“I don’t see why I should. You’re here because you want to be.” He flipped on a flashlight to examine the file folders sticking from the cabinet drawers, presumably the most recent ones accessed.
“Fine, then I’m under no obligation to tell you anything I find or explain anything I learn elsewhere.” She unfolded a long sheet of accounting paper on the desk. It contained an old-fashioned spreadsheet containing an incomprehensible list of names of people she didn’t know. Each name had what appeared to be large dollar amounts next to it. She took a picture and sent it to Zander.
She discovered a trove of professional photos of gatherings of beautiful people, similar to the one Ana had shown her with students mixing with sponsors. She didn’t think the phone could do the images justice, but she disliked stealing. She snapped copies and hoped for the best.
Lucas was still rifling the file cabinets. “Computers would be easier,” he grumbled.
“I gave you Mrs. Overcamp’s computer,” she reminded him. “The best you can hope to find in here is the gun used on Reverend Arden.”
“Not likely. The cops caught the skinheads I saw at the hotel. They’re still testing the guns, but they probably had nothing to do with Rebecca. She was strangled, so there was no weapon involved.”
“Rebecca?” Julie glanced up in puzzlement.
“My sister. One of these construction bastards killed my sister. She didn’t know anyone else in this town, and she didn’t go out with strangers.”
Julie widened her eyes. “I am very sorry for your loss, and I can understand your anger, but this is bigger than your sister. You’re missing the elephant for seeing only its toes.”
“If the toes did the smashing, then I have to examine them. I’ll get to the rest of the elephant later. The big guys can cover it better than I can, and they don’t have any interest in Rebecca. But Becka was a smart girl. She knew construction. She told the family there was something peculiar happening here—and she was probably killed for it.”
“You still won’t find evidence of it here. You need to talk to people, work with the architects, study the whole situation. That’s bigger than both of us. We need a specific goal in here, something to give the police reason for a warrant. I don’t watch TV, and even I know that.”
He glared at her, and she gulped.
Patra was doing what I wanted to do—investigate Tony Jeffrey and GenDef from the inside. Men with arsenals were seldom pussycats, and I had to resist fretting.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t text her to see how she was doing.
She called right back. “I’m outside the warehouse. I need security clearance to get in.”
“Surprise, surprise. Why are you at the warehouse and not headquarters?” I ran a search on GenDef’s location while I talked.
“Rumor has it that the embezzlement wasn’t just cash. I wanted to talk to some employees.”
Translation: Patra meant to use her stunning looks and reporter’s guile to chat up a few unsuspecting young guys, charming them into complaining about their jobs and going from there.
I pulled up a Google map of the area. “There’s a bar called Guns ’N Bolts one block to the east of the warehouse. Put on a Redskins cap and wait there at shift change. Who needs security badges when beer will do?”
“That was my next step, but I really wanted to see inside.”
I could hear her heels clicking down the sidewalk. I glanced at the time. Almost four. “Graham can probably get that, if you don’t mind grainy video. Find out what you can about Jeffrey while you’re at it. I need to talk with him.”
“He’s at a private PAC event at 701 tonight. Sean’s trying to sneak me in as the gossip reporter.”
“I was hoping for an office meeting, but a crowded event might just do it. Maybe I’ll see you there.” I hung up and started working my contact list. As a virtual assistant, I’d developed an extensive list, but most of my previous work hadn’t been in DC, so that list was shorter.
Graham, on the other hand, was a DC insider from way back. Out of curiosity, to see how cooperative he was feeling, I messaged him and asked for an invite. He’d done it before, so I wasn’t stretching my imagination too far.
Five minutes later, I had what looked like images of two gold-embossed cards and a description of the messenger I should meet at the door where I could pick them up. I never knew whether he stole these things or if people just sent him whatever he asked, and I didn’t intend to inquire.
“Want to go with me?” I asked the intercom.
