Page 51 of Done Dirty

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “You’re serious about that? You think Wade was drugging women? I promise, I never touched those bottles. I’ve got to get back to my clients.”

“Just one final question,” Jack said. “A witness stated they saw a man leaving the condo you shared with Wade while Wade was gone. That you were in your robe and had just gotten out of the shower.”

“Jessica,” Paige said through clenched teeth. “Speaking of women that continuously threw themselves at Wade.”

“Who was the man?” Jack asked. “An acquaintance of yours or of Wade’s?”

“It was my brother,” she said. “He needed to borrow my car and knew I could walk to work. Now I’ve really got to go.”

She stood up.

“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Marsh. Don’t leave town.”

She walked out without waiting for us. The receptionist looked up as we came through the lobby and then found something else to look at.

Outside the festival noise hit us again, and we walked back toward the car.

My phone rang and I recognized the name on my screen.

“Dr. Goodman,” I said. “That was fast work.”

“Only because you promised me tickets behind home plate for the Nationals game.”

“It’s the American way,” I said.

“Turns out your boy was testing almost twice the recommended dosing of testosterone for what naturally occurs in a thirty-five-year-old man. He was positive for testosterone cypionate and nandrolone decanoate.”

“That’s consistent with what we found in his condo,” I said.

“I don’t want to tell you how to do business, but that doesn’t seem like it’s worth Nationals tickets to me.”

“I’m a terrible gambler,” I said. “What else do you have for me?”

“Seminal swab you sent from the victim came back with female epithelial cells. We were able to match those to the DNA found on the sheets and the women’s underwear.”

“Got to tidy up all the loose ends and make sure they make a nice bow.”

“All in all,” Goodman said. “This isn’t much to write home about. But thanks for the tickets.”

“I figure you’ll remember me for next time.”

He chuckled. “We’ll see.” And then he hung up.

“Got confirmation on the drugs in Wade’s system,” I told Jack. “And female epithelial cells were found in my seminal swab, so he’d had sex prior to death.”

“And no time to shower,” Jack said. “Seems like a guy as particular as Wade was about order and cleanliness would be Johnny-on-the-spot not to linger.”

Jack veered toward the front entry of The Windsor instead of the Tahoe.

When we stepped inside it wasn’t Brett Callum standing behind the desk, but another man. He looked to be in his early fifties with a salt-and-pepper crew cut.

“Can I help you folks?” he asked. His name badge said Ben Landers.

Jack showed his badge.

“Ahh,” the man said. “Y’all need to get back upstairs?”

“That would be great, actually,” Jack said. “But I wanted to ask if you ever had anyone come and leave an envelope for Wade Rivers.”