‘He was staying in that room. I know that he called down here a few times to get more towels.’ She gave a small, bittersweet laugh. ‘That was the only thing unusual about them: they used a lot of towels.’
Lauren flipped a page in her notebook. ‘Do you remember his first name?’
She shook her head. ‘He was older than Gunnar, more formal. All I remember is him joking around that it’s warmer in Iceland right now than it is in Buffalo.’
‘Can you describe him to me?’
Fiddling with the top button of her pressed white shirt, she gave a good physical description: over six feet, blond hair that was graying at the temples, thin build and in his mid-to late fifties. ‘And pale,’ she added, ‘but with ruddy red cheeks, like they were permanently wind burned.’
‘Like a fisherman?’ Lauren asked. It would seem like a crazy question but pretty soon Lake Erie would be crawling with ice fishermen. You’d drive by on Route 5 and they’d be walking across the ice with their poles and buckets to the little sheds they’d erected on the bumpy white-and-blue ice. Then you’d see them in the taverns later, faces and hands red, drinking beer or whiskey, trying to warm up. It was a sight to see once the lake froze over and people tramped out with their poles.
‘Yes, but he wasn’t like a local fisherman. He seemed very upper crust, if you know what I mean. Very sophisticated. And handsome. He was very handsome. Mr Jonsson hung on his every word.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Lauren asked.
‘Right before my shift ended yesterday,’ she replied, still picking at the pearl button at her throat. ‘He came down and asked where they could find a good chicken wing place within walking distance. I told him to try Giovanni’s Wings and Subs on Main Street. That was a little before seven o’clock when I got off work.’
And less than two hours later Gunnar was dead, and the mysterious Mr Steinarsson had cleared every single thing connected to him out of their hotel room.
‘I’ll be able to check the Peace Bridge records, get a full name on who he crossed over with, and what time Steinarsson crossed back into Canada, if he left right after the murder,’ Matt offered.
‘Let’s get on that right away,’ Lauren agreed, then turned back to Angela. ‘You said Mr Steinarsson came down and had words with someone claiming to be the victim’s brother. Can you describe that man to me?’
‘He was very nicely dressed. Brown hair. Average build.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It got a little heated, then the man stormed out of the lobby. They didn’t fist fight or anything like that.’
‘Would you know him again if I showed you a picture?’
‘I think so. Mr Steinarsson came to the desk after the other man left and told me that they did not want to be disturbed by that man again, and to tell him that Gunnar was out if he came back.’
‘He wasn’t extremely thin, was he?’ Lauren asked, thinking maybe Brooklyn had tried to disguise herself somehow.
Angela shook her head. ‘No. He was average. He looked like a businessman type. That’s why I was so surprised when they started to argue. Why wouldn’t Gunnar want to talk to his own brother?’ Her brown eyes went wide. ‘You don’t think the brother killed him, do you?’
Time for damage control. ‘Angela, it’s really too soon to jump to any conclusions. And that’s a serious accusation to make. Our investigation is still in the beginning stages.’
‘OK,’ she agreed, ‘but I would definitely talk to the brother, if I were you.’
‘I’m going to leave you my card,’ Lauren told her, cutting her off before she launched her own investigation and put it on YouTube. ‘Please call me if you think of anything else.’ There was a gold business card holder on the desk in front of her. Lauren plucked one out. ‘And I’ll take yours.’
Angela took Lauren’s card, studied it for a second, then looked back up. ‘OK. Thank you. I hope you find the guy who did this.’
‘We’re going to try. Thank you for all your help.’
Matt gave her a thank-you as well and they turned to leave. ‘Talk to the brother!’ Angela called across the lobby, causing an older lady lugging several department store shopping bags to stop and stare at the retreating cops. Lauren raised her hand in an acknowledging wave. Seemed like everyone wanted her to take a closer look at Ryan Hudson.
