“I told you, no one’s talking.”
“How about employees of Fast Eddie’s?”
“We talked to the bartender. He’s as tightlipped as the rest of ’em. Word is, he’s an honorary Scorp himself.”
“And no one saw him come home?” Tess pressed.
“Folks in this building aren’t too talkative, either, like I said. Besides, the guy was always coming and going at all hours. Believe me, we’re following up every available angle. We’ve got this thing covered.”
“I’m sure you do,” Tess said, though she was pretty sure there was one angle they had missed. Her gaze panned the bedroom, and she noticed Crandall watching her with unusual concentration. The look on his face disturbed her. He seemed to be reading her thoughts.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Carson said, “I have to use the can.”
Tess frowned. “Here?”
“Scene’s already been processed. There’s no harm in it.”
Tess knew there wasn’t any harm. But using Dylan Garrick’s toilet seemed… disrespectful, somehow. What made it worse was that Carson grabbed one of Garrick’s porno magazines for reading matter before disappearing into the bathroom.
Crandall tapped her on the arm. “Let’s talk,” he said quietly.
She didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”
“Let’s talk about something else. On the landing.”
She followed him out of the apartment. He stood looking over the parking lot, not facing her.
“Something wrong, Rick?” she asked, keeping the tone light.
He still didn’t look at her. “I know something funny went down at Andrea’s house yesterday. Making me stay outside while you cleared the premises-that wasn’t standard procedure. Was Abby in there? Did you send her away before I came in?”
She hesitated a long moment. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
“God damn it. I knew it had to be something like that.” He finally turned to her. “She killed Dylan Garrick, didn’t she?”
Tess gave him an honest answer. “I don’t know who killed Garrick. Abby denies having anything to do with it.”
“You already interrogated her?”
“I asked her,” Tess corrected. “Not interrogated. Asked.”
“That’s why you disappeared from the field office after the briefing. You had to do a little briefing of your own.”
“I didn’t brief her. I asked her what she was up to last night.”
“Is she alibied?”
“No. But she says she had no way of tracking down any of the assailants.”
“And you believe her?”
“I’m not sure what I believe.”
He thrust his hands into his pockets. “We cannot keep a lid on this, Tess. We have to tell the ADIC.”
“No, we don’t.” She said it firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
“Then how about Hauser?”
“I’m not saying anything to anyone until I find out what happened.”
“You can’t keep covering for this woman.”
“Just let me handle it, Rick.”
“You’ve been handling it ever since the Rain Man. You’re in really deep. I’m not sure you still have a professional perspective on the situation.”
“Are you saying I’ve lost my ability to make sound judgments?”
“Where Abby Sinclair is concerned, quite possibly.”
“She doesn’t have any sort of hold on me. I just want to be careful, that’s all. I’ll keep you out of it. Carson can take you to the RA. You can talk to some of the people they’ve rounded up.”
“And where will you be?”
“Running down some ideas of my own.”
Crandall sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder to back you up on this. What if she’s gone rogue? What if someone else dies? The congressman, even?”
“There’s no chance of that.”
“How do you know? You can’t say what she might do. We need to tell Michaelson and get it out in the open.”
“It hasn’t reached that point yet.”
“I think it has.”
She felt a flutter of dread. “You’re not planning to go to the higher-ups on your own, are you, Rick?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” But he said it with less conviction than she’d hoped.
“Just let me handle it,” she said again.
“Right. So far you’re handling everything just great.”
Crandall walked back inside. Tess stared after him. He wouldn’t rat her out. She was almost sure of it.
But he would never again be her friend.
34
Abby waited in the restroom until she was sure Andrea had lured the FBI guys into the food court. She didn’t want to be spotted by the feebs. It was always possible that one of them would remember her cameo appearance in the Rain Man case.
Besides, she really did have to pee. She had kind of a nervous bladder today. Nervous everything, in fact. She felt like she was hopped up on some designer drug that had her thoughts racing and her body humming.
When enough time had passed, she left the ladies’ room and returned to her car. She was driving the Mazda, since she didn’t anticipate any undercover work, except the small deception necessary to get past security at Jack Reynolds’ house. Her fake press pass was in the glove compartment, along with a camera, notebook, and pen-a journalist’s tools of the trade, or so she assumed.
Reynolds’ address was unlisted but easy enough to find in the Internet databases she used. He lived in a gated community in Newport Beach. Abby was relieved to find Wanda Klein listed in the gatehouse logbook.
The guard directed her down a long, sweeping curve of immaculately landscaped homes. Reynolds’ house was the last one on the right. The barbecue was already underway; parked cars clogged the cul-de-sac and the courtyard driveway.
She found a space, assembled her paraphernalia, and hiked to the front entrance, where a female staffer and two men in suits were posted. The men had the look of off-duty cops moonlighting as private security. She gave her name as Wanda Klein. The rent-a-cops confirmed that she was on the media list, then scanned her with a handheld metal detector. Wanda gets wanded, she thought. Having anticipated the screening, she’d left her gun in the car.
The staffer handed her a new name tag, which she was supposed to wear around her neck along with her press pass. “Now just wait here, please, while I get Mr. Stenzel.”
“That’s not necessary. I can find my way around.”
“I’m afraid he insists on personally escorting reporters at events like this.”
Great. Abby waited as Stenzel was paged. She wondered if Reynolds had told him to expect her.
Apparently he had. She saw Kipland Stenzel approaching at a fast clip, a false smile plastered on his face.
“Ms. Klein,” he said, offering her a perfunctory handshake. “I’m glad you were able to make it. Any trouble finding the place?”
Abby matched his phony smile with one of her own. “I never have any trouble finding things. I’m a regular bloodhound.”
With a certain deftness he had managed to pull her away from the cops so they could speak more privately. His expression altered instantly from a counterfeit smile to an entirely genuine scowl.
“I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running,” he said quietly. “But please understand that you will not get away with it.”
“What makes you think it’s a scam?”
“Everything you do is a scam. You’re a lying, manipulating little bitch.”
Abby cocked her head, curious about this outburst. “Kip, are you mad at me for quitting on your boss?”
“My personal feelings have nothing to do with it. I just want you to be aware that I am looking out for the congressman’s interests.”
“Good for you. Now may we get going?”
“I have half a mind to throw you out and tell Jack you never showed up.”
“That wouldn’t be smart. I came here because I have something to say to your boss. Something he needs to hear, involving Bethany Willett.”
Stenzel did a fairly good job of looking nonplused. “Who?”