Adam arrived five minutes later. Moore led all three men to the security center. He offered Adam the chair in front of the main computer terminal.
Adam took it. “What’s your administrator login?”
Moore gave it to him.
“And the password?” Adam asked.
Moore hesitated.
“You can change it when I leave,” Adam said wearily. “It’s easier than making me spend fifteen minutes getting it with my code-breaker program.”
“It’s c-y-l-a-s,” Moore said. He glanced at the detectives. “That’s the first name of Director Leavitt’s uncle,” he explained.
Adam typed the password and accessed a screen that looked like a gaggle of numbers to Finch.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the column for zone,” Moore said, pointing, “and that’s the time stamp-”
“I’m familiar with this program,” Adam told him in a curt tone.
Moore fell silent. All three men waited while Adam read the screen, tapped the keys, and called up a new screen.
Finch tapped Moore on the shoulder and waved him away from the computer terminal. When they were several steps away, Finch asked in a low voice, “I understand you applied to our police department?”
Moore’s cheeks flushed. “Who told you that?”
“It came up when we ran your name,” Finch lied. “What happened?”
“You guys turned me down, that’s what.” Moore’s voice became low and intense. “Twice, actually.”
“Where were you in the hiring process when this happened?”
“The oral board. Both times.”
Finch considered. Usually that meant a poor performance in the oral board interview, not a background issue. He nodded to Moore. “Okay. Thanks.”
“This is going to take a while,” Adam said to everyone in the room.
Elias reached out and tapped Finch on the shoulder. “We’ve got a couple other things to check out anyway.”
Mary Leavitt was a petite, quiet woman. She offered Finch and Elias coffee, then tea, and finally ice water. When they’d politely refused the last, she sat primly on the small sofa in the sitting room and gestured to a pair of high-backed chairs.
“Please,” she said.
The detectives sat. Elias flipped open his notebook. “Mrs. Leavitt, we’re investigating the theft at the museum this morning.”
“The mummy?”
“Yes, ma’am. You heard, then?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes. Edward called this morning. He was worked up into quite a fit.”
“When did he call?”
“Around six, I would say. It was shortly after I got up.”
“Did he wake you when he left this morning?”
Mary Leavitt gave him a curious look, then understanding flooded her features. “Oh, I see what you mean.” She shook her head. “No, his leaving didn’t wake me. Edward and I have separate bedrooms, you see. He snores horribly and I’m told that I move around quite a bit in my sleep. Neither of us were getting any rest, so we decided to take separate rooms.”
“Did you hear the phone ring?”
“No, but I am a rather sound sleeper.”
“Do you remember when Mr. Leavitt came home last night?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, we had a late dinner. It was around nine by the time we ate and that was very soon after he arrived.”
“Did he leave at all last night?”
“Not that I could say,” she said.
“When did you go to sleep, Mrs. Leavitt?”
“Around eleven, I believe.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you asking all of these questions, officer? It rather sounds as if Edward is a suspect.”
Elias shrugged. “As part of our investigation, we have to eliminate everyone. This is how we do it.”
She pressed her lips together in a prim scowl. “Well, it seems like a waste of time.”
“It can feel that way, but it has to be done.” Elias leaned forward. “Mrs. Leavitt, if someone were to suspect Edward of being involved in this, what possible reason do you think they might give?”
Mary Leavitt’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. “If someone said Edward was involved in anything criminal, they’d be a liar,” she snapped. “Simple as that. And that, I think, is the last question I need to answer, detective.”
In the car, Finch applauded.
“Shut up,” Elias growled.
“Nicely done,” Finch said. “You just handled that one like a pro.”
“She had nothing for us anyway.”
“She had plenty.”
“Like what? She didn’t see a thing.”
“Exactly,” Finch said. “And that means that Leavitt has no alibi.”
“Neither does the janitor.”
“True, but the janitor doesn’t live in a $350,000 house on the South Hill.”
Elias considered that. “Leavitt probably comes from old money.”
“The house didn’t look like it.”
“Whattaya mean? It was a huge house.”
Finch nodded. “Sure, but hardly any furniture. And the lawn wasn’t well kept, either.”
“You think he’s hurting for cash?”
“I’d like to get a look at his finances.”
“So get a warrant.”
“I might,” Finch said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe later, I just might.”
Diana Applegate answered the door. She had a harried look on her face but invited them inside with an even tone. Finch got the sense that her stress was largely of the self-imposed variety.
The small house was sparsely decorated with austere but tasteful furnishings. Diana stopped just inside the entryway and turned to them, her thin arms crossed. “I received a call from Ruth a few minutes ago. I know why you’re here.”
“That’s good,” Elias said. “Why don’t we-”
“I have explicit directions from Ruth,” Diana said. “I am to verify this for you: Ruth returned home last night at six-thirty. She did not leave the house again until she received a call from Director Leavitt this morning.”
“Do you know what time?”
“After six,” she told him curtly. “And I am not answering any more questions.”
Finch and Elias stood awkwardly for a moment. Elias withdrew a card and held it out to her. She didn’t reach for it.
“If you think of anything else-” he began, but she cut him off.
“I’m also supposed to inform you that you may search the premises,” she said. “Just don’t make a mess.”
Back in the car, Elias glanced at his watch and sighed. “What a waste of time. That’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back.”
Finch shrugged. “They offer, we search. It wouldn’t be the first time a guilty suspect offered to let us search and then we find what we’re looking for.”
“I know. But those people are stupid. You know when someone smart like Dr. Ingram offers, we’re not going to find anything.”
“We still have to look.”
“I know,” Elias sighed. “And it’s always a waste of time.”
Angela Moore didn’t offer them coffee, tea or water-she offered beer.
The detectives politely refused.
Angela shrugged and lowered herself onto the afghan-covered couch, sipping from a can of Keystone Light. “Suit yourself.”
“How long have you and Tony been married?” Finch asked her.
She laughed. “Too long.”
Finch raised a brow. “You two having some marital difficulties?”
Angela took another swig of beer. “Marital difficulties? That’s a nice way to put it, yeah. Another way would be that our marriage is a disaster.”
“Why?”
Angela scowled. “None of your business. Look, I’ll answer your questions, but don’t go getting all personal, got it?”
Finch kept his expression neutral. “All right.”
“Besides,” Angela said, “you don’t think Tony took this mummy, do ya?”
“We don’t know who took it.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Tony didn’t do it. He might be worthless as a husband, but he’s not a thief.”
“What time did he come home last night?” Finch asked.
“What time did he say he came home?”
Finch shook his head. “That’s not how it works, Mrs. Moore. What time did he come home?”