“Except the fingernails.”
“It’s the middle of the night, two in the morning, it’s late and it’s dark and they’re both panicking. They overlook some things. Subtleties like that.”
“One of them moves the body down to Hastings.”
“Eddie, I’m guessing.”
Bugbee thought a moment. “The gatehouse at Fenwicke Estates probably has records of who left when. We can see if Conover drove out of there some time after Eddie drove in. Or if it was just Eddie.”
“Which would tell you what?”
“If the shooting happened inside or outside Conover’s house, they had to move the body down to the Dumpster on Hastings. Which they’re going to do in a car. If both Conover and Rinaldi left Fenwicke Estates some time after two, then it could have been either one of them. But if only Eddie left, then it’s Eddie who moved it.”
“Exactly.” A moment of silence passed. “There are cameras everywhere around the community.”
Bugbee smiled. “If so, we got ’em.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. If we can get the surveillance tapes, we can confirm when Eddie entered and exited, sure.”
“Or Eddie and Conover.”
“Okay. But more important, we can see if Stadler came over. If Andrew Stadler entered. Then we’ve got Stadler’s whereabouts pinned down.”
Bugbee nodded. “Yeah.” Another pause. “Which means that Eddie has an unlicensed.380.”
“Why unlicensed?”
“Because I went through the safety inspection certificate files at the county sheriff’s department. He’s got paperwork for a Ruger, a Glock, a hunting rifle, couple of shotguns. But no.380. So if he’s got one, he doesn’t have any paper on it.”
“I’ve been pushing the state crime lab,” Audrey said. “I want to see if they can use their database to match the rounds we found in Stadler’s body with any other no-gun case anywhere.”
Bugbee looked impressed, but he just nodded.
“In any case, we’re going to need a search warrant to see what weapons Rinaldi has.”
“Not going to be a problem getting one.”
“Fine. If we find a.380 and we get a match…” She was starting to enjoy the genuine back-and-forth, even if Bugbee was still prickly and defensive.
“You’re dreaming. He can’t be that stupid.”
“We can always hope. What did he say about the phone call?”
“He was pretty slick. Said, yeah, he got a call from Conover that night, the alarm went off at Conover’s house and could he check it out. Said he was a little pissed off, but he went over there to check it out. You know, the shit you do to keep your boss happy. It was like no big deal. Did Conover put his foot in it?”
“No. He-well, it felt like he sort of evolved his story.”
“Evolved?”
“He didn’t revise his story right away. I reminded him that he’d said he slept through the night, and then I asked him about the phone call he made at two in the morning, and he owned right up to it. He said he must have got the days mixed up.”
“Happens. You believe him?”
“I don’t know.”
“He sound rehearsed?”
“It was hard to tell. Either he was telling the truth, or he’d done his homework.”
“Usually you can tell.”
“Usually. But I couldn’t.”
“So maybe he’s a good liar.”
“Or he’s telling the truth. The way I see it, he’s telling part of the truth. He called Eddie, Eddie came over-and that’s where the true part ends. Did Eddie say if he found anything when he looked around Conover’s yard?”
“Yeah. He said he found nothing.”
“That much they got straight,” Audrey said.
“Maybe too straight.”
“I don’t know what that means. Straight is straight. You know what? I say we ought to move quickly on this. The gun, the tape recorder-this is all stuff that they could do something about if they haven’t already. Toss the gun, delete the tape, whatever. Now that we’ve talked to them both separately, at the same time, they’re both going to be suspicious. If they’re going to destroy evidence, now is the time they’re going to do it.”
Bugbee nodded. “Talk to Noyce, put in for the warrants anyway in case we need them. I’ll make a couple of calls. Can you clear your schedule today?”
“Happy to.”
“Oh, I called that Stadler chick for a follow-up.”
“And?”
“She doesn’t know shit about what her father did on the night he was killed. Says he never said anything about Conover.”
“You think she’s telling you the truth?”
“I got no reason to think otherwise. My instinct tells me, yeah, she’s on the level.”
Audrey nodded. “Me too.”
A few minutes later, Bugbee came up to Audrey’s cubicle with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. “Wouldn’t you just know Nicholas Conover would use a company called Elite Professional Lawn Care? Sixteen days ago they hydroseeded the property around a house belonging to the CEO of the Stratton Corporation. The guy remembered it well-the architect, guy named Claflin, specified Penn Mulch. Said they had to put in a new gas line or something, tore up the old grass, and his client decided to put in a whole new lawn, replace the crappy old one. Lawn guy, he said it’s a waste of money to put stuff like that in the slurry, but he’s not going to argue. Not with a customer who has the big bucks, you know?”
59
Scott McNally tended to get into work around the same time as Nick did, around seven thirty. Normally, they and the other early arrivers sat at their desks working and doing e-mail, tended not to socialize, took advantage of the quiet time to get work done uninterrupted.
But this morning, Nick took a stroll across the floor to the other side and approached Scott’s cubicle quietly. He felt a pulse of fury every time he thought about how Scott had lied to him about going to that dude ranch in Arizona, had instead made a secret trip to mainland China. That coupled with what he’d learned from the Atlas McKenzie and the Homeland Security guys-these goddamned rumors that Stratton was quietly negotiating to “move the company to China,” whatever that meant exactly.
It was time to rattle Scott’s cage, find out what he was doing.
“Got any interesting vacation ideas?” Nick asked abruptly.
Scott looked up, startled. “Me? Come on, my idea of a great vacation is a Trekkie convention.” He caught the look on Nick’s face and laughed nervously. “I mean, well, Eden loves Parrot Cay in the Turks and Caicos.”
“Actually, I was thinking some place further east. Like Shenzhen, maybe? Where do you like to stay when you visit Shenzhen, Scott?”
Scott reddened. He looked down at his desk-it was almost a reflex, Nick noticed-and said, “I’ll go anywhere for a good mu shu pork.”
“Why, Scott?”
Scott didn’t answer right away.
“We both know how hard Muldaur’s been pushing for us to move manufacturing to Asia,” Nick said. “That what you’re doing for him? Checking out Chinese factories behind my back?”
Scott looked up from his desk, looking pained. “Look, Nick, right now Stratton is like a puppy with diarrhea, okay? Cute to look at, but no one wants to get too close. I’m not doing any of us any good if I don’t scout out these possibilities.”
“Possibilities?”
“I realize you find it upsetting. I can’t blame you. But one day, when you look at the numbers and you finally say, ‘Scott, what are our options here?’ I’ve got to be able to tell you what they are.”
“Let me get this straight,” Nick said. “You made some sort of secret-agent trip to China to scout out factories, then lied about it to me?”
Scott closed his eyes and nodded, compressing his lips. “I’m sorry,” he said very quietly. “It wasn’t my idea. Todd insisted on it. He just felt it was too much of a sore point with you-that you’d do everything you could to block any kind of overtures to China.”