Chapter 44
FBI agent Rhodes definitely had a sweet tooth. Maya watched in awe as she scarfed down a cinnamon coffee cake in three big bites. Agent Markey sat next to her, shaking her head, smirking at her partner. Just as Rhodes was done, she was already eyeing the half-eaten fudge walnut brownie that Sandra had left on her plate.
Rhodes stared hungrily at it and then said, “Are you going to finish that?”
Sandra looked at her, confused at first, then realized Rhodes’s eyes were fixed on the brownie. She pushed the plate across the table toward Rhodes. “Knock yourself out.”
“We just had lunch,” Markey sighed.
Rhodes whipped her head in her partner’s direction. “Are you fat-shaming me?”
“No, I’m not fat-shaming you. You’re a toothpick. With a superhuman metabolism apparently.”
Rhodes pouted and folded her arms defiantly. “No, she’s right. I have already stuffed my face with a whole coffee cake.”
“And half of my scone,” Markey added before catching herself. “Sorry, that just came out. I wasn’t that hungry anyway; why let it go to waste, right?”
Sandra grinned and then leaned forward, pushing the brownie even closer. “Just go for it. It’s really good.”
Rhodes debated with herself, then decided she didn’t care what her partner thought and tore off a chunk of brownie and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she chewed and swallowed, practically in a rapturous state.
Maya wanted to laugh.
They were like an old married couple.
Always bickering but totally devoted to each other.
She was liking them more all the time.
But of course she would never admit that to them.
Maya had requested the two FBI agents meet them because she and Sandra had discovered some new information regarding Kyle Grisby and the fake emails and wanted to share it with them, now that they had called a truce and had actually decided to help each other.
Markey did not want any of her FBI colleagues to know they were getting help from two Portland, Maine, based private investigators, so she nonchalantly suggested they meet at a trendy coffee house just down the street from FBI Headquarters. After ordering coffees and desserts, they had found a corner table for a modicum of privacy away from the crowd of tourists who were busy studying their sightseeing brochures and the usual array of bloggers tapping away on their laptops.
As Rhodes polished off the rest of Sandra’s brownie, an obvious sugar high was starting to take root. She suddenly got more energized, slapping a hand down on the table. “Okay, what have you got?”
Markey eyed her partner, who was buzzing, surprised she was the one taking charge this time.
“It’s about the fake emails,” Maya explained.
“What about them?” Rhodes asked, incessantly tapping her foot so fast her knee knocked the table, nearly spilling Markey’s latte. Markey placed a hand on her partner’s knee to get her to stop.
Maya plowed ahead. “I have an IT guy back in Portland who helps me with computer issues. He’s like genius-level smart.”
“He’s also got a huge crush on Maya,” Sandra piped in.
Maya tossed her an annoyed look. “Not relevant.” Sandra suppressed a smile as Maya turned her attention back to Markey and Rhodes. “When he tracked the emails back to Kyle Grisby’s shell company Freedom Fighters, he initially assumed Grisby had to have had some help penetrating the firewall and hacking Stephen Wallage’s email account. He needed direct access in order to make it all look legit. But Oscar called me an hour ago to tell me he was wrong. He did a thorough deep dive into Stephen’s hard drive and found no evidence of a hacker anywhere.”
“Maybe the hacker was so good he or she didn’t leave a footprint. The Russians are really smart about that,” Markey offered.
“Normally I would agree,” Maya said. “But Oscar swears he would have seen something that might suggest a cyberpunk had been there, and there was nothing. Oscar is the best there is. I trust him implicitly. If he says Senator Wallage wasn’t hacked, then I believe him wholeheartedly.”
“Then what does that mean?” Rhodes asked, her eyes wandering over to the bakery case to see what was left after the post-lunch rush.
“It means someone had to have provided Kyle Grisby with Wallage’s log-in information,” Maya said solemnly.
Markey considered this. “Are you saying the call came from inside the house?”
“Exactly,” Maya said.
“I just can’t imagine who in Stephen’s circle would do such a thing. They have all been with him for years,” Sandra said, distressed.
“We’re meeting with Grisby and his lawyer at three at headquarters; maybe we can coax him into telling us who this mystery person is,” Markey said.
Maya checked the time on her phone, then stood up. “Good, it’s quarter to three now. Let’s go.”
Markey cocked an eyebrow. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”
“With you, back to FBI Headquarters. I want to be there when you question him,” Maya said matter-of-factly.
“Sorry, not happening,” Markey scoffed. “I appreciate the intel, but we are not a team of She Spies, some all-female special ops outfit. We can’t just parade into that conference room en masse.”
“But I am sure we can be helpful with the questioning,” Sandra insisted.
Markey shook her head. “I don’t doubt it, but the FBI director would have our heads if we allowed civilians to sit in on a meeting at FBI Headquarters.”