His snort was all the answer I’d receive. Graham preferred his privacy. If and when he went anywhere, it was in the guise of Thomas Alexander, a lesser-known security consultant who just happened to be dead. Graham had taken over the company, and people just made strange assumptions. The late Alexander’s face wasn’t easily recognizable, but Graham’s was. It was an iffy proposition for him to mingle with DC insiders. He’d been recognized just from a video of him entering a building the last time he’d left the attic. Like Clark Gable or George Clooney, he has that kind of timeless star quality, even with the scars.
So I called Nick. Just the club’s name had him hooked. It was one of DC’s more elegant venues with a menu and staff to match.
The limo returned Julie safely as I was on my way upstairs to examine my limited party wardrobe, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She had her arms full of boxes, and the driver was helping her carry them, leaving the car illegally parked on the curb.
“May I help Zander in his research?” she asked, gesturing at the driver to leave her boxes on the floor. “Something is bosbefok at the park.”
Personally, I thought the whole concept of Jesus World was bosbefok–crazy mad—but my opinion didn’t matter. “Did you find anything relevant at the park?”
“Only that Lucas is as dwankie as I first thought. I will help Zander go through the information we found.”
I bit back a smile at the epithet. It seemed our very proper sister thought it was okay to insult people if she did it in a language she thought they couldn’t understand. That she called Lucas lame and uncool said he’d not followed her orders.
“You’re good at photography, aren’t you? Why don’t you sit down with those months of videos and see if you can find anything that does not compute?”
Her eyes narrowed as she thought about it. “I never had much time to study them for anything other than good shots for marketing. I can do that.”
“Excellent.” I lifted some of her boxes and started for the stairs. “I need to go out this evening. I’d appreciate it if you and Zander would keep EG out of trouble. She’s making more ornaments for the tree.”
“Elizabeth is such a pretty name. Why do you not use it?” She followed me up with the rest of the boxes.
“Once you know her better, you’ll understand,” I promised. “Although of all of us, she’s the one most likely to live up to her royal namesake.”
Julie smiled at that. “I doubt I shall ever resemble Queen Juliana. Mother must have been feeling very fatalistic when she chose Anastasia for you.”
“At the time, she believed Princess Anastasia was still alive and living in secrecy. She has a strong subversive streak.” I left her to arrange the boxes in her room while I contemplated my lack of glamorous attire.
I already knew I had only one choice. It just depended on how I wished to accessorize it—with killer boots and attitude, or polite heels and invisibility.
I opted for nerdy harmlessness. Patra could sashay in screaming glamor if she liked. There was a very good chance Magda would also be there. She had an affinity for wealth and power, and any party at the 701 would be packed with both. As usual, I chose not to compete.
Nick scowled as if he’d bite my head off and spit me out when I came down the stairs later.
“Glasses, Ana? Really?” He glared at the offending black frames I’d picked up on one of my thrift-store sorties. “And why didn’t you just wear loafers and bobby socks w
hile you were at it?”
He was turned out in tailored tux complete with white tie and blue cummerbund, his blond hair precisely styled to whatever the latest male fashion was. He looked very James Bondish.
“Kitten heels are better for running than spike,” I informed him, donning my faux fur without his help. “I’m not wearing a braid. I thought that would please you.”
He glared at the smooth chignon I’d accomplished after half an hour of pins and stabbing myself in the head. My hair is long, thick, and tediously black. It doesn’t lend itself to stylish hairdos.
“Stick a fascinator on it and wear a blinking sign that says nerd, why don’t you?”
I glared at him, then checked on Julie and Zander working hard in the library. I waved to indicate we were leaving. They barely looked up from their computers to wave back.
“What’s a fascinator and where can I get one?” I asked as he opened the door.
“The driver will have one waiting,” the chandelier overhead intoned. “It’s wired for sound and video.”
I almost rolled on the floor laughing at Nick’s expression. I was in serious danger of falling in love with the Evil Genie in the attic who understood me too well.
