Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

“Not really. He seemed scared. And the whole time, the blond man sat like a statue, listening and staring at me. Like he was memorizing my features. Now and then, Cooper would pause or stumble over a word, and the guy gave him a look . . . .” Marzetti trembled. “A look that would freeze water.”

I nodded. “Go on.”

“Anyway, the last time you called me, you mentioned a large, blond man. I could never forget that guy. He freaked me out. Like when you came by my house asking all those questions. I’m sorry about that.”

“No harm done,” I said. “What changed your mind about talking to me?”

“On Friday, someone called me and said he was doing an audit for Kozmik Games. He wanted to know if I’d reported a suspicious account in the system. I said I didn’t know what he was talking about. But now I’m worried.” Our eyes met. He looked like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. “Am I doing something illegal by not cooperating with the audit? Could I get into trouble?”

“I don’t know. Your cooperation may not be necessary. Without going into details, I’ll tell you this. It looks like they’re going to check the system for tampering. So unless there’s something about the account you’re not telling . . . .”

“No. Like I said, one day it was there, and I had no idea how it got there. I told Cooper. When I asked him about it later, he seemed pissed off. He said, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.’ He was a moody guy. I didn’t give it much thought until later when he told me to keep quiet.” He glanced at his watch. “I should get back to work. So, you think I’m okay, not saying anything?”

I shrugged, unsure how to answer. “Why don’t you let it be for now? If someone calls, you might want to share what little you know. If only to keep from looking like you’re obstructing the investigation.”

“Thank you, Ms. McRae,” he said. When he reached for his wallet, I told him to put it away. I already had two clients involved in this mess. That was enough. He smiled and thanked me, and then he left.

I returned to my car and headed south toward the hospital in Laurel. I owed Walt a visit before dropping my stuff at home and going to the office. Cooper may have been paid early on not to blow the whistle and then intimidated into keeping mum when Diesel entered the picture after money went toward creating the child porn game. As an accountant, Cooper added nothing to the scheme. His only value was in keeping quiet. Why didn’t they kill him? Maybe because the computer nerds and their boss weren’t

killers; Diesel was. Perhaps Cooper gathered the evidence against the embezzlers and Diesel, so he’d have something to trade if the people he was protecting turned against him.

The unanswered question was how Diesel and Greg Beaufort had hooked up with Fullbright and the geeks from Kozmik. Was it through Tina’s father, Rodney Fisher? Was he the middleman?

Heading down Route 29, my cell phone jangled. It had rung more in the last week than in the previous year. I pulled over to answer it. “I have good news and bad news,” Little D said.

I sighed. “Bad news first, please.”

“Tina’s alibi, Beaufort? He ain’t talkin’ no more.”

“What’s his problem?”

“His problem is he’s dead. He hanged himself at home last night.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Shit.” I shifted the phone to my other ear. Who could blame Beaufort for killing himself? He had nothing to look forward to except prison and the stigma of a convicted statutory rapist and child pornographer. His death left me without a solid alibi for Tina.

“Now, the good news,” Little D said. “I may have some witnesses who saw the girls leave Beaufort’s place shortly before nine. If they saw Tina, they can back our story that she wasn’t the one leaving her house around eight.”

“They’d better be very observant witnesses,” I said. “Eyewitnesses often remember things wrong. Unless they have a reason to remember her, it’s likely they won’t be able to verify that she was with the group. In which case, we’re back to depending on Rochelle and her friends for Tina’s alibi. I don’t know how credible a friend’s word will seem to the police. Especially friends like these.”

“I can try to hunt down some other men at the party,” Little D said. “The cops will want to find them anyway. Maybe one of the witnesses knows the men.”

“That’s a thought,” I said. A tractor-trailer swept by, rocking the car. The shoulder of Route 29, a six-lane highway, was not the best place to chat. I wrapped it up quickly. “I wish I could talk to Tina. Any luck there?”

“Not yet,” he said.

I reminded myself to call Tina’s guidance counselor, Frank Powell. I asked Little D to keep in touch and said goodbye.

En route to the office, I considered what I would do if I couldn’t find Tina. Should I bring Rochelle into this? Would her word alone be compelling enough to nip the matter in the bud? Or should I start exploring other options? And what about Fisher? There was still the possibility that he’d murdered Shanae after she threatened to reveal the source of his extra income. I needed to find out if he had an alibi for that night.

* * * * *

I had a pleasant visit with Walt, dropped my stuff at home, and picked up Oscar at Russell’s. I got to the office about 2:00 p.m. Sheila, the receptionist, eyed me suspiciously and asked where I’d been hiding.

I told her I’d taken yesterday off.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people trooped in and out of here looking for you,” the gray-haired receptionist rasped. “A courier left a package for you. Three clients dropped in to chat about their cases. And some blond guy who looked like Mr. America was hanging around. Wouldn’t even tell me what it was about.”