A Mighty Fortress (17 page)

“I don’t think so. It looked like some kind of hidden cam.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But isn’t it possible they were going for that look?”

She shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

As hard as it was to ask, I needed to know. “Do you think you could get your hands on one of the Scalzo videos, one you know he produced?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea how to do that.”

I had a hunch how we could, unfortunately, and it meant I really needed Hector to get off work on time today. Better yet, maybe I was better off reaching him while he was still on duty. “I have to get back to work,” I said.

Kara stood there, clearly not wanting to go back to work.

“I’ll check in with you later,” I said.

She nodded reluctantly. “Please do.”

She turned, and I watched her walk back toward Mattie’s office. Though the afternoon temperature had reached the mid-nineties, she crossed her arms and braced herself as though she were trying to warm herself.

Once she turned the corner, I picked up my phone and called Hector.

“What’s up, man?”

“Hector, is your house unlocked?”

I parked my car around the corner from SkyGate on the corner of Polk and Morgan. I was a few minutes early, and figured Hector would be a few minutes late. I was about to take a stroll around the block when my phone rang. I saw the number and braced myself. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Val’s voice was about what I’d expected—ambiguous and cautious. “You working out tonight?” she asked.

I didn’t want to tell her I was still working, but it was the truth, and the only reason I wouldn’t be at Rico’s in a little while. “I’m sorry, I’m still working.”

“That same case?” Her tone was going downhill.

“Uh-huh,” I said with sloppy enunciation that could have passed for, “Uh-uh.”

Her sigh said she heard me right. “I miss you.”

I felt warm inside. “I miss you, too. I promise I’ll be done by the time you’re finished at Rico’s and take a shower. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm. You won’t believe this, but I’m actually craving a beer.”

God, I loved her. “Ms. Paleo is going to drink gluten?”

“Yep, and I’m going to get gassy and sleep in your bed tonight.”

“Stop it, you’re turning me on.” Just then, the white van I’d been waiting for pulled next to me. Hector waved for me to get in. I gestured just a minute.

“You’re so gross!” Val whined.

“What can I say?” I gestured again at Hector.

“Let’s meet at the Irish place you like at eight.”

“Four Green Fields. I can’t wait,” I said.

“Don’t make me wait, either.”

With that, she hung up. I was relieved to have something to look forward to. As I stared across the street at Hector and his cable van, I knew I
needed
something to look forward to.

I stepped out of my car. Hector looked me up and down and whistled through the open passenger window. “You look good in that, Porter.”

I was wearing one of his spare uniforms. Though I had a few inches on Hector, broader shoulders and a fuller beer belly, the uniform still fit rather well.

I thanked him for the compliment and hopped in the van. I spotted a Rays ball cap and sunglasses stashed on the dashboard. “You mind?” I asked as I picked up the accouterments. “Extra disguise never hurts.”

“Be my guest,” he said.

He looped around the block and pulled the van into the building’s interior garage. He knew right where to park. He killed the engine and grinned at me. “Let me do the talking.”

“I insist.”

Once we were in the lobby, I let Hector turn the corner first, and I stayed back to see if my good friend Stewart was working. Sure enough, he was manning the counter. I stepped back and watched Fox News on the monitors with my back facing the front desk, all the while trying to keep my ear pinned to hear Hector’s conversation with the hipster doorman.

Hector was explaining to Stewie that we needed to undertake some routine scheduled maintenance. Apparently Hector was not as threatening a figure to Stewart as I’d been a few days earlier, as Stewart was giving him little resistance. He just wanted to know the floors we needed to access and whether the residents should expect any interference. Hector named a few by number. It was only when he mentioned the penthouse that Stewart pushed back a little.

“Is that a problem?” Hector asked.

“Not really. It’s just that,” and then Stewart lowered his voice. It sounded like he was explaining that there was a crime scene up there.

“Oh man,” Hector said. “Are the detectives still up there?”

“Not as far as I know,” Stewart said.

