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“Not for sure. He took a walk every morning and sometimes on weekends he went home.”
Kit blinked. “Home? I thought he lived here.”
Georgia’s mouth curved sadly. “He did, but he and Ryan kept their home in San Francisco. Frankie would go back occasionally to sit with Ryan’s things and just…be.”
“They didn’t rent it out?” Connor asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“You’re sure you don’t know of anyone who’d want to kill him?” Kit pressed.
“No. I do not.”
Kit still didn’t completely believe the woman. “We may have more questions for you as we learn more.”
“I figured you would.” Georgia rose, appearing to be calm, but her grip on the baby stroller handles was white-knuckle tight. “If I might be excused, I’m going to sit with Benny if they’ll allow me to.”
Kit and Connor rose along with her.
“We’re very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Connor said softly, once again surprising Kit with his gentleness. “Thank you for waiting to speak with us.”
Georgia gave him a curt nod. “Just see that you find who did it. Frankie was a little grouchy sometimes, but you couldn’t find a kinder, nicer, smarter man. He’d give you the shirt off his back, and sometimes did.” One side of her mouth lifted. “I’d be surprised if there’s much money left for the son. Frankie was big into giving to charities and he already told me that Ryan had wanted their house sold and for the proceeds to go to shelters for LGBTQ youth. Frankie hadn’t had the heart to sell it yet, but he planned to. He won’t have completely forgotten Gerald in his will, but the estate will be much smaller than Gerald thinks it is.”
And if Gerald had found this out? Another motive for murder.
“Thank you,” Kit said. “We’ll be speaking to him very soon. And, ma’am, we understand you saw Mr. Flynn’s body, too. If you’re in need of counseling, we can recommend someone.”
Georgia shook her head. “I’ll just call Dr. Sam. But thank you.”
Kit waited until she was gone before slowly exhaling. Sam. Again.
Connor looked…not smug, exactly, but he was smirking. “They really love Sam here. Because he’s a nice guy.”
Kit ground her teeth. “Let’s call Navarro with our report.”
Connor nodded soberly. “Whatever you say.”
They were silent until they’d exited the facility and were in their department sedan. Kit called Navarro and together she and Connor brought him up to speed.
Navarro sighed. “I hate to say this, but I get why Frank left the force. Even in the nineties when he retired, it wouldn’t have been easy for him to be out.”
“No, sir,” Kit said. “I think we should have someone seal up his house in San Francisco. We can go through it to see if there’s anything that might lead us to his killer.”
“Good idea.” There was the sound of keys clacking and then Navarro whistled. “Holy shit. His house is in Russian Hill. It’s got to be worth six or seven million, at least. And it was just sitting there empty?”
“According to Miss Shearer,” Connor confirmed.
“What about the best friend?” Navarro asked. “Benjamin Dreyfus? I get that you can’t question him yet, but what was your impression? Is he capable of killing Frank?”
“Not physically,” Connor said. “I met him when I first arrived this morning and he’s nearly ninety years old and in bad health. He’s also only about five-eight and very thin. I don’t think he’d have the strength to…well, to cut the victim the way he was. The son is a possibility and we’ll contact him right away, but after him, we want to talk to Kent Crawford, the head of security. It’s no coincidence that the cameras outside the victim’s apartment were disconnected.”
“I agree. I’ll keep the brass up-to-date, and—” He cut himself off. “Wait a minute. Did you say Kent Crawford?”
Kit and Connor shared a look of dread. “Yes,” Kit said. “Why?”
“Because he’s dead. I’m looking at the initial report right now. He was found in a motel room this morning by the housekeeping staff. Ate his gun. Looked like he’d been there at least a day. Maybe two.”
Kit huffed out a breath. “Well, shit.”
