by BV Lawson
“Not to me. Not to anyone.”
Maida pushed the plate of pastries closer to Drayco. He spied a ribbon of chocolate inside one, and his stomach rumbled. She shook her head. “You haven’t eaten much this morning, I’ll bet. You need more than sugar.”
She jumped up and started rummaging through the refrigerator. “I’ll fix that in short order. I think you’re ten pounds thinner than the last time I saw you.”
He protested, “I’m not very hungry.”
“Yes, you are. Your stomach just said so.”
She moved from refrigerator to cupboards in her food quest, but stopped in mid-stride. “You say your mother rented an apartment not all that far from you? Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe she wasn’t in the area for some shady business deal. Surely she’d know she might be seen, might be recognized. Seems to me she was checking up on you.”
“Me? Why now?”
“Maybe not just now. You don’t know if this is the first time. She could have passed through off and on, and you’d never know. You only found out now because of the whole murder angle.”
Maura did say she knew about the carjacking and his injury. She certainly hadn’t seemed surprised when he’d mentioned he’d been employed by the Bureau or that he no longer worked there. If Brock wasn’t speaking to her, then there was only one logical conclusion—she had been keeping tabs on him.
Major nodded. “What was it she told you? She didn’t want you to know the kind of person she was. Love takes many forms, Scott. Sacrifices aren’t just for soldiers and firefighters.”
Drayco didn’t have time to mull over Major’s words when Drayco’s cellphone rang. He picked it up to check the number, thinking he should turn the bloody thing off. But when he saw the caller’s ID, he punched the answer button. He had to pull the phone partly away from his ear due to the decibel level of the man’s voice on the other end.
Detective Halabi’s gold-colored baritone voice boomed out, “Figured you’d like to know we’ve arrested Edwin Zamorra, thanks to your efforts, it seems. Since you’re making me cancel my weekend plans, thought you might like to come to my office and join us.”
It was less of a polite request and more of a command. The Cessna was going to get more of a workout today than Drayco had anticipated.
He sprawled back into his seat and looked out into the garden of mostly dormant plants, except for a few pops of red from spring-blooming camellias. “Well, Maida. Looks like I won’t be staying after all.”
“Bad tidings?”
He sighed. Bad, good, who knew? One thing was for certain—when this was all over, he was definitely coming over for a week. Maybe two. No, make that a month.
Chapter 36
Halabi had also called Sarg, who greeted Drayco as he arrived midafternoon at the Arlington PD. The two got checked in and ushered to Halabi’s office together. The detective, who’d brought in extra chairs to accommodate both men, pointed to a box of stale donuts on his desk. “Take all you want. I’m chowing down on alphabet soup today. A little bit of FBI, FDA, HHS, FTC.”
That fact wasn’t a complete surprise to Drayco. After Sarg had called in his favor with the lab techs, he’d phoned Drayco late last night with preliminary results—the meds Drayco obtained from the elderly women were suspect. The real surprise was that Halabi’s alphabet soupers hadn’t camped out on Drayco’s doorstep. Yet.
Halabi thumped a stack of lab reports. “Those pills from Edwin Zamorra’s pharmacy were a combo of watered-down meds and counterfeit placebos. When we approached Edwin at home this morning with a search warrant for his pharmacy records, he turned into the proverbial canary.”
Sarg asked, “Did he say why he did it, sir? For the money?”
“That part’s a bit hazy. Swears he wasn’t altering life-saving drugs like chemo or AIDS prescriptions. We’ll check into that. If he’s telling the truth, guess we have an unethical pharmacist with a ‘moral’ code.”
Drayco eyed the donuts without much enthusiasm. He was supposed to be enjoying one of Maida’s restaurant-worthy suppers right about now. Halabi caught him looking at them and said, “No jokes about cops and donuts. My wife runs a bakery, and these are hers. I can’t turn them down, can I?”
Drayco found himself wishing Halabi’s wife was a coffee barista, instead. “Did Edwin mention a partner or partners in his prescription fraud scheme?”