Just when I was about to giggle at the bang-up job Hector was doing with Stewart, I heard a chime as the elevator behind me opened. I turned without thinking, but froze when I saw who was getting off the elevator.

Don Alexi stared back at me. It didn’t take him long to recognize me, maybe a little longer due to the disguise. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same question.”
 

There was a blonde with him. I recognized her from the pictures in his office. “What’s going on, Don?” she asked.

He looked at her but didn’t answer. Then he looked back at me. “Your turn. What was it, Porter?”

“What’s it look like?” I said, pointing to my outfit.

“Yeah?” he said. “You some kind of cable guy that moonlights as a detective?”

“Close enough,” I said. “What’s
your
story?”

He glanced at the blonde, then back to me. “What’s it look like? I live here.” He nodded to the blonde. “Why don’t you wait outside, hon? I won’t be long.”

She nodded back, reluctantly, and then crossed the lobby. Alexi took a few steps in my direction. I didn’t like that he all of a sudden had some power to leverage against me. “So if we were to go talk to our security personnel, you have some identification you can show him that you’re really a cable guy?”

I kept my face tight. “You don’t really want to do that, do you?”

“You’re right, I really don’t. And I think I know why you’re here.”

“That right?” I said.

He nodded. “We’ll keep it our secret, so long as you do me a favor.”

Hector was walking up now, ready to go, but Alexi kept his eyes on me.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Let me know what you find out.”
 

I nodded, barely, and stepped toward Hector, who had already pushed the up button and was waiting for the elevator. The doors opened, and I joined my partner inside in the elevator.

Alexi stood facing us. “Nice outfits,” he said. He stood there, smirking, as the elevator door closed on us.

Hector pushed the button for the penthouse, and asked, “Who the hell was
that
guy?”

“Only one of the murder suspects,” I said, still trying to put my mind around the fact that Alexi lived in the same building where Scalzo was killed. As if his motive weren’t strong enough, he clearly had better access than anyone else involved in the case.
 

“No shit?” Hector said.

I nodded. “You know where we’re going?” I asked.

He nodded back. “Believe it or not, I come here a lot.”

“The penthouse, too?”

“Not so often. But he told me the code.”

A moment later the elevator opened to Scalzo’s floor. His front door was bordered by crime scene tape. Hector followed me to the door. I was about to get busy when I thought about what Hector was doing.
 

“Why don’t you wait downstairs, buddy?” I said.

He shook his head.

“I’m not sure how to put this, Hector, other than that I’m getting ready to do something I shouldn’t do. Trespassing is bad enough, but interfering with a crime scene? I’m sure that’s some kind of crime in its own right. I’d hate you to lose your job over this, or worse.”

Hector frowned. “Milo, I’m already a conspirator. I think they throw the book at them just as hard. I might as well get it all. Besides, I might be able to help.”

He made some good points, so I gave him a pair of latex gloves and pulled on mine. Then I got started. I pulled out my bobby pins and bent them. They spared no expense at SkyGate with installing the best deadbolts. They could have spent a little more on air conditioning the foyer, though. I was sweating after five minutes of concentrating on rotating the inner pins. Anytime I started dragging them, the bobby pin would slip off the lock pins, and it’d be back to square one.
 

As I sighed and took a break to wipe my brow, I noticed Hector was grinning. “What?” I asked.

“Are you about done?” He pushed me aside and took the pins from me. “I know you New Yorkers think you know how to do everything, but let me show you what a Jefferson High grad can do.”

I’d like to say it only took Hector a minute-thirty because I’d warmed up the pins for him, but it doesn’t work that way. Still, that was all the time that passed before he pushed the door open and said, “After you.”

I entered. The first thing I noticed was that the living room was barer than my first visit to Scalzo’s condo. I scanned the room, and then closed my eyes to concentrate on what the room had looked like Sunday morning. Then I reopened them. Scalzo’s computers and video equipment were gone. The desk was empty. The LED TV seemed lonely. As did the Dennon receiver.

