Weapons of Mass Distraction (17 page)

“I don’t know. I thought it was to prank someone. I don’t even know who it is!” There was some rustling, and I figured one or both of them were getting changed.

“I don’t get it. How did they give you the cash?”

“I just got a note offering me the money. Here, read it.” There was a long pause before the woman spoke again. “See? It says all I had to do was leave the key in this place and the money would be waiting and I could pick up the key the next day. I figured no one would get hurt then…”

“What?”

“It was the day before that guy died in the gym.”

“Yeah, but he had a heart attack or something.”

“And the woman on the treadmill.”

“So? It’s not like anyone killed her, and even if they did, having a key means nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Do you think? I really thought it was for a prank then that guy...”

“I’m positive. Listen, don’t worry about it. You got the key back and no one knows.” Locker doors started to shut and there was a rustling as bags were collected. “Just don’t do it again. It’s not worth losing your job over. My cousin works over in…” The main door opened and shut behind them, leaving me alone in the locker room.

I waited until they definitely weren’t returning before toweling off, and walking cautiously into the locker room. There was no sign where they had been standing, or what lockers were opened, which was just as well as they definitely intended to have that discussion privately. If they had checked, I wasn’t sure I could argue that I didn’t hear a thing, what with the locker room being small and the acoustics ensuring even the smallest sound traveled. I was simply lucky they didn’t remember to make sure the shower room was empty.

All the same, just in case they came back, I dressed quickly, blow-dried my hair until it was barely wet, and grabbed my bag, stuffing the wet things inside to take home and launder.

“See ya,” I called to Michael as I passed the reception desk. He was hunched over one of the monitors and jabbing at the keyboard like it would bite him.

He looked up as I waved and held up some cards. “Got four comment cards saying your class was brilliant,” he said. “If you don’t do it again, I’m going to have to hire a boot camp instructor.”

“Knock yourself out,” I said. “It’s not for me.”

“Shame. You got some great reviews.”

I thanked him, because you know, take credit where it’s due. I hurried across the parking lot before I got stuck with anything else I wasn’t qualified to do and threw my bag in the trunk. As I slid into the driver’s seat, my phone rang.

“I got something interesting for you,” said Lucas. “I ran the extra searches you asked for and I got something interesting on Lorena Vasquez.”

“Like what?”

“One of the payments was for insurance. I looked into it and she took out a one million dollar life insurance policy.”

“When did she get that?”

“Here’s the fun part. Three weeks ago.”

“Really. Who does it pay out to?”

“Her daughter.” I heard another voice before Solomon came on the line.

“You got time to come into the agency?” he asked.

I checked my watch. I’d agreed to meet Lily later for a stakeout, but this was more pressing; plus, I had to think about what I’d just heard. Who wanted a key to the gym so badly they were prepared to pay five hundred bucks for it? And could that window of access have given the person enough time to set up both Jim Schwarz and Karen Doyle? “I just finished at the gym so I can come by now. I have some theories on what I want to look into next.”

“Good. It’s time we got a working theory on this. A life insurance policy like that tells me Lorena Vasquez expected to die.”

Although I hated it, I had to agree with him.

Chapter Eleven

Solomon had already assembled the team in our small boardroom. I was last to arrive, but that sometimes happened when a team member was working a big case. I didn’t have time for our daily meeting, which was pushed back into the late afternoon. Today, I counted my lucky blessings as my colleagues wrapped up thoughts on Fletcher’s case — a seemingly simple surveillance job that ended up with him being shot at. Now that his shoulder was bandaged, thanks to a bullet just skimming the skin, and the shooter locked up in county jail, he was reliving the drama.

“Want to see the bullet wound, Graves?” he asked when I congratulated him.

“Does it involve you taking your shirt off?”

Fletcher’s smile widened. He was handsome when he didn’t look so stony. “Yep.”

I pondered that. “Maybe later.” From the corner of my eye, I checked Solomon’s reaction. He was bent over a file, but I caught the merest hint of a smile.

“It’s a date.”

