Try, Try Again Theresa
Try, Try Again
Theresa
Theresa and Drake take a booth at the deserted Waffle House down the street from the hospital. This time of day, the place should be hopping, but for some odd reason, it’s just them, a waitress, and a line cook. After sweet teas are dropped on the table and their orders taken, Drake speaks.
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell if she’s legitimately scrambled or lying through her teeth.”
“There’s an awful lot at stake for her. If she knows where he is—”
“If she knows where the money is. That’s the important part.”
“Either one. It’s early, though. She’s just coming off the sedation. Let’s give her a few days and try again.”
“All right. What are our next steps?”
Before he can answer, their food arrives. Theresa watches Drake doctor his sausage bowl with liberal amounts of salt and pepper. “You’re a walking heart attack, all that sodium.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says, shoveling some in with a happy sigh. “What do we know about Brooklyn? Other than it looks like her husband is trying to off her like he did his first wife?”
“Brilliant photographer. Won a couple of big awards. Have you read her bio? She’s a walking billboard of accomplishments.
Traveled all over the world, photos in major magazines, even a TV stint.
I spoke with her boss at the magazine where she currently works, and they were in talks to start a new television series with her at the helm. ”
“But the big claim to fame is her time with Roger Bandolier, right? She did two years with his show.”
“That’s right. Did you ever watch it?”
Drake scoffs. “Naw. I’m not much of a gourmet. But I know who he is—everyone in the world does.”
“It was good. Really gives you a sense of different parts of the world. You can start with the first season and watch all the way through, but I like the last one. He’s a tortured soul, but man, he loved his food.”
“So why’d she leave?”
“Because he died. When he overdosed in France, the whole show and everything around it shut down. She went back to freelancing for the food magazines. Met Locke a few months later.”
Drake’s quiet for a minute, toying with his napkin.
“You do believe Andrew killed Chloe Locke, yes?” he asks.
“Yes, I do. Always have. Though there wasn’t much in it for him then, outside of the freedom to not be saddled with a kid. Which is really cold.”
“Some people really don’t want kids. You and I, for example.”
“That’s different. We’re cops. We see too much. Besides, he didn’t seem to hesitate to have them with Brooklyn.”
“True.” He fiddles with the tiny napkin.
“As far as a motive, it’s a little late for buyer’s remorse.
She dies and he’s left with two motherless waifs?
We know they weren’t having money issues—outside of him emptying their accounts at the end.
Her career seems to be on track, happy little family, only Dad’s embezzling gazillions, God knows why.
Do they fight? Could he need her out of the way so he’s not saddled with her, and the kids get raised by the aunt? ”
“That’s possible, but according to the sister, who is very close to them both, they have a solid marriage.
I interviewed her extensively right after the accident.
By all accounts, they’ve been devoted to each other and the kids since the night they met.
If you think about it, he’d just lost his wife, she’d just lost her livelihood.
They were destined to find each other, that’s what Margot said. ”
“Do we know how they found each other?”
“Just that they were staying at the same hotel somewhere in Mexico and were inseparable from the first night. She got pregnant right away. They traveled around until it was time to have the kid and came back to the States. Settled in Nashville, he went to work for her uncle, she had the kids and started at the company she works for now. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Drake was giving her a look.
“What about the parents?”
“Brooklyn’s? According to the sister, their mom’s dead, their dad is remarried and lives in Florida.”
“What do we know about him? What’s his name?”
She pulls out her notebook. “Roman Thomas. And we don’t know much, because I haven’t focused on him. He’s been out of the picture since their mom died.”
“Well, he’s a blood relative. Kin. And brother to Bob Gussin, right? If something happens to Andrew and Brook, are we sure he’s not a beneficiary?”
“I haven’t seen his name on any of the paperwork, but now that you mention it, it’s strange that he hasn’t come to visit his daughter in the hospital, isn’t it?”
Drake smiles and finishes off his bacon. “A lead, Macduff.”
“Maybe. If you’re finished raising your blood pressure, let’s go check him out. Maybe the Gussins will have some insights for us.”
Theresa has been a cop for a very long time. She knows that if you pick at a knot long enough, it almost always unravels.
Theresa’s phone dings as she buckles her seat belt. It’s a text from Armstrong. She reads it aloud.
ID on the two men in the photo. Call me.
She does. “I’ve got you on speaker with Agent Sheehan.”
“Hello, Agent. The driver is Otto Deppe. Last known address is from Ohio back in 2017, before the pandemic. He’s got a record, petty stuff.
The other guy is more interesting. Aleksey Ivanovich Durov.
Russian national. Interpol’s been looking for him, there’s a Red Notice for charges in two other countries.
He served time in a French prison for drug charges, and when he got out took off for parts unknown. ”
“Well, he’s here in the States now,” Drake says with relish.
“And a murder suspect. I’ll have my people get in touch with Interpol right away.
We can enter that information into NCIC and issue a BOLO for both of them.
Get ICE and Border Patrol in on the fun.
You know how much they love to hunt down international fugitives. ”
“Roger that. I can send the information to your email, Theresa. I assume you can take it from here, Agent Sheehan?”
“With pleasure, Captain.”
They hang up.
“Russian, huh. That matches the accent I heard, for sure.”
“This is getting complicated.”
“Sure is. Shoot. I should have asked him where in France he was incarcerated.”
“I’ll be able to look that up when we get to a computer,” Drake says. “Why?”
“Maybe there’s a tie to Brooklyn. She was in France. Durov is after her husband. Maybe we’re looking at this wrong. Maybe this isn’t about Andrew at all.”