The guy shrugged. “I often do.”
“You keep the receipt?”
“No, I did not. Look, what’s going on? Why are you asking all these questions?”
“Your vehicle was possibly used in the commission of a crime.”
He paled, his eyes going wide, pupils very dark. Definitely some sort of chemical in his system, thought Angie.
“What crime?” he said.
“I’m not at liberty to say at this moment,” Maddocks replied. “Who was dining with you that night—you said ‘we’?”
Norton-Wells stared at them a moment, as if trying to pull his story straight. Then he said, “I’m not going to drag my friends into this. If this vehicle was used in a crime, it’s got nothing to do with me. I’ve got nothing more to say.”
Tread lightly. ADAG’s son ...
“That’s fine,” said Maddocks benignly. “We’ll need you to come down to the station to make a formal statement, though. Can you do that?”
“I ... as soon as I feel better. I’m really not up to leaving the house right now.”
“Fair enough. We’ll be in touch. Soon.”
As Maddocks and Angie made for the door, Angie swung suddenly back to face Norton-Wells as he was pushing himself up off the sofa.
“That chain you’re wearing,” she said with a nod to his neck. “A Saint Christopher?”
His mouth opened and hung for a beat. “Uh, yes, why?”
“Catholic family.” She nodded to the photo of him in the white suit.
“That’s a well-known fact.”
She moistened her lips, turned to leave, then as if on second thought—but really just to unsettle him—she swung back to face him. “Your second name is Royce.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Jayden Royce. Anyone ever call you J.R.?”
He hesitated. “Some.”
“You ever give anyone a Saint Christopher engraved withLove from J.R.?”
Blood drained from his face. “No. No, I did not. I’d like you to leave.”
Maddocks turned out of the Norton-Wells driveway and drew the Crown Vic up under an old oak tree along the curb on the opposite side of the street. Pallorino had given him the wheel—her way of a peace offering, he surmised.
“Good call,” he said quietly, staring at the stone gateposts. On one post a bronze plaque had been mounted with the wordAKASHA, all in caps. “But a close one. Buziak ordered us to focus only on the vehicle at this point.”
“The photo of the holy communion ceremony was in plain sight,” she said. “So was the graduation certificate with his full name. The leap was obvious—J.R. Norton-Wells, devoutly Catholic, wearing a gold chain around his neck. And magically, his Lexus goes missing. He’s clearly in a bad way. Weshouldhave asked him if he knew Drummond and Hocking.”
“It’s how Buziak wants to play it.”
“The ADAG’s son,” she said incredulously. “What are the odds? This could be huge.”
As Maddocks was about to respond, the little red Porsche came roaring down the driveway and busted out of the gateposts, tires skidding as it cornered and sped down the street.
“He’s bolting!” she said.