“Before you two get cozy, we need to get our heads together on Lexi’s case,” Solomon said, finally looking up. The room pulled to order quickly. Solomon simply had that presence. He didn’t even need to raise his voice. I could hazard a bet that his voice had a very different effect on my male colleagues than it did on me. “You’ve all been briefed. Lexi, catch us up.”

“Okay,” I agreed, walking over to the whiteboard covering one wall. It was a recent addition and a useful one. Not quite as cool as a special ops-style electronic board but it was a lot more in agency budget. It felt like a real life murder board and as I wrote the three victims names across the top, I realized it was. “We have three victims,” I told them, as I added more personal information, “initially it appeared all deaths were tragic, isolated incidents but I have a connection.”

“And that is…?” asked Delgado, as he tapped his pen against the table.

“Close to two years ago they all worked for a company called Simonstech and they all left abruptly. Schwarz’s neighbor says he was very regretful of something that happened prior to leaving his job. Doyle’s sister had a similar story. She was depressed about something and it changed her behavior significantly.”

“How?” asked Solomon.

“She stopped her favorite hobbies. Didn’t want to see anyone. Stopped socializing.”

Delgado gave a thoughtful nod. “Sounds like depression.”

“I agree. What’s pertinent is that the depression and behavior changes coincided with Doyle also leaving the firm. That brings us to Lorena Vasquez. I knew her, but not very well,” I qualified, knowing that the personal aspect could be perceived as either extra insightful or judgment clouding. “She called me the morning she died, asking to talk. Our working theory is that she wanted to talk to me in my professional capacity.” I waited for the derisive snort to emanate from one of my colleagues, but none was forthcoming. I resisted a smile and continued, “Lorena also left the firm at the same time, although we’ve yet to speak to anyone close to her.”

“Any idea why they all left?” asked Fletcher.

I shook my head. “No, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence although I won’t rule it out yet. That’s where I am with the preliminary investigation. Our first theory was that it had something to do with our client, Fairmount Gym, since that’s where Schwarz and Doyle died.” I added these notes to the board. “Lorena, however, was murdered at home. We know now the first two deaths weren’t by accident; both were poisoned, but Lorena was stabbed. The common employer connection gives this case a new focus.”

“A change in MO is unusual,” said Flaherty. As a veteran of the murder squad, his opinion was always useful to me. “Most murderers stick to what they’re comfortable with.”

“Lovely thought,” I said, continuing, “the first two murders were public, in the gym during busy times. I don’t know if that was by design or chance. What we do know is they were hands-off kills,” I looked to Solomon, waiting to see if he knew anything to confirm or counteract my statement, but he waved me on. “Lorena’s murder was in her home. We think she knew our killer.”

“How was the poison administered?” asked Lucas. He was tapping away at his tablet and barely paused to look up.

Solomon took over and I waited, watching their reactions. “There was a cut on Schwarz’s finger and he absorbed the poison through that. He got the cut from a thumbtack embedded on a spin bike’s handle. When we tested the handle, it was dusted with the drug.” A few eyebrows rose at hearing that. “Doyle ingested poison via her water bottle. Someone diluted a quantity of peanut oil into her bottle of water, to which she had a massive allergic reaction.”

“So, we got two poisonings in which the murderer didn’t need to get near his or her victims in order to accomplish. This guy, Schwarz, definitely the target?” asked Delgado.

I nodded. “Based on their connection to each other, I’d say yes. The murderer didn’t need to get close, but he… or she, I guess… did know Schwarz’s routine. I took the same spinning class, and as far as a I remember, Jim Schwarz always rode the same bike.”

“So it’s likely that the murderer is a member of your gym?”

“Um…” Thinking about it now, did I need that membership so much? On the positive side, maybe if I caught the killer, my membership might be free. For life. That was something I could mention to Michael.

“Lexi?” prompted Solomon.

“Oh, right… Where was I? Yes, the murderer knew Schwarz’s routines and yes, that person got close enough to Doyle to spike her water bottle. It could be a member but I have another theory,” I added, recalling the conversation I overheard.

“There’s some creepy people around,” said Lucas. “I’m glad I don’t have a gym.”

