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?“Way ahead of you, Ace,” DeStadler interrupted. “The camera on the 12th floor went out a few days before the conference, and they’re still waiting for parts to fix it.”
?Mark sat back down and shook his head. “I can’t seem to catch a break.”
?I, however, was undaunted. “Did the elevator cameras tell you when Ms. Poole left the 12th floor?”
?DeStadler nodded. “According to the time stamp, Ms. Poole took the elevator to the lobby at about 11:30, and she returned about 1:30 AM.” He faced me. “That’s why we’re having trouble with your story, Mr. Watkins. If you were drugged, it suggests that she left you alone in her room for two hours. Why would anyone drug someone and then leave them in their room?”
?I began to see why it had been difficult to convince DeStadler of Mark’s innocence, but I still wanted to press the matter. “It doesn’t explain why Jon Kane was at Mark’s apartment last night, or the fact that he had duplicate keys.”
?DeStadler folded his arms. “So why couldn’t he get in?”
?“I changed one of the locks,” Mark disclosed.
?DeStadler frowned. “Why?”
?Mark went on. “Well, since I believe someone broke into my apartment and stole my gun and then returned it to make me look guilty, I decided it might be a good idea.”
?“Detective,” I pestered, “the least you can do is try to find out if Jon Kane has copies of Mark’s keys.”
?“Don’t tell me my job,” DeStadler sputtered and stood to walk over to the mirror on the wall we faced.
?He knocked on the glass twice and said, “Elvis, go pick up Jon Kane and get a warrant for his apartment.”
?“Also,” Mark claimed, “we can get you the data on the flash drive we found—”
?“Oh yeah, the one in the pipe,” DeStadler jeered.
?“That’s right!” I agreed.
?“Well, that’s gone with the pipe, isn’t it?”
?Mark and I exchanged a look.
?DeStadler glared at us. “If either of you are holding back evidence—”
?“We may have…” I admitted, “made a copy.”
?“What?” DeStadler barked. “Why didn’t you tell me that right away?”
?“We were trying to find out what the files on it were,” Mark explained. “It’s encoded.”
?“A friend of mine is working on breaking the code,” I conceded.
?“You get that to me,” DeStadler asserted and pulled out his business card, which he gave to me. “This has my email address. Get your friend to send them, now!”
?I nodded and picked up my phone to text Sylvia.
?“We have the best computer guys in the city. I don’t want some amateur corrupting files that might have to do with a murder.”
?“Yes, sir,” I said as I finished the text with DeStadler’s email and a request to send him the files.
?DeStadler walked over, pulled Mark to his feet, and pulled out his handcuffs. “You need to come with me.”
?Mark put his hands behind his back.
?I panicked. “I thought he was released on bail?”
?“He was,” DeStadler stormed, as he clicked the cuffs tight around Mark’s wrists.
