How’d you find him?”
“Triple A Industries,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Windermere exhaled, impatient. “This guy paid with a corporate credit card registered to Triple A Industries. So did Allen Salazar, though he swears he’s never heard of the company. And Triple A’s in some shady business. So what gives? How did
you
get in on this?”
Stevens leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know about Triple A,” he said, “but that guy Kent murdered Spenser Pyatt’s cousin up in Duluth yesterday.”
“What?” Windermere stared at him. “You kidding me, Stevens?”
“Or maybe he didn’t,” Stevens said. “Probably he’s just like Salazar, a scapegoat. Either way, Pyatt’s cousin was murdered. Strangled to death, and it looks like the same killer as Pyatt. And that’s not even the weird part.”
Windermere pushed back her chair. “Hold up,” she said. “Back to the beginning. You working this case?”
“My SAC’s good friends with Pyatt’s son, Mickey,” Stevens told her. “Mickey called in a favor. SAC sent me to Duluth to look things over, see if the family’s in any danger.”
Windermere raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I don’t know, Carla. None of this makes sense.” He shook hishead. “But I found out a couple of things. First off, Elias Cody—Pyatt’s cousin—had a major crush on Pyatt’s wife. Like, obsession.”
“Okay,” said Windermere, “and the second?”
“The second.” Stevens grinned. “After killing Cody, our murderer flew back to Minneapolis.”
27
I don’t get it,” said Mathers. “Does this mean you guys are partners again?”
The junior agent had returned with dinner a few minutes after Stevens’s arrival and found the BCA agent in deep conversation with Windermere. Now he studied the two agents over fried rice and chicken chop suey, his brow furrowed.
Stevens glanced at Windermere. “Not exactly,” he said. “The BCA has an interest in the case. Mickey Pyatt’s pressing my boss to protect his family. And to find his dad’s killer. My boss knows I work well with Windermere. He wants me to keep an eye on your progress.”
Windermere grinned at him. “So you’re a spy.”
“Something like that.” Stevens shrugged. “Anyway, I’m here. And I brought you Kent, so I can’t be all bad.”
“So where do we take this?” said Mathers. “What’s our play?”
Windermere and Stevens swapped another glance. “I’m going to check on Paige Pyatt,” said Stevens. “Eli Cody had a hell of a collection of pictures.”
Windermere nodded. “We’ll head to Chicago, check on Alex Kent. Odds are he’s just another scapegoat, like you say. But we’d better have a look.”
“Good call,” said Stevens. “Save me the flying.”
Windermere laughed. “How’d you get to Duluth, you big baby?”
“Slowly and painfully.” Stevens stood. “I’d better get home. Nancy’s waiting. And it sounds like we’re all back on the road tomorrow.”
Windermere took a bite of sweet-and-sour pork. “Get out of here, Stevens,” she said, chewing. “Keep us posted.”
She watched him cross the office toward the elevators. When he’d pressed the call button he glanced back, and she grinned. “Good to have you back, partner.”
Stevens smiled back, sheepish, and shot her a wave. Then the elevator doors opened and he climbed aboard.
“So what’s the story?” said Mathers, when Stevens was gone. “You guys hook up or something?”
Windermere straightened. “What? The guy’s married, Mathers.”
Mathers cocked his head. “Okay . . .”
“He’s like ten years older than me, dummy,” she said. “Got a wife and kids. Anyway, no. We just work well together.”
“Okay.”
Mathers turned back to his dinner. “Whatever you say.”
Windermere stared at him for a moment. Then she turned back to her own food. “Never happen,” she said, shaking her head. “You big goof.”
Mathers nodded. Didn’t say anything.
“Triple A Industries,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Windermere exhaled, impatient. “This guy paid with a corporate credit card registered to Triple A Industries. So did Allen Salazar, though he swears he’s never heard of the company. And Triple A’s in some shady business. So what gives? How did
you
get in on this?”
Stevens leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know about Triple A,” he said, “but that guy Kent murdered Spenser Pyatt’s cousin up in Duluth yesterday.”
“What?” Windermere stared at him. “You kidding me, Stevens?”
“Or maybe he didn’t,” Stevens said. “Probably he’s just like Salazar, a scapegoat. Either way, Pyatt’s cousin was murdered. Strangled to death, and it looks like the same killer as Pyatt. And that’s not even the weird part.”
Windermere pushed back her chair. “Hold up,” she said. “Back to the beginning. You working this case?”
“My SAC’s good friends with Pyatt’s son, Mickey,” Stevens told her. “Mickey called in a favor. SAC sent me to Duluth to look things over, see if the family’s in any danger.”
Windermere raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I don’t know, Carla. None of this makes sense.” He shook hishead. “But I found out a couple of things. First off, Elias Cody—Pyatt’s cousin—had a major crush on Pyatt’s wife. Like, obsession.”
“Okay,” said Windermere, “and the second?”
“The second.” Stevens grinned. “After killing Cody, our murderer flew back to Minneapolis.”
27
I don’t get it,” said Mathers. “Does this mean you guys are partners again?”
The junior agent had returned with dinner a few minutes after Stevens’s arrival and found the BCA agent in deep conversation with Windermere. Now he studied the two agents over fried rice and chicken chop suey, his brow furrowed.
Stevens glanced at Windermere. “Not exactly,” he said. “The BCA has an interest in the case. Mickey Pyatt’s pressing my boss to protect his family. And to find his dad’s killer. My boss knows I work well with Windermere. He wants me to keep an eye on your progress.”
Windermere grinned at him. “So you’re a spy.”
“Something like that.” Stevens shrugged. “Anyway, I’m here. And I brought you Kent, so I can’t be all bad.”
“So where do we take this?” said Mathers. “What’s our play?”
Windermere and Stevens swapped another glance. “I’m going to check on Paige Pyatt,” said Stevens. “Eli Cody had a hell of a collection of pictures.”
Windermere nodded. “We’ll head to Chicago, check on Alex Kent. Odds are he’s just another scapegoat, like you say. But we’d better have a look.”
“Good call,” said Stevens. “Save me the flying.”
Windermere laughed. “How’d you get to Duluth, you big baby?”
“Slowly and painfully.” Stevens stood. “I’d better get home. Nancy’s waiting. And it sounds like we’re all back on the road tomorrow.”
Windermere took a bite of sweet-and-sour pork. “Get out of here, Stevens,” she said, chewing. “Keep us posted.”
She watched him cross the office toward the elevators. When he’d pressed the call button he glanced back, and she grinned. “Good to have you back, partner.”
Stevens smiled back, sheepish, and shot her a wave. Then the elevator doors opened and he climbed aboard.
“So what’s the story?” said Mathers, when Stevens was gone. “You guys hook up or something?”
Windermere straightened. “What? The guy’s married, Mathers.”
Mathers cocked his head. “Okay . . .”
“He’s like ten years older than me, dummy,” she said. “Got a wife and kids. Anyway, no. We just work well together.”
“Okay.”
Mathers turned back to his dinner. “Whatever you say.”
Windermere stared at him for a moment. Then she turned back to her own food. “Never happen,” she said, shaking her head. “You big goof.”
Mathers nodded. Didn’t say anything.
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