Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

“I’m not sure what it means either. It’s not money laundering, because that involves hiding money under other names. Aces High and Connie Ash were named on all the accounts.”

“So why move the money around at all?”

“Got me. I also saw a list of social security numbers and thought I saw mine on it.”

“Bizarre. Are you sure it was your number?”

“I can’t be positive. I was kind of going through stuff on the desk while Rhonda was out, and she came back in the office before I could get a good look.”

“Rhonda?”

“You know her?”

“Tom mentioned that name. I don’t think he liked her.”

I could picture Rhonda being the type who could rub a person the wrong way.

“I think I’ll head up to Baltimore today,” I said. “I’ve got a lead on Gregory Knudsen. Did Tom ever mention knowing anyone in Rosedale or anywhere in Baltimore?”

“No.”

After we hung up, I stretched and yawned. Outside, a maid’s cart rumbled by. Doors were opening and closing. The sun glared through a gap in the utilitarian floral drapes. For the first time, I got a good look at the room. Not fancy, but who cared? Hell, add a fridge and I could live here forever. The carpet might have a few stains, but the place got cleaned regularly—more often than I cleaned my apartment.

I got up to use the bathroom and saw Melanie’s note. I felt a bit nervous for her. I hadn’t wanted to leave her locked up, but maybe she would have been safer in jail. Maybe—secretly—I was a little concerned about her trying to flee again. I wasn’t her keeper. If she wanted to run, she’d find a way. Stavos had me worried though. If he were willing to torture me to find Melanie, what would he do if he found her?

I brushed the scum off my teeth and showered, then got dressed. My next move was to find Ryan Bledsoe, who was in Rosedale, wherever that was. Somewhere in the Baltimore suburbs. That’s all I knew. I had a Baltimore map at home. Better still, I could get directions off the Internet. But I wasn’t sure about going there. If I called Russell to ask whether he saw the Lincoln in the parking lot, he’d probably pepper me with questions and unwanted advice. He was a sweet man, but worse than a mother hen. I could go to the office, but Stavos had to know where that was, too. The office would be empty. The apartment building wouldn’t.

I decided to risk a quick visit to my apartment.

Half an hour later, I parked outside my building, scanning the lot once more. I didn’t waste any time getting out, locking the car, and making a beeline for the door. I was so intent on getting inside, I didn’t hear him behind me.

“Hey,” he said.

I must have jumped like a pro basketball player doing a layup. I swiveled round and saw Ray.

“Christ Almighty.” My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle is hardly the word. Where’s your car?” Guess I’d been too busy looking for a certain other car to see it.

“I’m parked farther down. Can we talk?”

I nodded. Ray followed me upstairs. The morning paper lay before my door, looking unmolested. I kicked it inside and tossed my purse on a chair.

“Coffee?”

“Sure,” he said.

I trudged into the kitchen and went through the motions. Normally, Oscar would be circling my feet, trolling for food. I missed the little asshole.

Ray perched on one of the breakfast barstools, looking at me with astonishment. “At the risk of offending you, you look like hell.”

“Mmm. Long night. So ... you came quite a ways to talk. You want something to eat?”

“I can’t stay long. I told Helen I was bowling.”

“Bowling? How very ... down to earth. An interesting excuse.”