She tagged Whitney next, gave him a full update.
His face was stone. “On the goddamn street, and in the back. Go home, Dallas. I’ll send a team to confiscate the weapons and the cash.”
“Yes, sir. Commander, I toyed with the idea Kruger might have been part of Barrister’s murder. Clearly, that doesn’t fit. There’s nothing here to indicate he doubled as a thief, and if he’d been in Barrister House, he’d have been armed.”
“Agreed. Go home. That was a very nice jacket,” he added.
“Yeah. Well.”
She went out, locked and sealed the door. As she started down the stairs, Peabody tagged her.
“I’m on my way to the lab. The mother took it hard, but she wasn’t surprised. She said he liked violent games, violent vids, violent sports.”
“Hey, so do I, but I don’t go around stabbing people in the back. He had a big drawer full of illegal weapons. He liked a variety. Whitney’s sending a team to pick them up.”
“On the vehicle? He didn’t have one, but his uncle did, and his mom said he asked his uncle if he could borrow it. How he had a job.”
“When?”
“Today, this morning. She said she thought about ten or eleven.”
“Before the media conference.”
“Affirmative. I got the make, model, license plate. And just got tagged they located it under two blocks from where we parked.”
“I missed the tail.”
“Give yourself a break on that.”
“After seeing his cache, I’m not too sorry about the way he went out, but dead means I can’t get any more out of him. I’m going home. Anything pops, I’ll let you know.”
“Have that drink.”
She went out, ignored the double takes.
And drove home.
As she went through the gates, she tried to think of something pithy to toss at Summerset. Came up blank.
She could go in another way, grab an elevator, bag up the clothes, dispose of them elsewhere in the morning.
The hell with it, she decided, and went in the front.
He waited, of course, in his stiff-necked black suit with the cat sitting at his feet.
Instead of the expected, his tone came out shocked. “You’re injured.”
“It’s not my blood. And it’s not my fault Roarke puts stuff like this in my closet.”
He held out a hand. “Give me the jacket.”
“What?”
“Give me the jacket. I’ll see what I can do. Put the rest, including the boots, in the elevator and send them down to me. I’ll deal with it.”
She stripped off the jacket, and he took it with two skinny fingers. “I’ll see what I can do,” he repeated. “Take the elevator straight to the bedroom. Roarke’s in the lab.”
“Shit! I forgot. I’m not on my game.”
