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“Can you send it to me anyway?”
McPherson nodded, made a note. “There’s no cameras in the area he disappeared, near the freeway. Personally, I think he either had a car or someone picked him up, but I can’t prove it. Either way, he’s in the wind, and we just don’t have a good image of him. Our artists are working on the camera footage and removing the beard, some weight, the hair. We have something, but no one is completely happy with it. It’s a lot of guessing, nothing that will hold up in court. Still, we’re showing it around to everyone who works here to see if they recognize the guy.”
It’s what Matt would have done.
“We’re going through Dyson’s current and pending cases, recent paroles, threats,” McPherson continued. “The guy was well respected. The defense lawyers whined about him, but mostly because he didn’t like to plead except on first offenses—they had no problem with his tactics in court. Judges said he was always prepared, professional. No one really knew him personally, though. He kept to himself.”
“What about his investigator? Sharp? Does he have any information or theories?”
McPherson looked at his watch. “I’m meeting with Peter Sharp in Dyson’s office in fifteen, if you want to sit in.”
“Thank you,” he said. “This feels like a professional hit.”
“Yep. Reads that way for me, too,” McPherson said. “Not a random crook who sees the lawyer who sent him away and goes ballistic. And what scumbag comes equipped to rappel off a roof? Plus, no one is getting that grappling hook through security.”
Matt hadn’t thought of that at the time, only about the knife. “You’re right.”
“Yep. Which is fucked, because this building is pretty damn secure. Of course, there are always ways to get in and out, but that hook was intact—it couldn’t be broken down into harmless parts and snuck in. It wasn’t concealed under his suit coat—and I’ve watched the video a dozen times. He didn’t have it on him. Which means it was in the stairwell or on the roof.”
“Roof,” Matt said.
McPherson nodded. “Yeah, my guess, too. He had a key to the roof—no signs of forced entry. Or, someone left it open for him—which says inside job. Those doors are solid—no one is breaking them down. They are accessed with a maintenance key—not everyone has them. So my guys are running down all the maintenance staff. Thing is? Every deputy has a key as well. And there’s only two people who can come in and bypass security. Deputies and night janitorial staff. One of them could have put the grappling hook on the roof anytime in the two days before the murder.”
“I assume janitorial is well vetted.”
He shrugged. “City employees. Backgrounds, et cetera. But I’m pulling every janitorial staffer who has been in this building in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Why forty-eight?”
“Because there’s a lot of shit that happens on the roof—they have vents and control panels and other stuff I don’t even know what it does. Someone is up there near every day. Sure, it could have been hidden someplace, but there’s not a lot of places to hide a duffel bag with a grappling hook and rope.”
“It could be one of your people.” Matt didn’t want to say it because he wasn’t certain how the deputy would respond, but he had to bring it up, even if only to dismiss it.
“We have fifty to eighty deputies assigned to this courthouse every day. Some are here on rotation, some are here for light duty, some are here because they have a year until retirement and don’t want to strain themselves. They’re all seasoned.”
“Bribes?”
“Maybe. But for murder?” He shook his head. “I don’t see it. Anything is possible, but my money is on janitorial. Before you say anything—I am looking at my people. But I’m doing it, not the feds.”
“I don’t need to be involved but if you need my help—discreetly—just ask.”
He looked surprised by the offer. “Appreciate it.”
“My people believe Dyson’s murder is connected to Chen’s. Thoughts?”
“Hell if I know. Like I said, Dyson’s respected. I’ve started digging into his private life, though the time and place of the murder tells me this is related to his job.”
“I agree,” Matt said.
“Still, we cover all the bases. Has an ex-wife, no kids. She’s a high-priced lawyer, at the same firm he used to work at. She’s now a partner, said they had an amicable divorce, still saw each other for dinner once a month or so. Except—he canceled the last two dinners they had planned, and that apparently was unusual. So I got to thinking, was he on a big case? Working something that took all his time? Worried about something? Threats?” He shrugged. “So far, nothing. He reported no threats to the marshals or to my office, but maybe his investigator knows more.” He glanced at his watch and stood up. “Time to chat with Sharp, see what he’s found in Dyson’s records.”
When Matt and Detective McPherson arrived at Dyson’s office, Peter Sharp was sorting through stacks of files on the conference table. He looked up, acknowledged the men and said, “This is everything that Craig was working on. He had the Chen hearing, a plea conference this afternoon—that’s been assigned to another DDA—and multiple pending trials in various stages of disposition.”
“What about the grand jury investigation that he mentioned to Detective Quinn?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know much about that. I primarily verify facts for the DDA—background checks, review witness statements, things like that. If the file is here, you’re welcome to look at it, but I haven’t seen it.” Peter shook his head in frustration.
“What happens to the grand jury investigation now?”
