Charlotte waited for him to look up. At last, he did.
“Help you?”
“I hope so.” She flashed her police ID, and the kid’s eyes widened. “I have a question about a package that was mailed from this location.”
He slid off the stool, stuffing his phone into his pocket, and Charlotte got a whiff of cigarettes as he stepped over.
“What package is that?” he asked.
“It was mailed from here Monday. Billed to the account of Duffy and Hersch.”
A woman came from the back carrying a stack of brown boxes so tall she could hardly see over them. She set the parcels on the counter and looked Charlotte over, frowning when she noticed her detective shield.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Charlotte once again held up her ID. “We have a question about a package mailed from here.” She took out a photocopy of the envelope, which had been strategically cropped to show the return address but not the bloody shoeprint.
“According to the tracking info, this package was picked up at four fifty on Monday and arrived at its destination Tuesday afternoon,” Charlotte said. “Were either of you working Monday at that time?”
The woman shot a concerned look at the clerk. “Jason?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t remember it. We were busy.”
The woman’s brow furrowed at his answer, and Charlotte studied them side by side. Dark hair, heavyset, underbite. They had a strong resemblance.
“May I get your name?” Charlotte asked with a smile.
“Jean Colton. And this is my son, Jason.” She nodded at Charlotte’s paper. “May I have a look?”
Charlotte handed over the paper and shifted her focus to the clerk, who was now studiously weighing a padded envelope.
“This is from Duffy and Hersch, the law firm,” the woman said. “Have you tried them?”
“We spoke with them earlier,” Charlotte said. “The lawyer whose account this was billed to is out of town, so he couldn’t have mailed it from here. I’m thinking maybe it’s an administrative assistant or someone?”
“It’s probably the girl who’s always in here.” The woman looked at her son. “What’s her name? Shari?”
“Shelly.” The kid glanced up. “Yeah, it might have been her, now that you mention it. Like I said, we were busy.”
“Shelly’s one of their summer clerks,” the woman said. “She’s in here all the time mailing things.”
“But you don’t recall seeing her on Monday?”
“I wasn’t here in the afternoon. Jason, are you sure it was Shelly?”
“Yeah.”
“And do you know her last name?” Charlotte asked.
He shook his head without looking up.
Charlotte glanced at Diaz, who was checking out a display of office supplies while listening to every word.
Charlotte thanked them for their time and walked out with another clatter of cowbell. On the sidewalk, she put on her sunglasses.
“That was quick,” Diaz said, returning to the Taurus. They traded driving, and today was his turn.
“We’re not done yet. Pull around back.”
“Why?”
“I want to see something.”
Diaz drove around to the back of the strip center, which included a nail salon, a yoga studio, and a liquor store.
“Pull into that loading dock. Just behind the liquor store. See?”
Diaz pulled in and parked beside a dumpster. “Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
He cut the engine and looked at her. “The kid was lying. You know that, right?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you lean on him?”
“I want him alone.”
“You’re going to wait for him to get off work? That could be hours.”
“He smelled like cigarettes, and we just put stress on him. Ten bucks says he’ll be out here for a smoke break in less than five minutes.”
Diaz eyed the row of back doors. Counting from the end, the mail shop would be the third one down.
“The mom seemed nice enough,” Diaz said.
“Yeah, but I don’t like ma-and-pop stores, not when they hire their own kids.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
She dug an emery board from her purse and filed a nail. “It’s a bad dynamic. The kids know they won’t get fired, so they can be lazy. Or worse, incompetent.”
Diaz looked at his watch and sighed.
“What?” Charlotte asked.
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. That was your ‘I don’t like this plan’ sigh.”
“Okay, you’re right.” He tugged at the knot of his tie. “We’re on day three of this case, and still no suspects. Why are we wasting our time here? We don’t even know what this package has to do with anything, except that our perp happened to step on it at the murder scene. So what?”
“I don’t like the timing,” Charlotte said.
“What about it?”
“Someone overnighted the victim a package. That implies urgency. And he received that package less than two hours before his murder. That raises a red flag.”
“Guy worked for a lawyer. They probably get dozens of packages every week.”
“Okay, but whatever was in that package was stolen from the crime scene by the killer.”
“Along with laptops, cell phones, and a crapload of other paperwork.”
The third door opened, and Jason stepped out. Charlotte put her nail file away. “Ha. There he is.”
Diaz looked surprised. “Damn, Chuck.”
“That’ll be ten bucks.”
“I never took the bet.” He pushed open his door. “You coming?”
Jason spotted them approaching just as he took a drag. He cast a panicked look at the door but didn’t move.
“Hey, Jason. We have a few follow-ups.” Charlotte smiled and stopped in front of him.
“I told you everything I know.”
“I’m not really getting that impression.” She tipped her head to the side. “I think you left a few things out. And I think if I ask to take a look at the surveillance tape from inside your shop, there might be more to the story. What do you think?”
Jason swallowed. He looked at Diaz, and then his gaze flitted to Charlotte. “There was this guy.”
She freaking knew it. “Who?”
“I don’t know, all right? Just some guy who came in after she did.”
“After Shelly?” Diaz asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did he mail something?” Diaz eased closer, and the kid stepped back.
“No, man. He wasn’t a customer. Just some guy who came in and wanted to look at her tracking slip.”
“And you showed him?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“Is it your policy to share customers’ personal information with people who walk in off the street?” Charlotte asked.
“No.”
“How much did he pay you?” Diaz asked.
He cleared his throat. “Fifty bucks.”
Charlotte bit back a curse.
“It’s not like he wanted her home address.” Jason was defensive now. “She was mailing to some business, not like a person or anything.”
Diaz made a buzzing noise. “Wrong. That package did go to a person. And he’s dead now.”
Jason’s eyes bugged. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But that’s got nothing to do with me!”
“That remains to be seen,” Charlotte said.
“What did this guy look like?” Diaz demanded.