by Debra Webb
A soft metal-on-metal rub signaled the senator had entered the men’s room directly across the narrow corridor. Time to move.
She eased open the ladies’ room door and quickly surveyed the corridor all the while knowing that Rocky would have warned her if anyone else had approached the area.
Clear.
Though no one had come this way while they sat at the bar, she still felt uncomfortable barging into the men’s room. Putting manners aside, she crossed the corridor in two strides and entered forbidden territory.
Castille stood before the row of marble sinks admiring his thick head of gray hair in the mirror. Apparently satisfied, he reached to adjust his silk jacket. As the door whooshed closed behind Kendra his gaze collided with hers in the mirror.
“Afternoon, Senator.” Kendra closed in on his position, her head held high, her shoulders square.
He stilled. Fury flared in his eyes. “You.”
That he didn’t immediately go for the call button on the belt at his waist surprised her. Security would have descended upon the men’s room in ten seconds or less. And she would be spending hours under federal interrogation.
“It’s been a while,” she commented as she leaned one hip against the cool marble about three feet from where he stood. Crowding him wasn’t the goal.
He cut her a look that warned exactly how he still felt about her. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’re making a very serious error in judgment. This is stalking.”
“Yoni was my friend.” That his primary worry was her presence infuriated Kendra. “I want to know what happened to him.”
“His murder,” Castille said in a matter-of-fact tone, “had nothing to do with his work.” His attention shifted back to the mirror as he straightened his purple tie yet again. “You should have checked your facts before you bothered to make an appearance.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” she suggested while he openly admired the fit of his charcoal suit.
He faced her, the lack of compassion in his expression fueling her fury. “The official conclusion at this point is that the homicide that occurred early this morning had nothing to do with Sayar’s political position. Preliminary results of the homicide investigation will be released tomorrow morning. You, like the rest of the world, can catch it on your preferred news channel.”
“He came to me with concerns,” she countered. Let him offer an explanation for that. “I’m here to follow up on those concerns.”
Castille puffed. “Yoni was losing his edge. Confidence in his ability was on a downward trend. Surely you haven’t forgotten how it works in this town. There are two kinds of folks.” The bastard took the time to wash his hands before continuing. Kendra’s fury rushed unimpeded toward the boiling point. Castille selected a meticulously rolled hand towel from the basket on the counter and dried his hands then settled his condescending gaze upon her once more. “Those who rise to the mountaintop and those who tumble over the edge of the cliff. Yoni was stumbling. He was on his way down. There was nothing I could do to help him.”
“Because of the Transparency Bill?”
The brief glimmer of surprise in those cold eyes sent triumph rocketing into her chest. He knew Kendra well enough to understand that if she knew that, she knew much more.
“The bill is brilliant,” Castille confessed. “But the weight of taking such a stand helped to push our friend off that ledge, Kendra. The pressure under these kinds of circumstances is immeasurable. Yoni buckled under that tremendous weight.”
The senator shrugged. “There is no mystery here. Tomorrow’s press conference will set the record straight for any conspiracy theorists. Such as your self,” he accused.
“I’ll make my own determination as to whether there’s a mystery or not,” she challenged, not put off one bit by his condescension. She wasn’t going anywhere until she had the whole truth.
“Then consider yourself on notice.” Castille tossed the hand towel aside. “If you attempt to connect Yoni’s troubles to me or my office, you will be profoundly sorry you made the mistake of coming back.”
He walked past her.
“Consider yourself on notice, Senator.” She turned, surprised that he’d hesitated at the door, his back to her. “I’m not afraid of you or your position. If the facts lead back to you, that’s where I’ll go. And if that’s the case, you will be the one profoundly sorry.”
He opened the door and walked out, the whoosh of the closing door underscoring his departure.
The gauntlet was on the ground.
Let the battle of wills commence.
Chapter Four
Judd Castille glowered at the lobby entrance long after Kendra and her cohort had departed.
He should have known Sayar would go to her. Judd had kept up with the self-righteous witch in part because of Sayar’s occasional comment in regards to her professional rise in the field of private investigations. She had landed herself a position at a widely acclaimed agency. But Judd hadn’t cared. He’d only been thankful she was out of his hair. She had been a thorn in his side the last year of her tenure with him.
Now she was back.
And it was that nervous fool Sayar’s fault.
Judd had actually expected her to show up after hearing the news of her friend’s murder. However, he certainly hadn’t expected her to have the unmitigated gall to confront him on his own turf. Who did Kendra Todd think she was?
She was no one.
No one who mattered.
“Is there a problem, Senator?”
Judd shifted his attention to the man seated next to him. “Why would there be a problem?” The situation with Capshaw was precarious enough with out an appearance from the likes of Kendra Todd. Distraction could crush a man’s best efforts. Judd could not allow anything or anyone to distract him at this pivotal juncture.
Far too much was at stake. Sayar had recognized that immensity, as well. What had he been thinking going to Kendra?
“You seem distracted,” Capshaw offered, a hint of victory already shining in his beady eyes.
