Hamada sat up straighter. “I’d like to hear it…if you boys can finish the pissing contest some other time.”
Razor hesitated.
“Go on,” Cole called. “Even if you had only dreamed the information, you can see it fits together.”
Frowning at a page in his notebook, Galentree stood. Hope rose in Cole…only to evaporate as Galentree dropped back into his chair and picked up his phone. He punched in a number Cole recognized as the crime lab’s.
Razor took a breath. “This is an educated guess, but…I think Benay is an informant of Cole’s who works for Flaxx Enterprises. I know he had an informant he expected to help him crack a big case. And the case he’s been obsessed with is the Flaxx Enterprises burglaries.”
Cole smiled. Nice logic chain.
“An informant.” The twitch of Leach’s mustache looked as skeptical as his voice sounded. “And you’re just now mentioning it?”
Razor shrugged. “Cole never gave me a name or specified it related to Flaxx. The connections didn’t hit me until last night.”
Hamada glanced over at Dennis. “Look up the Flaxx number. See if it matches anything on Benay’s phone records.”
Galentree hung up the phone and pushed back from his desk. “Andy, I’m going to the crime lab. They have our gun ready to test fire.”
At the next desk, Willner nodded.
Cole cheered silently. Finally. “Go, go. Take your time about coming back.” As soon as Galentree turned his back, Cole sat down on a virtual chair and went to work, typing letter by laborious letter.
Over at Hamada’s desk, Leach remained looking skeptical. “Why would Dunavan kill an informant?”
“I don’t think he did. Maybe that’s his blood in the car.”
Leach shook his head. “It’s on the passenger side.”
“I know Cole,” Razor said evenly. “If he were alive, no matter what he’d done, by this time he’d have contacted his wife or me, if only to explain himself.”
Even dead, I’m trying to do that.
“Tex. There’s a match.” Dennis tapped the phone record. “This eleven o’clock call.”
Hamada’s brows went up. “She called there at night?” He turned toward Razor, expression going thoughtful. “Tell me what you know about these Flaxx burglaries.”
Razor gave them a run-down, and included the fires.
Hamada whistled at Willner and waved him over. “Y’all’re working that firefighter’s death. Come hear this.”
Cole winced. He could guess Willner’s reaction.
After listening to Hamada repeat what Razor said about the fires, Willner remained as underwhelmed as Cole feared. “Jesus, Rasgorshek. Don’t tell me Dunavan sold you that cockamamie theory.” He outlined the evidence against Luther Kijurian.
To Cole’s disgust, Hamada and the others started nodding as they listened.
“Dunavan doesn’t believe the evidence?” Dennis said.
Leach grunted. “It’s typical. He can’t give up a chase or an idea he’s got his teeth into. I don’t see how any of this is connected to Dunavan killing the Benay woman, though. Go home, Rasgorshek.” He turned away. “I’ll leave you to it, Hamada. Keep me informed of developments.”
Cole caught the collective sigh of relief as Leach disappeared out the door.
Willner started back for his desk. “If you come across other information on Kijurian, let me know.” Passing Galentree’s desk, he stopped short. “What the…”
He had seen the laptop, Cole realized in disgust. Interrupted again!
Hamada turned. “Something wrong?”
“Something crazy. This thing typed a letter by itself.”
Razor started. Hamada’s brows went up. Dennis’s expression said: Yeah, right.
Cole sidestepped clear of the laptop. If only he could type faster.
Coming closer to the screen, Willner stared. “Holy shit. Listen to this. ‘Benay possibly witnessed Dunavan’s shooting- ”
The rush toward the desk interrupted him. In seconds he was surrounded. Cole backed through the desk to its far side.
Hamada read the rest of the message over Willner’s shoulder. “‘Dunavan’s shooting in the 2EC garage.”
His phone rang.
“Charlie, get that for me, will you?”
Dennis lumbered back to Hamada’s desk.
Hamada pursed his lips. “Two EC garage?”
Razor’s shoulders hunched as though against the cold. “The Flaxx offices are in Two EC.”
“Interesting.” Hamada continued reading. “‘See Gerald Lockhart, Seacliff, re Benay’s 10–10 or…’” His eyes narrowed. “See Lockhart about her location or…what, do you reckon? Do you have any ideas, Razor?”
“No.” He eyed the laptop as if it might bite.
“But you know the name,” Cole said. “It’s the same Lockhart in the message on your computer, old buddy.”
Razor’s eyes flicked Cole’s direction. He sucked in his breath.
Electricity shot through Cole. “Razor? You see me?”
Hamada glanced down at Razor. “Something wrong?”
Razor pulled his glasses off and polished them on his tie. “No.”
Cole grinned across the desk in triumph. “Like hell it was nothing! Admit it, you son of a bitch…you saw me! You know you’re awake and you saw me.” He came around beside Razor and punched his shoulder. “Come on, look at me.”
Razor stiffened but kept polishing the glasses.
Hamada eyed the screen thoughtfully. “Where’s Galentree?”
“Gone to the crime lab.” Willner’s forehead furrowed. “But if he came across this information, why didn’t he mention it to me, or tell you?”
“Just what I’d like to know.” Hamada picked up Galentree’s phone.
As he started punching in the crime lab’s number, Dennis trotted over, face grim. “That was the lab about Dunavan’s car.” He handed Hamada a memo pad filled with notes.
Razor froze.
A mask slid over Hamada’s face as he read. He looked up from the notes to Razor. “You might be right about Dunavan being the victim. They’ve typed the blood. It’s the same as his.”
Their faces all went grim.
“We don’t know Benay’s blood type, though,” Hamada said. “Did Dunavan carry a backup gun?”
Razor put back on his glasses. “Just his issued weapon.”
“Does he own a handgun of his own?”
“A.22 revolver for target shooting.” Razor frowned. “Why?”
“They found a 9mm bullet embedded in the carpet of the foot well, possibly from a Glock.”
The department issued Beretta.40's.
Hamada hefted the memo pad. “So it looks like someone else brought their own weapon to the party.” He flipped to a new page and copied down the computer message. “Andy, can I get you to ask your partner about this? I need to contact Flaxx Enterprises.” He checked his wrist watch. “They ought to be in the office by this time.”
Cole gave a thumbs up. Yes! Start hunting Sara. Work fast. The foreboding in him felt even darker.
Back at their desks, Dennis handed Hamada the phone records. Hamada punched the Flaxx number into his phone and handed the records back. “Try this number and see who she called after Flaxx, will you? And look up a phone number for Gerald Lockhart.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Razor asked.
Hamada pointed at the chair beside his desk. “Guests are always welcome to sit down and- Hello, this is the San Francisco Police Department.” He shoved a stack of Polaroids toward the edge of the desk, tore the page of lab notes off his memo pad, and laid it on the Polaroids. “May I speak to your personnel director, please.”
Earl Lamper. Lamper had that job as well as being IT director and head of Bookkeeping. Flaxx wanted just one person having complete access to the computers, Cole suspected. Except, was Lamper there today?
Razor picked up the crime lab notes and the Polaroids. Cole read the notes over Razor’s shoulder. The car had not been dusted for prints yet, but in going over the seats, they found blonde and black hairs on both the passenger and driver headrests, and — what? Fragments of clear plastic tape and sticky residue on the back of the passenger seat and headrest?