish as much.” Nelia placed the snake inside its enclosure. “About that key. I don’t see a computer anywhere, so I’m assuming the PD carted it away. Maybe there’s a note explaining the key’s purpose on the hard drive.”
Sarg replied, “Halabi’s crew are working on the computer as we speak. Also took away an old-fashioned Rolodex. He kept a list of passwords on it. And get this—he filed it under ‘P.’”
She laughed. “Seriously? And this from a former TSA executive.”
“Had me scratching my head so hard I drew blood. The PD haven’t found anything in his e-mail. Just a few messages from former colleagues, the how ya doing, want to meet for dinner variety. Cellphone was also a dead end. More standard TSA contacts and family. All leads the police are following.”
Drayco made a note to buy Sarg that extra breakfast or lunch later. With Halabi wanting Drayco as far from the case as possible, Sarg was using his more “official” channels to follow the police investigation and keep Drayco up to date. It wasn’t a position he enjoyed being in, having to rely on Sarg and Benny Baskin to keep him in the loop.
The trio spent an hour checking through the rest of the condo, with Drayco adding more details about his “guest” the previous evening. Sarg put his hands on his hips. “Sure would love to know what Mystery Goon was up to. Guess if he’d meant you harm, you wouldn’t be here right now. Gave you a little souvenir, though, didn’t he? That’s a lovely bruise on the right side of your neck.”
Nelia stopped riffling through a set of books when Drayco mentioned Iago and bit her lip but didn’t say anything. She picked up another book and examined it. “I have more mysteries for you. Benny wormed it out of Halabi that the witness who called police the night of Jerold’s murder used a mechanical device to disguise his voice.”
Drayco finished checking a desk drawer, slamming it shut with more force than he’d intended. “Definitely sounds planned, not a heat-of-the-moment thing at all. Luckily, I have a couple more people to add to Jerold’s anti-fan club.” He filled them in on his meeting with Gogo and Lauralee.
When he described Gogo’s dragon tattoo, Sarg chuckled. “Appropriate. Drayco, the dragon.”
They re-converged in the front room, where Drayco fingered items on a table that included a miniature Nikon camera, a toy stun gun, toy handcuffs. Another joke on Jerold’s part? He studied photos on the same table, a picture of Jerold, Gogo, Lauralee, and a man who must be Kegger, the pianist, all with their instruments. Jerold was standing away from Gogo, close to Lauralee. Nowhere in the condo did Drayco see any mementos of Ophelia, Jerold’s murdered ex-wife.
Sarg nodded at the key from the aquarium in Drayco’s hand, “I would do some checking on that for you, but—”
“It would appear too much like an official FBI case.”
“And I’m tippy-toeing around the line as it is.”
As Sarg uttered those words, Drayco heard the sound of a key being inserted into the front door. A woman walked in, haloed by the bright sun behind her. She took one look at them, put her hand over her heart, and toppled to the floor.