Страница 36 из 61
“But there was equipment,” Tess insisted, examining the armoire. In the back, several small holes had been bored into the wood so cords could be passed through.
“Like I said, I hadn’t come over to see Mr. Grace for a couple of years. He liked the younger kids, mainly.” Again, he seemed to know what Tess was thinking. “Not like that. When you’re little, it’s not embarrassing, doing that shit, ru
Tess studied the living room, best as she could see it in the dim light. Nothing else seemed missing, or off. The television was light enough and, although not a flat-screen, new enough to fetch a decent sum at a pawnshop. If there had been a burglary, why not take that as well?
“What’s upstairs?”
“Bedrooms,” said the playboy of Northeast Baltimore, leering, and Tess froze him with a look. “Not trashed or anything,” he added. “I been coming and going from here since he died, and I ain’t noticed anything missing. He didn’t really have any friends. Just the little kids.”
“You left the window unlatched?”
He shrugged, almost proudly. He wasn’t altogether dim-witted. Tess stared him down.
“The first time, I came through the cellar,” he admitted. “He has them Wizard of Oz doors.”
It took her a second to get that reference, but it made her smile. Some old Baltimore houses did have storm cellar doors, although tornadoes were rare.
“Once I pried them open, I bolted ’em shut from the inside. I just leave the one window unlocked, on the back porch.”
“Very considerate,” Tess conceded. “How about I give you guys a ride home? It’s getting late, and it’s a school night.”
“Well, we don’t live far…” he began, then realized it hadn’t really been a question.
“And I’ll take the beer,” Tess said. “For your own good.”
“Like you never drank when you was my age.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying I didn’t get caught.” She regarded the beer with little affection. Crow could always use it for crab boil, she guessed. “By the way, drink what you want, but when it comes to birth control, don’t do that on the cheap, okay? That’ll cost you.”
Chapter 21
Martin Tull was, as Tess had assured Flip, good police. Smart, methodical, with a kind of confidence that can’t be faked and a work ethic that few could equal. While some detectives welcomed homicides because they started the overtime clock, Tull was inclined to work eighteen-hour days no matter the circumstances. Going on nine-thirty, it was a toss-up whether he would be free, but Tess decided to try to lure him out anyway.
“A man has to eat,” she said persuasively. “And drink.”
He agreed to meet her at Burke’s, a reliable all-night refuge, the kind of place that made its living off cops, emergency room perso
“A shot of whiskey would be healthier,” she said. “It reduces stress. And who knows how long that coffeepot has been sitting on the burner?”
“I love the coffee here,” he said. “It’s boiled down to the essence. It’s like… caffeine syrup.”
“Are you trying to get a second wind, or just maintaining for the drive home?”
“Home, I guess. We can’t find the boyfriend. Which, of course, makes me happy in the long run – just convinces me that he’s the one we want – but I wouldn’t have minded finding him today.”
“So, a dunker?”
“I think so, yeah. Based on how his family’s acting. Alternating between ‘Oh, JJ just disappears sometimes, goes fishing up at Deep Creek Lake when the weather is like this,’ then, in the next breath, mentioning what a bitch the dead girl is, how badly she behaved, and then ‘Not that we’d wish any harm on her.’”
“Behaved badly how?”
“JJ was convinced there was another guy – his mother let that slip, and tried to backpedal. From what I gather, the two were high school sweethearts, years ago, got back together in the past year, but the mother never thought the girl’s heart was in it.”
“What did they say at his job?” Tess asked, knowing that Tull would have checked with the suspect’s co-workers as well.
“All they know is that his mom called in early Wednesday, said he was sick, too sick to even talk on the phone, expected to be out all week. Look, I’ve got a patrol on his house. He’s going to try and come back, maybe as early as tonight. He’s not bright. Even his own mother isn’t putting him forward for genius status. He’s probably scared and freaked out, trying to figure out if there’s anywhere he can go on the lam. But he doesn’t have the resources.”
Tess whisked a mozzarella stick through the marinara sauce. She had always liked this particular brand of bar food, but her fondness for it had soared when it was demonized by the Center for Nutrition and Public Policy as one of the worst possible foods to eat. She kept a mental list of such foods – pad thai, kung pao chicken, fettuccine Alfredo – and tried to eat them as frequently as possible.
“I know the rule of thumb is that the obvious suspect is the obvious suspect,” Tess said. “My only concern is if there’s any co
“If the problems stop now, you’ll know.”
“Yes, or maybe someone else will have figured that out as well, and will use this as an opportunity.” She was thinking of Selene. If she had been creating the problems on set, what would she do now? What if she had hired Greer’s ex-boyfriend to be her private little troublemaker, and he had been sidetracked by whatever had happened between him and Greer? Selene’s trip to New York could have been an elaborate alibi. Only – did it even count as an alibi? She could have left the restaurant anytime after Tess passed out. She was spotted at Pe
It was all very interesting, but Tess was working for Flip, and the last thing Flip wanted was for his star to be co
Back in Selene’s condo, Whitney poured Tess a glass of port.
“Roomies again,” she said, toasting her. “After all these years. But is this the future we envisioned for ourselves, babysitting a spoiled twenty-year-old?”
“I can hear you.” Selene’s voice came from the living room, where she was watching a huge plasma television with the sound turned off. Selene used the television the way a baby interacted with the mobiles hung over a crib, lying back and letting the images wash over her, although without any evidence of intellectual stimulation.
“I wanted you to,” Whitney assured her. “I want you to hear every syllable that emanates from my mouth. I’m going to school you, girl.”
Tess snorted port. Whitney attempting the outmoded slang of school was too fu