by Ann Roberts
“They’re just getting their foot in the door. What about TRIO?”
“That’s a mystery.” She opened the last folder, which held another incorporation document. “I couldn’t find anything except this. The only person it references by name is Allen Troshev as the statutory agent, but I queried his name and came up with nothing.”
“That’s odd,” Ari murmured. “Maybe this has something to do with Ms. Wonders’s comment to Arnulfo. Stevie and Lindsey were a duo, not a trio.”
Andre arrived at the table and pecked each of the women on her cheek. Then he carefully removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. Even in the August heat he still dressed for success. He sat down and glanced at the papers between them. “I see we’re getting right to it, which is fine with me. I don’t have a lot of time.”
Ari handed him the Articles of Incorporation. He’d graduated from business school and knew corporate and criminal law equally well. “Take a look at this. Why does Sebastian King only hold ten percent of the Roosevelt Apartments? I’d heard through the grapevine this was the biggest investment he’s ever made. We’re both wondering why his share isn’t larger.”
He scanned the entire document and his brow furrowed when he reached the share allotment. “It’s certainly strange. And did you research Allen Troshev?”
Molly replied, “He’s a ghost.”
“He might be,” he said, closing the file. “It’s not uncommon for corporations to hide information behind shells and fictitious names.”
“Maybe it’s a clue,” she said eagerly. “I could use something.”
The waitress automatically brought him a Coke and he winked at her as she left. “So how’s it going?”
“Nobody on the Row will talk to me,” she whined. “I miss just flashing my badge.”
“That does help,” he chuckled.
She gave him a hard stare. “Please tell me you have some leads for us.”
He opened his iPad mini and tapped the screen a few times. Ari watched Molly’s face with amusement. She hated technology in police work. “Okay, the deceased is Carol Sue—”
“Kendricks,” Molly said. “We know all of that. Army vet. Street name is Ms. Wonders. Her partner was Jonny who thought the VA was conspiring against her. Tell us about the murder weapon.”
“Or the phone,” Ari suggested, “or the footprint in the dust. And did you find her notebook?”
He leaned back and said sternly, “Ladies, how do you know so much already?”
Molly avoided his gaze and poured the rest of the Pellegrino over her glass of ice. “We’re good detectives.”
“I’ll bet,” he said. He looked at Ari. “You found the body, right?”
“I did,” she said with a smile.
After the waitress took their lunch orders, he said seriously, “Please tell me you didn’t tamper with the crime scene.”
“Hardly at all,” she admitted. “I opened some drawers, snapped some cell phone photos…”
“So in other words, you already know about everything we found at the crime scene. You just need me to fill in the blanks.”
“Yup,” Molly said.
“I feel so used,” he joked as he scrolled through the iPad. “Okay, so let’s start with cause of death and the murder weapon. She was killed by one well-placed blow to the head, most likely from a blunt object the size of a softball. Estimated time of death is between four and six p.m. Killer is right-handed. We think there was a struggle as evidenced by the men’s size thirteen work boot prints found near the desk. Unfortunately it’s a Frye boot—”
“And everyone has those.” Molly shook her head and added it to her notes.
“Yes,” he agreed. “The autopsy found no hair or skin under her fingernails, so if there was a struggle, it didn’t last very long.”
“Have they gathered the shoe sizes of everyone on the council?”
He nodded. “Sebastian’s a thirteen. Next closest is Lev at twelve and a half.”
Molly was scribbling furiously on her notepad, but she looked up long enough to ask, “Any idea what the murder weapon might be?”
“The coroner speculates that it might be a rock. Some dirt and debris were found in the wound as well as flecks of red house paint.”
“Isn’t there dirt on everything?” Ari asked.
“True,” he conceded, “but this is garden topsoil. And before you ask, the paint is called Heartthrob by Sherwin-Williams.”
“What about her phone? She had her earbuds in when we found her, and the phone was playing ‘Seven Wonders.’”