Around the room, there was plenty of evidence of dusting. The police had left markers here and there of things that interested them.

“Is this where he died?” Hector asked.

I shook my head and crossed the room. I looked out the French doors to the balcony where I first saw Angie. Across the river, the lights of UT illuminated the minarets. It was a beautiful sight. I didn’t want to open the door.
 

We crossed back through the room and entered the kitchen.

“Bingo,” I said.

“Hmm,” Hector said. “Looks just like on TV.”

He was referring to the outline of the victim. There were two markers, indicating two shots. It looked like one bullet had missed. It took a big chunk out of the granite counter and put a scuff on the fridge. The other was probably the fatal shot that connected and did the damage.

“What does this tell you?” Hector asked.

“Well, for starters, the killer was someone he knew. A stranger wouldn’t have made it in this far. He was probably fixing them a drink or something.” I recalled seeing Angie make herself a drink at this same counter Sunday morning.

“And
pow
,” Hector finished for me, firing his hand like a pistol. “Right in the head.”

“Judging by these marks, probably in the back of the head.”

Hector continued looking around the kitchen for other clues. He seemed to be enjoying this more than I did. “So, Milo, is this what you did in the Navy? What did you call it, an operations analyst?”

“Yeah, kind of. We’d do the planning. And sometimes we’d have to go in afterwards and check on things to see what we got right and what we got wrong.” I turned and looked out through the living room again. As the sky was growing darker, the minarets seemed to be rising in the sky. Their silver curves pointing toward the heavens made me think of a lot of things I’d gotten wrong.

We met up for a debriefing at Tap’s, the bar beneath SkyGate. I limited myself to one brew, since I was going to be meeting Val for a few more, so I made it count and went with a Cigar City Jai Alai.
 

“Was it worth it?” Hector asked while sipping his IPA.
 

“The risk of what we just did, you mean?”

He nodded.

I wasn’t sure. At least I knew what had interested the cops, and I’d confirmed how Scalzo had died. “Time will tell,” I said.

“Who was that guy you saw earlier?”

“With the blonde? His name’s Don Alexi. He works for that Pilka guy, the guy Mattie’s working for.”

“And he lives here?”

I nodded.

“Some coincidence.”

“You can say that again.” Just then, I noticed someone was standing on the sidewalk, staring me down. “Speak of the devil.”

I took the last sip of my beer and joined Don Alexi outside. “Well?” he said.

“I got to be honest with you, Don, the biggest thing I learned today was about you.”

“That I live here?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you mention that yesterday?”

“Why would I? It’s public record. I already talked to the cops about it.”

“When?”

“Jesus, just about every day this week. They’re about to give my wife a nervous breakdown.”

I thought about the sight of Don’s assistant Charlene tucking in her shirt when I paid them a visit the day before. “I’m sure you really have your wife’s well-being in mind.”

“Screw you, Porter. You don’t know what goes on in this head.”

And for that, I was thankful.
 

Just then, he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Porter. The cops are coming down hard on me, but I had nothing to do with killing Chad Scalzo. I need someone to believe that.”

I was about to knock him back, but I was taken aback by something I saw burning in his eyes: sure, it was desperation, but more importantly, it was what he was desperate for—me to believe he was telling the truth.
 

And call it a hunch, but I believed him.

Alexi and I agreed that we’d keep each other posted. Then I paid the Taps check and changed back into my clothes in Hector’s van with just enough time to get back in my car and drive over the bridge to Four Green Fields. It was after eight o’clock when I pulled into the parking lot. The lot was damn near full. I’d forgotten that Tuesday nights were when the running club met there. They’d run a few miles around town and then congregate for a few pints inside the bar. I finally found a parking spot and called Val to see if she’d made it and to warn her about the crowd if she hadn’t.
 

The call went to her voicemail. As I waited for the beep, I noticed a van slow down in my lane, presumably waiting for a parking space to open up. “It’s me,” I finally said. “I just got here …” My speech trailed when I caught a glimpse of the large figure jumping from the van and rushing my door.