“How do you keep fit anyway?” I asked, because he was looking pretty buff lately. “What do you do?”

“Cardiosex,” he said with a broad grin.

“Gross.” I paused, fixing him with a stare. Even though I knew he was engaged, I asked, “With a blow-up doll or a human?”

“Guys, we’re talking murder here, take it seriously,” Solomon said, reminding us of the purpose for our meeting.

“Yes, boss,” Lucas and I chorused.

“So the big question is what could be the motive to kill three people? And why? What spooked three professional people into quitting their jobs? Jim Schwarz and Lorena definitely took lower paying jobs.”

There was a long pause. “That’s easy,” said Delgado. “Murder.”

“Three murders to cover up a murder?” I asked, frowning. “Isn’t that a little too much overkill?”

Delgado frowned this time, little wrinkles appearing around his eyes. “Is that a pun?”

“No! Okay, let’s say they saw something… a murder months ago? Why now? Why get rid of three witnesses now, after all this time?” I asked.

“It’s as solid as any other theory,” said Solomon, nodding to Delgado.

“That’s a long time to let three witnesses wander around without doing anything about them. Why get rid of them now?” I persisted, voicing my concerns as much to myself as to my colleagues while I erased the whiteboard, looking for something I might have missed.

“I think it’s time we took a trip to their former employer,” said Solomon, shutting his folder and leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll get out there this afternoon,” I told him.

“We’ll get out there,” Solomon corrected. “There’s no way you’re going out there on your own.”

I shrugged. “It’s just a few questions.”

“And we don’t know who we’re going to freak out. Strength in numbers. No arguments. I'll make the call.” He gave me a pointed look and after a moment, I nodded. This wasn’t just about strength in numbers, I realized, it was more than that. The look he gave me seared my heart. This was about Solomon protecting me and I… I liked it. Then the look was gone and Solomon went from boyfriend to boss in one swift move. “Let’s go scare up some answers, Graves.”

~

Simonstech was an ambiguous-sounding name for an ambiguous-looking building on the outskirts of Montgomery. This was prime industry location, attracting employees from our town and further afield. Several years ago, I temped in a building I could just see in the distance, on the other side of the lake that spanned the building’s rear. It was cheaper than the city to operate a business here, hence, the landscaped grounds around the four-story building. The wide-open location was probably the most attractive thing about the complex. The building was a flat gray, with an almost entire glass front, tinted, so we couldn’t see anyone moving around inside. Attached to the top left corner was a white on blue Simonstech logo, with the outline of a butterfly perched on the “h”.

Solomon and I sat in his Lexus in the parking lot, observing the few workers that strolled around the grounds. People went to and from the glass entryway situated in the middle of the symmetrical concrete and glass structure. A few employees were clearly leaving for home, but for the most part, the parking lot was packed.

“Pretty average-looking vehicles,” he said, his eyes roaming over the cross section of hatchbacks, minivans, SUVs and a couple of cool-looking convertibles. I said nothing, because what do you answer that with? “I like the shiny one with the soft top the best!” Incidentally, I did.

“I’m going to bet even their Christmas party isn’t exciting,” I said. “The people look as concrete as the building. So much gray!”

“That one’s a statue,” said Solomon, pointing to the figure in front of the building. It rose from a plinth in the center of the small square. Around it was a wooden bench. A couple of women sat on it, their backs to us. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. He continued, “Something was exciting enough to scare the crap out of our victims.”

“We still don’t know for sure that it had nothing to do with the gym, which reminds me…” I then began to recount the conversation I overheard from the gym shower.

“You didn’t think to bring that up earlier?”

“I forgot!”

“Lexi!”

“It happens!”

“What do you think it means?”

“Oh, damn, I wanted to ask that.” I paused as Solomon took his turn to pin me with a look. Cautiously, I smiled, and when he did too, we both laughed. “Okay, fine, it tells me we shouldn’t rule out something hinky at the gym until we’ve spoken to someone at Simonstech.”

“Hinky? What is this? Scooby-Doo?”

“Seemed like a good word at the time, but I’ll shelve it,” I said, sticking my tongue out.