He shook his head and said, “That’s the only song that thing plays. She had downloaded it two hundred and twenty-six times. It just kept repeating.”
“Wow.” She was surprised that in moments of lucidity, Ms. Wonders wouldn’t want a variety of selections. “What else was on the phone?”
He looked around and then leaned forward. “I don’t know exactly, but whatever it is, it’s big.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s gone. I heard the feds confiscated it. Perkins and Flores didn’t even see it. The crime scene techs did their analysis and suddenly the phone went to the Fibbies. The detectives only got a brief report.”
Molly couldn’t hide her frustration. “So they took over the case?”
“No, that’s the weird thing. They didn’t. Whatever was on the phone was unrelated to her murder. Perkins and Flores are still in charge.”
“But there’s something else on that phone worth investigating,” Ari concluded.
“Yeah,” Andre agreed. Lunch arrived and he flirted with the waitress for a few minutes. Molly checked her watch and Ari noted her growing impatience. After the waitress left he continued. “As I was saying, the report on the phone was minimal. She had a few games, a few apps and that song.”
Ari asked, “Did you find a notebook or a journal of some kind?” When he shook his head, she said to him, “That’s what the killer was after. He wanted her notebook.”
“Is this something the detectives should know about?” he asked sarcastically.
“No,” Molly corrected. “It’s something the detectives should’ve seen. There’s a Velcro strip on the pen you confiscated. The other half of the Velcro belongs to the notebook she carried around.” Molly grinned and said, “Be the hero and point that out to Perkins and Flores.”
“I just might,” he said, making a note on the iPad.
“And did they find a Swiss army knife?”
He scanned the information. “No.”
“Then it’s missing too,” Molly said. “We have two witnesses who saw her with it. Who’s her next of kin?”
“There may be a cousin in California, but she was an only child. Parents gone. Partner gone. Here’s something interesting,” he said before he took a sip of his Coke. “Her financials. She was getting around a thousand a month from her military pension, but she owns a condo at Fourteenth Street and Camelback. She wasn’t homeless at all.”
Ari’s heart ached for Ms. Wonders, and she felt ashamed that she’d ignored Molly’s calls for the last three days. Maybe we’d have identified the killer by now…
“She told Maya Corbett, the owner of MonOrchid, that she couldn’t go back to the condo,” Molly explained. “Finding Jonny was too traumatic. Have the detectives searched it?”
He nodded and finished a piece of flatbread. “Nice little place. Two bedrooms. One of them was wall-to-wall CDs. She had a lot more than Fleetwood Mac. Artwork everywhere. And the Fibbies confiscated her computer too. I’d love to know what’s on that.” He wiped his fingers and scrolled through his notes. “The neighbors didn’t notice she was gone since they rarely saw her even when Jonny was alive. But they all remember the night when Jonny committed suicide. They said Carol, or Ms. Wonders, was completely out of it. A couple of them offered to stay with her but she politely refused. She went inside and closed the door. No one could recollect seeing her again after that.”
“So her partner commits suicide and she just walks out one day and never comes back,” Ari said. “That’s awful.”
“I think it was a little more premeditated than that,” he replied. “The detectives said the refrigerator was cleaned out, the AC was set to eighty-five, all the appliances were unplugged. It was like someone was going on a three-month vacation.”
Molly scratched her head. “So everything is being paid electronically?”
“I guess so. They’re combing through her financials now. The condo may be paid off, but get ready for this.” He paused dramatically before he said, “She had a hundred thou in the bank.”
Ari couldn’t believe it. “And she was living in the Stapley building while Tony Sanchez pays for her phone.”
“Ah, yes, Tony Sanchez,” he said with a smile. “He comes across as a good guy, doesn’t he?”
Molly and Ari exchanged worried glances. “He is, isn’t he?” Molly asked.
“I’m not so sure. I was there when they brought him in for questioning. He kept asking about her will. Said he was named in it.”
“Did they find it in the apartment?”