“We have a video feed to the conference room in our office,” Rhodes suggested. “There is no policy against them sitting in there quietly as our guests watching TV, and maybe texting us questions they think might be useful.”
Markey did not dismiss the suggestion out of hand but was still on the fence. Maya, however, was already halfway out the door.
“Wait, hold up, I’m just going to grab a peanut butter cookie!” Rhodes called after them. “They’re to die for! Anyone else want one?”
After settling into the office of Markey and Rhodes, Maya behind Markey’s desk and Sandra on a drab scuffed leather couch that had seen better days, they watched intently a TV monitor on a credenza by the window. On the screen, Markey and Rhodes sat at a conference table across from an agitated Kyle Grisby and his flamboyant, hefty, blond curly-haired lawyer, a woman who was apparently very fond of loud bright colors and wild pink reading glasses. Maya guessed her clownish appearance was just a ploy to disarm her opponents, lull them into a false sense of security by not taking her seriously, so she could get the upper hand in any negotiations. Her theory proved to be true.
“I have advised my client not to answer any questions that may incriminate him.”
Rhodes was chewing on that peanut butter cookie she just had to have. “That’s his right, of course. But when he is charged, and believe me, he will be charged—”
The lawyer lowered her pink glasses to the edge of her bulbous nose. “Excuse me, could you not speak with your mouth full, please? It’s very annoying.”
Rhodes sat back, stunned by her gall, but it did little to throw her off her game. She chewed and swallowed, waited a few seconds, before spitting out, “Better?”
“Yes, much, thank you,” the lawyer sniffed, folding her hands like an exasperated schoolteacher at the end of her rope with her unruly students.
“As I was saying,” Rhodes huffed, eyeing the last piece of cookie but refraining from stuffing it in her mouth. “When the charges do come down, we will be requesting they add lying to an FBI officer to the list.”
“Let’s just toss in the kitchen sink at this point,” the lawyer growled.
“But the fact is, your client did lie to us. He told us he was working alone,” Markey said calmly.
Kyle practically jumped out of his chair. “But I didn’t lie! My father had nothing to do with any of this! That’s the God’s honest truth!”
“I’m not talking about your father,” Markey said.
Kyle sat back, confused. “I don’t understand . . .”
“We have uncovered evidence that you had some help.”
Kyle shook his head violently. “No, no, I wrote all those emails myself; there was no one else!”
The lawyer grimaced and squeezed his hand. It looked like she was trying to break it. “Kyle, I told you, you don’t have to answer their questions. They could be bluffing.”
Markey leaned forward, a snakish smile on her face. “Kyle knows we’re not bluffing, don’t you, Kyle?”
His bottom lip started to quiver.
“He knows who we’re talking about,” Markey said.
There was a long silence.
In the office, Sandra turned to Maya. “Have them ask if it was someone in Stephen’s office!”
Maya texted on her phone.
They could see Markey on the TV screen receive the text and give it a cursory glance.
“We know it was someone in the Senator’s office. Come on, Kyle. Hot? Warm? Cold? Things will go so much better for you if you just come clean with us.”
His eyes blinked uncontrollably.
He was close to breaking.
“We’re not here to play a game of Twenty Questions. When you have hard evidence, call me,” the lawyer said, gathering up her papers and stuffing them in her colorful briefcase that looked like something out of My Little Pony.
“One name, just give us one name, and we could make half the charges you’re facing just go away,” Rhodes said sweetly.
The lawyer stood up. “Let’s go, Kyle.”
But Kyle stayed glued to his seat not sure what he should do.
“Have them throw out the name Suzanne!” Sandra shouted.
Maya’s eyes widened. “Do you honestly believe it could have been her? You’ve always said she was so loyal.”
“She is, but maybe he’ll cough up the real name.”
Maya texted Markey again.
They could see on the monitor Markey’s eyes flick to her phone, then back up at Kyle. “Was it Suzanne? Did she give you the Senator’s log-in information?”
Kyle said nothing but was involuntarily shaking his head no.
“Think of the awesome plea deal you could make with the DA if you gave us one name; just one little name, how hard could that be? Tick tock, Kyle, time’s running out,” Markey teased.
“Why are you talking plea deal? He hasn’t even been charged with anything yet!” the lawyer bellowed, grabbing Kyle by the sleeve of his jacket, trying to physically yank him out of the conference room. She almost had him out the door when he suddenly grabbed the doorframe to stop himself, causing his lawyer to let go and stumble, nearly falling to the floor outside the conference room.
Beads of sweat were now pouring down Kyle’s face as he screamed at Markey and Rhodes, “Preston! It was Preston! Preston Lambert!”
His lawyer was red-faced and ready to explode.
Rhodes casually reached for the lone peanut butter cookie left on the paper plate in front of her and picked it up. “Good boy, Kyle. Have a cookie.”