Halabi put on a pair of reading glasses and peered over the rim at Drayco. “He did not. You’re thinking Jerold, right?”
The detective hadn’t asked Drayco about Maura and her con-woman past or Iago or Brisbane. So far, so good. He felt Sarg looking at him, asking without asking if they should bring it up. Drayco shook his head a fraction, and Sarg settled back in his chair.
Drayco replied, “Jerold, certainly, or anyone else.”
“If Jerold found out and threatened to expose Edwin, that would be a damn good motive for murder, I’ll hand it to you.” Halabi continued to study Drayco. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
Sarg answered first, “Might check on Jerold’s sports gambling habit.” And he proceeded to fill Halabi in on the FBI’s newly opened investigation into the outfit Gogo had attended.
Drayco added, “You can also check Western Unions to see if anyone matching Jerold’s description has cashed money orders. Match them to lottery fraud complaints registered with the FTC or FBI.”
Halabi looked from Drayco to Sarg, who shrugged but then gave Drayco a sharp side glance. Drayco gave Sarg a little raise of his hands in a silent apology. He had a lot of explaining to do later.
Halabi continued with a note of exasperation in his voice, “We got a neighbor of Jerold’s who says he saw Edwin with Jerold a day before Jerold was murdered. Edwin says it was just a routine visit. He’d never kill his brother. Family is family.”
Well now, Edwin had lied when he told Drayco and Sarg he hadn’t seen Jerold in two weeks. Drayco shifted around in the too-short chair. “First Ashley, estranged from her father, visits him on the day he was murdered. Then Edwin, also estranged, visits his brother shortly beforehand.”
“Yeah. Odd that.” Halabi glanced at his notes. “In Ashley’s case, it was to return some of her father’s possessions. We have a list she gave us. Nothing strange.” Halabi flipped over a page. “Oh, before I forget to mention it, we found where your mother was staying.”
He nodded his head at Drayco without looking up, “An apartment in a duplex, paid in cash. We found some high-quality fake ID cards we can’t trace and the cellphone she used to call Jerold. Someone’s been there within the past few days—a potted plant was watered recently.”
He took off his glasses. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Drayco?”
Drayco ignored the question and pulled a key out of his pocket sealed in a plastic baggie. “Something else you can check. After Ashley and Edwin allowed us to look through Jerold’s condo, I found this inside one of those fake aquarium rocks.”
He reached over and tossed it onto Halabi’s desk. Halabi picked it up. “Why didn’t you give this to me sooner?”
“Slipped my mind.”
“Has anything else slipped your mind?” The detective glared at him for several moments, then rubbed his eyes. “This case has me positively knackered. Don’t need more pain from you to add to my budding migraine.”
Drayco asked, “Knackered? Thought I’d heard microscopic bits of a British accent.”
“With a Lebanese-American father and English mother, it was ‘Arabish’ when I was growing up.”
Sarg said, “With the Sargosians, it was Armenian-ish. Getting back to the case, seems to me Edwin’s arrest means the charges against Maura McCune aren’t as airtight as they seemed.”
Halabi frowned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Sarg explained, “Edwin could have killed his brother over the medication fraud. He hated the TSA—and by extension his brother, perhaps. And he was in love with Jerold’s
wife, isn’t that right, sir?”
“A few people we talked to speculated on that. He admit it to either of you?”
Drayco nodded. “Making it possible Edwin killed his brother—and his brother’s wife—out of jealousy.”
“Is that why you’ve been fixated on Ophelia Zamorra’s death, Drayco?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say fixated. Besides, of the two brothers, I think it more likely Jerold killed his wife.”
Halabi fanned his fingers out on his desk. “Hell, if that’s true, I’ll owe Ashley Zamorra a big apology. Don’t think I’m her favorite person right now.”
She’d admitted as much to Drayco, but he didn’t voice it aloud. Halabi wasn’t exactly his favorite person right now, either. “Ashley’s closer to her uncle than she was her father.”
“Yeah. I got that when we notified her about this latest development. She’s coming in later today to make a statement.”