Chapter 23
“Not quite the Taj Mahal,” I said, trying not to gape at the modernistic decor as we handed over our invitations at the hired venue.
“I swear, I can’t take you anywhere,” Nick muttered.
He was obviously trying not to glare at the black feathers adorning my hair and dangling down my nape. Fascinators were quite fascinating, I’d decided. “Then toddle off, keeping your eyes open for any of that list of suspects I gave you. I promise, I will not feel abandoned.”
He eyed the formal buffet table draped in purple and white linen. The china and silver were illuminated by glass globes above, and crystalline torches in the all-white centerpieces below. They probably had chocolate fountains and shrimp mountains behind the purple drapery along the edges of the open room. The lounge area was occupied by a small orchestra playing soporific Bach. Always happy to oblige, Nick deserted me for the food.
I’d swear there was a cat in the room just from the way my eyes watered, but I suspected I was overloading on bouquets of lilies and French perfume. Nick was right—he really shouldn’t take me anywhere like this.
I focused on the tuxedo crowd. Reality was hugely different from studying a fixed image on a computer screen. I needed a facial recognition program to run behind my glasses. I’d ask Tudor about that later.
I found Edward Parker III first because he was standing next to Melissa. He was tall, slim, had a receding hairline, and dyed his probably graying hair blond. Definite sag along the jawline that he’d probably have tightened soon, if his artificial tan was any indication of his vanity. He wore a diamond and gold ring on the hand he draped over Melissa’s shoulders.
Looked like I’d be Linda Lane, schoolteacher and student, this evening. I texted Nick to let him know. He was already chatting with an elegantly-attired older gentleman. He looked down at his phone but didn’t even glance in my direction as he tucked it back in his pocket.
I scanned the room again, hunting for anyone who might resemble the company photo of Tony Jeffery, the man I’d come to see, but I came up blank. Tony might be the reason I was here, but Parker made a good substitute. I grabbed a passing champagne glass—I hate champagne but loved the look of the crystal in my hand—and worked my way through the mob.
I doubted that the bug in my fascinator could pick up more than soft violin music, loud crowd noise, and blurry images, but I figured if I screamed, Graham would notice. It was probably his security on duty, or at least one of his men would be embedded in whatever company was here. That would explain the easy invites. He was sneaky that way.
“Melissa,” I cried as I approached. “It’s good to see you here!”
She looked momentarily blank. I understood. My long braid and army coat had registered one impression. Super nerd elegance was quite another. “Linda Lane,” I reminded her. “We spoke this morning about the school.”
She brightened. “It’s nice to know someone at these parties. Ed, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Linda, this is Ed Parker. I may have mentioned him.”
As her supporter, yeah, right. “Good meeting a supporter of the arts, Mr. Parker. Melissa was trying to help me decide what to do if Reverend Arden’s school closes. I’d really hoped to be a part of the program. It’s a good cause.”
Ed looked bored. He frowned at my eccentric hairpiece, dismissed the rest of my bland attire, and returned to studying the crowd over my shoulder. “There’s always another good cause on the horizon, although I haven’t heard that JACAD will close. I thought it was simply out for the holidays.”
“Well, no one knows if Reverend Arden will recover, and this business with Mr. Paycock has everyone suspecting the funds are gone. In this tough economy, we’re all up a creek if JACAD can’t provide jobs.”
He snorted derisively. “As if building shacks in the jungle is a job. You’d be better off working at Walmart.”
That was a fine attitude for someone on CAD’s board of directors. And he wasn’t confirming anything about the funds. Since I wasn’t accomplishing much with this topic, I switched it up. “My brother told me I should apply at General Defense since they’re a big supporter of the program. I was supposed to talk to Mr. Jeffrey this evening.”
“Oh, Mr. Jeffrey is a real sweetie,” Melissa exclaimed. “His wife is ill and can never attend these functions, but he’s always so polite to all of us! I thought I saw him at the buffet a few minutes ago.”