TWELVE
‘In the last six hours I’ve found out that my victim surprised his father with his very existence, was here with a man who has since disappeared, and the hotel front desk manager and Mr Hudson’s nurse don’t trust the brother, who apparently came and argued with the vanishing boyfriend.’ Lauren let her head fall forward into her hands as Matt pulled out of the fire lane. She was starting to develop a migraine. ‘And it’s only three thirty in the afternoon.’
‘Seventeen million dollars is a lot of reason to kill someone,’ Matt pointed out.
‘How does this mystery man factor in though? We should be able to see him leave when we get the hotel surveillance footage,’ Lauren said as Matt turned onto Delaware Avenue and headed back toward police headquarters. ‘None of the Hudson family mentioned anything about Gunnar being here with someone. And Ryan Hudson damn well didn’t mention stopping by his hotel.’
Hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, Matt glanced over at Lauren. ‘Sounds like both our victim and his family had some secrets.’
‘Hopefully Hector Avilla came up with something on the video canvas,’ she said. ‘That would make life so much easier.’ The new glass-and-steel buildings that had popped up on Delaware Avenue as downtown Buffalo revitalized itself over the last ten years seemed to loom over them on both sides. If someone had asked Lauren fifteen years ago about thirty construction projects going on simultaneously downtown, she would have laughed. For most of the eighties and nineties the city had been in decline, losing population and businesses. It never ceased to amaze her how everything had changed – seemingly overnight.
‘Does that ever really happen for you?’ Matt questioned with a slight smile as he checked his blind spot before changing lanes like a good motorist.
‘For me, personally?’ Lauren sighed. ‘No, never. Not once.’
They found a parking spot in the police lot across from the building so poor Matt wouldn’t have to worry about getting a demerit from his boss, or whatever the Feds did to rebuke their employees. Gathering up their things, they headed for the front door of the old federal courthouse-turned-Buffalo Police headquarters.
‘I have a message for you,’ Marilyn called out as soon as Lauren crossed the threshold into the Homicide office. ‘And you’re not going to like it.’
Lauren took a deep breath as she peeled off her coat and slung it over her arm. ‘OK. Give it to me.’
Marilyn’s glasses slipped down her nose as she read from a little rectangle of paper. ‘Ryan Hudson called. He said he won’t be coming in on advice of his attorney. He also said that his sister took off in her car, so don’t expect her to come in either.’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Lauren muttered. ‘I should have known better with those two.
Matt looked at Marilyn in disbelief. ‘He called and cancelled, just like that?’
‘Happens all the time, young man.’ Marilyn poked her glasses back up, crumpled the paper in her fist, and let it drop into the trash can next to the desk. ‘Welcome to the Homicide office.’
‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked, turning to Lauren. ‘Our two main suspects just decided not to show up for their interviews.’
Lauren glanced at the time on her phone, then looked back up at Matt. It was five minutes to four. They’d made it back just in time to be told they’d been stood up. ‘We write our reports. Then we go home. I had a long night yesterday, and I’m tired. Just because Ryan has a lawyer doesn’t mean Brooklyn does. Hopefully she goes back to Mr Hudson’s house. We’ll pick things up first thing in the morning.’
Matt opened his mouth to protest, must have noticed the bags under Lauren’s eye
s for the first time, and snapped it shut.
‘First thing in the morning,’ she assured him, laying her notebook on her desk so she could type up their activity report. ‘Unless we get a call in on another homicide, then we’ll be together for the rest of the night.’
She silently hoped the citizens of the city could behave themselves until morning.
THIRTEEN
‘Hey! Pain in my ass, I’m home!’ Lauren yelled as she stepped into her front foyer. Reese’s dog, Watson, came tearing down the hallway from the kitchen, barking his head off with joy at her arrival.
‘Good boy,’ she said as she bent and scooped him up, carrying him into the living room where Reese was lying on her couch, watching a DVRed football game. With his head turned toward the big screen television, Lauren could see the railroad tracks of scars that crisscrossed his bald head. Sitting on the ground next to the remote was one of his numerous baseball hats. He used to wear them because he was a die-hard fan, now he wore them for camouflage.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the screen. ‘You didn’t wake me up when you left for work this morning.’
