Chapter 51
Brenda called the next morning. "I’ve got more bad news for you. None of those suits matched the fiber we found on Sydney Hollister."
"What!?" I exclaimed in disbelief.
"I don't know what to tell you. They're not even remotely the same."
I frowned with disappointment and thanked her for the effort.
It didn't make sense. I was convinced Bryce was responsible.
Then I decided to check the credit card receipts that Isabella had sent me.
I missed it the first time around. The Trident had a number of in-house services for residents—dog walking, laundry, dry cleaning.
Billed separately from rent, incidentals were charged to tenants’ credit cards that were on file.
Bryce had numerous incidental charges from the Trident. I didn't even consider it at first.
I pulled myself out of bed, hustled down to the main deck, and banged on the hatch to JD’s stateroom. "Get up. We've got one more shot at pinning this on Bryce."
I called the cute concierge at the Trident and asked her who they contracted with for dry cleaning. She told me the name of the facility.
"If any dry cleaning comes back for Bryce, hold it for me. I have a warrant."
“You got it.”
I ended the call, then used the online portal to submit an application for a warrant to extend the scope of our search. The county had switched over to an E-warrant system. Now everything would be signed electronically.
I had the expanded warrant in no time.
After we stuffed microwaved breakfast tacos in our mouths and pulled ourselves together, we hopped in the Porsche and headed across town to the dry cleaner. The sharp smell of perchloroethylene hit my nose as we stepped inside. Stiff shirts and suits hung on moving racks.
I flashed my badge and asked to see any suits that belonged to Bryce Van Allen.
The clerk didn't even care about the warrant.
He left the counter and went rummaging through the racks of clothing and returned with a single suit.
I was willing to wager a large fortune that the color was Imperial Navy.
I took the suit, bagged it as evidence, and we hurried back to the station to log it in.
The lab would be able to look at it under a high-powered microscope and determine if the quality of the fiber was similar to the mohair we found.
It would take a little longer to confirm it was from the same dye lot.
When they did, we caught up with Bryce at his office—this time with an arrest warrant.
We stormed the lobby, decked out in full tactical gear with AR-15s. Erickson and Faulkner backed us up.
The receptionist looked mortified.
"Looking for Bryce Van Allen," I said
She stammered. "In his office. Do you want me to…?”
I shook my head and continued down the hallway to find the scumbag.
He was on the phone when we swarmed his office. His bewildered eyes took in the aggressive barrels now aimed at him. In a subtle voice, he said, "I'm gonna need to call you back." He hung up the phone and forced a smile. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"
"Bryce Van Allen, you're under arrest for the murder of Sydney Hollister.”
His smile faded, and his face grew tight. I'm sure he thought he was in the clear. Maybe he forgot about the suit at the dry cleaner’s. Maybe he just couldn't bear to part with the expensive suit.
I slapped the cuffs around his wrists and escorted him out of his office. He kept his mouth shut and didn't give us any trouble.
I read him his rights as I perp-walked him through the building. We took the elevator down to the first floor, and I escorted him across the atrium to a patrol car that waited outside. I stuffed him into the back and slammed the door.
JD had an ear to ear grin. "I love it when it all comes together."
We hopped into the Porsche, drove back to the station, and filled out an after-action report. After Bryce had enough time to stew in the interrogation room, we paid him a visit. But I knew how it would go. Bryce wasn't stupid.
The lawyer laughed as we stepped inside and took a seat across the table from him. "I'm just curious. What do you boys think you have on me?”
"I think you know exactly what we have."
"I need you to spell it out for me like I'm five.”
"A fiber found on Sydney Hollister's body is an exact match for one of your JP Ashcroft suits. That suit is custom-designed, and that color is also custom and specific to your suit. There is no other JP Ashcroft suit like it in the world," I said with confidence.
"And what exactly does that prove?” he said with a smile.
"It proves you had contact with the victim.”
He laughed and shook his head. “I want to speak with my attorney.”
That was the end of the interview.
JD and I pushed away from the table, walked to the door, and banged on it. A guard buzzed us out a moment later.
Bryce didn't seem concerned in the least.