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I tuned out the rest of the message. The beep brought me around, and I stammered out my name and “please call me,” or words to that effect.
I hung up and replayed Rhonda’s recorded greeting in my head. It was the way she said “phone.” I hadn’t noticed before, but she had that Baltimore accent, same as Ferrengetti. Was it a coincidence she worked with Schaeffer and lived close to him? Lots of people from Baltimore move to Laurel. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.
I couldn’t be sure about Jacobi, but I knew Ferrengetti lied to me. It was time to confront her. On the way, I could swing by the club, just in case Rhonda had gone in early.
f f f
The place looked different. Could have been the cop cars in the parking lot and the crime scene tape strung everywhere.
I banged on the door for a bit before Derry answered.
“Hi,” I said. “There can’t be a good reason for this.” I waved my hand at the tape.
“There very rarely is.” He arched an eyebrow. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I was hoping to talk to one of the assistant managers if she’s here.”
“She’s not, but someone else is. Bruce Schaeffer with half his head blown off. Looks like suicide.”
“Oh.”
“You understand why I can’t let you in.”
“That’s just fine,” I said. I didn’t need to see Schaeffer’s brains on a wall. “God, I just spoke to him yesterday. He wasn’t happy to talk to me, but I wouldn’t have pegged him as suicidal.”
“Obviously, it’s too early to say, but we’re finding some interesting things in here,” Derry said. “The gun he used is the same caliber used on Garvey. Or should I say Gregory Knudsen?”
“You got my message.”
“Yeah. Kind of supports the notion that Garvey—or Knudsen—was involved in identity theft. We also found boxes of files like the one in your client’s apartment.”
I stared at him. “Really? What’s in them exactly?”
“Don’t know. I’m handling the homicide part of this. Someone else will have to take a look after we bring them in.”
“A lot of boxes?”
“At least five or six so far.”
I tried not to look as stunned as I felt. If those boxes had been there two nights ago, Duvall and I would have seen them.
“Who found him?”
“Custodian. In the office.”
I shook my head. “Looks like there’s a job opening at Aces High.”
“Mmm.” Derry’s mustache twitched in response.
“Does Agent Jergins know about Knudsen yet?”
“I left a message this morning. He’s not going to like it.” I swear Derry grinned.
“What’s the deal with him, anyway? Why’s he so interested in Knudsen?”
Derry paused, then shrugged, as if he couldn’t think of a good reason not to tell me. “Stavos and his minions were skimming money from the big bosses. Knudsen overheard them and recorded their conversations. He blackmailed Stavos, but had to hit the road when Stavos figured out who was doing it. He burned the conversations on a CD, which he must have brought with him to Maryland.”
“And Knudsen changed his name to protect himself from Stavos,” I said.
