Campbell pulled into Chao’s Auto Repair on Sixteenth Street. He was hoping to find Irving Quinaz, a thirty-two-year-old auto mechanic with a criminal record that involved drug dealing. According to a bartender at the Kieke’s Nightclub on Lour Avenue, Mia O’Dell was identified as having been there on the Saturday night before Founder’s Day and leaving with Quinaz. The location itself was pinpointed as a result of cell phone data that revealed Mia’s cell phone—which was still missing—had pinged close to the nightclub a short time prior to her estimated time of death.
It was the last time the phone was on to record her location before it went dead. Considering the timeline and circumstances, Campbell definitely suspected Quinaz was a person of interest in supplying Mia with the fentanyl mixed with carfentanil that killed her. If this was the case, was it an unintentional lethal dose? Or did he willfully kill her—perhaps at the behest of someone else? Such as Kenneth Braison?
Stepping into the auto shop garage, Campbell spotted—working under the hood of a Buick Enclave—a man who fit the description of Irving Quinaz’s mug shot. When he looked up, Campbell saw that he had brown eyesand brown hair in a high fade style, was of medium build and about six feet tall.
He regarded Campbell and asked nonchalantly, “Can I help you?”
“Are you Irving Quinaz?”
“Yeah, who are you?”
Flashing his identification, Campbell replied coolly, “Detective Sawyer, Reston Hills PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Mia O’Dell—”
Quinaz jutted his chin. “What about her?”
So, he’s not denying that he knows Mia, Campbell told himself, stepping closer to the suspect. “She died on Founder’s Day from a drug overdose. Do you happen to know anything about that” —Campbell watched his uneasy reaction— “as the man identified seen leaving the Kieke’s Nightclub with Mia on Saturday, the night before she wound up naked and dead in Reston Hills Park?”
Quinaz knitted thick brows. “Look, I heard about that, but I had nothing to do with it, okay? We met at the club, hooked up in the back of my Toyota Highlander and went our separate ways. Never saw her again. End of story—”
Campbell peered at him. Even if plausible, he wasn’t quite ready to leave it at that. “Did you provide Mia with fentanyl during this hook up?”
“No—definitely not!” Quinaz insisted.
“You have a record that suggests otherwise,” Campbell put forth.
“I was a kid when I got involved with the wrong people at the wrong time in the drug culture.” Quinaz blew out a loud breath. “I did no time and have kept my nose clean ever since. Wherever Mia got the fentanyl, it didn’t come from me.”
Campbell mulled that over. He had always believed in second chances—for both mistakes made and romance. Maybe Quinaz deserved the benefit of the doubt. Or not.
“Did Mia ever mention anything to you about the Braison Family?”
Quinaz met his eyes. “Yeah, she said she was a member but might be getting out of the cult.”
“Did she say why?”
“Only that it wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be…and that something better was maybe about to come her way.” He scratched his head. “She didn’t say what that was. And I never asked.”
Campbell couldn’t help but wonder what that was all about. Was that the fentanyl-carfentanil combo creating an unrealistic fantasy in Mia’s head before she OD’d on it? Or could she have found herself a sugar daddy outside the cult—who maybe she tried to blackmail and then paid the ultimate price?
Or was Kenneth Braison determined to keep her in the fold, whatever it took? Even if it meant making an example out of her in wanting to break free of his hold as a cult leader.
Campbell cast his eyes on the mechanic and asked him straightforwardly, “What time did this hookup between you and Mia end?”
“Around midnight,” Quinaz answered with no runup.
“Hmm. And what did you do after that?”
“I drove home,” he insisted.
“What about Mia?” Campbell asked, noting that the nightclub was less than a mile from Reston Hills Park. “Did you see her with anyone else?”
Quinaz shook his head. “She just walked off.” Hepaused. “Thought about asking if she wanted a lift. But I had the feeling—don’t ask me why—that she either already had a ride or had other plans that didn’t involve me…”
“Okay.” Campbell wasn’t necessarily sold on his story but couldn’t dispute it as yet. He considered the possibility that Mia had gotten a ride with either a known or unknown person. Or may have walked to the park and could have been followed there. Or someone was waiting for her at the park, or she encountered them randomly—and was handed the lethal drug combo.
Maybe surveillance cameras can give us something, Campbell thought. He looked Quinaz in the eye and said warningly, “If I have any further questions, I’ll be back.”
“Fine by me,” Quinaz said with a shrug. “I’m not going anywhere.”