Halabi grabbed a donut and started nibbling on it. With his mouth half full, he said, “Your mother’s a flight risk. And she’s refusing to cooperate with an alibi or account of her recent activity. Until we prove otherwise, she’ll remain our top murder suspect and safely in jail. For all I know, she and Edwin were partners in this.”
Sarg chimed in, “We’d like to talk to Edwin if the offer is still on the table.”
“I said I’d let you talk to him, Agent Sargosian.” Halabi stared at Drayco. I guess if you’ll function as his chaperone, it’ll suffice. If you do anything to screw up the case, the interview is over.”
So, Halabi would be listening in. Drayco couldn’t hold it against Halabi for his anti-Drayco suspicions. If their situations were reversed, he’d feel the same.
What mattered was they were all on the same side, the side of truth, even though their roadmaps getting there didn’t agree. Truth. Funny how one little word manifested itself in so many different ways—truth could be haven, hope, heaven, or hell.
Chapter 37
Drayco and Sarg had earlier agreed they’d let Sarg take the lead in questioning Edwin in a move to placate Halabi. The detective, true to his word, hovered in a corner of the interrogation room, watching and listening. Sarg sat across from Edwin at the table while Drayco stood in an opposite corner from Halabi.
They’d learned from Halabi that Edwin didn’t have an attorney and hadn’t asked for one, despite being read his rights. But as they entered and he saw Drayco, he said, “I was told I could get a court-appointed attorney.”
Sarg replied, “I understand you don’t have an attorney yourself, sir.”
“At six hundred an hour? You kidding? Can’t even afford bail.”
“You can request a public defender at your arraignment.”
Edwin slumped in his seat. “Probably shouldn’t talk to you without one. Guess I’m saying that a bit late, aren’t I?”
“That depends, Mr. Zamorra. In the face of overwhelming guilt, cooperating can mean the difference between a lighter jail sentence and a harsh one.”
Edwin closed his eyes for a moment then sat up straighter. “As I told the detective over there, I never meant to hurt anyone. And I don’t think I did. My elderly customers are addicted to those damned pain pills doctors throw at them. A lot easier for the docs, right? Just push the pills, shut them up?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They shouldn’t be addicted like that. I was just helping them.”
“Didn’t it ever occur to you, sir, that some of those same people could die sooner rather than later thanks to your ‘intervention’?”
Edwin balled up his fists. “I didn’t water down the cancer drugs. Never those.”
Sarg stared at him. “Did you sell the extra painkillers on the market?”
In reply, Edwin looked down at the table. That’s one question he hadn’t answered for Halabi, and apparently, he wasn’t about to start implicating himself that deeply. Not that it would matter when Halabi, the FDA, and the FBI tracked all his phone and paper records. If he’d done it, they’d find it.
“Did your brother know about your scheme, sir?”
“Jerold?” Edwin stared at Sarg. “I never told him.”
“But he figured it out?”
“He never said so.”
Sarg exchanged a glance with Drayco, who knew what he was thinking. Edwin was dancing around in circles to avoid a straight answer.
Time for a different tactic. Drayco piped up, “Edwin, when you told me you loved Ophelia, you never said whether she loved you in return.”
Edwin’s head whipped up in confusion as he gaped at Drayco. He blinked his eyes as he replied, “She told me she did. And I believed her.”
“Why didn’t the two of you ever get together?”
“She was Catholic, which meant no divorce. But she was also a free spirit, and I always wondered if that divorce thing was just an excuse. To answer your question, I don’t know.”
“When I asked you if Jerold requested a paternity test, you said no. But you didn’t seem surprised by the question. Is Ashley your daughter?”
Edwin bit his lip. More silence, but in this case, his silence spoke volumes. Maybe he didn’t know for certain, but he suspected.
Sarg said, “That must be hard. Watching another man raise your daughter with the woman you love?”
Edwin processed that slowly. Then, his face hardened when he realized Sarg’s implication that he hated his own brother enough to murder him. “On second thought, anything else is going to have to wait for that attorney, whoever it is.”