“Nope. They just got a warrant for a safe deposit box at Arizona Federal. It might be in there, but under the circumstances it might be better if Tony isn’t named. He doesn’t have an alibi—”
“So he could be a suspect,” Molly said. “If she was gone, and he was named in the will, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about finding investors for the Bali Hi. Is he the only suspect? What about all the other incidents?”
“There’s not much to go on. Whoever’s doing that stuff is good, and that’s assuming all this is related, and I’m not sold on that idea.”
“Why not?” Ari asked.
“There’s no clear motive. No similar target.” He tapped the iPad a few more times. “I wasn’t able to find out much, but I got a little. It helps that Perkins’s and Flores’s desks are near mine, but they’re working two other cases so this is hardly on their radar.”
“Lev Rosenthal will not be happy,” Molly commented.
“The artist whose work was slashed was visiting from New Mexico. Gayle Tang has no enemies here. As for the smashed window at Brown’s Diner, no video feed and no witnesses. And Flores interviewed each of the gang members involved in the fight at the park and all of their stories check out. The guys who got the texts willingly gave up their phones for analysis, but whoever texted them used a burner phone. It’s untraceable.”
“So the perp knows something about technology. Maybe a hacker?” Molly suggested.
“Maybe.” He glanced up and added, “Tony Sanchez seems to know quite a bit about that stuff. Even though he’s just a gallery manager.”
Ari remembered his extensive technology at the Frontal Lobe Gallery. “What about the smoke bomb at the Bikini Lounge?”
“The smoke bomb’s a complete dead end. It was placed up in the AC duct which, get this, can be accessed from the men’s or women’s restroom by standing on the sink and popping up a ceiling tile. Anyone could’ve done it, and the place was packed. No security cameras and nobody remembers anyone suspicious.”
Molly finished scribbling and looked up. “Yeah, that’s basically what the manager told us too.”
Ari stirred her tea. “So you don’t think any of this is related. What about the idea that someone’s out to destroy Lower Grand? We’ve talked to a few business people. They see that as a distinct possibility.”
“Who have you talked to?”
“Brooke Brown, Reverend Glass, Crosby Brunell, Tony Sanchez from the council, Chynna Grove. She owned that coffeehouse named Scrabble. She’s clearly harboring a grudge. She blames the other business owners for not supporting her.”
He sighed. “Yes, I’ve met Chynna Grove. Her real name is Nancy Hervog. Chynna Grove is an anagram.”
“Clever,” Ari said.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “She’s smart. She came downtown a few months ago and made a stink claiming the police needed to do something about the injustice. The desk sergeant had to threaten her with arrest if she didn’t calm down. She’s a live wire.”
Ari noticed Molly’s flatbread was practically untouched. She’d spent the entire meal flipping through her yellow pad, most of its pages covered in notes. She looked up and asked, “What about Crosby’s interview?”
He snorted. “They interviewed every artist and merchant on RoRo and LGA. A few other artists on RoRo wear size thirteen, but none have any motive or connection to LGA. Never seen so many artistic people all in one place.” He rolled his eyes. “Probably should’ve gone to their studios rather than make them come in. It just increased the drama.”
“What about Crosby?” Ari asked politely. She’d noticed that since Andre no longer answered to Molly, he tended to be a little more dramatic himself.
“Um…” He swiped the iPad several times and said, “Okay, Crosby Brunell, owner of Eye Lounge. It says here that on the day in question he took a drive to Prescott to clear his head but no one went with him. He stopped to eat but can’t find the receipt for his meal to prove he was out of town. Possibly he made the whole thing up.” He looked up at them both to gauge their reactions. “Think he’s a serious suspect?”
“He could be,” Molly answered. “He didn’t want to hire me and he’s completely against supporting LGA. He’s certainly capable of sabotage.”
“And he’s seeing Chynna Grove,” Ari added.
He looked up from the iPad. “Oh, really? That’s news.” He made a note.
“Anything on Lev?” Molly asked.