“And rightly so,” Judd returned, restraining the infinite derision he felt for the man. “Yoni Sayar was murdered this morning. He was a trusted colleague. He’ll be greatly missed.”
Capshaw sipped his scotch—scotch paid for by Judd and ultimately the taxpayers. “I’m not so sure the architecture of the Transparency Bill will with stand this tragic loss.”
As if the bastard gave one damn. Again, Judd curbed his baser urges, like reaching across the table and strangling the man. “I have full confidence the bill will be moving forward.” If it was the last thing Judd did, he would get that piece of legislation passed. Men like Capshaw proved all the motivation necessary.
This vicious cycle had to stop.
Regret trickled through him but he banished it. He would not permit failure.
Truth was Judd was tired. Feeling his age. At sixty-three he had one or two more terms at most in him. He needed to leave his mark. To accomplish something that would put him in the history books.
He was on the verge of doing exactly that…if he could keep Kendra Todd out of his way until this ugliness passed. She would stir the pot…make things worse.
Confidence welled inside him. He had a plan in place to divert her attentions. By the time she recognized that she was on a path going nowhere, Judd’s position as an American hero would be sealed.
His gaze settled on Capshaw as the greedy bastard scanned the menu. And men like him would no longer be able to steal from the ordinary citizens of this country to feather their own nests.
This was a war. Sacrifices had to be made.
If Kendra wasn’t careful she could very well join others already on that casualty list.
Chapter Five
Crystal City, 5:20 p.m.
“When we get inside, I’ll keep him talking while you look around.”
“Got it.” The lady had moxie, Rocky had to give her that. The meetin
g with Castille had visibly shaken her but she’d come right out of that confrontation ready to move on to the next step. She’d put a call in to Leigh Turlington, a woman Sayar had dated. But it turned up to be a dead end. They’d only gone on one date and Turlington hadn’t even known Sayar’s phone number, much less what he was into.
Rocky had offered to drive from the Summit to Yoni Sayar’s residence just outside Crystal City, allowing Kendra time to decompress rather than fight rush-hour traffic.
Yellow crime-scene tape draped the sidewalk and small patch of grass in front of the town house, a blatant warning that bad things had happened on the other side. In this case, Sayar had been shot as he started up the short walk from the street to his front door. At least that was the story they’d gotten from the grieving parents. No official word had been released by the local authorities. According to Castille that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow morning. Unless Kendra could get something out of the guy they were waiting for.
Rocky had parked across the street from the victim’s residence. The late afternoon sun glinted against the windows of the two-story home. Wide brick steps led to the nondescript front door. Rocky squinted at first one window then the next. All appeared to be closed up right with blinds or shutters. No sign of the cops or any lingering crime-scene technicians.
“Your friend is late,” he noted aloud as Kendra checked the time on her cell phone yet again.
“He’s a homicide detective,” she reminded Rocky, her own impatience showing. “I’m certain sticking to a time schedule isn’t always his top priority.” She returned her attention to the town house that had belonged to her friend. “Wayne will be here.”
Wayne. That was right, they were friends, too. Rocky had his own theory about that particular friend. He’d picked up on the subtle change in the inflections of her voice when she’d spoken to her contact. Not that it was any of his business, personally or professionally, or his concern insofar as this case stacked up or how they conducted their investigation.
The concept just bugged him.
No use denying it…the idea of Kendra and another man, any man, got under his skin somehow. Didn’t seem to matter that they hardly knew each other beyond the workplace. Dumb, yeah. But a fact nonetheless. He’d learned at an early age that denial was less than constructive and totally unproductive.
A black SUV rolled to a stop in front of the town house. The driver’s door opened and a tall man wearing a suit stepped out.
Had to be Burton. Her contact. Rocky disliked him already, mostly because of the suit.
“That’s him,” Kendra reached for her door.
Rocky did the same, giving her ample time to round the hood across the street ahead of him. Kendra hadn’t mentioned whether she’d informed Burton she was bringing along a partner.
Waiting through the requisite embrace, Rocky stood back until the reunion formalities were out of the way. “It’s been forever.” “God, you look good.” He rolled his eyes. Primarily because Burton had it right. Kendra did look good.
Rocky closed the final couple of yards between his position and theirs. Burton dragged his focus from the lady and pointed it at Rocky. Rocky stuck out his hand. “Leland Rockford,” he announced.
Burton gave Rocky’s hand a challenging but brisk shake. “Lieutenant Wayne Burton, D.C. Homicide.”
Maybe he misheard but Rocky could swear the man had emphasized the lieutenant part. Rocky jerked his head toward Kendra. “Her partner.”
Burton ignored that last part, resting his attention on Kendra once more. “You may have been the last person to see Sayar alive,” he said as he turned to the town house, placed a hand at the small of her back and ushered her in that direction.
Rocky bit back the compulsion to say “Besides the folks at two airports and the car rental agency.” Just another reason he didn’t like the guy. Another dumb reason.
Except that Kendra looked at Burton as if every word coming from his mouth were the gospel that would show her the way to the promised land. He couldn’t recall once having her look at him that way.