Lauren allowed herself to slide into the overstuffed chair next to Reese, tossing her tote bag on the coffee table. ‘I didn’t want to disturb your beauty rest. I let Watson out, made us some breakfast, watched the news on my tablet, all without you missing a wink.’
Now Reese twisted around to look at her with his clear green eyes. ‘I figured you caught a homicide. That’s why I didn’t bother you at work today. Thought you’d be deep in the zone.’
He was still handsome despite his scars, with his warm brown skin and killer smile. Almost six years younger than her, Lauren used to like to refer to him as the annoying little brother she never had. She hadn’t said that in a while. Or thought it. Somewhere in the last few months her feelings had changed.
‘You know me so well,’ she exhaled, putting her feet up on the table. White lights twinkled on her fake Christmas tree. She’d always had a real one until last year, when Watson decided he liked to water it. Now, he snuggled against her while simultaneously licking her hand. ‘Ew. No, stop, Watsy.’
‘You must have had something good and messy for lunch. Watson approves.’
Lauren wiped her hand on her black pants, not worrying about ruining them. She had ten more pairs just like them up in her closet. ‘Now that you mention it, I forgot to have lunch today.’
Now Reese sat up. ‘Then it’s a good thing I ordered a pizza already. It’ll be here any minute.’ He ran his hands down along his torso. ‘I’ve lost so much weight I can’t even harass you for your stick-like figure. We’re getting to be Irish twins.’
‘I don’t think that means what you think it means,’ she teased. He looked so comfortable on her couch in her living room in the five-bedroom colonial she’d gotten in her divorce settlement from her second husband. Reese had his own room with a private bath and separate entrance on the first floor. Built as an in-law suite, it was now home to Reese and Watson while he recovered. Lauren liked to needle Reese, but it was just the nature of their non-romantic relationship. With both her daughters away at college, the house had become too big and quiet. She appreciated the noise and chaos that Reese and Watson brought with them.
‘I know what it means,’ he countered, getting off the sofa and stretching out. ‘Your daughters are less than a year apart. Irish twins. Me and you both look like skinny bean poles. And we’re both part Irish, so there’s that.’
‘What about the fact you’re biracial and I’m mostly Polish?’
He shrugged. ‘Only one of us can be perfect. I guess that’s me. I shouldn’t have to be telling you this stuff after all of our years together as partners. It should be etched forever in your mind as fact.’
‘Sorry, Mr Perfect.’ She suppressed a smile; no need to encourage him. ‘Do you want to hear about the homicide or not?’
The doorbell rang. Lauren lived in one of the only gated neighborhoods in the city of Buffalo. Reese must have called the guard and told them to let the delivery guy in. Watson jumped down and charged out of the living room, barking all the way to the door. ‘I’ll get it. I already set the table. Let’s eat.’ He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ‘I’m starving.’
Reese setting the table consisted of him putting two paper plates, two plastic forks and two folded up paper towels on the kitchen table. He and Lauren sat down and dug in while she relayed the facts of the case. He chewed loudly, with his mouth open, while dropping bits of crust to the waiting Watson. When she was done, he picked up the last slice and gazed over it at her. ‘So why do you have that look on your face? You got two great suspects and seventeen million motives. That’s more than we have with most of the homicides we get on the first day.’
‘Last night was a full cold moon.’
Reese dropped his slice on the paper plate, wiped his mouth with his paper towel, and pointed at her. ‘Don’t you start with Billy Munzert. Do you hear me? Don’t you do it.’
Lauren’s pizza hovered in mid-air an inch from her mouth. ‘What?’
‘I took Watson for a walk last night and it was so bleary out you couldn’t even see the moon.’
‘That was later. After it got cloudy. I’m just saying there was one. A bright one. And when I went to do the notification with the dad—’
‘Did the dad mention the moon?’ Reese asked, tossing Watson a piece of peperoni.
