“You might believe it, but I don’t,” Dave returned abruptly. “Trust me, there was something incriminating in those files, and I intend to find out what it was.”
“I have them,” Ali said. “I can show them to you.”
Dave stared at her, thunderstruck. “You what?”
“I have Bryan’s files, and I’ve looked at them,” she added. “The ones from his computer, anyway. Believe me, Dave, they’re all business-related.”
“And how is it that you happen to have them?” Dave asked.
“Because Bryan gave them to me. For safekeeping.”
“Sure he did,” Dave said. “Once he took out whatever it was he didn’t want you or anybody else to see. What the hell do you see in the guy, Ali? Don’t you see what he’s up to? He’s playing you for a fool.”
For the first time, Ali wondered if Dave Holman was jealous. “I can give you copies,” she offered.
“Right,” Dave said. “Sure you can. Copies of copies with everything he wanted deleted already deleted. Don’t bother! It’ll be a waste of your time and mine.” Shaking his head, he once more yanked his phone out of his pocket and punched in a series of numbers. While he waited for his call to be answered, Ali concentrated on her French toast. She had offered the drives to Dave, and he had turned her down. Now, though, she was thinking about her computer, where Bryan’s contaminated thumb drive was parked in her USB port. If a delayed-reaction worm of some kind had corrupted the files on Bryan’s and Morgan’s computers, would hers be next?
“Yes,” Dave was saying into the phone. “This is Dave Holman of the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office. I’m calling for Mr. Morrison. Mr. Matthew Morrison.” That statement was followed by a long pause and a deep frown. “What do you mean, he won’t be in today? Is he sick or what? I have an appointment with him scheduled for this morning, and I was calling to see if I could move it to a little later.”
There was another pause. “Look,” Dave said curtly. “I already said who this is. I’m Detective Dave Holman with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department. And it’s urgent that I speak to Mr. Morrison today. No, I don’t need to speak to his supervisor, I need to speak to him. All right, then. I’ll wait.”
While he sat on hold, Dave managed another few bites of breakfast. Then, covering the phone mouthpiece with his hand, he spoke to Ali. “Guess what? It seems that Mr. Morrison, our reluctant witness, has unexpectedly taken the day off work. I wonder if the prospect of having to see me has anything to do with his going AWOL.”
Dave turned his attention back to the phone as someone came on the line. “Yes, Mrs. Helwig. I’m not sure why they brought you into this, but yes, that’s correct. I’m a homicide detective with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department. Mr. Morrison is a potential witness in a case I’m investigating…”
The person on the other end of the line did some talking, and Dave’s face took on a distinctly reddish hue.
“Mrs. Helwig, please slow down. Are you telling me Mr. Morrison is dead?” Even across the table, Ali could hear snippets of a woman’s voice-an almost hysterical woman-talking at warp speed.
“When?” Dave asked at last. “And how did it happen?” Finally, he added, “Can you tell me who’s doing the investigating?”
Holding his phone between his chin and his shoulder, Dave dragged a tattered notebook out of his shirt pocket and began scribbling in it. “Yes, I have it,” he said. “Detective O’Brien with the Scottsdale Police Department. And what’s that address again?”
Seconds later, when Dave closed both his phone and his notebook, he looked at Ali and shook his head. “So much for my potential witness,” he said. “Matthew Morrison is dead. Sometime overnight he drove his vehicle into his garage, closed the door, and left the motor running. His wife found his body this morning. Just before I called the office looking for him, she had phoned to let them know that he wouldn’t be coming in ever again.”
As he spoke, Dave was already dialing the next number. “Someone else will have to go to Prescott to pick up that search warrant,” he said into his phone. “I’m on my way to Phoenix. Scottsdale, actually. It seems our possible witness or suspect in the Morgan Forester homicide offed himself overnight. Well, so far it seems like suicide, anyway. Right. It’s probably a good thing for Bryan Forester that we’ve still got him under lock and key. Otherwise he might be declared a suspect in a second homicide.”
There was another long pause. “No!” he exclaimed. “You can’t be serious. They’re actually thinking about cutting him loose? Who came up with that lamebrained idea? All right, then, if they do let Forester out, I want someone on his tail every step of the way. I want to know where he goes and who he talks to. I also want you to amend that warrant request to include his telephone records. If there’s any kind of connection between him and the guy who’s dead down in Phoenix, I want to know about it. He may have been able to do a clean sweep of his computer, but his phone records won’t be as easy to destroy.”
Dave hung up and took one last slug of coffee. Between phone calls, he had eaten very little. Leaving most of his food, he slapped a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. “Tell your mom to keep the change,” he said. “I’ve gotta go.” With that, he dashed out the door.
Edie came back over to the table after he left. “Sorry about the Thanksgiving thing. I really stepped in it. Is that why Dave went racing out of here like that, or was there something wrong with the food?”
“The food was fine,” Ali said. “And there’s no problem about Thanksgiving. Dave’s on his way to Phoenix. Something happened to one of his potential witnesses.”
“I wonder if they’ve had any luck in finding Morgan’s ring,” Edie said.
“What ring?” Ali asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Morgan’s wedding ring,” Edie answered. “And the three-carat diamond engagement ring that was with it. I heard they’re both missing.”
“They weren’t found on the body?”
Edie shook her head. “Nope. One of the cops was asking Cindy Martin about them last night. Cindy always did Morgan’s nails, and the cops wanted to know if Morgan was wearing her rings the last time she came into the salon-which she was, by the way. Cindy said she never went anywhere without them.”
“So people are thinking that the killer stole her rings?”
Edie shrugged. “Cindy says she’s heard that Bryan is really hard up for cash right now.”
“So now she’s suggesting that Bryan made off with his wife’s rings in hopes of what-pawning them and realizing some quick cash?”
“It’s just a theory,” Edie said. “People are entitled to their opinions.”
“And I’m entitled to mine!” Ali returned. “What else are people saying?”
“There’s evidently some talk about possible drug use. I guess there was a puncture wound of some kind found on the body. The cops asked Cindy if Morgan Forester ever used drugs of any kind. Cindy said that if that had been the case, she for sure would have known about it.”
Did she know about Singleatheart? Ali wondered. If she had, she would have spilled her guts about that, too. Remind me never to set foot in Cindy Martin’s salon.
“Look, Mom,” she said. “I don’t think we should be discussing any of this.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, these sound like confidential details of a homicide investigation.”
“But Cindy-”
“Cindy talks too much,” Ali declared.
As Edie went to deliver coffee to another table, Ali was left thinking about the series of ha-has that had been written over every one of Bryan Forester’s computer files. If Bryan wasn’t responsible for destroying his own computer files, who was? Someone who had no idea Bryan had backups. Ali was equally sure Dave was right about one thing-the culprit, whoever it was, had something to hide. And that was when it came to her for the very first time that there might be some connection between the guy who had infiltrated Ali’s computer and Morgan Forester’s killer.