As Edwin was led away, Halabi said, “That bit about his daughter. Good motive for murder. And his refusal to answer directly whether Jerold knew about his drug scheme ... intriguing, I’ll grant you.”
Halabi pointed his next comments at Drayco, “We’re grateful for the tip, but we’ll take it from here.”
Outside the detention facility, Sarg put his hand on Drayco’s shoulder. “What was all that about, the Jerold-and-lottery-fraud angle you mentioned to Halabi?”
“Imogen Layford. She said she gave Jerold an envelope from the lottery scam to investigate for her. She never heard back from him—did he really not have time or was he involved in some way? And then there’s those framed lottery tickets on his wall. A possible in-joke.”
Sarg asked quietly, “You think that was his big scheme? And your mother was his partner?”
“Iago hinted Maura might be partners with Jerold in something not-quite-aboveboard. Maybe she’s not a murderer. Maybe she’s just a criminal of another stripe.”
Edwin’s arrest might make it appear to some that Maura was less likely to be Jerold’s killer. To Drayco, it seemed more likely. Were his instincts wrong? Was he blinded by his desire to have her punished somehow?
Sarg, ever the mind reader, said, “You know you’ll have to spill the beans about Iago Pryce and Alistair Brisbane sooner or later, right?” He left unspoken the warning that Sarg himself might be forced to bring it up. Withholding information like that, even on an unofficial case, wouldn’t do Sarg’s career any favors.
Drayco slapped him on the back in reply. “I got cheated out of one of Maida’s culinary masterpieces. Got any ideas how we can make it up to me?”
“Ever had bulgogi?”
“Please don’t tell me it’s fried bull testicles.”
“I’ve heard about those—they call them Rocky Mountain Oysters out west. But no, just normal Korean barbecue. Add a little samjang and some saengchae and you’ll want to change your name to something like Min-jun.”
“And here I was thinking you’d want to try some Chinese fare in honor of Gogo.”
“Next time. Come on, my treat.”
§ § §
Drayco and his Starfire followed Sarg and his Range Rover to a strip mall in Annandale and a restaurant with a sign that said Life Is Food. As they stood outside the storefront, Drayco pointed at the sign. “Doesn’t sound very Korean to me.”
“Guess they didn’t want to scare off the less
adventurous diner with a more exotic name. I mean, ‘life is food’ and barbecue in the same sentence? Who wouldn’t go for that?”
Despite the unassuming hole-in-the-wall exterior, the dining room had clean, modern decor interchangeable with any high-end eatery in the District. Or New York, for that matter. They were promptly seated at a sleek, shiny ebony table and booth, and after taking one look at the menu, Drayco said, “You order.”
Sarg rattled off a few dish names to the waiter who nodded and disappeared through a set of windowless double doors. Drayco said, “No bull testicles, right?”
“Better. You’ll see.”
After they started chowing down on a spicy pork bulgogi appetizer, Drayco nodded. “Outstanding.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Drayco eyed the last piece of bulgogi, which was the odd man out from the seven-piece order. Sarg cut it in half and pushed the plate over. Drayco made quick work of it before asking, “How’s the family? I haven’t seen Elaine or Tara since dinner at your place last month.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Tara’s got several offers from colleges with forensic science programs. With full scholarships.”
Drayco smiled. Hardly surprising, but he was happy to hear the news, all the same.
“Michael isn’t happy with his accounting job. Thinking of joining the Army. Maybe gun for the Ranger program.” Sarg’s face was beaming so brightly that it almost outshone the light from the glass chandelier bouncing off the ebony table.
“And Elaine?”
“She’s taken up Russian.”
“Learning another language is good. Why Russian?”
“Likes the way it sounds. And she wanted to learn a new alphabet. Cyrillic fills the bill. Maybe you can help her out sometime? If she needs a little nudge in the right direction?”
“My Russian’s a little rusty.”
“Better than my no Russian.”
The waiter brought something that looked like slabs of indistinguishable mystery meat, which Sarg explained was their signature barbecue beef ribs kalbi. Drayco took a few tentative bites and sighed happily. Oh my, where have you been all my life?