Parker frowned haughtily. “One does not talk business at affairs like this. If you wish to see him at his office, I’ll mention your name. Call his secretary in the morning.”
That was a load of crap if I ever heard it. I gave him my best fawning smile. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Parker! I see why Melissa is so fond of you.” I pulled a card out of my purse and handed it over. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing. Perhaps you’ll be able to help us out sometime,” he said in a decidedly bored and distant voice as he tucked the card in his pocket.
I had no idea who “us” would be and doubted I wanted to help a wealthy trust fund baby who dangled Sunday school teachers on his string, but I tried to sound enthusiastic as I turned to Melissa.
She surprised me by taking my arm and breaking away from Ed’s. “Let’s check out the buffet,” she suggested, “I heard the chef outdid himself tonight.”
I hoped she actually had something to say and wasn’t just looking for escape. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Parker.” And I started across the room, dragging an anxious Melissa with me.
“Rebecca is dead!” she whispered. “I just heard she was found in the river! Why did no one tell me?”
“Dead?” I looked at her in blank surprise, more interested in how she’d found out than in old news.
“I can’t believe it.” She was almost crying and her hand dug into my arm. “She loved boating. She could swim. How could she die? Do you think Esther may have been with her, and they just haven’t found her body yet?”
Huh, sounds like she didn’t have all the information yet, if she didn’t know Rebecca had been strangled before she’d been left to sink. “I have no idea,” I said in what I hoped sounded like horror. “I heard about the body. How do you know it was Rebecca?”
“Ed told me,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “He thought I knew.”
Ed wasn’t telling her that Rebecca had been murdered. I debated and came down on the side of knowledge being better than ignorance and hoping Melissa would pack her bags and go home if she learned the truth.
I pretended to admire the artistic stack of unidentifiable appetizers and whispered, “If we’re talking about the same story, I heard the woman in the Potomac was strangled. And that a woman’s body was found in a grave with Mr. Paycock’s. I’m thinking we all need to go
home.”
She was so silent, that I had to glance over. Her chin was quivering, and she was fighting back tears. “That can’t be right,” she murmured. “After Owen died, Esther said. . .” She glanced back across the room. I tried to follow her gaze, but the room was too crowded. She seemed to set her mouth in decision and removed her phone from her designer bag. “I need to talk with someone. This just isn’t right.”
She left me to admire the sushi. I’m not a real detective and can’t go bugging private phones, no matter how much I longed to find out who Melissa was calling. I just hoped whoever it was would tell her to go home. When she mentioned Esther and Owen, had she been referring to the construction guy who’d died last spring?
Melissa seemed headed for an anteroom off the foyer. Instead of following her, I returned to my real purpose here and searched for GenDef’s elusive CEO.
A murmur and undulation of the predominantly male crowd caused me to study the entrance. Patra had arrived. She handed a fur wrap to a tuxedoed greeter, revealing her form-fitting, Christmas-red evening gown. She wore her thick chestnut hair in a fancy ’do pinned with zirconia that flashed just like diamonds. Tongues were probably hanging out, but I’d seen this reaction to my sister often enough not to bother watching her work the room.
Melissa had disappeared from view. I picked up a plate from the buffet and glanced back over my shoulder. Ed Parker was talking to a vaguely familiar face—perhaps one of CAD’s other board members. I tried to place the stranger’s round, cherubic visage on the roster and thought he might be one of the oil company sponsors, possibly the one involved in the AGA, the gun lobby that Ed belonged to.
I had a brief mental image of all the execs producing their concealed carries and having an old-fashioned gunfight, but I suppressed my eccentric humor and continued to search for Jeffrey. I found Nick first.
My genial, extroverted half-brother was holding court and expounding on the lack of good tailors in this country for an audience of half a dozen sartorially-impressive gentlemen in tuxes. My guess was that they all had tailors in Thailand, and Nick was trying to find out their names. The embassy didn’t pay enough to keep him in bespoke suits.
Twin Genius Page 20
