Raul said, “Lots of rat turds in the corners, meaning no one paysit much attention. Probably because the people using it—delivery drivers, maintenance workers—don’t stick around long enough to care.”
I said, “Is there any direct route to the main elevators?”
“Nope, Doc. But there is a big key-op freight elevator and an out-of-the-way, unmarked door to stairs that descend to a far corner of the garage. Well away from cars, so no reason for tenants to even be aware of it. But once you’re down in the garage, youcancatch the tenant elevator or use the main stairs. Both of which we examined and found nothing.”
Milo said, “Know about the back door and you’ve got total access.”
“Exactly,” said Petra.
Hawes Buxby said, “How about cameras?”
Petra said, “Three. Main entrance, first-floor lobby, entrance to the parking garage. None of which would snag someone using the elevator to a floor above the lobby.”
Buxby shook his head again. “Another brand of stupid.”
Alicia said, “Can we go back to the utility room for a sec? Can it be locked from the inside?”
Petra said, “Yes, by a simple latch. But we found it unlocked and the same was true of the other utility room on the floor.”
Sean said, “Assuming the shooter locked it while he was inside, there was still a big risk. Someone tries to get in, it could get nasty.”
Petra said, “There are always risks but at that hour the chance of needing maintenance on a water heater would be low.”
Hawes Buxby cleared his throat.
Petra said, “Yes, sir.”
Buxby’s mustache smiled. “Don’t make me feel as old as I am, Buck’s fine.”
“You got it, Buck.” She winked. “Sir.What’s the question?”
“How many units are in the building?”
“Hundred eighty-five.”
Buxby whistled.
Petra said, “Exactly. And obviously not every apartment is a single-occupancy so we could easily be talking three, four hundred people. We obtained the names on leases and rental agreements and will try to see if anyone with a violent record pops up, especially firearms violations. Raul and six uniforms and myself did door-knocks. It took all of yesterday to talk to ninety-seven people. No one seemed off and none of the vacant apartments—four to be exact—showed any signs of disruption or someone squatting without authorization. We also talked to the maintenance staff and got the same result but their histories will also be checked out. Even if we do clear everyone, it says nothing about people who’d lived or worked there in the past. Then there’s the whole issue of guests. So we’re going to lay off that approach for the time being and try to learn more about Mr. O’Brien.”
I said, “Makes sense.”
Five sets of eyes fixed on me.
I said, “Familiarity with the building is more likely the result of research on O’Brien than the shooter living or working there. Unless it was a bad-neighbor thing—some sort of prior conflict with O’Brien.”
Milo said, “O’Brien got stalked for an extended period and whoever was hunting him figured out an optimal kill-spot.”
Petra said, “That would mean his death had nothing to do with Marissa and he just happened to O.D. her the night he was targeted.”
I said, “That’s how I see it but it doesn’t rule out someone avenging another of O’Brien’s victims. Either as a paid job or getting personal.”
“So we need to concentrate on any link between O’Brien and Parmenter. Which is why Buck is here to fill us in.”
Buxby said, “And here I was thinking it was my good looks. Okay. The late Mr. Parmenter.” Frowning. “He was at a record-industry party dealie—what they call a showcase for new talent. The talent in this case was a deejay, whatever talent that involves. The party was thrown by their producer/manager who also owned the recording company. Acitizen named Gerald Irwin Boykins, aka Jamal B. Another guy with Crip roots but in Boykins’s case a long time ago. He’d signed up Parmenter but not for big bucks, which apparently was his M.O.”
“Always has been in the music world,” said Sean. His voice, usually soft and mellow, had taken on an edge.
Alicia said, “Voice of experience?”
