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Well, well ... “Yo, Zack,” I called. “Found something interesting.” I pulled the papers out of the drawer and set them on top of the desk.
Zack came into the room. “What’s up?”
I pushed the top paper to him. He picked it up and frowned, then glanced over the other items I’d pulled out.
“Sooo,” he drawled, “according to this, Taylor not only posted the threats on the band’s website, but also paid some guy named Alvin five hundred dollars to dress all in black and grab Lida off the stage.”
“It sure looks that way,” I said. “Wow. That was easy. Case closed!”
Zack sat on the edge of the desk. “Awfully careless of him to leave it where it could be so easily found.”
I let out a snort. “No shit. Especially in an office that he didn’t use very often.”
His gaze raked the room. “Right. His laptop is in his bedroom, as well as paperwork concerning gigs for the band. He probably only used this room if he had to meet with a potential client or some such thing.”
I set my hands on the arms of the chair. “You wanna hear my theory?”
He grinned. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope. You’re a captive audience,” I said with a laugh. “So here’s the thing: I do think Adam knew that Lida was going to get grabbed off the stage, because after she was pulled out of the river, he said, ‘I never thought it would go this far.’ ”
Zack nodded. “But obviously someone else was involved too. Someone who wanted to make it look like it was all Adam’s idea. And then Adam has an unfortunate tumble down the stairs.”
I leaned back in the chair, frowning. “Well, yeah. Someone else was definitely involved since I doubt Adam sicced the thing on himself and then drove it away from the studio. But I’m still wondering if the fact that Adam wrote some bad checks to Vic Kerry has anything to do with either murder.” I chewed my lip in thought.
Zack skimmed the paper in his hand again. “If not for your ability to sense the golem, we wouldn’t know that there was any possibility of a connection between the two murders.” A frown furrowed his brow. “But why not stage Adam’s death as a suicide?”
“I don’t think the golem is sophisticated enough to do what that would entail. No windows to throw him out of at the studio. Maybe they were hoping it would look like an accident.” Damn, but this chair was comfy. I needed to get something like this for my own office.
“Ah. That makes sense. All right, well let’s say that the attack on Lida went too far. So maybe Adam started to get cold feet, and the golem was sent after him to keep him quiet.”
“That makes sense, especially considering the amount of pressure that Ben Moran’s been putting on the department to make it all go away.” Then I grimaced. “Except for the murder of Vic who might have been mistaken for Roger, or the fact that Adam wrote bad checks to Vic, or for the fact that Vic might have loaned money to Adam ...” I pinched the bridge of my nose and grimaced. “Here comes the headache.”
Zack continued to shuffle through the papers. “Let’s focus on one scenario at a time.”
“I’m more than willing to go with that for now,” I agreed, then had to stifle a yawn. “Okay, I’m dying here. Let’s finish this shit up. I’ve had a helluva full day.” I stood and gathered up the papers.
We went through the rest of the house, not finding anything else interesting or incriminating, and nothing that would point us to who the other involved party was. We collected Adam’s laptop and filled a box with papers and various documents to look at later, then headed out.
We exited into full night with the moon high in the sky. “I’m afraid to look at my watch,” I said with a mock-whimper.
Zack grinned. “Why it’s barely eight P.M.”
“Liar,” I replied as I shoved the box and the laptop into the trunk of my car. “But I appreciate the effort.” I slammed the trunk closed. “I think I’m going to start sleeping every other night. This ‘regular sleep cycle’ thing is for wimps.”
“There’s a great science fiction series about people who’ve been genetically engineered to not need sleep,” Zack said, looking up at the sky with a slight frown.
“That’s what I need!”
A slight smile crossed his face. “The books or the not needing sleep?”
I made a rude noise. “If I didn’t need to sleep I might have time to read a book occasionally. I mean, other than for research.” He was still looking at the sky, and I followed his gaze. It was a clear night and the moon was almost three quarters full, but I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “Nothing. Just had a strange—”
A sharp cold wind slammed into us, cutting his words off and whipping dirt into our faces. Good thing I already put the papers in the trunk, was my first thought, quickly chased by a spasm of fear as the wind died.
That felt like the thing at the City Towers building ...
