Chapter 14 #4
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was Helen in that video.
” Jules followed him, glancing back at the garden—Rene had said there were freshly planted flowers when she arrived in August?
But clearly no one had touched the weed-filled beds since then.
There were three of them, all slightly raised, with stone borders, set in a square U-shape around the patio that was just off the house.
“I want to touch base with all of them again. Paula and Cathy, too. Where are we going?”
“Driveway,” Sam said, turning the corner of the building where, yep, they were directly in front of the garage. Jules followed Sam’s gaze to the security camera on the left side of the structure, up by the roofline.
“You saw it, too,” Jules said. “On the video.”
“I have no clue,” Sam admitted, “but you said, Huh, so I figured you’d want this to be our next stop. Also it’s nice to have an extended breather from Rene, bless her judgmental heart.”
Jules nodded as he moved to get a closer look at the camera. “It is impressive though,” he pointed out, “how much she hates Harper, while pretending not to.”
“Is it Harper?” Sam wondered. “Or is it everyone? Or maybe Harper’s just plain hate-able. I kinda hate him myself. What did you see that made you go Huh?”
“I... don’t really know,” Jules admitted—except it was still bugging him.
“The frame seemed strange—it cut off this entire edge of the driveway, and there was a car parked over there and... I don’t know.
Maybe it’s nothing, but... Leaked video footage.
It obviously came from that camera.” He pointed up at it.
There was another camera on the other side of the garage—together their frames would surely overlap in the center—right where the JX220 had been parked with teen Wig-Milt inside. Was there footage, too, from that other camera?
Jesus, what had he seen? Jules made a mental note to watch that particular video clip again.
“So who leaked it to channel five?” he continued. “Gotta be Milt Senior. I mean, who gained the most from there not being a long, dragged-out paparazzi-field-day murder trial?”
“Milt Senior,” Sam agreed. “Although gotta give him props for not simply destroying the footage. His kid did what his kid did.”
“Nnnn,” Jules made an unhappy sound. “I dunno, Sam. We’ve heard nothing from anyone that makes me think he cared at all about his kid.”
“Yeah, you’re just on Team Wig-Milt,” Sam said. “There’s a soft spot in your heart for the lost and discarded.”
“Can you imagine ever discarding Ash?” Jules asked his friend, then answered for him. “Never, in a million years.”
Sam laughed a little as he obviously ceded the point to Jules. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I mean, who would do that to their kid?”
“More people than you’d think.” Jules gestured up at the cameras. “I wonder if these things still work.”
“Should be easy enough to find out.”
It was time to get back to it—Rene presumably didn’t have all day—but first... “Sorry I yelled.”
“Fucking hell, Cassidy, you’re allowed to be human. And you getting angry wasn’t half as scary as the you-not-getting-out-of-bed thing, if you want to know the hardcore truth.”
Jules sighed. “Yeah, that really scared Robin, too. He still hasn’t recovered.”
“He’s doing just fine. And we are, too. We’re allowed to thrash around in the deep end of the pool a bit before we figure out which way is up.”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing?”
“Yes, it is.”
“We need a Laronda,” Jules said. And at Sam’s sharply puzzled look, he said, “She’s Max’s executive assistant. She basically runs his entire counterterrorist team.”
“I know who Laronda is, Squidward.” Sam was a tad affronted. “I’m just wondering, runs or ran? If there’s anyone in your former team who couldn’t stomach staying on at the Bureau under the current clusterfuck, it’s Laronda.”
Jules realized that hadn’t been puzzlement on Sam’s face but rather calculation.
“Yeah, no,” he said. “Sam. Get real. Laronda’s never leaving Max.
” Years ago, recognizing greatness in the raw, Max Bhagat had pulled his administrative assistant Laronda out of the typing pool.
He’d made sure she stayed with him every step of his rise in the organization, and she was likewise as loyal.
If Max was still working for the FBI, she was, too.
“Laronda loves you a shit-ton, too,” Sam pointed out.
“Can’t hurt to ask. Give the woman some options.
” He got out his phone again. “She’s friendly with Alyssa.
I’m texting her right now, asking her to reach out.
And Wig-Milt gets a text, too. Call me, ASAP, motherfucker.
You got some ’splaining to do.” He glanced at Jules.
“You get to call Harper. He creeps me out.”
“Thanks ever so much.” Jules sighed as he dialed Harper’s office. The sooner they spoke to the lawyer, the better. But Sam was right. Ugh.
“Ernest Harper, Esquire,” the receptionist answered.
“Hi, Greg, it’s Jules Cassidy, from the Devonshire case? I have some additional questions for Mr. Harper, when he’s got a few minutes. In fact, I’d love to stop by, maybe first thing tomorrow...?”
“This week his schedule’s crazy,” Greg reported, “but I know this is a top priority for him, so... Lemme check.”
“Ooh, before you do, I still need contact info for the security team leader, his name’s Clayton Spencer. Can you remind him about that—unless that’s something you can give me...?”
“I’m gonna have to check and... I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks.” Jules pocketed his phone and looked at Sam.
“Okay, then. I’m ready to go back in there and find out more from Rene about how Wig-Milt threatened to kill Milt the Senior after getting out of jail for killing an innocent woman while joyriding in Daddy-Milt’s car—which is breaking news to the allegedly crack investigative team.
” He exhaled his disbelief. “Is this my life? I had a friend, back in high school who always used to say that: Is this really my life?”
“We’ll figure this goatfuck out. One step at a time,” Sam said soothingly. “We got this.”
“Right,” Jules said. And Sam was right. They were going to figure this out. “It isn’t as easy or uncomplicated as we thought it would be, but at least the danger factor’s zero. At least no one’s trying to kill us.”
Sam nodded as they headed back into the house. “At least there’s that.”