Chapter 15 #3
“We’re coming up on forty-eight hours,” he said. “And we’ve got nothing except immoral people and sordid liaisons. You should go to bed. I know you’re tired. I need to work a couple of more hours.”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I picked up my tea and drank, and then I followed him to the office.
Doug was at the conference table with his laptop and an energy drink, having a spirited debate with Margot about the God of War series.
Oscar was sitting on the couch, waiting for us to get settled so he could relax.
I was glad to see Margot had forgone her avatar and it was just her voice we were hearing.
“Jack, darling,” she said. “Gerald Fitch’s formal statement came in while you were out. The deputy walked him through photos. He couldn’t make a match from any of them.”
“So our after-hours visitor is still unidentified,” Jack said, dropping into his chair.
“For now,” Margot said.
“Margot,” Jack said. “Run a deep background on Tasha Crider. She’s one of our black book victims Plank and Wachowski interviewed today. She admitted to the blackmail and that she’s still paying. She doesn’t have an alibi for the night of the murder.”
“Be right back, sugar.” She was back in under two minutes. “Tasha Crider. Thirty-one. Dental hygienist in King George Proper. Four foot eleven, ninety-eight pounds.” A pause. “Her driver’s license says five foot one, but I found medical records that say otherwise.”
“We’ll just ignore that you violated HIPAA and move on.”
“Wade was a big man,” I said. I thought about the blood spatter on the wall above the headboard—high, forceful, the first blow delivered from behind.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “It would be a stretch for her to have the force to do the damage that was done from the blows, much less her being able to move the body.”
“Excellent deductions,” Margot said. “You’re like Sherlock and Watson. I quite enjoyed that series. Benedict Cumberbatch would make an excellent lover.”
Doug choked on his energy drink.
“Derby sent something else,” Jack said, looking at his laptop.
“Verizon came through. Phone logs for Wade’s personal cell.
Derby says he’s still waiting on the iCloud information but should have it soon.
” He opened the email so it was projected onto the whiteboard.
Six pages of call and text records—incoming, outgoing, time stamps, duration. Numbers with no names.
“Margot,” Jack said. “Pull the numbers from the log, eliminate any spam or automated calls, and group what’s left by frequency and timing.”
“Already done,” she said. “I integrated with the email the moment Jack opened it.”
“Margot, we’ve talked about this,” Jack said. “You can’t have access to my email. There are boundaries.”
“But you want me to read the email,” she said.
“Yes, but I’ve given you official permission. You can’t just go through people’s emails whenever you want.”
“Whatever you say, sugar. So am I looking at this email I’ve already read in its entirety, or am I pretending I haven’t received permission yet?”
“Just put the data on-screen,” he said with a sigh.
“Well, if you insist,” she said. “I’ve traced every number on this list. Paige Marsh—who, for the record, attempted to reach him fourteen times after their breakup and received nothing in return.
A sister in North Carolina and his mom in Florida.
Multiple calls with an attorney from Devaney, Fogle and Lowman—it’s an office line so I can’t tell you which attorney specifically.
And then there’s the numbers that match with the member roster.
If I use my Sherlock powers I can deduce that the women who have his personal cell and whose initials are in the black book are a high probability for blackmail.
I will send the information to Plank to help them narrow down their search.
I’ll use your email address, if you don’t mind. ”
“Margot—”
“Just kidding,” she said. “I’ll compile everything neat and tidy for you and then you can pretend you did all the work and hit the send button.”
“Do you have anything else?” he asked, obviously at the end of his patience.
“Since you asked so nicely,” she said, a laugh in her voice.
“There’s one number that doesn’t match his pattern or match with the member roster.
The first contact was two months ago, initiated by him.
Since then they connected more than two hundred times through calls or text messages.
Conversations ranged from five minutes to over three hours in length. And there were multiples of those.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Did he have other long phone calls?”
“None,” she replied.
“Why do you ask?” Doug asked, looking at me curiously.
“Because that’s a man who’s infatuated,” I said. “The early stages of a relationship when you’re on the phone for hours and texting constantly. He was seeing someone.”
“When was the last time they made contact?” Jack asked.
“A series of text messages were sent starting just after eight o’clock on the night he died. Messages ended at nine-forty.”
“Because she showed up in person,” Jack said.
Margot brought the information on-screen, and I froze.
“Is that who I think it is?” I said.