Andre chuckled and tapped the screen. “Talk about an interesting guy. Has an extensive record when he was in his twenties, eight arrests for protesting. Once Vietnam was over he enrolled in business school and formed the Rosenthal Group. Has ties with several charities, viewed as a pillar in the community. Had a rough financial year, but his company stabilized. Since he supports LGA I don’t see a motive and Lorraine’s his alibi during the time Ms. Wonders was killed. Still, his shoe size is a twelve and a half though.” Andre shrugged. “Nothing else to say.”
“What about Brooke?” Molly asked, finally nibbling on a piece of flatbread. “Does she have a motive?”
“Possibly. Brooke is very much about what benefits Brooke. Her alibi for the time of the murder is flimsy. She was in and out of the diner getting ready for First Friday. Some of the employees saw her intermittently up to the time of the murder, but she could’ve easily slipped down the street and returned without anyone knowing.”
“But she couldn’t fit in a man’s size thirteen shoe,” Molly replied.
“True,” he conceded, “but she could’ve worn extra socks with those Frye boots to make us think it was a guy.” He lowered his voice. “But right now the prime suspect is Tony. He has a temper. I saw that firsthand. If he thought anything or anyone was standing in his way of renovating the Bali Hi…”
“So is that the official position of the Phoenix PD?” Ari asked.
He laughed. “Of course not. I don’t think there is one. Captain Phillips certainly isn’t going to say that.” He looked at her playfully. “Do you think your dad is dating the captain?”
“What?” She was shocked. “Seriously?” Her gaze swept between Andre and Molly, who seemed to be focused on her notes.
“I don’t know if it’s true,” he admitted. “But there’s talk.”
The conversation wandered to police department gossip, but she noticed Molly would have none of it. She was still processing the idea of her father dating the chief when Molly said, “Are they digging into anyone else’s financials? I’m thinking that’s the key here. My money is on Sebastian King.”
“Why?”
“Think about the big picture. Roosevelt Row has climbed out of the gutter and poised to become a great epicenter for both retail and downtown living. Sebastian King sells two different sets of investors on the idea that the Roosevelt Apartments will take RoRo to a whole level. They buy
into it, he builds it, and during this time, the city makes a huge commitment to Grand Avenue, which completely shifts the focus away from RoRo.”
“That logic could be a motive for anyone on the Row,” he argued.
“Yes, but I doubt anyone else has as much to lose as Sebastian King. Those apartments cost…” Her voice trailed off as she flipped several pages back in her yellow pad. “Twelve point eight million. And he’s a size thirteen.”
He shook his head. “I see where you’re coming from, Mol, but the gang fight happened on RoRo. It seems to me both areas are being targeted.”
“The gang fight could be subterfuge,” she countered, “to draw attention away from the true motive.”
“That could be,” he admitted.
“What was his alibi?” Molly asked.
He searched the iPad and said, “At the time of the murder Mr. King was in an afternoon meeting. Airtight alibi with six witnesses.” He checked his watch. “Well, ladies, I’ve got to go. If I hear anything else I’ll let you know.” He dropped a fifty on the table, causing a momentary squabble about the check, but he settled it by offering a wide grin and walking out.
Taking her cue from Andre, Ari grabbed her purse and stood. “Well, thanks for inviting me. I’m not sure how much help I was. Andre’s the real business expert.”
“You were very helpful,” Molly said. She quickly stacked her files and followed her out to the parking lot.
“So what’s your next move?” Ari asked, fumbling in her purse for her keys. When she glanced up, Molly’s gaze was focused on the Roosevelt Apartments a few blocks away.
“I’d really like to know more about those apartments from an insider’s perspective. Sebastian King is avoiding me and he and Crosby were the only two people who didn’t vote to hire me as a PI. I don’t care if he has an airtight alibi. He could still be involved.” She shifted the files from one arm to the other. “Maybe I’ll stop by the apartments and see if anyone will talk.”
“You should pretend to be a prospective tenant.”
She made a face. “I’m not really very good at playacting. I know it’s a part of being a PI, I just haven’t developed the skill.”