‘Yes.’ She put her pizza down on the table.
‘So you read into it and now, somehow, this case is related to Billy Munzert’s?’
Lauren shook her head and pushed her paper plate with its half-eaten slice on it away from her. ‘They aren’t related. I know that. It’s just I can’t help thinking about Billy and how I promised his parents—’
‘Which you never should have done.’ Reese cut in.
‘Which I never should have done,’ she agreed, her face getting hot. There’s more to it than that! she wanted to scream. You didn’t see the look on Mr Hudson’s face, or hear how much he sounded like Billy Munzert’s dad. It’s not just about the moon. ‘But I did. And I owe it to them to keep trying. And now I owe it to Mr Hudson to give this case everything I’ve got.’
‘You always give every case everything you got. That’s why between the two of us we’ve been stabbed, shot, and put in front of a grand jury. Lauren, you worked the Munzert case hard. You re-interviewed every person left alive in the file. You followed up on every lead. You can’t keep banging your head against the wall. If a break is going to come in that case, it’ll come. Someone will find his body, a snitch will talk in jail, or you might get a deathbed confession. But you’ve done everything you can do.’
Her appetite had completely gone. Lauren sipped some water out of the champagne stem Reese had put out. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight. Reese knew exactly what she was doing to herself. She’d seen Billy Munzert’s father in Mr Hudson and was trying to atone for not solving his son’s case.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘But when you come back to work promise me we’ll work on the Munzert case again.’
Reese reached down and let Watson lick his fingers. ‘I don’t have to promise you I’m going to do my job. Let’s just do it, all right?’
She nodded. ‘OK.’
‘Have you heard anything on the DNA sample in CODIS lately?’ he asked. When Lauren had all the evidence reprocessed, the lab techs had found a sample of DNA from an unknown male on the left handlebar of Billy’s bike. Lauren had swabbed every single family member, childhood friend and neighborhood acquaintance, but nothing matched. The only thing she could do was have the lab put the sample into CODIS, the Combined DNA Index System. The national database, maintained by the FBI, contained millions of DNA samples. Once an unknown suspect’s sample was submitted to the system, it was routinely run through to see if it would hit on another submitted sample.
‘I called this morning. Don’t look at me like that. I kno
w they would have notified me right away. I just wanted to double check. And no, there was no hit.’
An awkward silence filled her kitchen. At one time it had been Lauren who told Reese how to run a case. She had broken him in when he first came to Homicide, taught him everything she knew about cold cases. More and more over the last few years their roles had changed. Now they were equals, but somehow that made Lauren uneasy. Because if they were equals, then she definitely couldn’t put him in the little brother category anymore. And if he wasn’t her little brother, what was he?
‘So tell me again about this Hudson guy’s nurse,’ Reese said, breaking the silence. ‘Erna? Is she hot?’
Lauren balled up her greasy paper towel and threw it at his face. ‘She’s old enough to be your mother.’
He ducked and smiled that thousand-watt smile of his. ‘So what? You know I don’t discriminate.’
‘And a grateful nation of single women thanks you for that,’ she replied, gathering up the paper and plastic products. Reese snatched a piece of crust off of his plate before she could dump it in the garbage, and slipped it to Watson. Maybe there was still some little brother in him after all.
FOURTEEN
‘Good morning, Agent Lawton,’ Marilyn called from the front desk. Lauren had left their office door ajar so she could see who was coming and going, anxious for Matt to show up. Finally getting seven straight hours of sleep was a blessing, but it also meant they had a lot to make up for. Every minute they’d spent at home the case had more potential to grow cold.
‘Tired?’ Lauren asked as he slipped through the door, shutting it behind him.
‘Exhausted. The baby is teething. I couldn’t sleep all night.’ Lauren remembered those days. Your babies will be grown and out of the house before you know it, she thought, and you’ll miss these sleepless nights.
A Full Cold Moon Page 8
