Chapter 37
"Ican't confirm this," Hendrick said, "but I am hearing chatter about the Codex,” he said in a salacious voice. “I've heard whispers that it's on the market and available."
"Who are you hearing this from?" I asked.
"I can't divulge my sources. But it might be in your best interest to get back to the convention and start snooping around. That is what you do, isn't it?"
Hendrick was a shit starter, but I didn’t mind.
"Thanks for the heads up. If you have anything more concrete, please get in touch."
"Just doing my part," he said, then added, “You didn’t hear this from me, but you should talk to Devon Anderson. He might have more insight.”
“I’ll keep that between us.”
“I would appreciate it. I suspect you’ll find him at the hotel bar, wheeling and dealing.”
“Can you confirm that?”
“Yes. I’m looking right at him. You should hurry.”
I ended the call.
I wasn’t sure what his motive was for giving us the information.
He didn't strike me as a particularly altruistic person. But maybe a rival of his had an angle on the book. Hendrick struck me as the kind of guy who didn’t like to lose.
If he couldn't have something, he didn't want anybody else to have it, either.
We drove back to the convention, parked the car with the valet, then hurried inside. We made our way to the bar and spotted Hendrick right away. He sat at a high-top table, sipping a martini.
We made eye contact, and he gave a nod across the bar to a booth. Devon sat across the table from another gentleman. They shared a drink and a few laughs, but there was no mistaking this was a business meeting.
Devon was in his mid-50s with wavy dark hair, a trimmed mustache and goatee, and a navy suit.
The gentleman he talked to was a little older, bald, and wore thick square glasses.
We took a seat at a high-top table, not too close to Hendrick, and not too far from Devon. A cute waitress sauntered by and took our drink order. Strictly for purposes of cover, we obliged.
“Nothing for her,” I said, nodding to Daphne.
She scowled at me.
“Don’t let him control you like that,” the waitress said to her. “If you want a drink, honey, get a drink.”
I gave her an incredulous look. With a discrete flash of the badge, I said, “She’s in custody. She killed six people, including three waitresses.”
Mortified, the waitress stiffened.
Daphne shrugged, playing along with it.
The waitress spun around and strutted away. I wasn’t sure we’d get our drinks.
Devon shook hands with the older gentleman. The two shared a smile before the man slid out of the booth and went about his way. Devon stayed at the table. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. His thumbs danced across the screen as he sent a few texts.
This was his office for the time being.
I figured we'd sit back and observe for a moment. Devon didn't look in a hurry to go anywhere. Another waitress stopped by his table, and he ordered another round. It wasn't even noon yet, but that wasn't stopping anybody here.
A few minutes later, a surprising figure stepped into the bar.
I nudged JD and motioned to Douglas Caldwell's daughter, Kenzie.
She glanced around the bar, looking for someone. Then she spotted Devon and hurried to join him. She slid into the booth with an intense look on her face. This wasn't a casual encounter.
Kenzie looked a little pale and strung out. She’d been through the wringer. She had a sickly pallor with sunken eyes. I watched her interact with Devon. That's when I noticed her shoes.
I cringed, and that sick sensation twisted in my stomach. I didn't want to think what I was thinking. I said to JD, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but those look like the same shoes the female assailant wore during the Caldwell incident."
Recognition flashed in Jack's eyes, then he deflated too. It was sad to think Kenzie might be involved. I pulled up the surveillance footage from the Caldwell residence, and we watched it again on my phone. The red canvas sneakers were unmistakable.
After watching Kenzie and Devon for a few moments, I figured it was a good time to say hello. That was about the time the waitress returned with our drinks. Jack paid the tab, and I marched to Devon‘s booth.