Chapter 13 #2
She walked out without waiting for us. The receptionist looked up as we came through the lobby and then found something else to look at.
Outside the festival noise hit us again, and we walked back toward the car.
My phone rang and I recognized the name on my screen.
“Dr. Goodman,” I said. “That was fast work.”
“Only because you promised me tickets behind home plate for the Nationals game.”
“It’s the American way,” I said.
“Turns out your boy was testing almost twice the recommended dosing of testosterone for what naturally occurs in a thirty-five-year-old man. He was positive for testosterone cypionate and nandrolone decanoate.”
“That’s consistent with what we found in his condo,” I said.
“I don’t want to tell you how to do business, but that doesn’t seem like it’s worth Nationals tickets to me.”
“I’m a terrible gambler,” I said. “What else do you have for me?”
“Seminal swab you sent from the victim came back with female epithelial cells. We were able to match those to the DNA found on the sheets and the women’s underwear.”
“Got to tidy up all the loose ends and make sure they make a nice bow.”
“All in all,” Goodman said. “This isn’t much to write home about. But thanks for the tickets.”
“I figure you’ll remember me for next time.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see.” And then he hung up.
“Got confirmation on the drugs in Wade’s system,” I told Jack. “And female epithelial cells were found in my seminal swab, so he’d had sex prior to death.”
“And no time to shower,” Jack said. “Seems like a guy as particular as Wade was about order and cleanliness would be Johnny-on-the-spot not to linger.”
Jack veered toward the front entry of The Windsor instead of the Tahoe.
When we stepped inside it wasn’t Brett Callum standing behind the desk, but another man. He looked to be in his early fifties with a salt-and-pepper crew cut.
“Can I help you folks?” he asked. His name badge said Ben Landers.
Jack showed his badge.
“Ahh,” the man said. “Y’all need to get back upstairs?”
“That would be great, actually,” Jack said. “But I wanted to ask if you ever had anyone come and leave an envelope for Wade Rivers.”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “A few times.”
“The same woman?”
“No, different,” he said. “But I recognized them. Most of them have been here before. Wade was a fitness coach of some sort.”
“Any idea what was in the envelopes?”
“I’m no expert, but it felt like it might be a lot of cash,” he said with a shrug. “But the envelopes were sealed, so I can’t be sure. But I’ve held an envelope of cash a time or two in my life. Figured they were just paying him under the table so he didn’t have to pay taxes, know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Mind if we head up?”
“Sure,” he said. “Let me grab the key from Jessica’s office.”
He came back a minute later and said, “Just take the elevator up. I let Jessica know you’re here. She wants to know when a cleaning crew can come.”
“It’ll be a couple of more days,” Jack said. “We’ll send a crime scene cleanup team to take care of things, and then Wade’s next of kin and Ms. Marsh can come collect any belongings.”
“I’ll let her know,” he said. “There’s a wait list for these condos. Though between you and me, I wouldn’t be too excited to stay in one where a man just died.”
We made our way toward the elevator and saw it was already waiting open. Jack punched the button for four.
“Plank sent a text while you were on the phone with the lab,” he said. “He and Wachowski have found six of our black book women.”
“That’s good work. I’m curious to hear what Wade’s financial records show,” I said, stepping off the elevator.
Jack looked down at the key in his hand and said, “Jessica keeps the master key in her office. I wonder how many people know it’s there. And how hard it is to access.”
“Jessica would certainly have access,” I said.
“What was your impression of her?” Jack asked.
“I didn’t like her,” I said immediately. “She seemed desperate and like she’s trying too hard to be younger than she is. Like one of those girls who never gets past high school.”
“It doesn’t make her a killer,” Jack said.
“No, but she had the hots for the victim and no one can verify her alibi.”
Jack used the key and unlocked the door of the condo. It smelled stale, the lingering scent of fingerprint powder and blood prevalent.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Give me a minute,” Jack said.
He walked through the living room without touching anything and into the bedroom. I followed him to the doorway and watched.
He stood in the center of the room for a moment, just looking.
Not at anything specific—at all of it. The way the furniture was arranged.
The angle of the bed to the door. The mirrors.
The dark stain on the hardwood floor where Wade had fallen, and the spatter pattern on the wall behind it—cast-off, medium velocity, the shape of it telling a story if you knew how to read it.
Jack walked to the far side of the room, near the window, and turned around.
