The Movie-Town Murders (The Art of Murder 5)

Jason said tersely, “Go on.”

“The week before Ono died, she filed a sexual harassment complaint against one of the security guards. Oh, sorry, officers.”

“Are you kidding me? What happened with that?”

“Dismissed for lack of evidence.”

“What?”

J.J.’s said grimly, “Once again, they didn’t believe her. In fact, according to Dennis Rice, Touchstone’s Chief of Security, Professor Ono was a very troubled lady who would do pretty much anything for attention.”

“For God’s sake.”

Two complaints filed over Ono’s belief someone was trying to get into her apartment. Then a charge of sexual harassment. With three complaints dismissed by the head of building security, had Ono taken her concerns to the property management company? She didn’t seem like someone who would accept being blown off.

Of course, she might not have realized she was being blown off.

Or there might be another reason why she hadn’t elevated her complaint. Maybe she was making stuff up for attention.

J.J. said, “My thought.”

“What is?”

“That there might be some liability in Ono’s death on the part of Touchstone.”

Jason said slowly, “Do we know which security guard she accused of harassment?”

“Not yet.” J.J.’s tone was grim. “We will.”

Jason stared unseeingly at the never-ending twilight landscape of apartment buildings and skyscrapers. The question mark curve of towering streetlamps and glowing neon signs offering quick solutions: cocktails, clubs, cinema.

…moaning from close-up kisses, black-and-white kisses that could not be felt.

“None of this came up in my interview with the senator. Which, you’d think it would, given that it supports the family’s theory of foul play.”

“Maybe she didn’t tell him. Maybe she did make it up.”

“Maybe.” Was that possible? Ono had a reputation for filing complaints over things most people would let slide. Had she viewed an off-color comment as a firing offense? Was this a case of crying wolf, or was there something legit here?

“Anyway,” J.J. sounded uncharacteristically diffident, “I’d like to take point on this line of inquiry.”

Well, hell. The first genuinely promising lead they’d had, and J.J. had uncovered it. Jason struggled with himself for a second or two.

“Yeah, of course. It’s your lead, Russell.”

“How’s it going on your end? Have you learned anything?”

Jason said wearily, “Yes. Teachers aren’t paid nearly enough.”

J.J. surprised him by sharing, “My sister teaches junior high. You couldn’t pay me enough to walk into a room of junior high schoolers.”

“Hostage situations are always dangerous,” Jason deadpanned. He brought J.J. up to speed on his own discoveries, such as they were.

“Your cover’s already blown?” J.J. was exasperated.

“It wasn’t much of a cover.”

“I’ll say!”

“In fairness, it wasn’t meant to be deep cover.”

“Is this ex-boyfriend going to go around blabbing that you’re an FBI agent?”

“He’s not an ex-boyfriend, and I hope not. He says not. I don’t know him well enough to predict.”

“This is all we needed.”

“It’s not a great start, but it sounds like if there was anything suspish about Ono’s death, it happened on her home turf.”

“Suspish?”

“Suspicious.”

J.J. was silent.

“Destination arrived,” Jason said, pulling onto Catalina Street and spotting the valet parking for Intercrew. “I’ll touch base tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Hey, West?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t trust the ex-boyfriend. It’s a weird coincidence, his knowing our victim. I don’t like coincidences.”