Chapter 42 #15
“Officer Lamb, take a look at the office,” Markus said. “Make a note of anything that is obviously missing.”
Chandler gave him another hard look but escorted Lamb to the home office, leaving Markus alone to inspect the bathroom.
He stood in the doorway and told himself to look without expectation because something was off.
Where wouldn’t a raging man look for some clue about the person or persons who had supposedly invaded his home with or without the help of his fiancée?
Two sinks and cabinets. His and hers? But one toilet. With the seat and lid down. Usual? Somehow, he didn’t think Hampton would be that considerate.
Markus lifted the toilet lid. On the inside were two beautifully sharp thumbprints. He pulled out his phone and took a picture. Odds were good Hampton wouldn’t let him bring in a crime scene unit to lift the prints.
He studied the prints. What had been used…?
He opened one cabinet above a sink. Male body products.
The other cabinet was empty except for a small rectangular basket that held a makeup brush, charcoal eye shadow, a piece of paper, and an envelope.
Nothing on the envelope, but the paper held two sharp thumbprints that he would bet matched the ones on the inside of the toilet lid.
He’d also bet that the eye shadow that had been left behind had been used to make those prints.
Markus carefully slipped the paper into the envelope. He put the envelope and the eye shadow into his pocket, made sure the rest of the bathroom looked the same as when he entered, and returned to the bedroom moments before Lamb and Chandler returned.
“Anything?” Markus asked Lamb.
“A laptop appears to be missing from one of the desks,” Lamb replied. “Looks like some files were taken from a desk drawer.”
Markus looked at Chandler. “I assume Mr. Hampton has a home safe. Was anything taken from that?”
“No.” Chandler bit off the word.
“So the only valuables taken belonged to Ms. Nightingale?”
“It looks that way.”
Markus nodded. “We’ve seen everything we need to see.” At least in the apartment.
Chandler escorted them out of the apartment and down to the lobby, trying to herd Markus away from the security desk.
Not a chance.
Markus showed the security guard his ID again and said, “You have top-level security in this building, and you have security cameras. I’d like to see who came in with Rachel Nightingale—unless you have a reason to obstruct a police inquiry.”
The security guard hesitated, then glanced at Chandler.
Chandler’s face darkened with anger. “I haven’t had a chance to review the feed, so we’ll look at it together.”
“Much appreciated,” Markus said. Before leaving the precinct, he’d taken a minute to find an author photo of Rachel Nightingale so that he’d know her if he saw her—and he would know if Hampton was lying about his fiancée being one of the women who had entered the apartment.
Markus and Lamb followed Chandler to the building’s security room and viewed the morning’s feed from the camera in the lobby.
Rachel Nightingale and two other women walked in, each pulling a large suitcase.
They looked like they flirted a little with the security guard on duty before making their way to the elevators.
“Fast forward,” Markus said.
An hour later, the same three women with the same three suitcases walked out of the elevator, still looking like they were having a girl’s day out. The two women with Rachel Nightingale looked up at the security camera—and smiled.
Markus looked at Chandler, who stared at the screen.
“Do you recognize them?” Markus asked.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” Chandler stormed out of the security room.
Markus pulled out his phone and took a picture of the three women on the screen.
Then he looked the security guard in the eyes.
“I didn’t ask you to give me a printout of what’s on that screen because that would put you between a rock and a hard place—the rock being Chandler and the hard place being the King’s Hill police—so you don’t need to say anything about me taking a picture on my phone before you could stop me. ”
The security guard nodded.
Chandler wasn’t in the lobby when Markus and Lamb left the building. Markus waited until they reached their car before saying, “Your impression?”
“Clothes and jewelry are gone,” Lamb said.
“Also gone are a laptop and what I’m guessing were some important files.
Three women arrive with suitcases and leave with the same number of suitcases.
Nothing belonging to Alistair Hampton was taken.
Looks like his fiancée asked her friends to help her run away. ”
Markus nodded. “He claims she’s emotionally unstable.”
“Don’t abusers usually say something like that?”
He sighed. “Yeah. They do. I’ll call the boss and see how things are going at her end, and what she wants us to do next.”