“He was here,” he said.
I looked at where Jack was standing. Facing the bed. Back to the door.
“His back was to the entrance,” I said.
“Full back,” Jack said. “Not angled. Not turned partway. Whoever came through that door, Wade didn’t see them coming.
Didn’t hear them. Didn’t react in time.” He looked at the floor, at the distance from where he stood to the stain.
“A man like Wade—vain, controlled, hyperaware of himself in a room—doesn’t stand with his back to a door unless he’s completely distracted. ”
“Sex would be a distraction,” I said. “If there was a woman in this room she’d be a witness to murder.”
“Maybe we just haven’t found her body yet.”
“Chilling thought.”
“We need to find her,” Jack said.
We left the condo, and Jack was locking up when the door across the hall swung open.
There was a thin man in his mid-forties with wire-rimmed glasses, a Virginia Tech T-shirt, and flamboyant American flag shorts that showed off knobby knees.
“Oh thank God,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “I was starting to think no one was ever coming back. Gerald Fitch.” He extended his hand to Jack and then to me like someone who attended a lot of networking events.
“I live directly across from the scene of the crime, which, I have to say, has made the last two days absolutely surreal.”
“Sheriff Lawson,” Jack said. “This is Dr. Graves. Did you know Mr. Rivers?”
“Know him?” Gerald pressed his lips together.
“I knew of him, which was more than enough. This hallway was like a runway show on a good night. Women coming and going at all hours, primping in the elevator mirror—yes, I’ve seen them, the elevator has a very flattering light and they all know it.
And he runs a business out of his condo.
Monkey business if you ask me. That’s got to be illegal.
I complained to Jessica three times. Three.
And every time she looked at me like I’d asked her to deport someone she loved.
I don’t know what that man had over her but whatever it was, it worked. ”
“You weren’t home Wednesday morning when we canvassed the floor,” Jack said.
“I’m in the office by six. I’m an actuary. We don’t sleep in.” He waved a hand as if this was common knowledge. “I heard you knocked.”
“Were you home Tuesday night?” Jack asked.
“I was.” He adjusted his glasses. “I went to bed at ten thirty just like always. I have a very consistent sleep schedule. But before that I took my trash to the chute at the end of the hall, which is when I saw her.”
“Saw who?” Jack asked.
Gerald brightened. This was clearly the part he’d been waiting for, and he leaned in to share whatever juicy tidbit he’d been holding.
“Like I said, I was taking my trash down to the chute when this woman got off the elevator.” He put his hand on his hip.
“Petite. And she had great hair. That silvery blond that you can only get in a salon. That color is hard to maintain. My friend Kevin tried to do it, but it got too expensive and then his hair fell out when he tried to do it at home.” Gerald sighed and shook his head.
“Anyway, she was wearing this little black dress that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
I haven’t had a lot of experience with breasts, but I don’t think hers were real.
But she was gorgeous in a Sydney Sweeney kind of way if that’s your type—” he gestured to himself, “obviously it’s not mine. ”
“You saw her go to Wade’s condo?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “She didn’t even realize I was there. She rang the bell and then she was inside a second later. I heard her giggling just before the door slammed.”
“You didn’t recognize her?” I asked.
“I might have seen her a time or two before. I try not to spy on my neighbors. Though in my opinion Wade could’ve been more circumspect.
I looked out my window once and he was doing it in the pool like some porn star.
I reported that too, and I thought for sure Jessica would do something about it because she was pissed. But who knows?”
“Did you hear her leave?” Jack asked.
“No,” he said. “But these condos are soundproof, and I sleep with my sound machine on and my blackout curtains drawn. I sleep like a baby at night.”
“I need to have one of my deputies stop by and take a formal statement from you,” Jack said. “Maybe show you a few pictures and see if you can point her out.”
“Of course I can point her out,” he said, indignantly. “I have an excellent memory. Oh, and sheriff, make sure you send a cute deputy. I could use a little fireworks.”
He closed the door in our faces, and I looked at Jack as I tried to hold in a laugh.
“Well,” I said. “Who are you going to send?”
“Too bad Martinez is out for the weekend,” Jack said. “It would be worth it just to hear the replay.”
I laughed as we headed back to the elevator and downstairs.
Ben was right where we’d left him, and Jack handed the key back.
“Who has access to master keys?” Jack asked him.