Burton lifted the official crime-scene tape for Kendra to duck beneath. Once on the other side, they walked wide around the bloodstained section on the walk where the victim had fallen. At the stoop the overly friendly detective removed the crime-scene seal from the door and unlocked it.
Rocky stayed two steps behind. He figured he would learn more by watching and listening than by attempting to insert himself into the conversation.
Kendra moved slowly around the living room, visually inspecting the space. She’d told Rocky that she’d been here before and hopefully would recognize anything glaringly out of place.
“So Sayar didn’t give you any details about why he wanted to hire your agency?” Burton asked.
For a second Rocky was sure he’d misunderstood the question.
“He promised to give me all the details when I arrived in D.C. tomorrow,” Kendra said, clearing the confusion for Rocky. She turned to face Burton. “That was to be our first official meeting.”
Rocky restrained the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. The lady wasn’t as smitten as he’d first thought. She’d kept the details of the final conversation with Sayar to herself. Good deal.
“He simply said,” she added, “that it was urgent and personal.”
Burton assessed her at length, obviously not fully buying her story. “He came all that way and didn’t give you anything?”
She moved to the table next to a recliner and bent down to view the framed photo there. “He said he couldn’t discuss the situation by phone. Showing up to talk to me was his only choice. He wanted a commitment from me that the Colby Agency would take his case and then we would move forward.” She straightened and looked Burton straight in the eye and lied. “He wasn’t willing to share anything until I had the backing of the agency.”
Rocky was impressed.
“Puts a whole new spin on what we know.”
Kendra inclined her head and studied her old friend. “What exactly do you know?”
“Allowing you and your partner access to the property is breaking the rules,” Burton hedged.
“The techs have finished,” Kendra challenged.
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Burton tossed right back.
“Touché,” Kendra conceded.
This part Rocky was enjoying more and more.
“What I’m about to tell you won’t be released until tomorrow morning’s press conference,” Burton began. “I’m counting on you” he glanced at Rocky with no lack of suspicion “to keep this quiet until then.”
“You have our word,” Kendra assured him.
A brief hesitation no doubt for the effect, then Burton announced, “We have evidence the shooting was the result of Sayar surprising a burglar.”
Rocky hadn’t noticed any sign of forced access at the front door.
“Solid evidence?” Kendra wanted to know.
Rocky decided to wander around the room as the two hashed out the theory. That was the plan Kendra had laid out. All indications so far suggested that Sayar lived frugally, Rocky decided. Minimal furnishings. Minimal decorating. Nothing on the walls except a calendar over the desk. No laptop or desktop sat on the desk, confirming Rocky’s conjecture that the police would have confiscated it right away.
“His wallet was missing as were his computer and a flat-panel television that hung over the mantel.” He pointed to the fireplace.
Rocky’s attention moved from the cop to the mantel and back. So, the techs hadn’t gotten the computer. Interesting. Maybe Sayar’s murder was a coincidence after all. Part of a robbery. It wasn’t totally outside the realm of possibility.
Just highly unlikely considering his meeting with Kendra.
While Kendra launched more questions at Burton, Rocky seized the opportunity to drift into the kitchen. Dirty dishes in the sink, despite the built-in dishwasher. Counters were clear of clutter except for a can opener an
d a microwave. Stove top and oven looked unused.
Rocky opened the fridge. Carton of milk and orange juice. Sandwich meat, which was out of date. Same with the cheese. Freezer compartment was empty.
A few cans of soup in the cabinets. One half-empty box of crackers.
A definite bachelor.
Rocky listened to ensure there had been no break in the conversation in the other room, then checked the back door. Again, no indication of forced entry. When he eased it closed once more, he didn’t lock it.
Just in case.
With Kendra and Burton still deep in intense conversation, Rocky moved to the only other room downstairs. The bathroom. Toilet paper and hand soap. Pedestal sink and toilet. Empty medicine cabinet. Like the rest of the walls downstairs, a generic shade of off-white coated the walls and trim. Floors were covered with faux-wood flooring.
A cell phone erupted into chimes. Rocky stopped in the tiny square of a hall between the living room and bath to listen. Burton reached into his jacket pocket and then his gruff voice replaced the chimes. Kendra’s gaze collided with Rocky’s as he approached the stairs leading to the second floor. Her nod of encouragement was so subtle had he not been staring so intently at her he would have missed it entirely.
She would keep Burton occupied.
By the time Rocky had reached the upstairs landing Burton had ended the call. Kendra tossed out another demand for information.
Upstairs four doors lined a short, narrow hall, two on either side. The beige carpet hushed Rocky’s footfalls. Door one led to a bedroom furnished with only a futon. Nothing in the closet. Doors two and three opened to a bathroom and a linen closet respectively. The final door opened into the bedroom Sayar had used.
More of the generic paint. Double bed with tousled linens. Clothes hung neatly in the closet. Shoes lined the floor beneath. One chest of drawers with a flat-panel TV resting on top. Rocky quickly and efficiently rifled through each drawer. Socks, T-shirts, boxers. That was about it.