Alistair Hampton stared at the screen, at the faces of the two women who looked up at the camera and smiled. Then he turned on Chandler. “You said you took care of those bitches.”
“I did.” Chandler pointed at the screen. “That is not possible.”
Alistair looked at the screen. “You’d better be right about that.”
Maybe this was all a con. Had to be. The woman pretending to be Rachel had been too fat, and the other two women…
Besides, one of Chandler’s men had called and said Rachel had been spotted at the main branch of the public library and would be reacquired.
But his fiancée hadn’t been reacquired, and the police were sniffing around and might find out some things that were none of their business.
And where the hell was Jeremy Swayne?
29
Grace Russell studied the pictures of the two women that the bank manager, Mr. Danvers, had ready to hand over.
“You’re sure this was Rachel Nightingale?” she asked.
“Of course I’m sure!” Danvers replied. “She is—or was—a good client, and I was very sorry to see that the other woman had influenced her to close all her accounts and move her funds to…well, I’m not sure where, but they did have an account number and the funds did transfer. All the funds.”
“And you think this wasn’t Ms. Nightingale’s decision?”
“I’m sure of it. When I suggested contacting Mr. Hampton before Ms. Nightingale took such a drastic step, the other woman threatened me.”
“She threatened you with bodily harm?”
Danvers hesitated. “No, she threatened my reputation, and the reputation of the bank.”
Officer Laci Tower stared at Danvers. “Imagine that—a woman taking offense at being told she needed a man’s permission to access her own money.”
Tower by name, tower by stature. That Laci wore her hair in a buzz cut and had a deep voice added to her ability to intimidate just by standing there.
Amused by Danvers putting the teller between himself and Tower, Grace held on to her professional demeanor, but it was hard work.
“Not just any man, her fiancé,” Danvers finally said, his voice defiant and a little squeaky.
“I’m not seeing a ring on her left hand,” Tower said. “Do you see one, Captain? I remember seeing a picture of Rachel Nightingale when the engagement was announced, and she was wearing a big ring. You couldn’t miss it.”
“Did she say anything about that?” Grace asked.
Danvers didn’t reply, but the teller tapped the ring finger of her own left hand and shook her head. Maybe Hampton was no longer a fiancé.
“So the woman with Ms. Nightingale threatened to smear your reputation if you called Mr. Hampton,” Grace continued. “Do you want to tell us exactly what was said?”
Danvers claimed he couldn’t recall exactly what was said, so Grace and Laci left the bank with a picture of the two women who had cleaned out Rachel Nightingale’s accounts.
Laci’s phone rang. Grace continued walking to the car, focusing her thoughts on the other woman in the picture.
Something about that person had scared Danvers enough that he’d defied Alistair Hampton’s attempt to get information about Nightingale’s accounts.
She needed to find out what that something was—and if it was somehow connected with the cell phone that was being held at Penwych’s 13th precinct.
“Rachel Nightingale used to live in an upscale, artsy neighborhood in King’s Hill,” Laci said when she met Grace at the car.
“Stands to reason she would have used a bank in the same neighborhood.” She pulled up a map on her phone.
“If a woman is looking to hold on to running-away money, she won’t put it in the same bank that’s used by the man she’s running from, especially if she believes that man can influence the people working at that bank to spy on her and give him information about her accounts.
And she’s going to use a branch of that other bank that’s convenient.
Whatever mode of transportation she used, there is a bank and a post office within three blocks of the main branch of the library. ”
“Where her phone was found,” Grace murmured. “All right, let’s go with your hunch and check out the bank and post office. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Grace took the bank while Laci checked the post office.
Yes, Ms. Nightingale still came in often, since her royalties were deposited directly into her account at the bank.
Yes, she had a safe deposit box, which she accessed this morning when she also closed out her account and requested a cashier’s check for the full amount.
There was some concern because Ms. Nightingale had gotten so thin and the staff had wondered quietly if she might be ill because she did mention to the teller that she was moving away for her health and that was the reason she was closing her account.
At Grace’s request, the bank manager provided a picture from the security cameras of Rachel Nightingale and her companion, who was not the same woman who had been with her at the other bank.
She thanked the bank manager and teller for their help and left, meeting Laci at the car.