The Magician Murders (The Art of Murder 3) - Page 20

“Apparently she was alarmed by the commotion of you getting hit.”

“That’s…quite the instinct for self-preservation.”

“So it seems.”

“She’s going to be formally interviewed, right? You don’t buy her story?”

Sam shrugged. “People behave unpredictably when they perceive threat. But yes, she’ll be interviewed. And then Jonnie’s going to take a crack at her. She may have seen more than she’s willing to admit thus far.”

Jason had been so sure the driver of the black Porsche was his assailant, he couldn’t quite make sense of this. He’d had the scenario of being followed from Sam’s and jumped in the China King parking lot all worked out.

As though reading his confusion, Sam said, “You may not have been wrong about being followed from my place, though. Security cameras picked up a second black sports car parked on the other side of the building. The car exited the parking lot after the ambulance left with you.”

“When did the car arrive?”

r /> “Shortly after you.”

“Were they able to get the make? The license plate? Is there footage of the driver?”

“A couple of frames. Unfortunately, it’s the usual grainy, low-quality resolution. The lab is working on getting the images blown up.”

Jason considered this, admitted reluctantly, “It could be another coincidence.”

“It could,” Sam agreed. “But whoever that driver is, it sounds like he was aware of and deliberately avoiding the security cameras.”

Now that was interesting. The average law-abiding citizen tended to be oblivious of security cameras. “Is that so?”

“According to Stafford SO. I want to see that footage myself.”

“You and me both.” Jason glanced around the bedroom. Their bags and suitcases lay open on the floor. Aside from the iron bed and the matching nightstands, there was the tall bureau—now minus Ethan’s photo—and a wooden valet stand with a single tie draped over it. He recognized the gray tie as the one Sam had worn in Los Angeles to his birthday party, and the memory of that evening—and the night that followed—comforted him.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Eight thirty. I didn’t think you’d be up this early. I’m going to take a run into town and stock up on groceries. I think it’ll be easier on everyone if we do most of our own cooking.”

Jason suspected that meant easier on Sam. He smiled faintly. “Sure.”

“You want anything?”

“Do you know what I did with my phone?”

“It’s in the living room. In your coat pocket.”

The mystery of his missing cell phone had been solved on the flight to Wyoming when Sam had handed it over to him. He’d feared he’d lost it during the assault—and he hadn’t been a whole heck of a lot happier to learn instead that Sam had confiscated it, had been controlling the flow of information to him.

Jason rubbed his bristly jaw. “I think I’ll have a shower. I need to get rid of this beard.”

“Nah. I’d leave the beard for a while.”

Jason considered that silently. Sam thought the beard afforded him some camouflage. He said, “Are you planning to check in with the Cheyenne satellite office?”

“I thought I might mosey on by there.”

Jason made a face. Sam’s casual tone didn’t fool him.

“Do you think we were followed?”

“No. I don’t. I went to a lot of trouble to make sure we weren’t.”

Tags: Josh Lanyon The Art of Murder Mystery
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