I smiled. “That’s part of it.”
He tried a gate on the east side of the house. Bolted. “When Okash brought the painting someone was here to let her in.”
“Definitely. She stayed inside for sixteen minutes.”
“You timed it?”
“Nothing else to do while I watched.”
“So if we keep popping by there’s a chance of catching someone. Let’s get out of here.”
He slouched toward the Seville.
I got behind the wheel. “Back to the gallery again?”
“You’ve got energy for that?”
“Sure.”
“Titanium man. Nah, I’m bushed. Drop me at the station then go feed your finny friends.”
CHAPTER
36
He dozed as I drove, rasping through his nose. A mile from the station he was roused by a text beep, sat up sharp and speed-dialed.
Marcus Coolidge said, “Hey. A couple of us have been reviewing any closed-circuit footage we can find within a mile of my crime scene. Mostly phony cameras, malfunctions, lousy quality when we get anything. But an hour ago, Albert—my guy, a loaner from Auto-Theft—spotted something a little less than half a mile away. The same car drives toward the dump site at the right time and is spotted going the other way sixteen minutes later. It’s the only vehicle we’ve seen doing that. It’s an industrial area, that hour no traffic to speak of. Disk is too blurry to make out the tags but the make’s clear. Volvo sedan, you know how boxy they are. Leon’s a motorhead, says mid- to late nineties 850.”
I said, “White.”
Coolidge said, “Who’s that?”
Milo said, “Dr. Delaware. Is it white?”
A beat. “You already know this?”
“We didn’t until you called, Marc.” He told Coolidge about the cars at the Clearwater house.
Coolidge said, “That and a Rolls, one for show, one for the dirty work? So who are these people?”
“That, my friend, is unclear. All we’ve got so far is a business,” Milo summed up.
Coolidge said, “Macao. Where’s that, the Caribbean?”
“China. Low taxes and casinos.”
“So we could be dealing with Asian mafia types?”
“Who knows, Marc? The company seems to do art and real estate and Okash does business with them. She was seen coming and going with what looked like a painting.”
“Business and nasty,” said Coolidge, “if that Volvo is theirs.”
“We just stopped by, neither car was there and at least a couple days’ mail was in the box—all junk, no addressee names. Given what you found, you up for a meeting tomorrow morning, my shop? Bring Albert, you’ll meet my team.”
“Team? How many you got?”
“Three D’s, all on loan.”
