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Virgil stopped, and to Heath, Radcliffe said, “Not a single word, except to me. We need a private space to talk.”
Heath said, “They’re tearing the place apart. We could go in the pantry?”
The agent who was leading the search approved the pantry, which had already been worked through, as a private space, and the two men went inside and shut the door.
Russo showed up and asked about the search, and everybody shrugged; Howahkan told him about the spade. Virgil and Lucas drifted through the house, watching the searchers. There were seven rooms on the first floor, seven on the second, and an expansive attic.
As they were walking down the from the attic, Lucas said, “He’s broke. He’s got two good rooms of furniture, and the office is nice, but everything else is crap, and there’s nothing in the attic except junk. He’s sold almost everything that was worth anything.”
“Unless his parents did.”
“I don’t think so. From what I understand from Russo, his father was genuinely successful, and well-off. I think Heath’s never done anything in his life, except run hustles and spend his inheritance.”
—
The spade fromthe garage had been bagged and taken away, as was Heath’s computer and iPhone. The search was interesting to watch but turned up nothing else that seemed relevant to the murders of Pollard and Hinton. Lucas and Virgil hung around until four o’clock, when a young woman associate of Radcliffe’s hustled through the front door carrying what appeared to be a copy of the search warrant, grabbed Radcliffe by the shirt sleeve and said, urgently, “We have to talk.”
She, Radcliffe, and Heath went into the pantry and shut the door. Russo watched them go, then stepped over to Lucas and said, “I feel a problem coming on.”
“Might be time to turn things over to the feds,” Lucas said. “And get the fuck out of here.”
They got Durey and headed for the door. Outside, Russo asked, “Any of you guys talk to Cooper today?”
Nobody had.
Lucas held up a finger, dug out his phone, punched in her number. No answer, but ten seconds later, his phone rang: Cooper. Shesounded out of breath. “My phone was across the stage, in my pocket.”
“We need to talk again,” Lucas said. “Me’n Virgil and Durey and Russo.”
“Ah. You’re ganging up on me,” Cooper said.
“When can we get together?”
“I’m at the U in a rehearsal. I’ve got an hour more to go, maybe a little more.”
Lucas looked around. Russo shook his head, no, and Virgil turned his hands palms-up, another no.
“How about tomorrow morning? Later in the morning? Me’n Virgil.”
“At my office at the U? I need to be over here for a nine o’clock meeting with teaching assistants, that’ll probably go until eleven, but then I’m free until one o’clock.”
“We’ll see you then,” Lucas said. “Unless you want to tell me what you know, or suspect, right now.”
“Lucas... damnit, if I knew anything, I’d tell you. Cross my heart.”
“Talk to you tomorrow,” Lucas said.
Virgil and Lucas headed back to Lucas’s house; Lucas decided it would be a good day for a run, and Virgil wanted to get home. Durey drove to the BCA, Russo went downtown to police headquarters.
As they pulled away from the curb, Howahkan stepped out on the walkway in front of Heath’s house, looked at Lucas as he drove by, in the passenger seat, and shook his head.
To Virgil, Lucas said, “I believe the shit has hit the fan.”
20
Six-thirty.
Melton slipped into the garage where Cooper was waiting. “If they’re watching us, they’re better than I am. I don’t see anything or anybody, except those old people and their dog.”
